Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Second Coming looked up at the skybox above, its many panels reflecting the grandiose night sky, sprinkled with glimmering stars and distant planets. It was all fabricated, of course, but SC didn’t mind. He just needed something to calm his mind.

5 years, it had been. 5 years since he’d supposedly watched his friends get mercilessly killed in front of his eyes. He himself didn’t remember – he had a strange “memory gap” where anything from that day was – but the other’s accounts had stuck in his head for the past few years, haunting him.

Why would someone go out of their way to hurt for no reason?

What was the reason behind their rampages and tyranny?

...where was he right now?

Despite not remembering anything about him , SC still felt a shiver down his back every time he visualized what that monster looked like.

A red hollow-head with a pair of small horns adorning his head, a wire-thin tail with a pointed tip, a crazed smile revealing sharp fangs, blood-red pupils that sparkled mercilessly as the bodies of those SC cared the most about slowly disintegrated around him …

Why were they even in the Outernet now? This place was bad. It was terrible. Sure, it was pretty, and the view was much nicer than anything in Alan’s PC, and there were plenty of other sticks to meet if what the Chosen One had said was true, but still…they had died ...all of them…

“Hey Sec, you good?” SC sat up instantly, startled, but quickly calmed down once he realized it was just Red. He moved closer and rested his head on his friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah, just thinking,” SC replied.

“If its about the Showdown...you don’t have to worry, ‘kay? Things turned out fine. We’re all here for you.” Red wrapped his arms around SC in a hug. Cursors, what would SC do without Red and Green and Blue and Yellow?

...not much, he concluded.

The two sat there for a while longer. SC felt himself drift off, but he willed himself awake. Although, with his friend’s comforting warmth and the soft whispering of the gentle breeze rippling through the tall grass around them, that was easier said than done.

A now-familiar presence subtly came into his senses. SC was prepared for the fellow hollow-head before he’d even spoken.

“Alright you two, I feel like Alan probably wants your little group back now, so I’m going to get you all back to your PC,” Chosen informed them. Red, on the other hand, did not have the ability to detect Alan’s other creations. He jumped instinctively, and in turn hit SC’s chin with his shoulder.

“Ow,” the latter mumbled, rubbing where he’d been hit. He shot Red a playful glare, getting a shrug in response.

It took SC a moment to locate where Chosen was – he blended in really well with the dim colors of the night – but once he did, the two took little time to begin following.

Chosen was much more similar to... him than he was to SC. He had the same wire tail and dark eyes, although his pupils were rounder and white. He was also much quieter and mature; for some reason, he refused to mention anything related to his ties with Alan, even though SC knew they both shared the same creator.

Would that make them brothers? No, that didn’t seem quite right. Was there a word that fit their relationship? Creator-mates? Creation buddies?

SC wanted to ask Chosen all about it. He wanted badly to share with someone who had also lived with Alan and who’d been around for much longer that he had. Heck, Chosen had powers! Like laser eyes! That was epic! But he was a locked safe, and SC for the life of him couldn’t figure out how to crack it and carry out a conversation in the few times Chosen showed his face.

SC’s train of thought crashed and burned as soon as he caught sight of the rest of his friends. He ran over to them, tackling them in a massive hug that Red joined shortly thereafter.

The gang immediately started catching each other up on what they’d done that day. Green went to go visit Purple (of course he had), Blue and Yellow joined him for a while before running aimlessly around the city nearby, Red scrambled about befriending any animal he could find while SC drew them.

He wasn’t entirely focused on the conversation, though. Sure, SC absolutely loved his friends and would listen to them all day if he could, but he couldn’t fight the looming sense of dread that had seeped its way into his mind.

Alan’s IP square thing happened to be right above those cliffs. Against his own wishes, SC’s mind went back to what he remembered from that day.

Waking up, surrounded by his worried friends, their faces revealing horror and fear and pain -

The descriptions of jet-black energy blades and code being viciously ripped apart still lingered fresh in his mind…

He didn’t even know what happened to him after the battle. For all any of them knew, he could be stalking them right now, waiting for the right moment to strike.

On that note…

SC was probably the only one who was...alive during the whole fight, besides Chosen. At least, he thought he was. The other hollow-head refused to talk about anything that happened. Blue had suggested that the memory gap was a trauma response, SC’s mind trying to block out anything that could hurt him.

Did not knowing make things better? Or did it just make his fear worse?

SC shook off the bad feeling. That was in the past. As Red had said before, things had turned out just fine. His friends were safe, and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them ever again .

After a while, he had fully integrated himself into the conversation, which had devolved into a game of quick insults and snappy comebacks, as it usually did.

“Green, if your IQ was a temperature, it would be in the negatives of Kelvin,” Yellow said, firing back at something Green had said prior.

“Hey! At least I’m smarter than Sec!” he shot back, intending to cause as much conflict as possible. Oh, that was it. SC prepared to lecture him on the quadratic formula.

The words died in his throat before he could ever get them out.

The shack .

They had arrived.

Everyone had fallen silent; they’d noticed as well. Vines and other plants had begun to creep onto the building’s walls. The grass around it had grown tall, seemingly in an effort to hide what this place had seen.

As they got closer, SC imagined what would happen if he slipped. The rock of the sheer cliff face rushing past him, the crashing impact of his body against the frigid, cruel waters…

He instinctively took a step away from the edge.

“Alright,” Chosen started, “I’ll get you set up with the computer and you,” he pointed at Yellow, “can get your little cursor friend to bring you home so I don’t have to carry each and every one of you up there.”

He ducked into the shack, then started mumbling to himself. “Where is his computer? I swear I left it here…” Chosen poked his head out of the doorway. “Never mind, I’m carrying you guys. Alan’s probably asleep anyways.”

So, one by one, the black hollow-head ferried the group up to the shattered IP square. Red was first; he was eager for a taste of flight, Blue was less excited but still fine, Green was more hesitant, and Yellow didn’t seem comfortable at all…

Finally, it was SC’s turn. Chosen gave him an odd look. “Stay safe, okay?”

SC nodded, then cast a glance at the dizzying drop below. If his grip failed him-

He didn’t even have time for a second thought as the ground suddenly disappeared and he was thrust into the air.

The wind stung his eyes, the heat of the flames from Chosen’s other hand was unbearable, he didn’t like this, he didn’t like this at all -

And yet, before he knew it, they were in a white void stretching endlessly above. Chosen let go of SC and proceeded to leave without so much as a goodbye.

SC sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He wasn’t usually this bad about being in the air. Why was this any different? Why had he been so on edge lately?

He felt the soft tug of the tube, begging him to return to the PC. That was a good idea. It sounded nice and familiar. He jumped up, letting the strange, inverted gravity take him far away from the Outernet.

And then it proceeded to spit him out violently against the smooth, hard ground of the monitor.

Ouch.

He took a quick glance at the time. 11:46 P.M. Wow, it really was late. Well, there had been stars out, so SC wasn’t exactly sure what he was thinking.

“And that’s everyone,” Blue’s voice rang out, and he extended his hand to SC, who gladly took it. He stood up, rubbing where it ached most from the impact.

A wave of exhaustion washed over the hollow-head, and he failed to stifle a yawn. All SC could think about were the warm, soft covers of his bed and the relaxing release of sleep. sticksfight.com was already open, and he stumbled his way into his room, collapsing onto his bed.

As the comforting darkness of unconsciousness slowly wove its way into his senses, SC silently prayed his dreams wouldn’t be full of mathematical equations again.

Chapter Text

The halls of the Rocket Corp base were bland and grey, showing little of any personality. They fit perfectly. This place had no other personality than “evil corporation,” and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out.

In fact, pretty much everyone was aware that Rocket Corp wasn’t the same small, family-run business it had been years ago. Or, at least, people said it had been that way once. Not everyone had been around during that time, and plenty who had were now dead.

And yet, one still managed to stick out against the lifeless walls, black cape flowing out behind him as he headed toward the CEO’s office. A hood hid his head, and a bandage covered his left eye. He liked to be imposing; he wanted his very presence to scare others away. He wanted to be feared .

He didn’t even bother knocking. It was much funnier to watch Victim flinch as the door suddenly opened without warning.

The grey hollow-head stared daggers at the new arrival, who took a seat cross-legged in front of them. “What do you want?” they said, already annoyed.

“C’mon, Vic, you know you love when I’m around.” Victim absolutely loathed that nickname, so the other made sure to use it as frequently as possible. “Anyways, when were you gonna tell me you were sending your little mercenary buddies to go hunt down you-know-who?” He rested his head on his one good arm. As for the other...he’d been meaning to make some cool replacement, but Vic wouldn’t let him around anything technological, even though it’d been nearly two years-

Victim sighed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t learn, but I guess I can’t do much to stop you from joining now that you know…”

How great! He’d get to see his friend again~!

He stood up, preparing to leave. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure not to blow up anything too important.” He still didn’t exactly get why Vic had even decided to take him in; after all, they knew what he’d done, but whatever. He’d managed to shift some of the blame on Chosen, and that probably helped his case.

“Dark Lord.”

“M-hm?”

“Don’t kill him. I need him alive, and preferably with minimal injuries.”

Dark just smiled at them and then took his leave. Of course he would keep Cho alive, why wouldn’t he? It wouldn’t be as fun if he did otherwise. It was going to be great; Cho would just be ecstatic to see him again!

Especially when it was him who left Dark to die after that stupid kid interrupted his plans.

Yes, he should have been much more careful when dealing with the orange hollow-head, but he wasn’t doing anything special, so Dark just assumed he was some regular character Alan drew because he was bored again.

But now, blind in one eye and missing an arm…

Oh, that kid was going to pay with his non-existent blood.

It was warm out for spring, the crisp April air blowing through the trees, crowned with small green buds and growing flowers.

Vic should really consider going outside one of these days, Dark thought to himself. That stick could seriously benefit from seeing the sun once in a while.

It’s not like he cared about the other hollow-head – in fact, he doubted he could care less – but he figured that if Vic was in a better mood, they’d let him mess around with some weapons or at least make a replacement arm.

He was accompanied by the four mercenaries the CEO had hired. There was some tall guy named Agent who apparently had been present during the Newgrounds attacks (he was great to talk to); a pixel-y stick named Ballista with way too much energy for his own good; a completely non-verbal stick named Hazard who Dark knew next to nothing about; and a gal named Primal who was preferred to use a bow over the high-tech weaponry the rest of the mercenaries used.

They were an interesting bunch for sure, but Dark didn’t exactly feel like socializing at the moment. Not when it would be the first time in years that he’d get to see Cho again~

Of course, the group wasn’t running into this blind. They had a few tricks and advantages up their sleeves. For example, since Chosen and Dark had the same creator, he could tell when the other was nearby. Cho would also be able to tell, but the weird hollow-head locator, as Dark called it, didn’t specify who was nearby, so he was probably fine. Although, he’d still have to make sure to approach with caution.

It would be a shame to spoil the surprise early, wouldn’t it?

The mercenaries also had some fancy Electro-Blasters (or whatever they were actually named) that shot out little high-voltage devices of pure agony. Oh, what Dark wouldn’t do to gain possession of one of those things and slowly take it apart, figuring out what made it tick. Perhaps Primal would let him have hers since she didn’t use it. That would be nice.

He stretched a bit, waiting for Agent to tell them what to do next. Their “leader” was busy double-checking everything he’d double-checked mere minutes prior. What, was he afraid the little UI bracelet that was practically implanted into his arm had fallen off in the short ride to the fields beyond the city?

The fields, huh…

This place wasn’t too far off from Chosen and Dark’s old base. That’s partly why they had decided on it as a first landing spot. It’s not like Cho had anywhere else to go, unless he made something himself. Plus, he didn’t know the mercenaries were after him. Not yet, at least.

Dark could barely contain his excitement. This was going to be great. After 5 long years, he’d finally be able to punch that stupid traitor right in the face.

After what seemed like ages, Agent signaled for the rest of the group to follow him. They all made their way into the the forest, slowly as to not make much sound. Birdsong filled the air, making the whole place feel alive with the new growth of spring.

And then it went dead silent.

The world waited with baited breath, biding its time until danger reared its ugly head...which happened to be hollow and completely oblivious to the party of mercenaries hunting it down.

Chosen seemed to just be taking a stroll. Thankfully, he still wasn’t in range to notice Dark. How exciting~!

The mercenaries began to form a ring around their target, who was none the wiser to the inevitable ambush. It was a game of patience, and they were dead set on winning.

At last, Chosen walked close enough to realize someone else was there. “SC,” he called, “if you have something to tell me, stop lurking in the shadows and just say it.”

Dark took a step into the small clearing, just as planned. He lowered his hood, basking in his old friend’s growing horror.

“Cho, I honestly feel a bit offended that you wouldn’t remember me. But we both know that’s not why I’m here. There happens to be someone I know who’s just dying to see you~!”

Chapter Text

FOUR MONTHS LATER

The sound of clashing metal rang out across the PC, followed by the shattering of glass and a rather large explosion. Blue and Green ran along the bottom of the monitor, exchanging rapid sword strikes with one another. Green swiftly placed down a block of obsidian and an end crystal, but Blue drank another speed potion and ran out of the blast zone before the explosion reached him. He dashed in for a few greedy slashes before putting up his shield, which was quickly disabled by his opponent’s axe.

The two continued their intricate dance, tightly woven as if they’d practiced for days. Blue was right about to get in a strength-enhanced hit when a massive shockwave forced him and Green away.

SC stood at the center of the impact, enchanted mace in hand, his eyes glittering mischievously. He’d only just discovered the item, but he’d instantly come to adore it.

Blue loaded his crossbow and pointed at the other two. Green put a Totem of Undying into his off-hand. SC readied up his supply of wind charges.

With a loud THWUMP, 3 arrows fired directly at Green and SC. The former whipped out a shield right before the arrow hit him, while the latter propelled himself upwards with a wind charge, striking the ground where Blue had been only moments prior.

Before he could react, a trident barely clipped SC’s arm, immediately returning to Green. The hollow-head tossed down a wind charge, managing to land a lucky hit on his opponent, instantly breaking his totem in a flurry of vibrant verdant and gold sparks. Thanks to the Wind Burst enchantment, SC was back up in the air, ready to strike the final blow…

He did not hit Green, but instead something light purple and very, very explosive.

SC sat up on his bed breathing much faster then usual. He took a moment to slow his breaths down before lying his head on his pillow. Stupid end crystals. He hated those things with a burning passion.

Stretching out his arms, he tried to shake off the soreness that accompanied respawning. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but it could be way worse.

SC’s room wasn’t all too large, but he liked it that way. The previously stark-white walls were painted with images of fields and forests, delicately detailed animals inhabiting the stationary landscapes. The scene transitioned into a starry night sky that exploded onto the ceiling above his bed, which was tucked into the back left corner of the room.

Shelves along the walls held all sorts of different items – trophies from contests he’d won, photos of him and all his friends, a modified version of Pigstep that Mango had so graciously given him a copy of, the flute he’d used to make friends with the Warden not too long ago…

The whole place was cozy and homely, just as SC like it.

He made his way out the door to the upper floor of main room of the site, legs still shaky. The area around the site was pitch black, meaning Alan had accidentally closed the tab again. Oh well. The others would surely notice soon and rescue him.

He spotted Red sitting at the bottom of the stairs. SC sat down next to him, leaning backwards onto the staircase and stretching.

“Sec? What are you doing here?” Red asked. “The tab’s been closed for a while now.”

“Lost a battle. I would’ve probably won if Green hadn’t pulled out an end crystal at the last second.”

“Again? Seriously, you need to stop dying to those. If the rest of us learn how to use them, you’re toast.”

The duo chuckled a bit, but SC couldn’t shake how casually they talked about death. Sure, maybe when it came to Minecraft it wasn’t a big deal – they’d just respawn after all – but ever since the Showdown…

...so much had changed because of that day, and he barely even remembered it…

“Is Yellow here too?” SC asked, attempting to get his mind as far away from that grim topic as possible.

“Yeah, he went to his room shortly after the tab closed, mumbling something about a ‘sentient laptop’ or whatever. I think the weird dream virus is spreading.”

“You’d better watch out, or I’ll infect you with algebra!” SC playfully shoved Red, who pushed back, laughing. Red was about to say something before a terrible feeling washed over the both of them.

It was disorienting, almost nauseating, and for a moment SC felt like he was in two places at once. Then, as soon as it came, the feeling vanished, and the black void outside the site was filled in with the familiar landscape of the desktop.

“Well, that was awful,” Red muttered. “Anyways, I’m going to run around a bit. There’s just not enough room here.”

“Wait,” SC said, grabbing his friend’s arm. “I think Chosen’s here.”

“If I had a nickel for every time one of my fellow hollow-heads mistook me for someone else, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but honestly, I feel offended. Aren’t you and Cho supposed to be my biggest fans~?”

That voice.

SC stood paralyzed, his feet one with the floor.

He didn’t remember the slithering words, each one planned with pure malice and insanity.

But he certainly recognized it.

It took his entire being to build the courage to turn around and face him .

Standing at the top of the staircase like he owned to place was the Dark Lord, complete with his signature toothed grin and a midnight-black power band around his wrist. By his side was an unfamiliar stick, tall and donning rectangular sunglasses. He held some sort of high-tech weapon in his hands.

But SC’s mind only registered one thing:

Run.

He let go of Red’s arm. His brain desperately scrambled to find the best way out of there . He had to run, he had to hide, he had to – waitwhywaseverythingwhitenow-

He took a step back. Cold walls pressed against him. This wasn’t right; Red had been right there, and the two others, but now they were gone, and SC hadn’t even blinked-

He slid down the wall, sitting against it, pulling his knees toward him, hyperventilating, pulse quickening with every passing moment…

Was he dead? Did he-

SC felt a hand on his shoulder, warm yet unfamiliar. “Second? Are you okay?” He flinched away from the sudden touch.

It was just Chosen.

He hadn’t even noticed that Chosen was there. The older hollow-head had a few more scars than SC remembered, but it was still him.

“Wh-where…” he could barely get the words out through the panic.

“Welcome to the Box, the worst contraption ever designed,” Chosen said, his voice low and defeated. “You were paused for a bit before they brought you in here – oh, speak of the devil, they’ve come to visit us.”

On the opposite wall, a portion opened up, and two sticks walked in. There was the Dark Lord, much to SC’s chagrin, but the other was...certainly not someone he expected.

A serious-looking, grey hollow-head with light blue eyes, a scar crossing their left one.

They were one of them.

Since when did Alan-

“I see you’ve adjusted quite well to the effects of the pause, haven’t you?” the red stick said, clearly enjoying the pure fear in the small room.

“Dark Lord, stop teasing him,” the other said. At least they seemed to be slightly more normal. “Anyways, we will go through standard introductory protocol, which includes the scanning of your code. If you would follow me, we can get this over with as soon as possible.”

SC didn’t think he had much of a choice. As if to solidify that thought, a strange circle was somehow clasped around his hands, almost like a pair of handcuffs.

A question shot through his mind. “The others...my friends…are they...okay?”

“The mercenaries were under strict order not to harm anyone within the PC.”

Oh, that was a relief. At least they were safe. And maybe...if they just found out where he was….

SC was escorted out of the Box by the two, leaving Chosen alone in the empty white void. Why was he there? What had he done?

...what had either of them done to deserve this, for that matter?

Who was the grey stick? Why were they paired with the Dark Lord? Didn’t they know that man was a murderer? Did they care?

So many questions swirled in SC’s mind. He didn’t even realize they’d reached their destination until he was shoved into a little containment area made of blue-tinted windows. Blank-faced workers milled around, some holding clipboards and writing stuff down. The two other hollow-heads stood outside the chamber, a control panel laid out in front of them.

“Does this hurt?” SC asked. He was starting to worry he’d asked too many questions.

“Not usually, but we’ll make an exception just for you~” the Dark Lord replied, grinning. SC felt his heartbeat speed up again.

One of the workers walked into the chamber, holding a long cable-thing. They plugged it into the console at the front and then turned towards SC.

He took a step back. Almost instantly, his limbs locked into place, a rectangular outline encasing his body. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t run-

Pain.

The cold metal sliced into his arm, and his right side exploded into burning pain, yet there was nothing he could do besides stand there and wait and take it all and suffer-

And then the worker and the cable and the outline were gone and he fell to the floor.

Someone grabbed him and dragged him to a different cell; at this point, SC didn’t care. He just wanted this to be over.

He wanted to go home, friends by his side.

The stupid circle thing disappeared, and his hands were free, and he curled up in a ball on the floor, grabbing the part of his arm that hurt the most. They hadn’t even bothered to bandage it up.

Cursors above, what did he ever do to deserve this?!

SC let out all his tears, slowly crying himself to sleep.

Chapter Text

Rustle rustle.

Voices.

What did they want now…? Couldn’t they see he was trying to get some sleep? He bet it was Red; he always woke up so early-

SC was slammed against the cold metal bars at the back of his cell, jolting him awake. A blade of pure energy rested dangerously close to his neck, so close he could almost feel it trying to tear at his very code.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dark taunted.

Right. SC was stuck here.

Dark recalled the magical death blade, and SC collapsed to the ground. His shoulder was really sore; why was it again? He couldn’t remember – the haze in his mind was thick, and he wasn’t quite ready to face whatever was coming next.

Unfortunately for him, the others did not care if he was ready or not. One of the workers put the circle cuff over his hands again (this, he did remember), and he was dragged back into the white box.

SC looked around for Chosen, but he was nowhere to be found. His heart sank. He at least wanted some familiar face around to help him get through whatever horrors he’d have to endure next.

The worker left the box, and the door closed behind them, leaving SC and Dark alone. The red hollow-head leaned against the stark-white walls.

“So…are you going to, like, fight me or something?” SC asked, not quite sure why they were just standing around.

“Nah. We’re waiting for Vic. They told me not to mess around with you until they got here, which is just stupid. You should probably thank them. If things went my way, you’d be very, very dead right now.” Oh. That was fun. SC felt plenty more comfortable now that he knew he was in a small room with someone who wanted to kill him and had every opportunity to do so.

He took a moment to analyze Dark. The eye bandage and over-the-top attire were new, but other than that, he looked a lot like the monster that the rest of the gang had described. Although, SC couldn’t help but think something was off.

Was...was he missing an arm?

Before SC could inquire further, the door to the box suddenly opened. In walked the grey stick from the day prior. Was this Vic? Probably so.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Grumpyface himself!” Dark teased.

“Out,” Vic ordered bluntly, pointing at the rectangular hole in the box’s wall.

“Cursors above, it was just a joke-”

“I plan on this interrogation to go smoothly, and your violent tendencies won’t help with that.”

Dark scoffed and walked out. “Have fun, you son of a-” The door closed on him before he could finish.

Vic sighed. “I don’t think we’ve had a proper introduction just yet. My name is Victim, head of Rocket Corp, the most well-known tech company here in the Outernet.”

Victim? That was weird name. Why would Alan name someone that? SC’s curiosity got the better of him. “You’re one of Alan’s creations, right?” he verified.

Victim tensed a bit at the mention of the human’s name. “...yes, I happen to have been created by...him.” There was a strange bitterness in their voice. “That was what I wanted to ask you about, Second Coming. Our creator.”

...how did this guy know his full name?

SC didn’t have much time to dwell on this, as Victim knocked on the wall of the box, and two chairs appeared in the center of the space, facing each other. They took the one closet to the entrance and gestured towards the other. SC took a seat, albeit warily.

“Let us begin,” Victim said, clasping their hands together. “What is your relationship with the Creator?”

“Well...he’s a nice person, and he lets Red, Green, Blue, Yellow, and I do our own thing a lot, as long as we don’t mess up his stuff or anything. I used to help Alan with animation a bit more than I do now, but he’s a fast learner and doesn’t need all too much help now. He wasn’t very good when I first met him.”

Victim nodded, following along as SC rambled on. Once he was done, they asked him another question.

“When were you drawn?”

“Uh...October 2, 2014, I think?”

“Interesting...how were you created?”

SC was confused. What did they mean, how? Wasn’t it all the same?

“I dunno, I just got drawn or something. One moment, nothing, the next, an animation program.”

“Any ‘convert to symbol’ pop-ups?”

“No…?”

Victim leaned back on their chair. “How strange.” What had he done wrong? Was he not supposed to have been created? Was there something wrong with SC? Was that why his drawings came to life, or why he had been brought here in the first place?

“Alright, let’s move on to a different topic. What do you know about the Chosen One?”

SC didn’t feel too comfortable with this question. Chosen was here in the building; why didn’t they just ask him?

“Not much...he’s pretty quiet...but he does have some cool powers, a-and he was there at the Showdown…” His voice trailed off at the mention of that terrible day.

Victim didn’t look too pleased with the answer. “How about anything about his past?”

“I mean, he hasn’t told us anything, really, but if he’s brave enough to try and stop the Dark Lord, he has to have done some pretty good stuff, right?” Another thought bubbled into his mind. “Wait, why are you working with that guy? He’s awful! H-he-”

“That’ll be enough.” Standing up, Victim turned to leave. “You are oblivious to the nature of things. But don’t fret, that is a problem with an easy fix.” The door opened, and the grey hollow-head exited the box, leaving SC alone.

What did they mean? What about the “nature of things?” He didn’t find it fair that Victim could tell them something so cryptic and weird and then not explain any of it. They should’ve at lea-

The chair SC was sitting in suddenly vanished, and he fell onto the cold, unnaturally smooth ground of the box. Rude.

He sat there for a while, before deciding that it was about time he attempted to break out. After all, sitting in a completely empty room with absolutely nothing to do was already getting boring. SC walked up to the wall where the door had been, punched it once, and instantly regretted his decision.

“Hello? Is anyone out there? Can you, like, give me a paper and pencil or something so I’m not just standing here?” His pleas went unanswered.

Pouting, SC headed back to the center of the box. He missed his friends. How many days had it been since he was brought to this dreary place? Two? Three? For the love of Adobe Photoshop, he seriously needed to talk to someone who wasn’t a jerk or overly formal.

Maybe he could find Chosen. If the workers came to take him to the stupid cell, he could probably beat them up and run before they got the weird cuff thing on him. That would be a decent plan, but then SC remembered the other sticks he’d seen around when getting shoved into the box.

Some tall guy who looked familiar, a sketchy one, one that looked like the character on the “floor is wet” warning signs, and a pixel-y one. They all seemed pretty capable of beating him in a fight. And, of course, there was Dark…

SC shuddered at the thought of what the red hollow-head could do. Nope, no escape plans. Too dangerous. He’d just have to wait.

...for how long, though? There was no way to tell the time. He wasn’t even sure if it was day or not. The waiting was already insufferable and he wasn’t even sure if five minutes had passed.

But no, he would get through it. He needed to show Victim and the rest of their stupid team that he was strong. Maybe then he’d be able to leave. Maybe by then his friends would have come up with a plan to get SC out of there.

Where were they, anyways? He hoped they were okay. The thought of their bodies, slowly melting away, made its way into his head again…

Please let them be fine...

POWERS_STATUS: LOCKED;

POWERS_STATUS_LOCKED_DESCRIPTION: Powers cannot become active. Some breaches in this statement may occur, but status shift is not yet possible.

Chapter Text

1. 2. 3. Turn, 4. 1. 2. 3. Turn, 4.

Green’s rhythmic pacing through the bottom floor of the website was interrupted by a groan from Yellow. He was in the process of trying to take apart one of the projectiles that the strange group of sticks had shot, but his efforts seemed to be in vain. The little dart sat on the table mockingly, surrounded by tools that had proved useless.

Whatever. That wasn’t Green’s main concern at the moment. Right now, he was trying to figure out how in the name of Chrome the gang were going to rescue SC.

It was only yesterday that the portal to the Outernet had opened revealing the five kidnappers, but with the sheer stress and fear that engulfed the desktop, it felt like an eternity had passed. Sec was supposed to keep everyone grounded and in check as the unofficial leader of the group, but his absence had given wake to a disarray that Green hadn’t ever seen before.

Blue, the most outspoken of the fighting sticks, had been disturbingly quiet, seemingly off in his own world. Red hadn’t left his room since the pixel art guy knocked him unconscious the day before. Yellow was irritable and refused to talk to anyone, completely engrossed with his current task. And Green…

He was trying his hardest to take responsibility, but honestly, he just wanted to curl up on his bed and give up. The Dark Lord was behind this. The Dark Lord. The same monster who had single-handedly...well, he didn’t want to think about what happened, but everyone was certainly thinking the same thing: they couldn’t just brute-force this. They needed a plan, and fast.

Green had already called Purple, and he’d agreed to come over and try to help. They were Sec’s friend too, after all. There was no way he’d just let that monster get away with their friend.

So here he was, pacing in the main room, waiting for Purple to arrive. Then, he’d be able to get the group together and start preparing the rescue mission.

A rustling from above grabbed Green’s attention. He climbed to the top of the tab, a diamond sword in his hotbar, ready to be revealed at a moment’s notice. The source of the noise happened to be a folder labeled “Storage” near the top left of the monitor; someone was rummaging through it.

Green knew he shouldn’t be so hesitant open the folder – barely anyone knew about the portal, after all – but he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that crept its way into his mind. He double-clicked the storage folder, forcing it to expand and reveal its contents. Among the scattered audio files, long-forgotten documents, and random stock images was a familiar face.

Purple was putting his elytra into his inventory, the soft dark-to-light grey gradient of the item pleasant on the eyes. He swiftly noticed the other stick, a smile lighting up their face. “Green!” they called, tackling him in a hug. “Oh, thank goodness you’re okay. We’ll get SC back, I promise.”

Green just nodded, a wave of sudden drowsiness washing over him. Not enough sleep and too much stress, he guessed. What a foolproof recipe for disaster.

“Come on, let’s go gather the rest of the gang so that we can discuss a plan of action together.” Purple practically dragged him out of the Storage folder. Green tried to ignore the subtle fluttering in his stomach as their hand grabbed his.

“ Blue should be nearby, he might be gardening to get his mind off of things. I’ll go grab Red from his room,” Green instructed. Purple nodded and dashed toward the left side of the PC monitor. Meanwhile, Green headed up the stairs of sticksfight.com’s main room, entering the back room where a small hallway with three doorways resided.

He walked up to the middle one, knocking quietly. “Red, can you come out for a bit?” Silence. “I know you’re in there.”

There was a tired groan from the inside, followed by a faint “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Why…”

“Because we’re going to be figuring out how to save Sec.”

After another brief period of quiet, Red emerged from his room, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Green gave his friend a hug and guided him back to the site’s main room.

The group of five sat around the center table, which was now cleared besides a map of some place called “Stickopolis.” That was the big city near Alan’s IP square, Green recalled.

“Alright, so here’s the deal,” Purple announced, addressing the low-moral sticks. “From what I’ve been told, the people we’re dealing with have some pretty high-tech equipment, the likes only produced by one company.” They circled a decent-sized building near the very edge of the map, on the outskirts of the city.

“Rocket Corp is the biggest tech company in the Outernet, so it’d make sense that they’d get weapons from there. But, I have reason to suspect that it’s the company itself who wants Sec.” Purple pulled out a wanted poster, printed in black-and-white, tattered around the edges. On it were a few pictures of a familiar figure.

“That’s the Chosen One,” Yellow remarked.

Blue leaned back on his chair. “But why would some tech company want him? Or Sec for that matter?”

“And why would that monster be involved?” Red spat, his voice unusually laced with venom.

“Not sure. What we do know is that something’s up with this company, and they probably aren’t up to anything good.” Purple sat back down on his chair, propping his head up with their arm. “We can’t just head in, obviously. We’d definitely need some more preparation. Ender pearls, perhaps, chorus fruit if we need to get into a room locked from the inside...TNT would be far too risky, and we wouldn’t want to cause any property damage...not to mention actually locating SC…”

Silence blanketed the table as they pondered their situation. They were dealing with a possibly evil corporation in possession of not only dangerous weapons but several trained mercenaries at their side, along with an insane psychopath who took joy in others’ suffering. On top of that, they were holding SC and quite possibly Chosen hostage.

Yellow finally spoke up. “We do have the command staff, though. That could seriously help us. I mean, it can make shields, and with a strong enough level of slowness, it can practically pause someone, eliminating any immediate threats.”

“Right, and we can give ourselves invisibility to make sneaking in really easy,” Blue added.

Green had been noticeably silent during the whole conversation, jotting down notes. “I think I’ve made a pretty good list of what we’ll need. Pearls, chorus fruit, golden apples, shields, bows, crossbows and Loyalty tridents for long range , swords and axes for close-quarters combat if necessary, potions for stealth...we just need an actual plan of action.”

Purple smiled. “So here’s what I’m thinking... ”

Chapter Text

SC had decided that attempting to figure out how much time had passed since his interrogation was futile.

He couldn’t even be sure that it was the same day anymore. There hadn’t been any windows in the room containing the box, and he’d slept through an indeterminable amount of time, so for all he knew, he could’ve been there for only a few hours or several days.

He was also quite hungry. Did Victim not realize they had to feed their prisoners? Did they even eat?

SC closed his eyes. The stark white walls were starting to make them sore. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to get out of this stupid place and have someone to talk to. At this point, he’d even be fine with Dark-

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing the red hollow-head. Cursors above, SC had summoned him. And, from the particularly smug look on Dark’s face, things weren’t about to go well.

“Well, well, well, how’s you’re time in the happiest place in the Outernet been so far?”

SC wanted to punch him in the face, but he had a pretty good idea on what would happen if he did, so he settled with a glare.

“Good, good, it seems you’re having a wonderful time. Now, Vicky wanted me to ask you a couple questions before we do anything else. And, I’m sure you’ll be just elated to hear this, but your code has been successfully scanned!”

Was...was that a good thing? “What did it say?” he asked, not quite sure what was in store.

“Why should I tell you? That would spoil the surprise~!” Dark’s audible grin made SC’s heart sink. Either it was important and something he should know about that would help him, or it was something important that was really, really bad. It was impossible to tell with Dark.

“Now, let’s see...have you ever experienced any sudden gaps in your memory?”

That...SC didn’t like the implications of that. Instead of answering, he stood his ground and crossed his arms. “Why should I tell you that?”

Dark scoffed. “Because it’ll make your life easier. Ah, whatever, I’ll take that as a yes. For the other question I’m forced to ask you, does anything make you particularly stressed or upset or something along those lines?”

SC stared down the red hollow-head, determined not to give him any useful information. “You,” he replied, narrowing his eyes, ignoring the small vine of fear that creeped into his senses. There was no way he’d comply with a criminal.

“Oh, that’s funny, I didn’t think it’d be that easy. ” Dark’s words transitioned from playful to a slithering sneer in mere moments, amplified by the energy blade that formed around his wrist.

SC took a step back. Wrong answer wrong answer WRONG ANSWER WRONG ANSWER-

“What’s wrong? Are you scared? What happened to standing up to me only seconds ago?”

Thud. No more room to back up as the younger hollow-head was pushed up against the wall. Why did he have to say that? Why not just some random, inconsequential answer? Now, he was staring into the eyes of a murder-

Bodies falling to the ground, eaten away by a foreign virus, remnants of the now-useless code blowing in the cruel breeze-

Dark lifted up the blade so that it was right between SC’s eyes, in the hollow spot where one small movement could render him blind. “Oh, don’t worry, this little thing will only hurt a lot. But I’m sure you knew that already, don’t you?”

Heart pounding, breaths fast and shaky, this was it, this was the end, there were no respawns, no totems for another chance, he was going to die-

Something inside the Second Coming clicked.

He felt a strange bubbling in his chest – something new, something powerful – as his vision seemed to clear, taking in everything at once yet somehow not overwhelmed. He registered the slightest flicker of expression in Dark’s face, barely enough to make it noticeable.

Was…

Was that fear?

Whatever it had been, the other hollow-head quickly masked it with a grin. “Well, look at what we have here,” Dark said, deactivating the energy blade and grabbing a reef-green feathered wing that SC felt. He didn’t have wings. Why did he have wings now.

“How’s that for a surprise? You have powers, Second!”

He…

He had…

Powers.

SC looked at Dark, gaze drifting to the stick’s missing features. He’d been fine during the Showdown, so something must have happened…

Paired with Dark’s aggression towards SC and his friends’ unexplained revival…

No.

No no no no no no-

“ Are you only just realizing what you’re capable of? Oh, don’t worry, from what the scan told us, you can do a lot more than just delete code. So let’s have a bit of fun, shall we~?”

Before SC could react, the energy blade was activated again.

The world exploded into terrible, unyielding pain before it all faded to black.

SC was floating, the void around him inky and empty. He felt nothing – no heat, no cold, just...emptiness.

One thing began to creep into his senses. He was tired. Very tired. It wouldn’t matter if he took a nap or not, right?

He let his eyelids droop, unable to tell if they were closed or not. Taking a deep breath, he-

Wait.

Wait, he couldn’t breathe-

SC awoke with a start, gasping and trying to get air to his lungs. His hand traveled to his neck. It was fine, he was fine, he wasn’t…

He managed to get in one more terrified glance at Dark before it was lights-out once more.

SC’s eyes shot open, and he attempted to get up, desperately trying to scramble away, but he didn’t get the chance.

The next time he woke up, he didn’t even get to register his surroundings.

The vicious cycle continued, with less and less time between each violent stab of pain. Eventually, he managed to curl up in a ball, wing draped over himself, sobbing and shaking and praying that this would be the end, that things would stop and it would all be fine and none of this was real and it was all a terrible, cruel dream.

Something...something else besides despair filled him, though. Something foreign and hostile.

Why did he have to be the one to suffer, when there was someone else who deserved this torment much more? Someone who was right there beside him?

SC peeked out of the nest of feathers that covered him.

He was alone.

A single verdant spark fell to the ground, fizzling out as it touched the cool, glassy surface.

POWERS_STATUS: AWAKENED;

POWERS_STATUS_AWAKENED_DESCRIPTION: Powers are currently active. Be wary of their potency. Status shift is possible.

Chapter Text

Yellow held the command block staff close to his body, the rouge metal radiating a soft warmth beneath his shaking hands. Despite this, the rest of him was cold; the nighttime air of the Outernet was chilled, and the bush the five of them were hiding in did nothing to shield them from the elements.

Just outside the leaf coverage stood the Rocket Corp. building in all of its greyscale glory. It wasn’t as big as some of the skyscrapers in the heart of Stickopolis, but it was still certainly imposing, surrounded by a ring of chain link fences and a few decent-sized warehouses. The building itself looked like several different smaller parts stacked onto one another to form something straight out of a science fiction movie. Several parked trucks sat in the parking lot out front.

Yellow had to smother the growing excitement inside of him. Sure, this place might be the Outernet’s top tech company, and it may have some of the most advanced inventions known to animation kind, but they had captured SC. No amount of innovation could hide that fact.

A soft tapping on his shoulder brought Yellow out of his thoughts. Blue was offering him a potion, which he gladly took, dipping his head in thanks. The shimmering, pale purple liquid inside the bottle seemed edible enough, but Yellow knew enough about potion brewing to know he would not be looking forward to drinking it. The last thing he wanted to learn was the taste of fermented spider eyes.

Blue had noticed the grimace on his friend’s face. “I can make it a splash potion so you don’t have to drink it,” he offered, voice low so they wouldn’t be detected by one of the few workers milling around.

“Yes, please,” Yellow replied gratefully. He handed Blue the potion, watching in mild interest as the stick placed down a brewing stand, charging it with blaze powder and then mixing some gunpowder into the unholy concoction. Potions were weird.

“Alright, one splash potion of invisibility, coming up,” Blue said before returning the bottle to Yellow.

A rustling from above caught the two’s attention. Purple hopped down from the branches about their heads, spyglass in hand. “There hasn’t been anyone outside for a while now. I think it’s probably safe if we start heading into the building now.”

Blue and Yellow nodded. The plan was relatively simple; The three of them would focus on scouting out the place and locating SC, while Green and Red would divert the staff’s attention if needed. They’d also all agreed to break Chosen free if he happened to be there.

Purple had initially been against rescuing the black hollow-head, for some reason, but Green convinced them that Chosen wasn’t a bad guy despite the wanted posters. It wouldn’t take a genius to tell he still wasn’t fully on board with the idea, though.

Nonetheless, it was time to start the mission. The group was about to drink their potions when Yellow got an idea. “We can all use the splash potion at once and then we’ll have two spare potions just in case,” he suggested.

“Oh, that’s right, good thinking,” Purple said, stepping closer to Yellow.

“We ready?” the yellow stick asked one last time, getting two nods of approval. He readied the potion – Yellow vaguely remembered Blue saying something about throwing potions at the floor reducing their duration – and tossed it up.

One moment, the three sticks’ forms were clearly visible; the next, there was nothing but the bush they were hiding in, a floating spyglass and staff, and a plethora of little swirly particle effects. As soon as they hid the items they were holding, it was like the group was never there.

“ Alright, we climb the fence and then head straight to the building’s entrance, using chorus fruit to get inside,” Purple reminded the other two, before the clamoring of the fence signaled he was making their way to the parking lot.

Yellow couldn’t help but be slightly disoriented by the invisibility. It was so weird, knowing where his arms were but not seeing them in front of him . He shook off this feeling, though, scaling the chain link fence with relative ease and hopping down to the other side.

He heard a soft thump behind him as Blue crossed over as well. With that, they were on their way, walking through the dim parking lot stealthily and silently.

When they got to the door, Yellow saw two floating chorus fruit appear beside him. He pulled out one of his own, eyeing the light purple fruit with a sour expression. It took him a moment to build up the courage to eat it.

The thing was harshly bitter, almost to an inedible degree. Within moments he felt the space around him contort, and suddenly he was in a dimly-lit hallway, with a few grey, faceless workers milling around, most with clipboards in hand.

This was it.

Yellow had to wait a moment before Blue and Purple broke in – the exotic fruits were finicky, after all – but the other two made it eventually, ready to infiltrate the base.

Almost immediately Yellow was met with mesmerizing technology he’d never seen before. Weapons, icons, were those hover bikes, as well? Oh, he could hardly contain himself. He felt like a kid in a candy store, utterly overwhelmed by everything he was seeing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder (he could tell it was Blue’s in an instant), which trailed down to his own hand, giving it a slight squeeze. Right. They didn’t have all too much time. There was still about four minutes of invisibility left, but they had no clue how long it would take to figure out where they were keeping Sec-

Tap tap. Yellow’s attention was drawn to another room, much larger than anything else he’d seen. In its center was a weird, glowing white box, empty besides a single orange stick. Purple had found him!

Taking a glance around the room, he noticed several different worker sticks, as well as someone who looked slightly familiar. He was tall, with a pair of sunglasses that hid his emotion. Yellow was pretty sure he was one of the five sticks who had broken into the desktop earlier.

With one final squeeze of Blue’s hand, Yellow let go and headed towards the box. He ducked behind it, scrolling through his inventory. A bow, the command staff, a spare invisibility potion, a torch, emitting a little bit of light – there. The chorus fruit.

...wait, the other people in the room would have been able to see the torch-

Yellow quickly hid the fruit, surveying the room, praying no one had seen him, yet to his horror, the sunglasses stick was looking right at his invisible body.

Oh no no no no nonono-

He took a step forward, activating some sort of bracelet(?), highlighting a magnifying glass icon. Cursors, he’d screwed up, nice going, Yellow!

A loud alarm blare and the faint sound of fireworks caught the other sticks’ attentions, and they raced out of the room, leaving the invisible sticks alone.

Yellow put a hand to his chest and desperately tried to stabilize his breathing. He’d have to profusely thank Red and Green when they got out of there. But for now, he still had a mission to finish.

SC laid on the floor of the box, curled up in a ball. The wings were gone now; he had no clue where they’d went. He honestly didn’t care.

He found it hard to feel anything.

Every muscle in his body was sore, but it didn’t quite register. SC was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. He wanted to leave, yet he knew that was impossible. He couldn’t do it on his own.

He was weak.

He was useless.

He couldn’t fight back, even with these stupid powers. They did nothing for him.

He was-

A strange drinking(?) sound interrupted SC’s thoughts. He sat up. What in the name of Adobe Animate…?

Yellow stood by one of the walls, a single iron bucket in his hands.

SC stared at him for a moment. Was that really him? Did his friends actually…

“Hey, Sec? You good?” Yellow asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

SC barreled into him, wrapping the younger stick in a hug. “YOU CAME! Oh, cursors above , you guys actually came… you’re all the best…” He was practi cally sobbing, tears pricking at his eyes, but he didn’t care. They’d come to save him!

“ Yup. We wouldn’t ever leave you behind. The others are outside, making sure we can escape.” Yellow took a glance around the box. “Wow, this place is awful. Take a chorus fruit; we should get out of here as fast as possible.”

SC nodded and took three of the purple fruit. He bit into one , instantly met with the terribly bitter juices of the fruit. The world started to warp around him, the air folding in on itself, and SC wanted to gag – and then he teleported to the middle of the box.

That was fine. It teleported randomly. He was fine. SC pulled out another fruit. This one would surely work. He wasn’t trapped.

He pushed through the horrid taste, and things got all weird-feeling again, before SC suddenly appeared on the steps leading up to the entrance of the box.

He was outside.

He was free.

He could leav-

Blue was thrown across the room, landing by SC’s feet. The hollow-head helped the injured stick up, glancing at the person who was behind the attack.

A single glowing yellow fireball, backed by an insane grin.

Terrible pain, ripping through his body-

Oh no.

POWERS_STATUS: DORMANT;

POWERS_STATUS_DORMANT_DESCRIPTION: Powers are not currently active, but can become so if the right conditions are met. Status shift is possible.

Chapter Text

Victim looked down at the stack of papers cluttering their desk. They weren’t usually this messy. But that didn’t matter right now. Very little mattered.

Years of meticulous planning, all wasted. Everything they’d built up in the last five years had gone down the drain, tarnished by an inconsistent variable.

Perhaps that was the wrong way to view it. The problem laid within the five smaller variables that had somehow gotten past their precautions, shifting the equation far too fast for Victim’s team to react.

And, of course, there was one other variable, who Victim only had about a quarter of a second to register the presence of before he practically knocked the door down.

“Alright Vic,” the Dark Lord started, taking a seat on the chair in front of the grey stick, “what-cha need?”

Victim sighed. Yet another meeting with this immature idiot was not what they needed, but it had to be done. “You know why.” They put a paper in front of the other hollow-head. “Last night, while you and Agent were in charge, five sticks broke into this building. The resulting damage from what went on next is great, and not to mention, both the Chosen One and the Second Coming have escaped and are no longer on the premise. If Agent’s reports are correct – which I have no reason to believe otherwise – you were the one to call off the attempts to recapture them.”

Dark’s face grew serious. “Listen, Vic, you’ve seen the damage. I know it. There are bodies of workers there with code that’s probably more messed up that mine. I don’t care at all about what happens to anyone here, but I know that you should. So maybe you should be grateful that I so generously spared the lives of who knows how many sticks. We can’t fight that thing once it goes off. ”

As much as Victim hated to admit it, Dark was right. The death toll had been far greater than they’d expected when starting the project. It was hard to think about. It was far too familiar.

There was still more that the night crew could have done, however. “Why did you not use the pause tool? Agent was there, he could have-”

“Oh, did Agent not tell you? Was he too afraid of damaging his fragile ego? Well, I’ll give you the rundown. The pause tool didn’t work. It effects just got undid.”

...that wasn’t great. Yet another variable added to the equation, complicating things even further. It was getting more and more clear to Victim that they couldn’t keep looking at that side any longer; they had to look elsewhere. At the root of the problem.

“What about the five sticks who infiltrated the building? Surely you could have handled them.”

“Well, four of them are the stupid orange kid’s friends. Not sure about the purple one, but they seemed to fit in with the rest of the group pretty well, so I’d bet he’s some new sucker they picked up. As for how they got in...I’ll be completely honest, I have no clue. They used the weird blocky s[---] from the desktop, though.”

Victim winced slightly at Dark’s casual use of profanity. Would it kill him to be slightly more professional?

“I was just minding my own business when two of them – the red and green sticks, if I remember correctly – started causing a ruckus near the front of the building. Where there’s two of them, there’s the rest of the squad, and by the time I got to the box room, the other three had already gotten Chosen and his sequel free.”

“That about lines up with Agent’s report.” Minus all the unnecessary remarks, Victim stopped themselves from adding.

This situation was dreadfully unfortunate. Seven sticks on the run, one of them, while handicapped, was still a formidable foe, and another...Victim didn’t even want to know what would happen if he found a way to utilize his code to its upmost potential.

They were so close to their goal.

Yet somehow, they’d managed to fumble right at the end.

Nothing ever worked. NOTHING EVER WORKED-

“Gather the mercenaries. Track down the other two hollow-heads, and bring them here at all costs. Try to cause as little damage as possible, and kill only if you must. Do not return until you have both the Chosen One and the Second Coming.”

Victim didn’t like the way Dark smiled as they issued the command. “Alright, boss, whatever you say.” He left with a little salute, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Once this was over, Victim was going to strangle him with their bare hands.

Whatever. What. Ever. Dark would be gone for a while, and that was fine with them. That was just more time to eliminate any unnecessary variables from the equation.

They’d figure out how the Second Coming had gotten out of the box, and prevent it from happening again. They’d take apart the sticks’ plan. They’d foolproof every inch of things going forward.

No. More. Mistakes.

They took another look at a paper lying on their desk, a garbled mess of code printed on it that they doubted most people would be able to decipher. Dark was right. Trying to fight what could only be described as a weapon of mass destruction was a futile effort. Trying to get it on their side was also a stupid idea (no thanks to the red hollow-head).

But if they could just get it to use up all of its resources…

The smallest of ideas sprouted in Victim’s head. It wasn’t too late for things to work; the original plan would just need a little reworking.

As the gears began to turn, they fit all the little shreds left in the wake of the destruction into something they could work with. Maybe not the best plan, but it was far better than none.

They’d get another chance at things. Another chance at revenge.

They’d been wronged far too many times, and now they would get back at the one who had single-handedly ripped apart their life more times than they could count.

The Creator would pay.

And his most precious creation would go down with him.

Chapter Text

Warmth.

Utter, all-encompassing warmth.

A warmth that tugged at one’s senses, beckoning them to return to the safe haven of sleep, back to a world of dreaming much more enticing than the real world.

SC didn’t want to let go of this warmth. Not now, after all his hurting. He didn’t quite remember why everything hurt, but that didn’t matter. Not when he was protected by soft on all sides, cradled in a comforting nest of blankets.

He felt someone shake him gently. He didn’t want to wake up now, leaving all this warmth behind. Couldn’t whoever this was wait just a little bit longer?

Another shake. “Come on Second, wake up, it’s almost lunch time.” SC didn’t recognize the voice; it was low and gruff, definitely that of an adult’s.

He wearily turned in bed, just barely opening his eyes to identify who was speaking. A tall, burnt orange stick stood at the side.

Orange sticks, orange sticks, who did he know who was an orange stick besides himself…

Oh. Right. Mango.

SC yawned and forced himself to sit up. Had Mango mentioned something about lunch? He must have been sleeping for a while. Why didn’t anyone wake him up earlier?

Why was he even at Mango and Purple’s house in the first place?

A distinct soreness began to sink into SC’s limbs. Looking down at himself, he realized he was covered in bandages. Like, a lot of them. What had he done? Who did he fight? His memory was fuzzy, yet he couldn’t help a creeping feeling of déjà vu. Weird.

Mango helped him get up. The older stick was far taller than SC, perhaps one of the tallest people he’d seen. He maybe even rivaled the likes of the sunglasses stick...from…

…

SC felt his legs buckle under him. A tsunami of memories washed over him, each one worse than the last, the world spinning and spinning and nothing felt real yet everything was so painfully real. His chest was tight and he couldn’t stand but somehow he was but he couldn’t tell why or how-

Voices he couldn’t hear, desperately trying to get him to breathe slower, but he couldn’t stop and he didn’t know what to do-

There were arms around him. Warm. Familiar. His...his friends? Right, he was with them now.

He wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. They couldn’t hurt him anymore.

SC felt his heartbeat slow, melting into the embrace of those he cared the most about. Red, Green, Blue, Yellow, Purple – they were all with him. He wasn’t alone.

There was a porch at the back of Mango’s house, seemingly added after the house had already been constructed, SC noted. An overhang protected the porch from the heat of the late August sun. Hanging from it was a two-person bench swing SC now sat in, blankly staring at the suburbs surrounding the house.

It wasn’t too bad of a neighborhood; a bit quiet, perhaps, but from what he heard from Purple, most of the kids around this place had already started school. They’d probably be returning in about an hour or so, but SC wasn’t sure. He’d never actually been to school. From what Red had told him, he wasn’t exactly ecstatic to go any time soon.

Exploring the vast realm of Minecraft had been fun...would they ever be able to do it again in that same carefree way?

No. He was fine. Things were going to turn out alright.

They had to.

The gentle scrape of the sliding door grabbed SC’s attention. Green emerged from within the house, carrying a plate of sandwiches in his left hand. His other arm was resting in a sling, but he didn’t seem to mind all too much.

“Hey Sec, you feeling any better?” he asked, voice soft as he sat next to the hollow-head. SC nodded. It wasn’t a complete lie, but he still felt pretty awful. It wasn’t the physical pain that bothered him, no, that was manageable. It was something else. Some part of him hurt, but he couldn’t pinpoint where.

He’d felt like this before, hadn’t he? It had been worse, that time. Paired with the pain of-

Nope. Now was not the time to remember that.

“Here, Mango made us sandwiches.” Green placed the plate in between the two, and they both ate in silence, only interrupted by melodic birdsong and the occasional rumble of a car passing by. It was calm.

Peaceful.

Safe.

“Thank you,” SC muttered to his friend, voice a bit hoarse. (How did it get that way? It hadn’t been that long since he spoke last, right?) “Thank you...for getting me out of that place. You and the others, too.”

Green hesitated for a moment. “Yeah. Of course. We’d be pretty terrible friends if we didn't help you, especially when you’ve been nothing but a great friend for years now.” He gave SC a little side-hug, which the other returned.

SC felt himself relax a little.

No matter what happened next, his friends would have his back, and he’d have theirs.

Purple knew that Mango wasn’t truly upset with them. He was just scared. He didn’t want to lose anyone else.

They didn’t exactly know the details of what had happened to his now-father figure, but they at least knew he’d lost some family in a pretty devastating way. Enough to warrant the small outburst after Purple had returned with six other injured sticks, one of them supposedly being a criminal wanted for unknown reasons.

“What were you thinking? You could’ve gotten yourselves killed!” The thin layer of anger in Mango’s voice scarcely hid the worry hidden within. “Five kids up against one of the most dangerous organizations in the Outernet. It’s a miracle you all made it out alive…”

Purple decided not to argue that none of them were kids; they were all nineteen, besides the Chosen One, who was even older than that.

He also had decided that telling Mango the exact details of the escape would not be a good idea in the slightest. Cursors above, he didn’t want to remember it themselves.

None of it felt real.

But judging from the rest of the group’s reactions…

“This is not good at all…” Mango sighed. “Perhaps the safest option would be to have you all stay at the PC the other five are from.”

“And let them just get captured again? They already know where Alan’s PC’s IP square is located. That’s how Second got captured in the first place.” Purple and Mango jumped at the sudden intervention as the Chosen One spoke up. He’d barely said a word since arriving. Several scars laced his body, and he wore a weird bracelet around his wrist.

“If they can’t find any of us here in the Outernet, the PC will be the next place they’d look. It’s absolutely not safe.”

That...that was true. Hiding in that PC would be no better than hiding here. And, despite how highly SC and the rest talked of Alan himself, he wouldn’t always be there to protect them.

He certainly wasn’t there when the Rocket Corp. guys arrived in the first place.

That place wasn’t safe. Although…

“There was an abandoned computer I was staying in for a bit before I met the others. It’s relatively close to the Alan’s PC nether portal, so if we just dismantled that one and went to the other computer, they’d never find us,” Purple suggested.

Mango nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That could work.” He turned to the Chosen One. “Any objections?” The stick shook his head. “Alright, then it’s settled. Tomorrow morning, we’ll head to that computer and get things set up. We can take the bastion portal in the basement. I should also be able to deliver news and supplies to you without much difficulty.”

Purple felt a little surge of pride. They didn’t see how this plan could go wrong, unlike the one he’d come up with the day prior. That was a disaster, but mostly because a disaster was the best plan that could’ve worked in that situation. Here, there would be no way for anyone to find the group, unless they wanted to look through hundreds of thousands of millions of maybe even billions of different computers.

From there, they’d all be perfectly fine; well, not exactly, Purple was pretty sure some of the villagers might still hate him for accidentally getting part of the village destroyed, but they were sure the villagers would forgive him. It’d been 4 years, after all. And, worse came to worse, they could make it up to the citizens through his actions.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Purple felt like things were finally starting to go up.

Yet a part of him questioned how long that would last.

Chapter Text

The road stretched on endlessly, a black strip going straight into the dark horizon, only broken up by the little yellow rectangles in its center. On either sides of the road, the grass grew tall, colors muted by the absence of light.

A figure walked down the path. They had no clue how long they’d been walking; maybe it had been minutes, maybe hours, maybe days or years. It didn’t matter to them. All they knew was that they had to keep walking.

And yet they couldn’t quite fight the feeling of something. Something wrong. Like some creature was stalking them through the grass, eyes on their back, obscured by the gloom.

Waiting to pounce.

The figure sped up their pace. Their legs began to strain from the effort, but they kept on going. Their breaths grew shallow and rapid. They had to leave.

Yet the road went on, its end nowhere in sight.

They started jogging, then sprinting, legs crying out in pain as they just kept going faster and faster. They had to leave they had to leave they had to leave THEY HAD TO LEAVE-

They took another step.

And there was no road beneath their foot.

The figure fell, tumbling into a bottomless abyss-

SC woke up on the floor, clinging to his pillow for dear life, a jolt of pain going through his side. The covers of the small bed were all messed up, probably from whatever dream he was having.

Groaning, he stood up, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. The room was still dark, and the others were asleep, so he figured it was still the middle of the night.

SC stretched and haphazardly fixed the bed covers. Cursors, why did hardwood floor hurt so bad?

Well, now that he was awake, he didn’t see himself falling asleep again any time soon. He’d already napped through half of the day yesterday; he doubted his body would need any more rest.

Quietly walking over to the kitchen, he grabbed a cup from the cupboard. Turning on the tap made a bit more noise than SC would’ve liked, but it probably wouldn’t be enough to wake anybody else up.

How late (or early) even was it? SC scanned the kitchen for a clock, and ended up finding his phone laying face-down on a counter. One of his friends must’ve grabbed it before they left to find him. It was probably Blue. That seemed like a very Blue thing to do.

SC turned his phone on, momentarily blinded by the drastic change in light. 1:52 A.M., it read. If he stayed up for a few more hours, he could brag about being the first person awake!

He took a moment to finally get a good look at Mango’s house. It wasn’t all too big, the perfect size for maybe three people, four if they were willing to spend a lot of time with each other. Near the front of the house was a living room area with a single, rundown television and a beat-up couch that Chosen was sleeping on. Aside from that, the kitchen, and the crammed bedroom, there wasn’t all too much else to the house.

Small, but cozy. SC liked it.

He’d taken another sip of water when he somehow managed to drink it wrong and started choking. If the others were up, they would’ve made fun of him for failing to drink water of all things.

He covered his mouth, trying to dampen the noise – way to go, SC, you just woke everybody up – but did manage to recover quickly. Cursors above, how was he that stupi-

When he pulled his arm back, he was met with little shimmering, red flecks of fragments of code.

His code.

Oh.

He suddenly had a pretty good idea of what the weird phantom pains from yesterday were.

The last thing Blue wanted to hear when he woke up was that SC was probably actively dying and needed help immediately.

Stressed was not at all enough to describe how he felt.

If it had been a regular wound to SC’s outer layer of code, that’d be fine. Just wrap it up, like Blue had done for the others. Even if it had been a more internal wound, a healing potion would’ve been enough to fix it up pretty well.

But this was an injury to the main code that was way more important than his external code. And healing potions somehow made things worse? SC just started coughing up more broken code, and oh boy Blue was starting to freak out because he had no idea how to fix this and they couldn’t just go to a hospital because that would risk Rocket Corp. finding them but if he didn’t fix this SC could die. Not just the silly inconsequential Minecraft deaths, actual, permanent dying.

So it was safe to say that Blue was just a little bit scared for his friend’s life.

The orange stick was sat down on one of the beds; whose, Blue didn’t really know at this point. All he could focus on was how much code SC had coughed up. How much longer until he lost something important?

Also on the list of abnormal things going on with his friend were a radiant green pair of wings that glowed softly in the dim bedroom. Last time Blue had seen them…

His eyes had been cold, not an ounce of emotion behind them, devoid of the usual life they held…

There was a slight creak as Chosen opened the half-closed door to the room. “What in the name of Flash…” His voice trailed off when he saw the other hollow-head. “What happened to him?”

“I-I don’t know!” Blue stammered. “H-he just started started coughing up code and nothing I tried works...I…” I’m a failure of a friend.

“What did you try?”

“W-well, I tried regeneration potions...a-and instant health...golden apples as well-”

“Alright, there’s our problem. His recovery system’s messed up.” Chosen sat down on the other side of SC on the bed.

“His what?”

“The- do you people know anything? Recovery system. Line of code that heals wounds in other parts of an animation’s code. If it’s messed up, it won’t do its job properly and print a bunch of useless garbage. I’ve...I’ve seen it before.”

“Oh.” That was obvious! Why didn’t Blue know that beforehand? What, did he think stuff just magically healed? Of course it didn’t! “What do we do now?”

“Just wait? I dunno, I’m not a medical expert,” Chosen said. Great.

Blue did not like the idea of just leaving SC to the whims of whatever was going on in his code. What if Chosen was wrong? What if he hade caught a virus and waiting around for things to solve themselves was exactly the opposite of what they should be doing?

Why couldn’t Blue do more to help?

What a pitiful excuse of a friend you are.

Chapter Text

Dark sat on a rock in the middle of an overgrown and abandoned wheat field, tossing a small fireball up into the air and then catching it out of sheer boredom.

The stupid mercenaries were devising an unnecessary plan once again. Don’t get him wrong, Dark wasn’t against plans, they were useful, but they did not need one right now. Oh, for the love of all the icons on the Creator’s desktop, did these guys have to write out every single move they took onto a piece of paper?

At least they’d stopped somewhere interesting to look at. It was all the way out in the countryside, the place dotted with semi-functioning windmills. Just in range of his view stood a single dilapidated farmhouse. He wondered if there was anything of value in there.

“The others are so boring, aren’t they?” Dark slightly jumped at Ballista’s sudden comment. (He wasn’t scared, not at all, he just hadn’t registered the short stick’s presence.)

“Of course! We’ve been doing nothing all day. Why don’t we just go and grab those stupid sticks Vic wants so bad instead of waiting around for them to get away?” The hollow-head’s tail began lashing with irritation. He wanted to do something. Was that too much to ask?

“Exactly, we’re just wasting time!” The pixelated stick formed a sword between his hands, before using it to point at the old farmhouse. “Wanna go see if there’s anything interesting in there?”

Dark tossed the fireball behind him haphazardly. “Absolutely,” he said, ignoring the explosion that it caused.

Agent, on the other hand, did not ignore it. He jumped and turned his head to glare at the hollow-head. Dark just grinned as he walked deeper into the field.

Ballista was busy cutting up the tall foliage around them, swings incredibly over exaggerated.

“So where did you get powers like that? Y’know, the face-turning-into-a-turret thing and other stuff,” Dark asked casually.

“Eh, it’s not the most interesting thing. Pretty sure my animator was just screwing around when they made it. I was facing off against a door, believe it or not.”

“No way.”

“Yes way! Took a while, but I knocked the thing clean off its hinges.”

Dark chuckled. “Well, that explains a lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ballista proceeded to walk right into the outside wall of the farmhouse.

The building wasn’t too tall, only one story with a few higher-up windows indicating an attic of some sorts. Paint flaked off the rotting boards, dark with mold and water damage. The tiled roof had caved in some undetermined amount of time ago.

Safe to say, the place was a wreck.

Dark peered through one of the shattered windows. The inside still seemed to be furnished, although the furniture had definitely seen better days. His investigation was cut short by the sound of Ballista violently punching the door, spraying rotted debris everywhere.

“This place looks miserable,” Ballista remarked. He pushed away the remains of the door that were still attached to the bottom hinge. “Well, let’s go see if the previous owners left anything for us to borrow!”

The interior was, in fact, unremarkable. The only real thing of note was and old-timey television with a somehow intact screen and a stove top in the rundown kitchen. Dark got the sudden urge to check if the gas was working, and he knew well enough where that train of thought would go. He’d blow up the place later.

“Found the attic entrance!” exclaimed Ballista loudly. He reached up to try and grab the handle of the trapdoor on the ceiling. “Uh...a little help here.”

“What, are you too short to reach?” Dark took delight in the pure rage in the shorter stick’s face. He opened the trapdoor with ease and almost rained roof tiles and the little pink insulation stuff on the both of them. A ladder fell down as well, miraculously in working condition.

Ballista headed up first. “Ooo, looks like there’s a few chests up here. And a bunch of the cotton candy they put in walls for some reason.”

“You should totally eat it. Or grab it. Or anything, really.”

“Hmm, something tells me I shouldn’t listen to you.”

“Why’s that? Aren’t I the most trustworthy individual around~?” As Dark ascended the ladder, an empty picture frame was unjustly chucked at his head. “Ow! You’re the worst, you know that?”

He sat on a relatively debris-free section of the floor, taking in the ruined attic. The sunlight streamed down from the hole in the ceiling, catching on the displaced dust floating through the air. It was...peaceful up here.

Dark couldn’t help but remember the time he’d actually gotten Chosen to eat some of the fiberglass insulation stuff. Sure, he ended up frozen to the wall for like an hour, but the look on Cho’s face was totally worth it. It didn’t even do anything to him; Cho could probably eat anything as long as it wasn’t terribly poisonous, including really sharp stuff somehow.

...Dark really needed to stop thinking about that traitor.

He busied himself by digging through one of the trunks. There were a couple old paper dolls, some cutesy family photos, a letter dating back to October of 2011 that he wasn’t going to touch with a 5-foot pole, a handful of dice – all a bunch of stuff he didn’t really care for. It seemed like Ballista hadn’t found anything of interest either.

“That was a waste of time,” the pixelated stick said, scattering a bunch of yellowing papers around him. “Hopefully the others are ready to leave this dump.”

“...hey Ballista. You think the stove still works?”

Within minutes, the whole house was in flames.

Agent walked up behind them. “Was this really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” replied two sadistically grinning sticks.

He sighed. “Let’s just...get out of here before anyone sees us.”

Dark lingered behind for a moment, staring at the inferno of his own creation. Cursors, it’d been a long time since he burned something to the ground.

He’d almost forgot just how good it felt.

Chapter Text

Chosen could hardly breath in this new environment.

The air of this place – what was it called again, the Nether? – was thick, dry, and unnatural, absolutely nothing like he’d grown used to in the Outernet. Even for him, the heat was unbearable, worse than the harsh and unpredictable summer.

Even more confusing was the geometry of the dimension. Everything was constructed of cubes, not unlike some of the structures he’d seen the others messing around with on his occasional visits to the desktop. Red rock formed the majority of the cave-like place, lava streaming from the ceiling and pooling in massive oceans below them. How was any of this safe? How did anything live here?

Chosen wanted to leave. He wanted to head back to the Outernet, back to sunny fields and open skies and comforting songs of birds and delicate breezes.

But he couldn’t go back.

Not when they were looking for him.

Never again.

“ We shouldn’t be too far now,” called Purple from ahead. Chosen didn’t know how he felt about that one. He didn’t overlook the several wary glances they had sent his way, as if he was a threat.

It didn’t sit right with him.

But honestly, Chosen didn’t blame Purple. Clearly he’d seen some of the wanted posters, what with them living in the Outernet as well. Plus, the hollow-head had a bunch of new scars from…

He wasn’t going to think about that any longer.

Wasn’t his situation familiar?

Trapped in a place blocked off from the rest of the world…

The constant struggle to get enough air…

It was almost like the rope was around his neck again, the grip getting stronger and stronger and the pain getting worse and worse-

Something grabbed his arm.

Chosen flinched away, but it was just Second. Poor kid. He’d been through so much in the past few days, all completely unwarranted.

It seems like we’re all cursed, huh​?

“Um, Chosen...are you okay? You seemed a bit...off just then.” Why was Second so concerned with other people when he was the one who’d nearly died only a few hours prior?

“ I...I’m fine,” Chosen replied. Lies. He’d been lying constantly for so, so long now. Lying to everyone, especially Second. He felt guilty; but it was just to protect the kid.

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he was just selfish.

He couldn’t help be notice the slightest change in Second’s appearance; one of his pupils were now green, a clear side effect of the powers that had manifested within.

Aren’t you selfish for not telling him anything about himself? Why don’t you admit you’ve been withholding knowledge from him? Maybe you should tell him what you and Dark did all those years ago.

Let him know who you truly are.

SC recognized the nether portal back to the PC immediately. He felt a sudden rush of excitement at the thought of lying down on his bed and taking a nap there after everything that’d happened so far.

He then remembered that wasn’t where they were going.

...Alan had no idea about what had been going on, did he?

“Guys,” SC started, running to the center of the group, “shouldn’t we at least tell Alan that we’re not going to be at the PC for a while? He’s probably really confused right now.”

Red looked down at his feet. “Yeah, we did kinda leave him in the dark.”

“Would it be safe to tell him?” Yellow asked. “What if they set up an ambush? Or Alan just isn’t there?”

“We have to try. It wouldn’t be right to just disappear without telling him.” SC turned back to the portal. “If he isn’t there right now, we can leave him a message on his notes app or email or something.”

“First, we should probably let the others know we’re leaving for a second,” Yellow said before tapping Mango on the shoulder. “Hey Mango-”

“I overheard. Be quick, and don’t leave anything that could tell Rocket Corp. where we went.” With the older stick’s permission, the three hopped through the nether portal.

At this point, SC was fairly used to the disorienting feeling of switching between the Nether and the Overworld (or the PC in this case). When him, Red, and Yellow exited the Storage folder, they were greeted by an open Adobe Animate program.

That was a great sign.

“How much do we want to tell him?” Red started.

That was a fair point, actually. SC didn’t want to make Alan too nervous, so there was a pretty long list of stuff that they probably didn’t want to share.

Or remember, either.

“Maybe just the basics, like how there are some people looking for us, but how we’ll be safe in another computer with Purple and Chosen,” SC suggested. He was met with two head nods.

Carefully, the small group made their way to the Animate tab. Alan’s cursor hung near the center of the screen, suspended by invisible strings from the top of the monitor. The page was blank, and none of the frames seemed to have anything on them.

Suddenly, the cursor changed from its usual arrow shape to one resembling a thin “I.” It lingered for a moment, unmoving. SC glanced at the fourth wall of the monitor, and sure enough, there was the familiar yet strange form of the human he’d come to know, face painfully difficult for the stick to read.

Was he confused? Scared? Relieved? SC didn’t know enough about human emotion to tell.

[|]

[where are the others?|]

Through the nether portal , SC responded. Talking to Alan was always sorta weird to him; It wasn’t talking, it was more...thinking loudly. He had no idea if that made any sense.

[what happened to you guys? you disappeared for a few days and I was getting worried|]

[the desktop was a mess when I came back and you were all gone|]

Some people came by, not sure their whole deal but they’re not nice

We’re going to be in a separate computer for a bit with Purple and Chosen until they leave us be

[|]

[chosen’s there?|]

Yeah, these people want him to for some reason

[who are they?|]

I don’t know all of their names, but one of them is Victim

I think they were made by you too

[|]

The cursor remained still like that for a while.

Did...did SC say something wrong?

[|]

[you guys stay safe, ok?|]

We will

…

Can I borrow the pencil tool

[yeah sure|]

With that, their conversation ended.

Why did SC have a feeling something was wrong?

It took Purple a bit of time to find the portal to the old computer. The transition from the old Nether to the new one had messed with the layout of the area, but they eventually located it.

Shortly after, SC, Red, and Yellow rejoined the group, with the hollow-head carrying a strange grey pencil Purple hadn’t seen before. They made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Mango took a spot in front of the portal, loudly clearing his throat to address the seven other people. “Alright, this is where I assume you guys will be staying for the foreseeable future. I’ll come by every so often to deliver news, supplies, and anything else you could need. Once everyone is safely on the computer, I’ll destroy the portal leading to the other PC so the Rocket Corp. people won’t be able to find the portal from there.”

With that, SC, Red, Blue, Green, and Yellow all raced into the portal, followed cautiously by the Chosen One. Purple lingered outside the obsidian frame, not able to convince themselves to go in.

He wouldn’t be able to see Mango much anymore.

Purple knew it was for both of their safeties. Yet he couldn’t bear the fact that he’d be away from their adoptive father. After so long, they finally had someone to look up to…

And that’d just be gone for cursors know how long…

They felt arms wrap around him. “It’ll be fine, Purple. I’ll make sure to visit as much as possible,” Mango promised.

Purple returned the hug, nuzzling close to him. “I love you, dad.”

“Love you too, son.”

A warm fuzziness blossomed in his chest, and Purple couldn’t help but smile.

Chapter Text

The old Mac seemingly hadn’t changed since the last time SC was there. It was comforting, knowing he’d be staying somewhere that wasn’t new or dangerous or completely hostile for once. Sure, maybe this place didn’t bring back the best memories – Blue and Green had nearly died to the unforgiving jaws of the void, after all – but it was certainly better than anything he could come up with.

Almost immediately, several villagers ran up to meet the group. They all wore newer robes and gear like the other villagers SC met when going to get the master cookbook. Excitedly, they talked among themselves, before rushing to shake hands with everyone.

“Long time no see, huh?” one of the villagers said in his thickly-accented English. He was wearing dark leather robes and an eye patch.

Green stepped up to the front of the crowd. “ Well, we haven’t really had much time to visit, what with saving Minecraft and all that.” This arose several more thrilled whispers from the gathered villagers.

Blue pushed his brother aside, then cleared his throat. “We were wondering if we could possibly stay for a while. To not give away too many details, it’s not really too safe for us to go anywhere else, and-”

“Of course you can stay!” another villager with books on her head exclaimed. “It’s the least we can do for the heroes who saved our...village…” Her voice trailed trailed off when she saw Purple, who sheepishly waved.

“Oh! That’s right!” Red wrapped his arm around his friend. “Purple’s with us now! He helped us with the whole ‘saving Minecraft’ stuff Green mentioned before. Right, Purps?”

“Oh- yeah. No more stealing dragon eggs. Ha.” Their voice was more shaky and unsure than before. Was he okay? SC told himself talk to them about it later.

There was a brief moment where the villagers talked once more, their native tongue undecipherable to the stick figures. When they were done, the librarian villager addressed the group again.

“We have no problems with you guys staying! First, though, you’ll need to talk to our new king to see where you’ll be living.” New king? That made sense. After living with one for what SC assumed was a pretty long time, it’d be weird to not have a king guiding them. Cursors, he had a lot to catch up on.

As they walked through the confusing labyrinth that was the Mac’s file folder, SC decided to strike up a conversation with the librarian who had been guiding them. “So,” he started, “who is the new king you guys have? Are they good?”

“Only the best! If he wasn’t, we wouldn’t have voted for him three years in a row. He keeps taxes low, pay high, and all the infrastructure in check! This is the best the monarchy’s ever been.”

As the villager pulled ahead, Yellow quietly whispered to the others, “...should we tell her that she just described a democracy, not a monarchy?”

“Nah,” Green replied, holding his hands behind his head, “it’s funnier if they don’t know.”

“ You’re a jerk.”

“No, I just have a better sense of humor than you.”

They both spent the rest of the walk glaring at each other.

At last, the group of eight reached the castle. Not much had changed, besides the now-red flags and the noticeable lack of a certain statue on the building’s roof. Upon the golden throne sat a green-robed villager with a crown adorning his head, and a familiar scepter in his hands. He looked to be a bit bored, but quickly lit up when he saw the newcomers.

“Stick figures! Welcome back! It has been a while since our village was graced with your presence.” The king waved the scepter around in a few careless circles. “We have already heard rumors from the Nether and the lands beyond of your exploits and adventures, and our village is eager to supply you with whatever you may need.”

The librarian quickly bowed. “Oh great King Alexandrius, the heroes request a place to stay in their time of dire need. Would you perhaps have a residence available for them?”

“Of course!” Alexandrius quickly counted each of the sticks, pointing at them with the scepter as he went. “Seven...there should be enough small homes in the Documents folder for each of your party to have a place to stay.”

The buildings were all pretty much the same – that classic, 5x5 house with a little terrace that was barely large enough for a single bed. Nonetheless, SC flopped onto his bed, grateful for anything after everything he’d been through the past few days.

None of it felt real. It couldn’t be. It all felt like a blur of color and sound and he’d never properly had the time to digest all the multitudes of information he’d been given.

Powers.

The word rang in his head, with no meaning yet so much meaning all at once.

He had no clue how to use them, but still. Clearly they were super powerful, considering they were probably the only reason his friends were alive right now.

Truth be told, they were the only reason why he was still alive.

Stark white walls and insufferable pain-

Now was not the time.

Instead, SC attempted to summon the verdant wings he’d come to associate with his powers. That...was much easier said than done. How did people even summon stuff? Was there just some magic incantation they said in their head, or did it just happen? Maybe Chosen knew. He-

Chosen had known about SC’s powers for years.

The older hollow-head had never even once considered telling him anything.

SC sat up, eyeing the door. Oh no, now he had to confront Chosen. What was he thinking, hiding something so important for so long? Did he even know how much powers would’ve helped SC?

The orange stick left his house and hopped down a level to reach Chosen’s. There were three houses on each level of the page; while the others had claimed one on either the top or middle level, Chosen insisted on being as far away as possible.

Suspicious, a little voice murmured in SC’s head.

He knocked on the door a few times, but was met with silence. “Hey Cho? Could I come in for a bit?” he asked, and the door finally swung open.

“Please don’t call me that,” Chosen muttered before going to sit on his bed. He sounded really, really tired.

SC sat on an oak stair that was some pitiful excuse for a chair. The two sat in silence for a while, neither quite sure how to start a conversation with the other.

“…you knew about my powers before any of this started, didn’t you?”

Instantly, Chosen went rigid, unable to make eye contact. He had a very obvious guilty face, SC noted.

“I...yes. I did know. You used them during the Showdown about five years ago.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed so happy as it was! I didn’t want to ruin that with the news that you probably killed a person and blew up and entire mountain with them!”

“I- what? T-this is exactly what I’m talking about! You don’t tell anyone anything! How are any of us supposed to trust you when you refuse to say stuff?”

There was a long pause, only broken when Chosen stood up and opened the door, gesturing towards it.

“If you were smart, you wouldn’t.”

Oh.

Well, that was a disaster.

SC didn’t feel any better. In fact, he felt worst.

Why were all of Alan’s creations so horrible?

This was all so stupid. Everything was stupid. He didn’t understand anything that was going on.

Why was the world like this? Why were people fighting? What did they want from him? Why didn’t anyone tell him anything?!

There was a creak as someone opened the door. “Hey, Sec?” Red started. “We’re gonna go show the villagers the command block staff. Would you like to-”

“Just leave me alone!” SC shouted. His wings suddenly appeared, unfurling and puffing out to their full wingspan. A surge of power went through him. He felt strong. He felt-

Red visibly flinched back, a look of fear on his face.

…

The Second Coming deflated.

He was a monster.

He was no better than the rest of them.

Chapter Text

SC couldn’t convince himself to wake up. He was tired, oh so tired, and he was sure he didn’t have the strength to leave his bed. He just wanted to lie down and melt into the bedsheets, bidding farewell to all his troubles.

His internal laments were interrupted by a loud rumbling from his stomach.

Yeah, that was probably the issue.

He sat up and almost instantly noticed just how sore his shoulder was. Come to think of it, it had been bothering him for a while now. Shouldn’t his magical healing powers have taken care of that already?

...whatever.

Stepping outside, SC rubbed the sleep from his eyes and attempted to not fall face-first onto the ground. He was pretty quickly greeted by Blue.

“Mornin’, Sec! How did you sleep?”

“Decent,” SC managed through a yawn, “although I think skipping a few meals is starting to catch up to me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered. The farmers were nice enough to lend us some supplies, so we’re making pancakes!”

Pancakes sounded nice. Red was also helping Blue; the two had set up a rudimentary outdoor kitchen, complete with a table for the group nearby. The younger stick noticed SC and immediately rushed over to hug him.

“How are you doing, Red?” SC asked.

“Good! Although I can’t talk much because Blue is forcing me to help him.”

“Don’t listen to him, he volunteered to help!” Blue’s voice sounded from the makeshift kitchen. Red sighed dramatically and went back to mixing batter.

SC didn’t know what he’d do without these guys.

...yesterday’s events replayed in his head.

Red didn’t appear too put off by the hollow-head’s sudden outburst the night before. Despite this, SC couldn’t get the image of his best friends eyes shining with fear, a look he’d barely seen prior…

You remember the last time he looked at anyone like that, don’t you?

No. It was fine. Red was just adjusting to his friend having powers, as SC was himself .

SC was not like him.

The rest of the sticks gathered around the table, and he couldn’t help but notice just how ordinary everything felt . It was a nice change of pace.

Blue and Yellow were chatting away as per usual, Red had told Purple some corny joke, and Green pulled out two noteblocks to play a simple bu-dum-tisk after the punchline.

As Chosen finally joined the rest of them, the chefs of the morning presented two stacks of perfectly fluffy, golden-brown pancakes, ready for sharing.

Red and Blue presented the dishes with much flourish. “Ta-da~!” they exclaimed in unison.

SC had missed this sense of normality. But cursors was it good for things to be back to normal.

Absentmindedly, Chosen picked at his pancake.

It wasn’t like he did want to eat it – it looked delicious, and smelled heavenly – but he just…

He just couldn’t.

The fork he held was cold against his hand, metal weighing down in his palm. He knew he should eat something. Whatever nibbles of food he had yesterday weren’t going to keep him going for much longer. And he’d feel terrible for just leaving his breakfast there, especially since the two kids had worked all morning to make it.

Elsewhere at the table, the rest of the group was busy laughing at some old story one of them had brought up. Something about simultaneously burning the outside of a pancake while also under cooking the inside. Chosen didn’t listen much longer; he honestly couldn’t care less about cooking.

Can’t even engage in a conversation, can you?

Well, he didn’t really know any of them…

You’ve been pushing them away for years now. It’s all you’ve ever done.

And the one time you tried to connect with someone…

A slight wave in his peripheral.

Chosen turned his attention to Blue, who was sitting next to him. The younger stick was holding out a strange, pixilated apple.

The hollow-head hesitated for a moment before grabbing the fruit. Blue smiled at him, underlaid with something that wasn’t quite pity, something more understanding.

Chosen wished Blue would leave him alone.

...he was being selfish again.

He took a bite out of the apple, forcing his mind to shut up. The fruit felt like a normal apple; he wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

At least it was something he could eat at that moment.

Chosen just wanted things to go back to normal.

...there was no way things could ever return to normal.

It didn’t take long for a familiar itch to make itself known to the stick. The group had split off a while ago; it was the perfect opportunity for Chosen to take a look around. Walking over to the sidebar, he took a little peak into the Downloads folder.

It was filled with those same weird cube-like animations (?) who had guided them here yesterday. A feeling of dread began to settle in his stomach. Would they recognize him? They didn’t seem to yesterday, but what if that was just because Second and his friends were there?

Stupid, stupid thoughts, of course the strange animations didn’t recognize him. They would’ve brought it up, as they did with Purple, whatever that stick had done.

Chosen began to climb into the folder, set on exploring it thoroughly.

“Hey...Chosen? Mind if I talk to you for a moment?” The hollow-head nearly lost his grip on the sidebar.

“Uh...not really…” He jumped down to the ground. “What do you want?”

“Are you good? You didn’t seem to be doing too well at breakfast. It’s probably not my place to pry, but I just want to make sure everyone’s okay, especially now that we have a break from everything.”

Cursors.

Chosen could just lie and say he was fine, but that would so thinly veil everything so utterly wrong with him that it’d be completely pointless. What should he tell Blue? What little half-truth could he pull from his myriad of issues that wouldn’t hint at his past and potentially reveal a bunch of horrible stuff these kids did not need to deal with right now?

Before he could come up with anything, an orange figure dropped down from the upper layers of the folder. Thank goodness.

“Hey, Blue! I was wondering if…” Second looked between the two others. “Is...are you guys already doing something that I’m interrupting?”

“No, we were just talking. What do you need?”

The orange hollow-head’s eyes darted over Chosen and then back to his friend. “My right shoulder’s been bothering me ever since...a while, even though it probably shouldn’t be because of, y’know, healing powers. You kinda know medicine and stuff, so I thought you’d be the best person to ask.”

“Yeah! I can check that out for you.” Blue turned to the older hollow-head, who was trying to sneak his way out of confrontation. “Chosen, you can stay, I’ll get a chair for you.” God dang it.

Blue handed him some small, 3-D puzzle piece-looking chunk of wood labeled “Oak Stairs.” Confused, Chosen placed it on the ground, where it instantly expanded into a much larger version of the item he was handed. What the f-

“So, about when did this soreness start?” Blue asked in an overly professional tone.

“Around...the beginning of the whole Rocket Corp. situation, I think. My memory’s a bit fuzzy from that time, but I think that’s when it started.”

“M-hm. Anything you think could have caused this?”

“I-” Second’s voice instantly cut off. “On the first day there – at least I think it was the first day – they scanned my code. One of the workers had some sort of cable with a sharp bit at the end, and...yeah.”

If Chosen wasn’t listening already, he was now.

“That’s how they were able to check my powers. Although, you’d think my shoulder would’ve recovered by now…”

“That’s not how you read code.” At the sound of Chosen’s sudden intervention, the other two sticks jumped. “At least, that’s not how you check life code. You’d need to be connected to a special computer or terminal, and from there you can check it as if it was a regular file, although from what I’ve heard, life code is practically indecipherable. Whatever those sick monsters were doing, it involved something other than messing with your powers.”

Blue perched his elbow on the back of the oak stair Second was sitting in, leaning his head on his fist. “Why would they do that then…?”

A fair question. Chosen fidgeted with the band stuck around his wrist, a habit he hadn’t bothered breaking. He couldn’t help the thought that creeped into his mind, a possible explanation that’d put them all in serious danger.

They wouldn’t.

…

He definitely would.

“Isn’t there some way we could check if they mess with anything?” Second asked, voice wavering slightly.

“Yeah, I think so. Any of you have a switchblade?” The other two stared at Chosen in blatant horror. “If you have any better ideas, shoot them my way. But we need to know if that stupid company’s got a way to track our location.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Second pulled out the strange grey pencil he’d grabbed from the PC.

Chosen prayed the kid would forgive him for what he was about to do.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

SC’s shoulder blazed with pain, deep gashes crisscrossing his skin, exposing the internal code within, glistening a sickening garnet color.

The wounds were quickly obscured by a bright green glow before disappearing, leaving nothing but a lingering burning.

...he wasn’t even sure if getting a switchblade dug into his shoulder was on the list of top three worst things he’d ever been though.

“I am never [----]ing doing that ever again,” Chosen muttered under his breath. He looked utterly shaken, partly from what he’d just done and, what SC guess was partly from the damaged chip the older hollow-head held.

They weren’t safe. They never were.

“We need to leave,” Blue said quietly. “The tracker’s damaged. Rocket Corp.’s probably going to be here any moment, since now they won’t know where we are.”

Chosen nodded. “Get everyone near this computer’s Wi-Fi portal. Once we get to the Internet, we can lose them there.”

That was a decent plan. SC stood up, pushing past the aching in his right shoulder.

“Blue, tell the people here. I’ll go make sure no one’s in any of the other folders.” With that, SC made his way to the sidebar.

His friends would be fine. It’s not like the mercenaries were just going to show up and-

BOOM!

No.

No no nonononononono-

SC ran out of the file manager manager onto the desktop, which was now smoldering and in flames.

He noticed Dark after the red hollow-head noticed him.

“Oh, hey Orange~! Did you miss me? Admit it; you missed me.”

Dark hated waiting.

He’d taken apart and put back together the Wikipedia globe three times now. Agent wouldn’t even let him browse the rest of the site bubble. No, he was required to stay here just in case they needed to infiltrate the Mac earlier than planned.

Whatever. Dark didn’t want to get stuck in some weird rabbit hole like last time he visited this place.

He was tearing apart the puzzle piece globe for the fourth time when Primal walked over with Hazard.

“I heard this place has an article for everything,” she said. “Do you think they have one on us?”

“Nah, probably not.” He laid down on the search bar. “I don’t think most humans know us animations are alive.”

“Huh.”

“-. --- --..-- / .- -. .. -- .- - --- .-. / ...- ... .-.-.- / .- -. .. -- .- - .. --- -. / .. ... / .- / .--. --- .--. ..- .-.. .- .-. / -.-- --- ..- - ..- -... . / ... . .-. .. . ... --..-- / ... --- / - .... . -.-- / -.. . ..-. .. -. .. - . .-.. -.-- / -.- -. --- .-- / .- -... --- ..- - / ..- ... .-.-.-” Hazard beeped.

What.

Primal just stared at her accomplice, as if she understood whatever the heck that was.

“HEY! IDIOTS! OVER HERE!” Ballista’s voice rang through the rather small hub page. “The tracker stopped working, we can go get them now!”

Oh, finally. Any more stalling and Dark would’ve gone back to destroying websites.

Agent was such a partypooper.

“Dark Lord, stop burning things down. Do you know what Victim would do if they found out-”

“Relax, they’re game characters. They don’t feel the same stuff we do,” Dark said matter-of-factly over the screams of several of the weird cube characters.

It was then he realized a certain somebody was nearby.

Orange (or whatever his real name was, Dark didn’t care to remember) stood by a file manager in fear, soon followed by his stupid friends, and, of course, Chosen.

A familiar restlessness sunk into his limbs, a quite voice in the back of his head urging him to fight. Not now, he reminded himself, Cho needs to be left alive.

No one said anyone besides the two hollow-heads needed to be spared, though.

Dark grinned.

This was going to be fun.

SC held up the pencil. He wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t ready.

He had to be ready.

The pixelated stick ran at the group, and SC sketched a flurry of frantic lines into the air, an elephant forming from the drawing. It tried to use its trunk and tusks to knock away the oncoming stick, but he jumped over, splitting his head open to reveal a turret.

SC had barely a moment to register that before a barrage of black pixels were shot his way and he had to draw a shield to protect himself.

Behind him, the battle raged on with the clash of blades and the occasional flash of flames.

He felt the shield bend under the pressure of his attacker. Focus, SC, focus!

With as much power as he could muster, SC rammed the shield into the pixelated mercenary, knocking him back. He prepared to draw something again and- was that a missile?

He couldn’t react in time. The explosion sent SC, the pencil, and the shield flying. Staggering to his feet, he checked his inventory for anythi-

A black energy blade ran straight through his chest.

One moment, he was standing, the next, he was slammed against the backdrop of the monitor.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, his whole body felt like it was aflame-

The wound was fringed with red where the virus ate away at the physical code that attempted to heal-

He was useless.

He was going back to that horrible, dreadful place.

…

No.

SC was not going to lie there while the people he cared about fought for their lives.

He pushed himself off the ground, struggling against the pain.

He had powers. He was going to use them.

Green feathered wings fanned out behind him as he stood up, the virus infecting the stab wound fizzling away as it healed.

The Second Coming was not going to let them win again.

Almost instantly, he was upon Dark, catching him off-guard with a well-placed punch that crackled with energy. He grabbed the red hollow-head and slammed him against the far right wall of the monitor, past the now-destroyed nether portal.

Through the flames, the Second Coming caught a glimpse of the pencil and quickly retrieved it. It glowed at his touch. Slightly curious, he made an experimental stroke, which molded itself into a large scythe the same color as his wings.

How interesting! He didn’t know he could do that!

His head snapped towards Dark, who at this point knew what was about to happen.

The scythe’s blade scratched the ground as the Second Coming approached. As a last resort, Dark tossed a fireball his way, but a swift swing sliced it in two. He barely even felt the heat of the dying flames.

This feeling of power… It was utterly intoxicating.

The Second Coming liked it. He liked it a lot.

He pressed the tip of the blade up against the terrified stick’s throat, tearing the collar of his cape.

Here was the Dark Lord, the person who’d ruined his life, at his mercy.

The Second Coming couldn’t help but smile.

He was going to enjoy watching the light slowly fade from Dark’s ey-

A scream from behind him stole his attention.

He could just barely see Purple from were he stood, struggling against the tall stick with sunglasses he knew all to well.

Flying over to him, SC lifted the mercenary into the air before jabbing the end of the scythe into his chest. The hollow-head then went to check on Purple.

A dart stuck out of his arm but it was quickly dealt with by a slice from the scythe. A few cuts and burns covered their body, but besides that he was mostly fine.

SC could see the others using cobblestone to pillar up to the Wi-Fi icon, so he helped Purple up to it.

Green and Chosen’s tower reached the top first, and the older stick punched it open, allowing the group to enter.

Next thing the knew, there were in some massive sphere dedicated to Wikipedia.

“I...I know a place...where they won’t find us,” Chosen managed through pained breaths. He then searched something into the main page’s search bar, and clicked some article labeled “Xiao Xiao.”

Red tapped SC’s shoulder. “Hey Sec, did you notice you have a tail now?”

“Huh?” He turned around, and sure enough, there was a thin, wire-like tail with five feathers at its tip. “Well that’s new-”

His wings, tail, and scythe all disintegrated into green sparks as SC collapsed, his strength leaving him.

He could barely keep his eyes open as Red caught him. The group tapped some link, heading to some place SC could hardly make out. It looked...ruined?

The last thing he heard before passing out was Green’s voice.

“Have any of you guys seen Yellow?”

POWERS_STATUS: DIVINE-INSANITY;

POWERS_STATUS_DIVINE-INSANITY_DESCRIPTION: The breaking point. Run, fight, beg for your life, it will not change the outcome.

Chapter Text

Yellow covered his mouth in a pitiful attempt to keep himself from inhaling more smoke. Flames danced in his peripherals, harsh, bright light catching on the lenses of his glasses and obscuring his vision.

An arrow whizzed past his head, and there was just barely enough time for him to apply Slowness 255 to the next arrow implanted itself in his shoulder.

Yellow turned to face the sketchy mercenary, who had switched weapons from a bow to a spear. He willed himself to focus.

If he remembered correctly from last time they’d interacted back on Alan’s PC, she could shift to a much more ferocious form that Yellow did not want to have to fight. If he just used the force hold command, however-

The desktop erupted into green light, dissipating as soon as it had appeared.

He was knocked to the ground, staring up at the Rocket Corp. ceiling, vision blurred and disoriented.

The command block staff.

Getting up, he attempted to find where it’d went-

SC stood a small distance away from Yellow, a vibrant green glow radiating from the angelic wings that sprouted from his back, the air around the hollow-head crackling with energy and electricity.

A blur of sparks and flashes, screaming and destruction and confusion and fear-

A terrible jab of pain in his knee, his weight giving out under him-

Falling to the ground-

Suffocating smoke and flames, dancing, reds and oranges and yellows swirling and flickering and it’s all so much-

His weight was lifted…

Hands constricted…

Every breath, painful…

He…he couldn’t…

…

When Yellow finally woke up, he had no clue where he was.

...which was partly because he could barely see anything.

Colors blurred together, unfocused, gathering in big splotches that were difficult to make out. It was green all around – was he in a forest? – minus the few spots of grey, white, brown, and a small section of vivid red…

Oh.

Oh no.

No no nonononono-

Yellow tried to move, but something bright blue was stopping him. His arms were stuck to his sides and he was tied to what he assumed was a chair.

This was great. This was just great. What did these people want from him? Were they going to use him as a bargaining chip?

A sudden sharp pain sliced through his senses.

“Oh, he’s awake.” Yellow didn’t recognize the voice. The most he could gather was that it wasn’t Dark (thankfully). “Primal, remove the arrow from his knee.”

The what.

A blob of brown approached him (the mercenary from before? Her name was Primal, then), and Yellow had no other choice than to sit there Primal yanked the out the arrow.

He fought every urge to scream.

“Alright boss, what do we do about ‘em? Just leave him here to spy on us?” This voice was much higher, full of energy and slightly crackly(?).

“No. We’ll bring him to the headquarters tomorrow. I’m sure Victim will want him, alongside the staff he was using. They should both prove useful.”

Yellow did not like this. He did not like this at all. Take him back to that building? To this Victim guy no less? If that was the person behind all this…

The person who’d sent a bunch of sticks to hunt them down…

The person who’d successfully captured his friend and even the Chosen One…

The person who’d done whatever they’d done to SC…

…

Yellow was not looking forward to meeting them.

Dark carefully brought his hand up to his throat.

The cut, barely visible against his own skin color, stung a bit at his touch.

The tip of the scythe grazed his throat as he’d stared into the eyes of what could only be Death itself.

What had he gotten himself into?

He should’ve left as soon as he’d read that cursed file. No, he shouldn’t have even joined this stupid effort.

There was revenge, and then there was this.

Someone was going to die.

Someone was going to die and Dark was pretty sure it would be him.

He laid down and stared at the ceiling of the tent he’d painstakingly set up. What was he doing, just sitting there? He should run, run far away and make a fake identity and go figure his life out in some small town in the middle of nowhere.

But he couldn’t just leave. Vic’d go after him, too. And the last thing Dark wanted was to be on the receiving end of whatever horrible new torment that one came up with.

At least he was quick with getting rid of people. Victim was just on a whole different level of terribleness that would definitely get them in trouble sometime soon.

Maybe that was the play. Rat out the company for doing awful stuff, get away before anyone could pin the blame on him.

...but no, they definitely had some records of Dark, he was sure of it.

Maybe…

Maybe he deserved this.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of telling him he’d screwed up for the last time.

Maybe he was being punished for everything he’d done.

…

Dark hoped that wasn’t the case.

He didn’t want to die.

Not now. Not when he still had so much to do-

He flopped his face onto a pillow and screamed into it, voice muffled. He was so tired.

So tired of pretending any of this was worth it.

So tired of pretending he didn’t miss everything he’d thrown away.

So tired of putting his own life on the line for a stupid mission and some stupid vengeance some glorified idiot couldn’t even get themselves and which probably wasn’t even physically possible.

Dark was so tired of all of this.

But it was still his fault, was it not?

He was going to die and there was no one else to blame.

Dark finally looked out of the hole he’d been digging for himself since the very day he was drawn.

He could only just see the blue of the sky far, far above him, nothing but a speck in the distance.

Chapter Text

Red had just a moment to catch his friend before SC collapsed onto the ground of the site. Questions raced through the younger stick’s head at a breakneck pace. What happened to Sec’s powers? Was he going to be okay? Where the last things Red would ever say to his best friend “you have a tail now?!”

All were left unanswered as he noticed everyone tap some link on the Wikipedia article Chosen had pulled up. Right, right, they were running for their lives. That was a slightly important detail.

Pressing the link, Red felt the world around him contort and shift as both himself and Sec’s unconscious body were redirected to a completely different site.

And what a sight it was.

The group was surrounded by charred and blackened ruins and rubble, remnants of an era destroyed. Built on the ruins was a strange building, showcasing several animations.

On the top of it, in big block letters, read “STICKPAGE.”

There was a moment of silence before Green broke it with a single question: “Have any of you guys seen Yellow?”

Wait.

Red looked around, desperately searching for the missing stick.

No, everything was going to be fine, it would be fine, Yellow was just lagging behind, he was going to be there, they had not left him behind, it was fine, it was fine…

But Yellow never appeared.

Red forced Purple to hold Sec and walked over to the tunnel they’d come from. “We have to rescue him!” He felt Chosen’s hand grab his arm, dragging him away from where his friend was.

“We can’t go back! We’ll just put ourselves into more danger, and this time we won’t have the resources to escape again.”

“Then what do we do, just leave Yellow in the hands of those monsters?” Blue nearly shouted. “Are we going to let him fend for himself instead of even attempting to help him?”

“Well, if you want to fight Rocket Corp. on your own, be my guest. But I’m staying here, whether you like it or not.”

“If anyone should be helping us, it’s you!” Purple added. “What happened to being ‘the Chosen One?’ Can’t you just use your wondrous, magical powers-”

“Everyone, SHUT UP!” Green’s voice silenced the quarreling sticks. “Chosen’s right; it’s too soon for us to go back. We should regear, heal up, and maybe recruit some people to help us before doing anything rash. Then we go beat those idiots up and rescue Yellow.”

No one argued against him. Yet Red couldn’t stop himself from worrying about his friend’s well-being.

“Is he going to be okay without us?” he quietly muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Green let out a sigh. “Yeah. Yellow’s smart. If anything, he’ll figure out a way to get back to us before we find him.”

Red just nodded, taking one last look at the internet tunnel before joining the others.

Things would be okay.

...right?

*~*~*~*

Barren.

That’s the only word Chosen could use to describe this place.

Despite the giant display of different sticks, not a single animation roamed the site. It was empty, hauntingly so, devoid of anything but the terminal’s glow.

And that was perfect.

No witnesses to the group’s travels, no one who could possibly alert the mercenaries of their location, no one around who still remembered-

Yet the ruins still lingered, all these years later…

No one was left to clean the mess…

What if they asked…? What to say then?

So many thoughts still lingered at the back of his mind...doubts...fears...suffocating, terrifying…

How long could they stay here before someone found them…

Before someone found him?

…

Chosen forced himself out of his thoughts.

The group had decided to settle down for a bit, underneath a rocky-rubble outcropping that mostly protected them from any prying eyes. They were all tired, battered, and desperately needed a safe place to clean wounds and rest.

Chosen sat at the top of the rock, keeping watch. His hand instinctively traced the stubborn arm band around his wrist.

Words replayed in his head.

Harsh. Stinging.

“What happened to being ‘the Chosen One?’ ”

Since when had he ever lived up to that name?

“Hey, you see anyone up there, Chosen?” Purple called from below, poking his head out from their little shelter. Why were they even talking to him? That kid had never shown anything but distaste for the hollow-head.

“No. We’re still alone out here.”

Things were silent for a moment before Chosen heard scraping from the rock behind behind him.

He wanted to leave, get away from the presence that was suddenly beside him, but he couldn’t.

Neither of the two moved for a while.

Finally, Purple spoke, voice low.

“So how does it feel to be back in one of the places that you and him ruined?

“I’m sure you feel just wonderful right now, especially if it was anything like what happened over at Newgrounds.”

Chosen’s breath hitched.

What.

Eyes bored into his soul, harsh and accusatory.

They knew they knew they knew THEY KNEW-

He had to leave he had to leave-

Words formed in his throat and died before they could be of any use-

What. Was he. Supposed to SAY to that?

Purple left before Chosen could fully process what just happened.

They knew.

*~*~*~*

The first thing SC noticed when his consciousness returned were voices.

Then the cold, smooth surface he was lying on.

And then a numbing pain, seeping into every bit of his body, its source unable to be pinned down.

A familiar aching he wished would just go away.

...familiar?

SC forced his eyes open, ignoring the pain building up in his head and the stiffness in his limbs. It was bright but not too bright, just enough where it strained his eyes.

A certain shade of red stared back at him.

“Sec! Are you okay? You were out for, like, an hour or two. I mean, I’m just guessing the time, there’s no clocks or anything here. It’s so empty.”

SC just looked at him, confused. Why weren’t they at the Mac village? Where were they now?

“Oh, uh, sorry we just ended up laying you down on the floor, somehow no one had any wool so we couldn’t make a bed or even carpets. Blue was pretty upset about that. He’s been...reasonably snappy for the past while.”

Pushing himself off the ground, SC stared into the sleek surface that made up the ground of wherever they were. Two light orange eyes looked back.

Something about that felt off.

How could that be wrong? That’s how he always looked.

“Enough about that. How are you feeling? You don’t have any scrapes, but, I mean, after what happened, I’d assume you’d be tired.”

“What...oh. Head hurts...I guess.” For some reason, it was hard for him to get the words out. “Wh...where are we?”

Red’s eyes widened. “Right! You weren’t awake when we clicked the link! It was called Stickpage, I think. Not sure why Chosen decided here of all places, but it should be a good pit stop before we go find Y-”

His voice suddenly cut off. “Before we go try to fight Rocket Corp. again.” That was weird.

“Did they find us again…?”

“Sec, I think your nap messed up your head or something,” Red said, staring at the hollow-head, slightly confused. “After breakfast, they got onto the desktop through the Wi-Fi tunnel thing. The whole place was on fire. You had this massive green scythe. It was pretty scary but also really cool.”

“I- wh- Red, I don’t even use scythes. I use like...hammers and swords and stuff...I though you know that.”

“...do you not remember anything that happened after breakfast, Sec?”

…

No.

No he didn’t.

Memory gap right at the end of whatever happened during the Showdown.

Memory gap when they escaped from the Rocket Corp. headquarters.

Memory gap replacing a fight with the mercenaries.

What was going on?

Why couldn’t he remember?

Was he not supposed to remember?

*~*~*~*

Blue dragged a stick through a small pile of dust and rubble, holding his knees close to his face with his other arm.

Yellow was missing.

Yellow was missing and they weren’t even going to go search for him.

He hadn’t even noticed the stick was gone until Green pointed it out.

What sort of friend…?

Footsteps.

It was Green, heading back to the camp from wherever he’d been.

“There seems to be some small buildings about half a mile out,” he said to Blue. “Not sure if there’s anyone there or if they’re just ruins too, but it’d probably be worth it to check it out.”

The younger stick nodded, and Green went to go tell the others about his discovery. SC was awake now, although he looked pretty disoriented.

Once the group was gathered, Green held up the lodestone compass that would lead back to the cluster of buildings. Oh, so he had a lodestone of all things, but no wool?

...that was a pretty Green thing to do, honestly.

Pretty soon, the group headed out, following the compass needle through the barren wasteland, the Stickpage display looming ominously above the ruined landscape in the distance.

“Blue, you doing okay?” Green asked softly. Blue just shrugged and rested his head on his older brother’s shoulder.

Six people’s footsteps. Right number. Wrong people.

Was he going to be okay? Or was he already…

Nope. Don’t think about that.

Blue wasn’t going to imagine that.

Imagine a world where…

…

They’d be fine. He’d be fine.

And if not…

The people behind this whole stupid thing were going to have slow, painful deaths.

...that was a bit harsh.

The minutes dragged on at a snails pace, but eventually, the structure Green had seen cropped up on the horizon. The few buildings were built in a tight circle, cobbled together from rubble. It looked pretty deserted, which was a letdown.

“Do we all just go in?” Purple asked once they reached the place. An open archway allowed access to the inside of the circle.

“Nah,” Green replied, “it’s be best if we had some people outside, watching just in case.” He walked into the archway, followed by Red. Purple hesitated for a moment, looking at Chosen, before following the other two in. What was their deal, anyways?

Whatever. It wasn’t Blue’s problem. He leaned against the backside of one of the houses, ignoring the sharp bits of rock that dug into his back, and pulled out a carrot from his inventory, absentmindedly chewing its tip.

Staring out at the empty landscape with only the two hollow-heads by his side, Blue couldn’t help a strange feeling creep through him. Why was this place so empty? What had even happened here?

Why was there so much room yet nothing to fill it with?

The second party returned shortly after they came. “There’s no one there right now,” Red said. “But it looks like somebody lives here, since we found a fireplace that had only just been put out.”

Well, that was great.

A moment of silence.

And then the long creak of a bowstring being pulled back.

*~*~*~*

Chosen’s brain went into overtime.

They were being attacked.

Fire?

No- not now.

Lightning?

Again, not now.

Laser eye-

NOT NOW.

Run?

Solid idea.

He whirled around, getting a look at their attacker for a split-second. An animation with a choppy black outline and a well-defined humanoid form was pointing a surprisingly detailed bow at the group from atop the roof of one of the houses.

He wasn’t aiming the bow at the group.

The animation was pointing it directly at Chosen’s chest.

He couldn’t move.

“What do you no-gooders want from me?” The animation’s voice was rough and scratchy. The bow’s aim never faltered.

Second put his arms up. “We don’t mean any harm! We were just wondering-”

“Well ya can wonder elsewhere! Get out-a my sight!” The string was drawn back further.

“Alright, alright, fine, we’ll leave.” It was Green talking this time.

“There’s a portal t’ the surface around there.” The animation used the bow to gesture in a direction behind the group before its aim landed back on Chosen.

Quiet words were exchanged, none of which he registered.

One final voice before they left.

“I hope you know what you are, Angel of Death.”

“Don’t you know what you are?”

“What you’ve done?”

“How many people you’ve hurt?!”

The words stabbed into him and he couldn’t move and he couldn’t breathe and the weight around his throat kept getting tighter and tighter-

“You don’t deserve anything. Not after what you did to them.”

“Not after what you did to me.”

A hand dragged him along and he couldn’t tell if it was real or memories threatening to claw him apart-

“I’ll make sure you feel the pain that I did, Angel of Death.”

And the world spun and fell until there was nothing but air and then the cruel, painful stab of the ground, falling onto it like so many times before-

He curled up in a ball and hoped, prayed, that it’d all just end and the pain would go away and he’d feel the grass again and-

…

He did feel grass. And the wind. Gentle, kind, cool against the pain that ebbed through his body.

Chosen opened one eye. A forest met him, green and lush, leaves swaying in the breeze.

He wasn’t there he wasn’t there, thank goodness he wasn’t there…

Two orange pillars stood before him, stark against the rest of the world.

Wasn’t that-

“Chosen, what did you do?”

Chapter Text

Dark stared up at the top of his tent, where both sides of its plastic roof connected to each other.

Time was meaningless at this point. Heck, he’d stayed awake for so long, it might as well be daytime by now.

He went to go unzip the door of the tent, fumbling with the zipper (His hand was shaking. Why was it shaking?), and peered outside. Darkness still blanketed the clearing, the moon a sliver in the clear, cloudless sky, which itself was dotted with countless twinkling stars.

Dark took a deep breath of chilled nighttime air, forcing himself to leave the tent.

It’ll be fine, he told himself, you just need to take a walk. You’re working yourself up over nothing.

He made it about halfway across the clearing before hearing Ballista’s crackly voice overhead.

“Hey! Firebrains!” the pixelated stick called out, hanging from a perch in one of the trees where he was sitting guard for the night. “Where ya’ off to?”

“Couldn’t get myself to sleep, so I’m just going for a walk. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Alright, just don’t take too long. If Agent finds out you’re missing, he’ll have your head.”

Dark let a small chuckle escape him. “Bold of you to assume that I couldn’t take him.” Yet, the idea of actually trying to fight Agent filled him with a sense of dread. That guy was...slightly terrifying, if he was to be completely honest.

...whatever. Dark could beat him in a fight if he wanted to. There wasn’t anything he needed to worry about.

Walking deeper into the forest, the light of the camp slowly dissipated, the only source of illumination coming from the sky above. The chirps of crickets and buzz of other nocturnal bugs filled the air.

And, off in the distance, the sound of softly crashing waves.

Trees became more sparse, the buzz died down, grass turned to sand, and the breeze smelled of salt. Dark took in a deep breath. It’d been a while since he was here, hadn’t it?

The small beach was no different from when he left it. Brilliant golden sand, muted by the darkness, a single large boulder that’d been there for who knows how long, the tall wildflowers that grew at the edges…

Even if life sucked, at least this place wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

Dark started towards the boulder. He’d stay here for a few hours, just long enough to forget about the stupid company and that stupid kid and-

Someone came into his senses.

And with them, a gnawing, unceasing voice at the back of his mind.

mission.The_Dark_Lord=destroy(The_Chosen_One);

*~*~*~*

Under the cover of darkness, Chosen blended in pretty well with the surrounding forest. If he just closed his eyes, he’d be almost impossible to spot.

Besides the faint blue glow of his wristband.

That near-perfect invisibility came in pretty handy when one, for example, needed to get as far away as physically possible without even the slimmest chance of being spotted.

That dreaded confrontation still sat at the back of his mind…

He needed to leave.

Chosen need to leave ages ago, but now was better that never, at this point.

Dried leaves crumpled beneath him, shades of brown that blended together indecipherably in the low light. The moon’s faint glow cast eerie shadows where it breached the leaves above. If anything here was familiar, Chosen wouldn’t be able to tell. But that was fine. That was very fine.

If he didn’t know where he was going, no one else would know, either!

He’d just disappear, and it’d make life so much easier for everyone involved.

Chosen’s pace increased.

He hadn’t done anything to help anyone. Not now, not ever.

Tears threatened to form at the corners of his eyes.

Leaf litter turned to grass turned to sand.

No one would care if he ran away. They’d be happy, actually. Happy that he’d be go-

His foot hit something hard, and he tripped and fell to the ground.

Chosen lifted his face out of the sand. The place he’d ran to...it was the same beach he went to with…

…

It was stupid to try and hide from himself.

It was the same beach he went to with Dark back when they didn’t hate each other.

Chosen picked himself up and pulled his knees to his chin. The looks on the kids’ faces when they learned of his past flickered briefly in his mind…

It’d be fine. They wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.

It’d be fine.

…

Someone was here.

There was a flicker of flame as a red stick looked around wildly.

Chosen’s heart dropped.

What could he do? If he ran, Dark would see him and probably torch him on the spot. Fighting was a death sentence, and if Chosen just sat there, he’d be spotted eventually-

Dark’s gaze met his own.

Heat built up in his hands but no flames ever formed, he was a defenseless sitting duck who could do nothing but stare at the person in front of him and the fireball that glowed painfully bright-

“Truce?” Dark asked, extinguishing the ball of death and extending his good arm.

This was how Chosen died. He’d take Dark’s offer and get his head blown off or stabbed in the chest or any other number of horrible things…

But did he have any better options?

Warily, he stood up, ignored Dark’s outstretched hand, and sat on the boulder behind the other hollow-head. “Yeah. Truce. Whatever.”

Dark made a low sound that roughly translated to “I guess that works” and took a seat on the sand right next to Chosen. He immediately registered that as a threat.

The two just...sat there for a while. No words exchanged, no hostilities shared, just the crashing of waves, crests sparkling with reflected starlight.

Chosen had a silent realization that he’d never actually seen Dark without his bandage. Where is left eye should’ve been was...nothing. Just an empty void.

Second really messed him up, huh?

No wonder he hates that kid.

That brought up a question, actually.

“So...why are you here, anyways?” Chosen asked, perhaps against his better judgment. “I thought you’d be, like...plotting some big evil plan or something.”

Dark sighed. “Just, y’know, taking a little break from being your worst nightmare. It can be pretty tiring, chasing you idiots down all the time.”

“I...I guess that’s fair.” Chosen didn’t expect too much else. He certainly wasn’t expecting Dark to be honest.

“The fight on the desktop this morning...it…” The younger hollow-head ran his hand along his neck. “It...messed me up pretty bad. I…” He turned his attention to the bracelet stuck to Chosen’s wrist. “Do you want me to remove the inhibitor?”

He-

Dark could do that.

After four painful months, he’d finally be able to…

But Dark could easily kill him, right?

Why in the name of Flash would he ever just willingly help his enemy?

...at this point, Chosen wasn’t exactly sure if he cared about whether or not this went well.

He laid out his arm on the edge of the boulder, wristband on clear display. Dark gave him one of those fake smiles where he put his shark-like fangs on full display.

“Are you really so willing to trust someone like me?” Dark jested, although his smile quickly fell. Maybe it was Chosen’s face that betrayed something. Fatigue. Fear. Desperation.

Whatever it was, Dark shrugged it off. “Alright, just don’t move a muscle. I can’t make your arm still myself.” He formed an energy blade around his own wrist, and Chosen’s whole body flinched. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, don’t do that. I will end up accidentally stabbing you.”

Chosen took in a huge breath and steeled himself, heart racing.

This was it.

Either Dark actually honors his word, or…

Chosen turned away, trying not to think about that.

The seconds drew on endlessly...until he heard a sickening, mechanical fizzing.

Chosen instantly ripped his arm away, expecting the worst-

The band was gone.

There was not a single remnant of it left, the little red flecks of code that once made up its form disappearing into who-knows-where.

He stretched out his hand, and very carefully summoned a flame, jumping back as it suddenly flared up.

They were back.

His powers were back.

“So, what do you think?” Chosen forced himself to tear his eyes away from the flame to look at Dark, who sat criss-cross in the sand. “Consider it an...apology for disappearing for five years only to show up randomly one day to make your life way worse.”

The black hollow-head just stared at him. “Y-you’re apologizing? I mean, thank you, but...what…?”

Dark sighed. “I...I figured I might as well do something right, before...I…”

“Chosen, I’m probably going to die soon and it might be too late for me to do anything about it.”

Dark’s voice broke like a dam, fear and panic and so many more emotions that were so not Dark seeping out at once.

“I’ve messed up too many times and I don’t even know how I’m still alive but I’m still messing up and I can’t just leave but if I don’t leave I’m going to face kid again and...I…” He choked back a sob. “I can’t do this anymore, Cho.”

Cursors, Chosen had to do something. He climbed off the boulder onto the sand and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Dark, who buried his face in his shoulder.

They sat there for a while, Chosen holding his enemy his old friend, quietly rubbing circles on his back, while Dark cried his heart out. Eventually, the tears dried, leaving them in near silence besides the crashing of the waves.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep just yet, we can’t stay here forever,” Chosen said when the younger hollow-head began to drift off.

“I can’t go back there,” Dark muttered softly.

“Then you don’t have to. No one’s keeping you from just leaving.”

“But...they’ll find me…”

Chosen looked out at the horizon. Was it just him, or was it getting slightly brighter? “I think...we can end things between Rocket Corp. and the rest of us before they’d need to find you again.”

Dark was quiet for a bit. “Yellow’s fine, by the way. Just missing his glasses. And the weird staff’s okay, too. Agent was planning on sending him and the staff to the headquarters when the sun rose, but I might be able to help him escape before Vic can do anything.”

“That’s good to hear.” Okay, the horizon was definitely getting lighter. “We should probably go now. The sun’s coming up.”

“Right.” They stood up, yet Dark lingered for a moment. “Hey, can you, um...not tell anyone that I kinda bawled my eyes out tonight?”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Chosen laughed. “Yeah, okay, fine, I won’t go around telling everybody that you’re a big baby.” He pulled in Dark for one last hug.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“…”

“But my aim is getting better.”

“Oh, [----] you, Dark.”

Chapter Text

Everything felt numb.

SC never realized just how much one singular explanation could answer.

But it made a lot of things make sense.

Maybe he should’ve expected something like this.

Maybe he should’ve expected the worst of people, since clearly that wasn’t unwarranted at all, he knew now.

But no, he just had to try and see the best in everyone, and shove aside all his suspicions.

He’d even attempted to befriend a literal murderer.

He’d forgiven people who’d done bad stuff before – Mango are Purple, mainly – but this? He couldn’t just say, “Well, you’re better now, so it’s all good!” People were gone.

Forever.

Because of the Chosen One.

What an ironic name.

SC wished that was the end of things. He wished he could label the other hollow-head as a terrible person, never see him again, and move on with his life.

But he couldn’t.

SC looked up, where an out-of-place hole was punched into the skybox above.

He could never escape the cold gaze of his creator.

If he had just seen the signs, maybe this revelation wouldn’t be as shocking.

Even back in his earliest memory, there were still puffs of colored smoke and pain as he fought to exist and the fear that filled his body when he was trapped…

Ten whole years he’d been lied to.

By Alan.

Alan.

The person SC thought he could trust with his life.

He heard muffled footsteps as Purple walked up to him. “You doing okay?” he asked. SC could only imagine what he looked like, lying on the dried leaves covering the forest floor, staring blankly at the sky.

“Do I look okay to you?” He immediately regretted snapping at Purple when their expression shifted. “I...I just wasn’t expecting any of this. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Yeah, I...I’d known about Chosen for a while now, but...Alan? From how you guys described him, he seemed so nice. I couldn’t even begin to imagine…” They pulled their knees up to his chin.

“You knew about the Chosen One?”

“Well, I mean, if you were in the Outernet at all after the events, you’d know. There were articles everywhere. Apparently a Rocket Corp. employee – curse that stupid company – had gotten a direct look at what they called the ‘Angel of Death.’ There were huge searches at the time, but no leads were ever found.

“I was there at the time. At...Newgrounds. There was fire and smoke, and the constant ringing of explosions and screams…” They picked at a blade of grass. “I gave him the benefit of the doubt for a bit...Chosen certainly doesn’t look like a killer. He looks like a sad, wet cat more than anything. But hurt people hurt people, I guess.”

SC stared at him a bit before speaking, voice quiet, still taking in what they’d said. “You...you were there…?”

Purple nodded. “I...was still really young at the time, and freshly drawn too, so I don’t remember much...I think I subconsciously pushed a lot of it down. I don’t exactly like talking about it any more than I need to..”

A bitter ball of anger began to form within SC. He picked up a dried leaf and crumbled it in his hand. How could the Chosen One hurt one of his own friends?

How could Alan break someone to the point where they’re willing to commit such atrocities?

“I think...Victim’s hurt too,” SC said after a bit of silence. Purple looked at him, waiting for an elaboration. “They...didn’t seem very comfortable talking about Alan. And when I went to go tell him that Rocket Corp. was after us...he seemed hesitant at the mention of their name.”

“Victim?” Purple gave him a quizzical look.

“Oh...right. I must’ve forgotten to tell you guys about them. They’re...the head of Rocket Corp., I think. Grey hollow-head with blue eyes, drawn by Alan, too. They looked older than the Chosen One...I think they might’ve been one of the first sticks drawn by him.”

“I might’ve seen their face on a newspaper or something...they sound a bit familiar.”

“Yeah. Probably.” SC didn’t know what to say after that. He went back to turning leaves into a fine powder. It felt good to talk to somebody about this, but...it still weighed heavy on his mind.

Things weren’t ever going to be the same, were they?

“It’s getting late,” Purple muttered, “do you think we should rejoin the others and get some rest?”

“Yeah, let’s do that. I think...we all could use some sleep.”

SC yawned, stretching in the sleeping bag he’d drawn the night prior. The weird phantom pains from yesterday had only gotten worse...he hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was.

(It probably was. There wasn’t really much else they could be.)

Most of the other bags were occupied still, aside from Green’s. Further off was the empty sleeping bag the Chosen One had used.

Despite everything, he’d feel bad if he made the other hollow-head sleep on the ground.

The sun was already up, spreading its golden rays across the surrounding forest. It was about mid-morning...the group should probably get ready to head somewhere else, SC tiredly thought to himself.

He got up, pushing past the disorienting haze that clouded his mind. He had to actively try and stop himself from falling over. His head pounded with pain. Cursors, this was awful.

A rustling elsewhere alerted SC of Green’s presence.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good,” the other stick said. “I’ve been trying to find the Chosen One for a while now; he wasn’t here when I woke up.”

“You want to keep your eye on him, right?”

“Yeah. Gonna be honest here, Sec, I don’t trust him at all. Not after…” He sucked in a breath. “I want to make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

“That’s fair.” SC yawned again, before, like so many times before, a presence entered his senses. “Oh, speak of a virus, he’s back.”

As the Chosen One entered the camp, Green walked up to him. The younger stick attempted to intimidate the hollow-head, but was too short for it to really be effective.

“Where were you?” he asked, voice accusatory.

“Took your suggestion from last night. Hit the inhibitor against a rock.” The Chosen One showed off his wrist, and sure enough, the bracelet was gone.

“That...that actually worked? Then- why did it take you so long to find a rock? You were gone all morning!”

“There aren’t any good rocks here.”

“Well there were plenty of rocks in that place you messed up!”

The hollow-head flinched. “Let’s not talk about this-”

“Maybe we should talk about that, since it’s the reason why Rocket Corp. is after us in the first place-”

“Green.” SC pulled him away, out of the other’s earshot. “We shouldn’t be fighting right now. We have more important stuff to do, like rescuing Yellow.”

“...you’re right. I’m just stressed-” Green was interrupted by coughing from SC.

Tiny red flecks of broken code flew into the air and fizzled out of existence.

...so this was just going to be a normal occurrence now, apparently.