Chapter Text
The Red Winter awoke in a strange small void at the edge of a multiverse.
"W-where...? Hand! Are you here? I cannot see anything. Damn this blasted darkness..." The Winter's cold touch cannot be felt anymore. What is a chill in absolute zero? What is teardrop in an ocean? Did his existence matter?
Cold, cold, cold, and more cold. That is all the Red Winter knows. For his punishment, he will be held in a place of warmth. Where his chill cannot touch anyone.
Not anymore.
Ironically, the grip that ensnared him felt colder than he ever was.
-
The Canary awakes with a thousand tastes on his tongue. Gunpowder, smoke, flame, poison, water, gravel, dirt, sand- a thousand thousand things that dusted his mouth for the thousands of ways he has died.
"Ah, jeez- Where am I?" The Canary tried to look, tried to see- he tried to move but he couldn't feel anything. He's held, trapped, caged. What is an omen in the face of tragedies? What is a warning during a disaster? Why does the first sign of someone's end come with the face of someone inept and odd?
The Canary is caged in a place far from anything. Far from anyone. For what is an omen if it cannot warn anyone?
The Canary perched in his suffocating cage and sang. A warbling song to the tune of a funeral march.
He does not fear death.
It never lets him die, after all.
Of course, the fact that he is not alone this time is a good reason to start singing again. Who knows, they might appreciate him this time.
-
The Sacrifice awaits on an empty platform. The shadows of those that knew him, those that he led, those that he followed, encircle him like a gentle typhoon. Ghosts of people he knew, people that are still alive (did they remember his sacrifice?), people that are still living (did they live it to the fullest?), people that are still fighting (did they follow his example?).
He sighs as the imprinted memories of those he knew stopped, but still surround him. He never knew what they wanted. If they were proud, disappointed, angry, sad, or even happy! He just knows that they were all his friends- they are all his friends.
Ghostly grays hovers in front of him- the latest batch of those that he tried to help. So desperately had he wanted to be their leader, to be someone that they could look up to, to be someone that they could follow .
He failed, of course. It was never meant to be. Though it stung, he held that feeling in his chest, turned it over, and no sooner discarded it. That feeling of failure, of regret, embarrassment and the rest of it were useless to him. So he stands and faces the three ghosts of his former teammates.
Golden eyes shining like the sun stare at him with a sad softness, his brand bright glowing yellow even while the rest of him (except for his eyes, never his eyes) were gray. He stood with the ghost of a smile in his face, he knew that he wouldn't be gone long.
Pure red, fiery eyes stared at him as well. If it weren't for the fact that he was used to them, he would have flinched. This one stared at him with pity, sadness that he couldn't last longer like the rest of them, that they had to leave him behind.
The final pair, a heterochromic pair - black and red -, stared at him with anger. Not at him, of course. It was the anger of grief. He was taken too soon, after all. Maybe, if the world was kinder... who was he kidding? The world is kind? On its own? Pfft!
Not if he wasn't there to force it to be, that was his job, after all.
The Sacrifice, the being also known as the Skizzd Man, stood on a platform in the sky. He flexed his arms and the sleeves from his suit exploded, leaving him with a sleeveless suit that shows off his bulging arms. The tips of them are still tinted with purple. He thought that particular death isn't going to leave him any time soon.
The Sacrifice touches his nape. He tries to find it. The newest scar that he accepted, and he managed. It wasn't hard to find.
Touching it, he could tell that it was the biggest one that he had. He always knew that Etho wasn't as washed up as he seemed! If that guy could land a blow like this to the back of him, he wondered what happened to his enemies. He touched it again and tried to remember the moment, trying to remember when he had given his life. It was of no use sadly, the chop was too quick.
At least the scar looks cool as heck though.
Of course, he doesn't notice the tension and crackle of the world around him until it's too late.
-
The Boogeyman explodes, jerks, and spikes like boiled mercury. It threw a tantrum like no other in its small, small, small glass prison. The glass does not crack, it never has, but it shook with the lust for battle.
It sat on the obsidian floor beside the Red Winter. Together, the two sit in near silence. The Red Winter did not speak, but the shaking of the glass prison did. Honestly, it's getting pretty annoying for him.
Of course, we neglect to mention the iron cage sitting beside him. Inside, a bird sleeps on his perch. It had been singing for a while, but the rest of them took so long to get here that he got tired and fell asleep. Couldn't blame him really. It was pretty boring. He didn't really have enrichment in the cage, after all. He didn't have any games that he could do. He wasn't even given cards! What kind of prison is this!? By that point though, he tired himself out with his tirade, and promptly fell asleep.
After a long while, the final person arrived, or rather, appeared. Or tries to at the very least. There seemed to be a connection problem as the person's form jerked around like an aneurysm. His form, while in this state, is shrouded in darkness as light isn't able to touch him yet.
The Red Winter, nonetheless, stood to meet them. "Finally! The final member has been brought. Now, bow before the Red Winter a- Skizzman?"
The Skizzd Man struggled against reality, trying with all his might to resist whatever force is pulling him there. Alas, like many things he tried to do, he failed. Skizz fell to the ground, prone, sweat dripping from every single part of his muscular body as he panted for breath.
"I did not expect you to be brought here. I half-expected it to be Etho or even that dastardly Scar, but you? How have you been brought into this, friend?"
Skizz took his time to catch his breath before answering. He coughed, inhaled, exhaled, and finally straightened his back with his hands on his hips and flexed his whole body. Exploding the buttons that were barely hanging on to his suit and exposing his adonis-like torso.
"Dude," The Red Winter said.
"Sorry, I just had to get that out to refresh myself," Skizz says, taking out a small baggie of buttons, sewing needles, and thread from his coat pocket. "What were you saying?"
"I asked how you were involved in this."
"We're involved in something?"
Correct.
Skizz jumps and definitely, for sure, does not scream like a marmot with a microphone and speaker. He also definitely did not drop his sewing kit.
He whipped around to see a hooded figure in black, accented in purple. On their back are small bird-like wings, unfit and probably not able to carry them, but who knows with people these days. The wings themselves do not seem to be growing out of their body, simply floating behind them.Their face isn't visible, only a dark void where one would be... this is changed when a line bisects it horizontally and opens smoothly like it was animated. Instead of a dark void at the center of its face, a purple outline of an eye is there instead.
"How long have you been there?! You scared the bejesus out of me!"
A voice piped up from the iron cage. "He's been there for a while, mate. You just didn't notice 'm."
Skizz pushed the Red Winter to the side and looked at the cage. "Jimmy! You're here too buddy?!"
"Yup." The Canary says, popping the 'p', shifting uncomfortably in his cage. "Crazy that we're all here, innit?"
"Kinda, yeah." Skizz looked to his side to see a growling Red Winter. "Uh. Sorry, Ren."
He huffed but stayed silent.
Quiet. I have a task for the four of-
"Four of us? I don't see anybody else? Unless, you mean..." Skizz glanced at the glass bottle laying on the ground. "Is- is that a person?"
Correct. That is the Boogeyman, or rather, the essence of it.
Skizz shivered. "Why do you have it here then?"
The hooded figure seemed to smile, although Skizz couldn't see it, however, he could hear it. I thought that four members would be more... fitting.
"Well, it does make for better acronyms." Skizz nodded. He shook his head and looked back at the hooded person, seemingly realizing the situation. "Wait! What are we doing here? I thought our job was finished! There isn't a game going on right now! Or at least, not any that we can manifest into."
Their eye blinked. Correct. I have another reason for bringing you here.
The figure turned around, their wings folding out, showing several images across their feathers. The quality of the images were crisp, so crisp in fact, it seemed less like an image and more like a window to snapshots in time.
All of the images displayed a young blonde man with tree bark skin and piercing blue eyes. In some images, his skin seems to be colored more similarly to a human's light skin. Their clothing is different in almost every image, but a common theme seemed to be a green shirt and jeans. In most of the images, the man seemed to be smiling.
Happy, cheerful.
On his chest is a white symbol that Skizz doesn't immediately recognize, but Ren does. His breath hitching at the sight of his Hand.
Ren shouted, "What do you want with him!?" as an axe manifested in his hands, exploded out of a construct of ice from between his fingers. He started to swing-
Fall.
Ren fell to his knees, dropping his axe and dematerializing as it hit the obsidian floor. "Eugh. How dare-"
Shush.
Ren's mouth shut.
The dogman swayed, but before he could hit the floor, Skizz catches him. "Hey! You can just do that man! That's really rude. That's not how you should treat us!"
Perhaps. However, I am not keen on hostilities. Hence, the punishment.
"What did you even do to him?"
I muted him. The effect is temporary and I will lift it once I am finished with my explanation.
Under Skizz's arm, instead of a warm body, he realized Ren was extremely cold, like he was made of ice. Skizz is sure that this is just one of the many symptoms of being the Red Winter, but hot damn if it isn't giving him frostbite, metaphorically. In spite of that, Skizz held Ren tighter.
First, understand that we are not all-powerful. No matter what anyone has said about us. We do not possess infinity. We cannot hope to deal with this problem as much as we want to.
Second, understand that the world needs to be in order. However, chaos exists. Together, the two exist to balance each other. A world with too much order exists stagnantly. A world with too much chaos exists inconsistently.
Third, understand that the non-existence of both will lead to a Void State.
Finally, I will begin.
Martyn-of-the-Littlewood is an ent. An ent is a creature born of nature, of trees specifically. Martyn is an artificial ent. He was not born through the spirits of trees, but the spirit of the seasons. This spirit was bound to an oak tree, forced to manifest, and birthed for an experiment.
The facility that birthed him was called YogLabs, but after a nuclear strike from three separate governments, it was terminated. Do not speak of this time to him, lest you find his ire.
We do not know how, but he has made contact with a group of our kind, rogue ones, of course. This group was responsible for much of the chaos of the Universe. From demons to evil duplicates, this group was the source of it all. Bringing misery and pain throughout all the worlds that they have touched.
They are called the Listeners.
Yet, ironically, they only listen to the screams of the pained and miserable.
Martyn-of-the-Littlewood joined this group of multi-dimensional criminals, spreading the chaos they have wrought. Bringing misery and pain to everyone he thinks deserves it.
Now, I task the four of you to terminate him. For the good of the world at large and to bring an end to the cruelty he has created.
Even through the muting, Ren's body shot up from Skizz's lap as his axe manifested again. This time, ice shot out from his feet and crawled on the obsidian ground, climbing up Ren's leg, while spreading slowly outward. "You do not speak of the- My Hand with that tone! He has done nothing of what you have spoken of and- mmf!"
In a blink of an eye, a purple spectral hand appeared behind Ren's head, grabbed him, and spiked him to the ground, the obsidian floor cracking as his face crashed into the floor. Destroying the ice that manifested. Cracks spider-web from the crater, running out from it, revealing an indigo light shining trying to desperately crawl out of the floor.
The light shines from under the figure, casting a shadow much bigger than its current form. A thousand thousand eyes fill the sky as their palpable anger flows through them.
I said be quiet.
However, before blood could pool under Ren's face, the cracks and the eyes vanish. Leaving the three of them alone again with the strange figure.
"Ren!" Skizz turned to the figure. "Hey, why'd you do-" The figure eyed him, daring him to finish his sentence. "I- Well you still shouldn't be a jerk about it!" Skizz scooted over to Ren, picked and turned his head around, and assessed the dent in his friend's face. It seemed like ice was already covering the bruise - The saturation must have already kicked in - so there should not be any permanent damage to him. Even if the world they were in was peaceful - he could just tell it was - it didn't mean every injury was going to be healed.
Jimmy coughed from inside his cage. "Okay, that kinda freaked me out. Remind me to not annoy that guy, jeez."
Skizz cradled Ren's head as he stared down the figure's eye. "So you want us to hunt down Martyn to stop him from doing anything evil?" He absently noticed that the sweat running down his back could fill a whole dam, but he tries to not think of that. However, he wonders if Jimmy can see the big wet stain on his suit. (He can.)
Yes.
Skizz took a deep breath. "Well, we're definitely not doing that! I don't care for what reason, but you just hurt Ren because he was annoying you and I don't take kindly to someone that just does that- "
"What do we get from it?"
Skizz turned to look at Jimmy, Ren's head still in his hands, he's looking at the cage in shock.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, this is all very big and scary and all, but why should we - and by extension, I - do any of this? We're concepts, not people." Jimmy chirped.
"I mean, I'd argue that we are people. Since we're sentient-"
Have you ever thought of living a normal life?
Skizz's head snapped to the figure.
You are all curses given form. The only way you can speak and think right now is because of how each of your hosts imprinted onto you. Gifting and, ironically, cursing you with life, and yet, you are still curses. Forced to be bound here until the next death game, whether it'd be that sordid bird or that faceless unethical admin, you will be stuck in this obsidian prison cell. Forever.
Now, I'm offering you freedom.
If you only did this one task. Imagine it as a test, if you want to.
"Well, I'm sold." Jimmy chirped, "Living would do me good. Maybe try to find Scott or Tango, Grian possibly as well... Maybe even pay a visit to Joel while I'm at it! Who knows what I'll do. I'd be free. That's the point, innit."
"Jimmy-" Skizz started.
"Jimmy is the alive guy. I'm just the Canary here. Get that through your skull. Because I won't be acting like he would." Jimmy said, then mumbled, "Death changes people, and I've died too many times to stay as innocent as him.
"And being alive is when I'm happiest compared to being in this empty place."
Skizz stared at the Canary. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find any words. The area was silent for a few moments more as Skizz found his voice. "I... Ji- what should we call you then? 'The Canary' feels kind of awkward to say in conversation. How about just Canary?"
This time, it's the Canary's turn to open his mouth and close it. He almost looks like a fish with how much he tries to start to say something but nothing comes out. Skizz thought it was kind of adorable, not that he would say it to his face.
"I- Well... I guess- Jimmi."
"Jimmy?"
"No but with an I."
"How'd you notice I was spelling it wrong while I'm saying it?"
"Just felt it, but like- Jimmi with an I. I feel like that... fits for some reason."
"Can I still call you Solidarity?"
"Yeah, that's fine. Solidarity is like a last name, so like... I don't really need to change it, y'know?"
"Yeah, I get that."
Finished?
"Yeah, yeah- but like, I still don't want to do this dude! You were rude to us! If you were just nicer maybe I'd agree, but you get what I'm saying don't you?" Skizz said, "And plus! I'm sure Ren wouldn't like going along with it either! He'd be killing- what did you call it?"
From his lap, Ren mumbles something that Skizz couldn't hear.
"What was that?"
"...nd."
"Sand?"
"M'...and."
"Yeah! His Sand! He wouldn't want or kill his Sand!" Skizz said, oblivious of the mental facepalm that Ren just gave himself. "So give it up, you're outnumbered. This is democracy!"
You leave me with no choice.
The figure reached out their hand and seemed to grab onto something that Skizz couldn't see. Slowly, the figure turned the object in their hand like a doorknob, and a burst of red smoke exploded from right beside Jimmi's cage.
The smoke rose like campfire smoke, going up, up, up until it stopped in the sky. Lightning crackled from the smoke like sheet thunder, bouncing from the floor like arrows on slime blocks. A circular object manifested from inside the storm of red, breaking through the proverbial clouds as it made its appearance known.
A golden clock.
Floating in mid-air, in the middle of the smoke.
Its golden shell is pristine, shining under the thundering red lightning. Its golden chain suspended above it like something was wearing it .The clock is different from the usual ones; instead of the images of the moon and sun on its face, it is replaced by three hearts: green, yellow, and red.
Its hand started to spin, at first slow, but now it goes faster, faster, faster - As it did, the red smoke seemingly pulled inside of it, following the speed of the hand as the smoke disappeared into it.
The clock fell to the obsidian floor, face first, clinking like metal on glass and everything is still.
Skizz, who was hypnotized by the display, stared at the clock on the ground. He bit his lip. If a clock was here... then of course-
An arm shot out from inside the clock, then another, reaching into the sky from the clock's back. The arms flail for a bit, the muffled sounds of cursing coming from inside the time-keeper. After a few moments, the arms managed to find purchase as it landed on the floor. The arms bent unnaturally as it made an M shape, trying to pull itself out of the clock.
It was funny to see, Skizz thought.
A whole grown ass man coming out of a clock that was half the diameter of the man's waist, struggling and cursing as he tried to get his white hair out of his face. The man wiggled and struggled pulling, pushing, and screaming for the rest of them to not help, until eventually he pulled himself out of the clock.
He stood up, brushing away any dirt that may have gotten on his shirt and hung a mossy poncho from his neck. After doing so, he bent down, picked the clock up by its chains, and put it around his neck, the clock ticking just above his ribs.
The Boogeyman.
Skizz chuckled. "Bdubs! I saw a clock and knew it was you, buddy! Seems like a Team B.E.S.T reunion, eh? Well, a reunion with only half of its members, but you know what I'm saying."
"Well, don't get too excited. I'm not- well, I don't think I'm much of the OG, if you get what I'm saying." No one seemed to get what he is saying. "I'm- I'm not the actual Bdubs! You get that right? Just like how the bird and dog man isn't Solidarity or Ren?"
Skizz huffed. "I don't care! You're still most of him!" He paused. "Right?"
"Nahh, it's a whole bunch of memories in here." The Boogeyman tapped his clock. "Most of 'em not even Bdubs's. I'm just the curse of the Boogeyman, mostly. The spirit of desperation, survival, aggression, you know how it is."
"Then why'd you use his body to-?"
"Well, cus he was the first, and your first is always special, ain't it?" He said, tapping his foot as he surveyed the area he is in. His eyes narrowed when he saw the figure behind Skizz. "Lookie-here, who are you, big fella?"
I am your creator.
"You?" The Boogeyman looked him up and down. "I could kill you, easy."
The figure seemed to sigh in disappointment. Though it is unclear if they actually breathed or not.
It'd be best if you didn't.
"Can't argue with that." The Boogeyman nodded. "Either way though, I want in with whatever thing you guys have been talking about. Being in a glass bottle is boring. Sometimes you just gotta stretch out your wings and murder some folk, y'know?"
No one answered.
"Next time, I'll just keep my thoughts to myself."
The figure pinched his nose before releasing another possibly-real sigh
Now it is a tie. Because of that, I shall act as tie-breaker.
Skizz whipped around back to the figure. "Wait, hold on just a-"
No arguments. You know what you must do.
Like a flash, a circle of purple light encircled them. Cutting the ground in a perfect circle. Simultaneously, a burst of purple blasted Jimmi's cage and released him from it. Immediately, he stretched his wings before standing, eager to find the freedom that he desperately wanted.
"Hey! You can't just-"
The purple light raised like a wall around them, blocking all of them off from the obsidian plane, preventing their escape.
Go forth! Stop the ent! Save the universe!
Skizz stood panicked as Ren roused from his muting, the effects now gone. He doesn't know what to do- all he wanted was to rest in between games, exercise a bit, maybe build a house-
Be heroes!
Skizz froze at those words. "Heroes?"
Skizz stood in between Etho and Bdubs, a speech bubbling from his chest as he jittered, pitching an idea to the two of them
"The world has already established its jokers, its nonsense, but do you know what this world doesn't have? It doesn't have its heroes!" Skizz said, "There are no heroes here! Okay? So, I have a proposal: we become the heroes this world needs."
Skizz remembered that day. When they were still young into the death game. Innocent and naive, trusting- Too full of it, now that he thought back. But back then? That was a dream of his, a dream that he wanted to fulfill. He was a hero back then, but at what cost?
Now, he could do it again, and be real heroes .
The purple light rose to the top of the sky and like a magic trick, the four of them disappeared.
And the Watcher smiled.