Chapter Text
Joining the Rebellion wasn’t something Flame did willingly. He had begrudgingly become best friends with Lomedy and vowed to protect him, since he could hardly melee well. Sure, he could mace well, but melee was better and more important.
The Rebellion was probably his least favorite group he’d ever been a part of. Zam Empire: he’d been with his friends and brother…but his brother betrayed him, and he lost most of his shit in constant battles. The Mafia: he was stripped of himself and forced to do whatever leader Ash does or die—and he needed to have a mace—but as a diamond trim, they kinda just chilled unless needed.
This stupid Rebellion did nothing aside from talking about what they wanted to do. Hence why he took it upon himself and other leaders, like Lettuce, to actually do something! Such as invading the Nether and stealing what they could.
It just gets to a point! The Nether trips were not authorized by Mapicc, Jamato, or Parrot. The three of them were kinda like the leaders? The whole system they had was confusing.
Jamato was the one who kept everything hidden and under wraps, even though he had a whole army of players who followed his every command. Mapicc was the one in charge of all things military? Army? Combat? He gave orders on where to invade, who went on trips, etc. Parrot was the mastermind; he came up with the plans, redstone machines, new strategies—you get the point.
They always fought for getting the upper hand. Who would be better than whom. Trying to outrank each other. It was the same thing Flame had seen thousands of times. Everyone wanted power, and so did they. That’s how Unstable works. Power is the heart and soul; everybody has it, but chases more.
Flame was actually comfortable with his position in the Army Sector. He had his own set of players, and he was a general. They followed his orders and had matching orange armbands around their biceps. Ninety percent of the prominent players in the Rebellion were generals in the army. Lomedy was the only one who attended meetings who wasn’t.
Oh, the meetings! The meaningless meetings that nothing ever got done in. Getting the Invisible Knight—rather Wemmbu, as Flame discovered—to aid them in their non-fighting war. All at the cost of Flame fighting, because that was his role. No skin off his nose.
Speaking of whom. Seeing Wemmbu for the first time in years snapped something inside him. As it turned out, he cared for Wemmbu like a brother, as he always had. It hurt like hell knowing everyone he cared about was gone. Mane having disappeared during the Mafia.
Both brothers hurt him beyond belief. Never would he show it. That’s not how he worked. Emotions were something that just held you back. The less attachments you had, the better off you were—that’s what he’d been taught. And it worked for a while, but it grew harder and harder to ignore.
If he refused to show he was hurt by other people’s actions, it only made him less vulnerable to attacks. It’s why he held onto Lomedy so close nowadays. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, risk the last person he cared about’s life. Parrot too, he guessed.
He wouldn’t be able to take it if someone else left or died in his life. Everything already hurt too much to bear, but hid low in the back of his heart and head, ready to pounce. So when that Totem popped, revealing Wemmbu, he embraced the true lion within himself.
The stuck-up ‘prince’ didn’t know a sliver of how much he hurt him. It was the least he could do. But as he slammed Wemmbu repeatedly into the ground, it didn’t make him feel any better. He hardly felt anything except anger and hurt. Even when a set of claws dug into him, and painfully cold fingers yanked hard on him, it didn’t faze him.
Everything he said was blinded by anger. His chest was squeezing his heart so tight, and breathing was hard. He wanted to believe that Wemmbu was dead and this was a fake. He wanted to pretend he hated Wemmbu because that would make it easier! They were rivals, but they were also brothers, not by blood, but by bond.
Wemmbu didn’t feel that way, of course. Dragons are independent. Lions rely on their Prides. Wemmbu had been indoctrinated into his years ago, and stuck out like an ugly sore thumb. The bond that forms never fades. Abandonment is a betrayal. Departure is gasoline to a fire. Flame would never reveal that, though. His own pride was too large to admit it.
Mane’s betrayal was the worst of them all. He raised Flame like his own cub. He stuck by Flame’s side whenever he needed him. Forced him out on his own, but was never too far behind. They fought together. They hunted together. Then one day…gone. Mane betrayed him in the Zam Empire.
How could he do it? Flame was his brother! They were supposed to stick together forever! Brothers forever. Mane got Flame his blindfold in the first place. It was to teach him how to better sense his surroundings. Feeling, smelling, sensing the attack. But it didn’t prepare him for his heart being ripped out of his chest.
All he wanted to know was: why? Why did Mane do it? Did he regret it? Did he even care about Flame anymore? Gods! He wasn’t even angry anymore. He just missed Mane. Their bond was connected by their blood, which is why everything hurt.
Mane was supposed to be there for him when he needed him! Instead, he left a gaping hole in Flame’s heart that seized every time Mane was mentioned.
Hearing about the mission he had to go on, about an assassin whose location had been recently found, gave him a flicker of hope that maybe it was his brother. Maybe Mane hadn’t been able to find Flame all these years, and it was his weird way of reaching out. Perhaps all these things. But Flame knew better than to get his hopes up. Never did it work out.
Adjusting one of the wraps around his palm, he exhaled. Within the hour, he and a few members of his squadron would be headed to find the assassin.
His room was nothing fancy. It was like every room in the cramped Rebellion. Low ceiling, deepslate all around, a bed, bookshelves, chests, the luxuries. His room only had two torches, but he convinced Parrot to allow him a campfire to keep the room warm, as it was close to bedrock.
There was a knock on his door. He looked up from his hand to see MinuteTech in his doorway, leaning on the doorframe. He’d never really gotten along with the former End Guardian, and vice versa. Tension hung between them, tighter than string on a bow.
“I know we don’t like each other. Just…I know what it’s like to hope you’re finding someone after all these years.” Minute said, drawing in a sharp breath. Flame scrunched his eyebrows, and he stood up.
“Uh, thanks, I guess, bro.” He replied, scratching the back of his neck. Minute looked down and sighed, his arms crossed.
“Mane loves you. You’re brothers, and nothing his ever going to change that, okay? No matter what bullshit or hoops he makes you go through.” Minute paused and entered the room a little more. “We used to be friends, actually. Whenever he talked about you, his whole face lit up. He’s always been so proud of you. If this assassin is ManePear, he’s going to welcome you with open arms.” There was a small smile playing on his lips.
Flame felt tension seeping out of his shoulders. An easy smile came onto his face as well. Minute was right, and well, he probably knew best out of everyone. His eyes caught a book and quill that Minute was holding extremely tightly.
“Speaking from experience?” Flame teased, hoping to ease the tension even more. Minute’s expression faltered momentarily.
“You could say that.”
Flame lost track of how long they’d been walking. The coordinates were surprisingly close by, but going with a squad of seven or so idiotic players was not. You’d think he would be in charge of a group who could fight, and not drop their sword for the purpose of annoying their friend.
If Spongs made one more ‘are we there yet’ comment, Spongs was not coming back in one piece. Though, he was very good bait.
On the second day of walking, they approached a large mountain range. Within it was the mouth of a cave. Flame instructed them to wait outside and not die, while he went in to explore.
The cave was small. It had multiple branches to go down, but one in particular looked manmade. If he was dealing with Mane, that was the path. He was incredible PvP-wise, but subtlety was not his specialty. He’d probably say speed was.
Following the path led him to a giant cave covered with moss, and banners all around of Mane’s shield pattern. He was definitely in the right place. A sign caught his eye, something about a skeleton almost killing him. An arrow got him in the shoulder.
There was a grumble from above and an incoherent noise. Blonde dreadlocks spilled over the side of a block, and an orange blindfold was half on the person’s face.
“Flame? That you?” Mane called from above, his voice croaking. He adjusted his blindfold and leapt down, landing on his feet gracefully.
Mane had always been a few inches taller. His skin was a paler brown compared to Flame’s warm, almost coffee-like skin. Mane had similarly strikingly pale scars littering his body. His hair was much longer than Flame’s and blonde, hanging a bit past his shoulders. His ears were larger as well.
He wore a white tank top with a deep orange jacket tied around his waist. He had light blue ripped and worn indigo jeans paired with black boots. There was a large birthmark on his face, going from his left eyebrow to the corner of his mouth on the right. His mark was akin to Flame’s fire-like one on his arm. Except Mane’s was in the shape of a scratch done by a cat, but bright peach. He’d had it since birth, like Flame’s fire.
Instead of a brush-off, Mane drew Flame in for a hug that captivated all of his senses. It was coming home for him—being reunited with his Pride in such short a time. Mane squeezed him so hard, like Flame was a teddy bear, and he didn’t mind. He was just filled with bliss for the first time in so long.
When Mane drew back, he placed his hands on Flame’s shoulders and beamed, seemingly assessing him. After a few minutes, Mane finally stepped back and crossed his arms.
“What are you doing here, Flame?” He asked with no animosity. Flame shifted, remembering the whole purpose of the mission. Kill the assassin if they don’t want to join the Rebellion.
“So like, I kinda got roped into this whole Rebellion thing. Cus like with everything going on right now-“ Flame began with a huff. Mane’s eyebrows drew together, and his ears twitched.
“Ayo, woah. Back up, bro. I’ve been livin’ in this cave for a few years. People hire me, I kill and get loot. Don’t keep up with foreign affairs.” Mane cut him off, most likely narrowing his eyes. Flame let out a heavy sigh. Of course.
“Alright bro, cliff-notes then. After Spoke took down the Mafia, Ashswag disappeared, then like, some random shit happened. Spoke’s gone crazy, Ash is back as like some Director guy, and wants to take over the server again, but this time it’s Spoke. Then, like, beforehand Wemmbu dies, Parrot creates this Rebellion, and I join it cus Lomedy—my best friend—wants in, I guess.” Flame poorly explained, occasionally gesturing with his hands but just keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword, the other on his hip.
“Damn, I’ve been living under a literal rock, bruh.” Mane gaped, one hand coming to rest on his cheek, elbow propped up on the other crossed arm. Flame shrugged.
“Yeah. Basically, Rebellion needs your help.”
“Okay…but what do I get out of it?” Mane dismissed, hand gently resting on his spear.
Mane’s response didn’t shock Flame. Mane was an assassin; if he did something, he was going to get paid one way or another. Unfortunately for them, the Rebellion was charity work.
Apparently Flame had waited too long to answer because Mane was tossing a strength pot lazily in his left hand, the right gripping his spear tightly. Still, didn’t surprise Flame. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought Mane would’ve changed within their time apart.
The spear was a weapon Flame had yet to master. He knew it should, but he didn’t know how Mane used it. Every player wielded their weapons differently, and Mane was no exception.
Mane came at him with incredible speed, knocking him off balance and allowing for a slash of the sword across his freshly mended armor. That’s how they were going to play.
“At least make it fair, bro.” Flame grunted, splashing his potions. Mane sighed and tucked away his spear to replace it with his sword.
“Whatever you say. I did teach you everything you know, little brother.” Mane teased, coming at him with a rehearsed charge.
“Not everything.” Flame wind charged off the ground and brought his axe down on the top of Mane’s helmet, causing him to stumble back. His eyebrows shot up from behind the orange blindfold.
Mane rolled his shoulders and muttered something Flame couldn’t decipher. He charged with another attack Flame knew by heart and exactly how to counter. He deflected with his own sword, grabbed Mane’s wrist and spun him around, building up momentum. Then he let go, sending Mane careening into the ground, landing on his back.
That did little to deter Mane. He planted his hands behind his head, feet in front of him, and leapt to his feet with ease. Flame made a nod of approval. This time he was on the offense and quickly brought down his sword on Mane’s head.
Their little battle went on until both of them were drained of the resources they had on their person. Everything grew redundant. Flame ran out of moves, and Mane discovered how to counter them all. They got to the point of boredom, which is when they had run low on everything in their inventories.
Neither conceded. They barely accepted a draw. Mane brought Flame into his house in the cave. It was a large jungle-birch house with memorabilia from battles, missions, etc. While Mane gave him the tour of the base, something caught his eye.
It was two little photo-like images hung in 1x1 spots on a wall in Mane’s bedroom. Flame approached them, struggling to see them from afar.
The one on the left—closer to Mane’s bed—was an image prior to the Zam Empire. It was of him and Mane after a bounty, with Flame holding a crown over Mane’s head, smiles lighting up both their faces. Flame’s heart throbbed. Godsdamned emotions. Simpler times.
Followed by the one on the right. It was much older. This image depicted Flame trying to tackle Wemmbu while Mane cheered both of them on. Hair was being pulled, claws were out. It was so stupid.
“I don’t remember how I got these made, bro,” Mane said, coming up beside Flame and placing a hand on his shoulder. Flame took a deep breath, prepared to move on when Mane continued.
“When did he die?” The question was a bullet. He couldn’t tell Mane that Wemmbu was alive. Well, he could, but he’d have his ass beat.
“Few years ago. Jaden killed him.” Flame repeated the lie that the server believed. Mane’s hand dug just a bit too deep on Flame’s shoulder.
Gods, Jaden. Flame couldn’t believe he trusted him. They used to be best friends during the Mafia. There was no one else he’d rather hang out with, especially after Mane left. However, after the Mafia, they drifted apart. Flame had to make his own journey.
Furthermore, it didn’t help when Flame demanded Jaden give up his mace to give to Lomedy. Especially since one of Jaden’s two maces belonged to Wemmbu. Perhaps his hatred of Jaden was misplaced. Maybe there was a chance to repair what was broken.
“I should’ve never said that to him…Tell me ‘bout that Rebellion thing. Do you think your leader or whatever will pay me? I’m hungry, bro.” Mane sighed, releasing his grip and proceeding to walk into the other room.
Flame’s squadron was hesitant around ManePear upon their initial encounter with him. They stayed quiet and hissed behind the brothers’ backs. About that, actually. They were whispering about the similarities between the two.
The similarities were pretty obvious. They had basically the same build—muscular and somewhat wide, just different heights. Their faces had an identical shape, as well as lips and bone structure. Mane’s nose was larger and had a more curved arc. Whilst Flame’s was crooked in the middle from how many times he’d had his nose broken.
It took every ounce in Flame’s body not to snap something at the players who seemed more and more like children as the trek went on.
The way back was longer than the trip to Mane’s base. Partially because Mane needed to pack up and hide a lot of his things, and because he wanted to stop every ten minutes just because he thought they were going too fast. Flame swore it was ragebait.
Four days. The whole round trip took them four days! It surprised Jamato, who was waiting in his shack on guard duty. He told Flame that he thought it would take at least a week or so, and proceeded to eye Mane suspiciously. Mane—blissfully ignorant—was inspecting Spongs.
Something curled within Flame. Understandably, the Rebellion was a bit of a joke, but Mane somehow couldn’t find it in his heart to give a bit of a shit? Perhaps that fight, or brief talk-out, didn’t do anything to aid the betrayal still festering in his heart.
He and Mane weren’t ever good at talking things out. In most of his relationships, he wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. Usually, he just beat people up, or they conceded to him. Mane wasn’t everyone. Mane was more stubborn than him, and he didn’t let things linger.
Anything that Mane ever did or had happen to him stuck with him, but remained in a place that even Flame never could see. Flame, on the other hand, let things roll off his back unless it was personal-personal. Like family. Which just made him angrier.
Entering the base, Mane made few remarks. He only commented on the tightness of the space and it being cold. Everyone around him found the stupid little anecdotes funny. It furthered Flame’s anger, his hands balling into fists at his side.
His jaw tightened at seeing people fawn at Mane’s feet. Mapicc, who was sitting with Parrot and Minute, leapt to his feet to go hug Mane. Mane picked Mapicc up and swung him around in a tight bear hug.
This led to jealousy. Of course they were friends! Flame’s teeth ground further, but he let out a deep breath. He was getting worked up over nothing. He just needed to punch something out. Maybe Wemmbu would be down to fight again.
From across the room, where Mane now sat with Parrot, Mapicc, and Minute, Flame saw Minute’s equally tense posture. Mane went on acting like nothing bad happened in the world. Minute’s gaze flicked to Flame’s. Within seconds, Minute was crossing the room to him.
“What happened?” He asked softly, crossing his arms. Flame glanced up at him and exhaled once more.
“Pretended nothing bad ever happened. Didn’t even react when I told him Wemmbu was dead and Spoke was evil. Bro, he infuriates me so much. Like, I thought you cared about them. Bro, oh my gods. Genuinely can’t even be serious for a minute.” Flame spat, eyes on Mane the entire time he spoke.
“You don’t say…It’s been a while since the Mafia, but I’d be willing to spar if you’d like?” Minute offered with a crooked grin. Flame felt his lips tugging upwards.
“Sure.” He replied nonchalantly.
“Okay. I’m gonna go put this away.” Minute gestured to a book in his hands. Probably a textbook or something.
It was strange. Flame never really liked Minute. They just didn’t get along. Who knew having emotionally constipated—for lack of a better term—brothers would kind of bring them together.
Mane suddenly leapt up from his spot at the table. It was just him, Flame, Mapicc, and Parrot in the room. His ears twitched, and he looked directly at Flame. He looked under the table, and a furry head popped out.
Ashen yipped, clambering up on the chair beside Mane. Flame didn’t even remember her being out of his room the last time he checked. Shit! That meant she probably got into the food supply.
Flame apologized instantly to Mapicc, who shrugged. He picked her up in his arms, and she licked his face, nuzzling under his chin. Mane furrowed his eyebrows. Flame was in the midst of introducing her when Mane picked up on something new. Flame knew what it was this time.
Minute was coming back into the room, running a hand through his shaggy hair. There was a wisp of an invisible particle near his leg. Fuck. Mane moved faster than all of them, tackling the player to the ground. Instantly, Flame placed down Ashen.
They fell to the ground with an oof. It was a flurry of movement before Flame and Minute yanked Mane off the invisible Wemmbu. Flame was getting serious deja vu.
“Chill out! I’m a spy.” The Knight clarified under the voice changer with a grunt, brushing themselves off. They slipped on their armor and crossed their arms.
“Bro, relax, okay. We know who they are; seriously relax.” Flame cut in, placing a hand on Mane’s collarbone.
“Yeah, now I’ll be going,” They spat, going a bit too quickly to seem casual. Flame sighed and released his grip, while Minute was a bit more forceful. The Knight paused, hand clenching then relaxing. “I need your fifty players.” Mapicc crossed the room and passed them a book and quill. The Knight flipped through it before muttering a 'thank you’ and leaving.
After they had left, a small scrap of paper lay on the floor. Flame picked it up. It was poorly torn off, but within it contained three names. How had they been so stupid? He immediately rushed to show it to Parrot.
The three names weren’t random. They were some names in groups of players who were a part of recruitment! No one player was in charge of recruitment, but at least they had a base to go off of for the Moles infesting their Rebellion.