Work Text:
A sickness, that’s what we’ve always called it. A red, hot, raging plague that crushed hopes and dreams and destroyed homes, alliances and friends.
A red, hot invasive sickness that attacked the mind and forced the victim to.. change. Change in a way that struck fear and dread into every person that hadn’t succumbed to the plague. Once tainted, once corrupted by this disease, you were nothing more than a dark, empty husk of who you once were; peace was a joke, and chaos and death were the only topics that inhabited the mind.
That’s what we’ve always called it ever since our ancestors were struck, cursed by some powerful, outside force. When the faithful day arrived, gemstones grew painfully into their forearms, gleaming a royal dark green. They were small, about the size of the person's eye.
When their communicators lit up and displayed:
[YOU HAVE 3 LIVES]
It became the common understanding that their third life would be their last, and they would not respawn, as they once previously could.
Our ancestors feared the inevitable permanent death that awaited them. They hurried to find a “cure” of some sort. They depleted the earth's resources of diamonds to create the best possible armour they could. They invented healing, strength and regeneration potions in an attempt to delay the inevitable. There were rumours of a magical totem that could give people another life right before they would die, but it was never found.
But they were afraid of the wrong thing. What they believed to be the worst case scenario was far from it. Instead the permanent death was a bittersweet release from the truly terrifying force that would plague them soon enough.
Now I see it take hold of my beloved friend, writhing and growling under restraints, bloodlust seeping out of his every pore. His eyes glowing a seething, frightening crimson that contrasted his once warm and welcoming brown ones.
With every jolt and growl the gem on his forearm pulsated with the same crimson that tainted his eyes.
My heart ached as I watched Bdubs struggle under the ropes that the remains of BEST team had set up. I could tell that Skizz and Tango were feeling the same way, they were scared of Bdubs. They knew that the moment they softened their hold on his restraints he would spring up and attempt to rip them to shreds.
Bdubs was sick, and there was nothing we could do about it.