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A war is going to start soon.
Maybe the others can't tell, and End knows Scar is oblivious enough to not, but this is kinda Grian’s area of expertise afterall. Dogwarts has been getting awfully silent recently, and Gran only has to look at his own weapons stockpile to tell the way the bloods are flowing.
“Grian, where’d you put the flint and steel?”
“It’s in the chest by the door. Are you gonna act like a redlife and actually murder someone for once?” Grian teased.
“No, no, no, see I have bigger plans than that! I’m off on a quest to steal more of Dogwart’s banners, ol’ king Ren’s been leaving enough wood in his walls to burn that I think we’ll have a go at it!” Scar opens the chest Grian gestured towards and plucks the flint and steel out of it.
“Steal some iron from their chests while you’re at it, we’re running low.” He looked over to the other one already walking out the door, before noticing- “Wait a minute, get back here and put some clothes on!”
The idiot breaks out into a sprint, still not wearing his clothes! “I don’t know what you're talking about Grian, I’m perfectly dressed as is!”
He watches as the idiotic man that he is in debt to runs off to make more decisions that will only bring them closer to war. He watches and a part of him wishes that he could break his debt and leave, escape from the blood that he and Scar are bound to get coated in at this rate. A part of him remembers the boy with bunny ears and headphones covered in blood.
Mostly though, Grian is content to hold a sword at this man’s side, even if it means Scott calling him a monster again, his laughter high in the wind.
There are worse people to start a war with.
Martyn looks at Big B and doesn’t quite know what to think.
There are diamonds between them, encrusted into the reason they are even talking today, and despite it all, he decided not to wear the armor that has become so customary nowadays.
Big B’s not wearing any armor either. He hopes it's for the same reason as him.
“Do you think Scar is gonna be the one to kill him?” Big B breaks the silence.
“I hope not, I mean they’ve stayed alive for this long and for how much time has Scar been red? It’d be weird for them to break it this far in, don’t you think?”
It grates on him how dangerous it probably is for Grian, living with a red life like that, one he’s in debt to. Martyn chose Ren, chose all the blood and loyalty that came with it and look, he’s proud of that choice, he knows Ren would never do wrong by him. It doesn’t escape Martyn that Grian never got to make that choice, and if what Impulse said was right, about the warnings that Scar’s planning to kill everyone and that Grian asked for a way out, then Martyn’ll do what he can to help.
Just because Ren hates the two of them, doesn’t mean that Martyn can’t help him. They talked about it once, Martyn’s loyalty for the day one alliance. Ren, his liege, his king, his , told him that he trusted him, that if Grian needed to be helped then he couldn’t promise he would take him in, but he wouldn’t stop them either. He didn’t ask why he was so desperate to make sure Grian was with him, and at the time Martyn stuck to being grateful and did his best to push away memories of a long dead server and eyes in every corner.
So Big B and Martyn are left here then, sitting at a table trying to think of ways to get Grian out of an alliance he didn’t want, and back to the alliance that he did choose at the very beginning.
Except Big B asks, “Do you think Grian still… I don’t know, wants to leave Scar anymore? I mean, I hate to admit it but they seem pretty tight, don’t they?”
And Martyn… he doesn’t really want to admit it either, but he can’t pretend he hasn’t seen the glances the two share, the grins they give the other when they think everyone else isn’t looking. “Maybe so, Big B, but we’ve got to try, haven’t we? Just because Scar’s a monster doesn’t mean that Grian is, I mean day one alliances have got to mean something at least.”
For a second, he thinks Big B is going to call him out on it, to question if day one alliances actually mean anything to anyone except them, but instead they just looked at each other for a long moment, until Big B looked away and let out a sigh.
But only a few minutes later, they were both outside, standing in front of Dogwarts watching with weary eyes, a trap that hadn’t gone off.
It had been Scar and Grian’s design, he could tell just by looking at the TNT, and as he moved to help Jimmy, Ren, and Skiz disable it, he could feel the ground shake a little until-
KABOOM!
Fuck, the explosion had actually gone off, oh fuck, the pain burned through him like gasoline set on fire, and his vision goes white for a split second before he’s on the ground, Tango standing over him, shoving a health potion at him before Martyn grabs it, and chugs it.
Goddammit of course the trap had to go off, that was just his luck, and in front of Dogwarts too, and End knows who many people just lost a life, he thinks as he blinks dots out of his eyes.
Except when he glances over at his communicator, he realizes with a shock that Ren was in the list of those dead. Fuck, he needed to get to his king, restock and make sure that he had enough weapons before anyone tried to target him, but at least he’s only on yellow, at least he’s not a second away from death.
“Jimmy!” A voice he only distantly recognizes as Scott screams through the wind.
It looks like he wasn’t the only one that hell of a trap took down, if the way people are scrambling for items, talking, yelling as some of the dead run over to grab their stuff says anything. For a moment the crowd takes his attention off his king.
And above it all, Grian and Scar.
For a moment, Martyn swore that he can hear a screaming sort of laughter drifting down from the mountaintops, and in the next it fades and as he helps Ren get his items, as he fixes the damages to Dogwarts, he looks into the far image of Grian on the mountain, standing next to Scar as if he wants to be next to him.
In that moment, he realizes, dread creeping into his throat, that the old friend he swapped diamonds with is far gone.
Grian felt the arrow go through his heart in the forest and he barely even felt the pain of it as death overtook him.
No, all he could think of was anger. It’s the grinding of your teeth, jaw clenching, fist tightening type of anger.
He spends his entire time on this damned world keeping Scar alive and others dead by any means possible and he repays him by letting Bdubs murder him. Even after Grian stayed for reasons he didn’t even know once he died the first time and the deal was settled, he still had the nerve to kill him.
Grian resists the urge to let out a scream as he paces around his panic room, his stashed away gear piled on the chest, the diamond metal waiting for him to put it on and turn it red.
Fine, if Bdubs and Scar want to team up against him, then that’s fine. Grian’s managed on his own before, he can do it again, and he’ll show those two just how able he is to survive on his own.
There’s probably something funny about it, the fact that he spent his entire time with Scar, mocking and warning others about how much of a scam ‘friendship points’ and ‘no kill passes’ were. Of course, it's the moment where Scar actually means it about them that he can’t get to one quick enough. Maybe it would still be funny if it was just Scar and Grian on a mountain, taking care of Pizza and building the base that never would have lasted, but that’s the crux of it all isn’t it? They aren’t there anymore, so he puts on his gear, gets ready to step outside the bunker, and well, it’s about time he faces the facts.
Grian swears he remembers a line about hubris once, about how Scar had it spades. He also remembers his own voice, telling Scar that talking wouldn’t get him out of situations alive this time.
He thinks that he’s angry enough for him to test that.
Joel wasn’t quite sure what to think of this whole death game.
It’s fun in a way, the bloodlust that fills him up, more satisfying than anything else that this world can provide him even as it burns with how it tears through him when he hasn't spilled blood in a while. The wolves get it, with their snapping teeth and all. Some days he thinks they're just as hungry as he is.
But just because the blood and the violence is fun, doesn’t mean the tricks are. Joel sees the way Scar talks, all bluff but more bite than you’d expect, and he definitely sees Ren, convincing people to join him as if Martyn isn’t the only one he’d actually die for, with the way his whole kingdom or whatnot have been getting too close to his abode.
And look, he can trick, he can bluff, he can wave his hands around all he wants until people look at him the way he wants them too, but that doesn’t mean it's fun. When he kills someone, at least it's honest, at least the blood on his hands meant something, but fine, if that's how the game is being played then that's how he’ll play it.
Scar come a’knocking not too long after, talking alliances and being united against Dogwarts, he even offers to help him fix his roof. And look, Joel knows that this alliance is going to fall apart, he’s well aware that these bluffs and ‘strength in numbers’ only lasts so long, and he’s smart enough to tell that Scar is the greatest conman of them all.
But well- everyone dies to someone's hand or another, so Joel might as well join this, might as well spill blood and have fun while he still can. So he joins, meets up with the larger group, and when everyone else has their weapons drawn, their backs straight, and their eyes tense, Joel just brings his dogs along and grins.
The thing about Scar, that he thinks maybe even Grian, for all his loyalty or whatever, doesn’t know, is that you can always trust in what he’s not saying. Maybe Scar isn’t a friend, that might be a bit much of a term to use for anyone other than the more intense partnerships, but in between the building of the roof, the alliance, and the battles, he thinks he can see why Grian likes staying at his side so long, even after his deal has ended.
“Scar! Where are you headed?” He calls out from his steps, one of his dogs sitting at his side.
The man in question turns his head to look at him and grins, “I’m going to go make fun of Martyn! Care to join me, my friend?”
There is only a second of hesitation in him picking up his sword, gesturing at his dog to follow, the idea of fun being too much to ignore.
Later, Joel dies, a sword going through his throat and no alliance at his side, his dogs too far away to help. The battles continue, even after his body hits the ground, and no one stops and mourns, no one does anything at all. He should probably be pissed at that, but mostly, he thinks he wants this to end, even for all he enjoyed the bloodshed.
Screw Scar and the others, a home away from this fucked up game is the only thing Joel craves anymore.
At the end of it all, it’s just Grian and him.
Scar finds he doesn’t mind it, for all that the way the breeze flows through the wind seems so much louder than before, the emptiness of it all, seems to spook Grian.
Bdubs is dead, and Scar knows how this has to end, not when his friend, the only man to stand at his side, is holding a sword with so much rage his hand is practically shaking. He… he knows he hasn’t always done right by him, that the past few hours have shown that enough, but it will be okay, he’ll right this, show Grian how this was the plan all along.
He’d never really fully considered the part where one of them would have to kill each other, but standing in a riverbed, hands flecked with so much dried red that you can barely even see the nail beds underneath, Scar thinks he knows how this should end.
“You bastard Scar, you betrayed me! After I started wars for you!” Grian shouted, his words only making Scar more sure of his decision, as they fill up the otherwise empty world.
It’s only them now, in a world of burned bridges and blown up buildings. One of them has to do right by the other.
“You can kill me, for all you did to keep me alive.” He says the word like an expulsion of breath, like relief, as he falls to his knees through the shock of the cold river.
And he stares Grian in the eyes and waits. He knows he should probably close his eyes to meet Death, it's what everyone else did, Bdubs, Jimmy, even Martyn, but he thinks, for a second, that he would be okay with looking Grian in the eyes as he dies.
Except Grian stands there, sword in hand, and he doesn’t go for the kill. Months of watching Grian slice through lives, set traps, and burn things to the ground, and here is where he stops, Scar thinks with laughter bubbling in his chest.
“No, no, I can’t Scar.” Grian takes a fumbling step back, and despite the look of horror on his friend's face, Scar’s heart feels ten times lighter at the hilarity of his near faceplant in the water.
“We could run… we don’t have to do this.” Scar offers, watching Grian’s face shift from horror to something so locked down that even Scar can’t quite tell what it is.
In a low tone of voice, Grian says “That’s not an option, Scar, I can’t… it would ruin this.”
For a second, Scar swears he hears the voice of Cleo, calling out a faded “We want blood!”, but then the wind rustles by and takes his imagination with it.
In the face of indecisiveness, of unimaginable horror at the two friend’s fate and confusion at what Grian just said, Scar takes every advice he’s ever gotten as a conman and gambles. “You and me then, a fair fight.”
“Okay, Okay. At the mountain then? Where it all began for us?” Grian’s eyes are so dark that Scar almost feels swallowed up by them. He takes a step forward and offers a hand out anyway.
He’s not surprised when Grian takes it.
And so they go, the two of them, no llama this time though, heading up to a mountain of sand.
It only takes a moment for them to set the ring up, but shifting of the sands and the lack of yelling, fighting, or anything that's made up the past few months makes it feel longer almost, like him and Grian are balancing on a string that’s prone to snapping.
The sight of his friend, no armor on for the first time in ages, his red sweater as distinctive as always, makes something in Scar’s mind settle. He knows what he’s going to do, how this is going to end.
He brings up his fists, pastes a smile on his face, and doesn’t wait for Grian to throw the first punch.
It’s about as bloody and brutal as Scar expected, even as he trips into cactus while Grian deftly avoids it, even as he moves far slower than he did while trying to kill Bdubs. Fists fly, and he knows he’s losing, but he grins with his friend anyway, tries to ignore the echo of the world around him.
Except, except oh no no no, there’s a creeper behind Grian and Scar wants to yell, wants to scream at how unfair of a trick that is, but no no it's already behind him and he was too busy dancing around his own death to see it, and the words get lodged in his throat as Grian frowns, noticing that somethings wrong.
But both of them are too late, and he only sees Grian’s face turn to horror as a hiss fills the empty mountain before-
KABOOM!
And as his vision whites out, Scar dives forward, ignoring the sand grating on his forearms as he moves to Grian. Except his vision comes back in blurry and now all he can see is his friend, laying on the ground with blood pooling out around his head.
“Grian?!” He calls out, desperate for an answer.
He swears he could almost pray to the End itself when Grian turns his head to him, coughs, and smiles. His eyes tear up but he finds himself smiling right back.
“Scar? What’re you doing? Didn’t I tell you to put on some clothes…” He slurs.
Scar chokes, “I thought you liked my abs, wow Grian I’m almost offended.”
Grian laughs but it putters out into a shattering cough.
“I’m so sorry, Grian. It was never meant to turn out like this, I promise oh god I promise, fuck… buddy stay with me a little bit longer, I’m sorry for getting you killed with this. I’m sorry for dragging you into my stupid plans. I’m sorry for turning my back on you. I’m sorry for the stupid stupid shirt thing. I’m so so sorry, Grian.”
“Don’t be an idiot Scar,” Grian lets out a soft laugh as his head drops to the floor, “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
And then Scar can only watch as his best friend leaves. He wants to kneel there on the sandy ground forever maybe, wonders if this is how Martyn felt in the seconds before he died, mostly Scar wants to go back to the beginning of it all, even though he’s not sure he would’ve done it any differently either.
A voice startles him from his thoughts, wait no, multiple voices and he almost thinks he recognizes them as they layer on top of each other, all gasping out in unison, “One life left to go.”
“Grian?” Scar hopes with everything he has left in him to hope.
But as soon as the words leave his lips, his vision goes dark, then filled with glowing dark eyes so many that he almost wants to jolt back, and he watches as the world becomes consumed by them, overlapping and overlapping eyes until-.
Until he’s back on the mountain, no one but himself to be found. Before he can even begin to process what happened though, Grian is in front of him, his body a pale rendition of the one Scar knows lies behind him if he dares to look. (He doesn’t dare, eyes too focused on the man in front of him to care.)
Grian holds out a hand. The vision of the desert behind him, the echoes of eyes in Scar’s mind, and rest of what Scar is sure are ghosts holding their breaths.
Scar does what he always does, he gambles.
He takes the hand, stepping forward onto nonexistent ground as they grin together.