Chapter Text
Hidden safely in the bunker alongside Scar, Jimmy watched the battle of the desert with bated breath. The clashing of swords and armor pounded in his ears, and he could only sit on the sideline, helpless as he kept his eyes trained on Scott. Would he make it out okay? Would the Red King claim his life before Jimmy could call out to him? He paced the wooden floor restlessly. Any moment he’d see his friend and partner fall to the ground. When would it come? Now? In a few minutes? Would he be the first to fall or would death lay in lenient wait to mark his name off life’s list?
Flashes of moonlight reflected on Scott’s enchanted weapon, revealing a mess of blood and sand. He looked so calm on the battlefield, standing proudly with the wind ruffling his light blue hair. It was almost a poetic sight, the pacifist turned warrior against the tyrant king.
Red lives were bred for bloodshed. How unfair it was, to be trapped like a wolf in a cage, clawing at the walls and growling, all the while the yet untouched green names were in his place cutting down enemies in a rage. Jimmy’s heart hammered against his ribs, beating to a vicious rhythm. It should be him out there, swinging with unnatural strength, watching Scott’s back, and protecting him to his last breath. Instead, he was forced to wait in uncomforting security. His fist collided with the sandstone in frustration.
Scar, peacefully resting against the chest, spoke and yanked him out of his thoughts. “Dude, what did the wall do to deserve that?”
“It’s keeping me from him!” He snarled in response, whirling around on his heel and flinging out a hand to gesture to Scott. Furiously, he eyed the doomsday lever, the one rigged to a hundred blocks of TNT primed to blow the whole biome to hell. One touch, one little nudge was all it needed, and the war would end with countless fatalities. He could make it stop. His fingers twitched toward the trigger. Scar grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him away from the redstone lying under the sand.
If Scar was yelling at him, Jimmy couldn’t hear.
The only thing keeping him tied to the world was out there fighting for both of their lives. If Scott fell, the server would burn. Nowhere would be safe. No survivors.
What would happen first? Would Jimmy storm outside, prepared to make his first real kill, to hunt down whoever had taken the one person he cared about? Or would he instead hit the lever and greet the devil with a smile, proud of the destruction he caused? And what of Scar, the poor soul trapped with him in this cage? Would he try to reason with him? It was far too late for sensible discussion. If Scott would die, Jimmy would follow in a blaze of murderous glory.
He broke free of Scar’s grasp and gripped the lever in a white-knuckled hold. “Give the order, Grian,” he muttered darkly. “Give the damn order. Let me end this.” And to think, all of this started from a banner that was intended as a peace treaty and instead became the declaration of war. Friends turned on each other, each fighting for something different. Honor, justice, peace, or simply survival. It wasn’t important anymore. “Let me make it stop.”
Outside the bunker, Grian knelt in the sand. “Jimmy, don’t you dare touch that lever! Your friends are still out there. Would you kill us as well as yourself?!” He fired a warning shot towards Martyn, who was slowly approaching.
"If it would drag the King down, yes!” As soon as the threat left his lips, he heard the sound he’d been dreading.
Scott had just cried out in pain.
In a panic, Jimmy pulled himself up to the tiny window and scanned the desert for his partner. There, stranded and cornered by the King and his lackeys, lay Scott, blood dripping from his corpse where he’d been wounded. He pulled up the chat to read the horrific message:
SMajor1995 was shot by Etho
Since everyone had set their spawn point nearby, not two seconds later did Scott run by, stopping once by the bunker to ensure Jimmy was still alive. One life down. If he got killed twice more, the first player of Third Life, this never-ending hell made by the twisted deities, would be marked in history forever.
He dropped to his knees and stuck his hand through the gap in the sandstone, waiting for Jimmy to take hold of it. “Are you okay?” To his surprise, Jimmy pressed his soft hand to his lips as a sign of reassurance before he held it like an anchor keeping him from drifting into a sea of blind fury.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t scare me like that again.” His brown eyes gazed up into Scott’s shining golden ones, finally relaxing for one blissful moment. The war drowned out; they were the only two people in the world. This sweet stillness ended abruptly when Grian shouted an indistinct word and Scar yelled, “Get down!”
Scott gracefully slid inside the bunker as Scar triggered the doomsday device.
An almost inaudible hiss warned the alliance to hit the ground and cover their ears as the earth-shattering BOOM of over two stacks of TNT all went off at once. The ground rumbled under the force of the blast, shaking the bunker violently, but as a test of its builder’s talent, it endured. When the smoke cleared, Scar examined the remaining terrain and drew his bow to clear out some of the enemies that had somehow survived due to divine intervention.
It hadn’t worked. All the time Grian and Scar had spent digging out and replacing the sand over the circuitry and nobody had been killed by it.
A wicked firefight broke out between the two sides. Scar was firing wildly, hitting a few random people but not causing too much damage. Grian, stuck outside of the walls, got in a fight with Martyn, but when Jimmy had marked him as a target, the traitorous green-name fled back to the protection of the king. He turned back to check on Scott when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder.
His hand flew to the arrow that jutted out of his body. The metal tip had buried itself deep in his flesh; blood poured out over the floor, discoloring the planks with crimson. As he staggered on his feet, Scott turned to Skizz, bow at full draw, targeting right between his eyes.
He fired a shot that just barely missed his head, drawing blood from a single small cut along his temple. “Next time I won’t miss,” he warned. Skizz eased the tension on the bowstring, bringing one finger up to his hairline, feeling along the gash in the side of his head, before glaring at the source of the shot.
“You wanna play that way? Fine.”
He shifted his mark and quickly released an arrow that caught Jimmy between the ribs, impaling deep into his chest. Scott dropped his bow and caught Jimmy before he hit the floor. Hands flew wildly over the wound, desperately trying to stop the endless flow of blood. Scott cradled his weak body in his arms as Scar searched fruitlessly for healing potions and golden apples.
“I’m messing up your shirt,” Jimmy apologized with a pained smile.
“Shh, it’s fine. I’ll make a new one.” Scott gently ran his fingers through Jimmy’s hair soothingly. “You’re gonna be okay, just look at me. You’re gonna be fine.” His hand settled over his chest. “You’ve got blood in your hair, how’d you manage that?” The grisly scene of his partner, his lifeline, struggling to even take a breath damn near yanked his heart out of his chest.
Jimmy reached a shaky hand up to cup his companion’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “Just pretend it’s rain,” he stuttered, gasping between words. “It doesn’t even hurt anymo-” A sudden wheezing fit left him breathless for an agonizing second before he regained what little strength remained. He gargled out a laugh as he added, “You just being here is enough. Don’t leave me, okay?”
“I won’t. Not ever.” Jimmy forced himself up to look at Scott properly before he fell in his arms again. “Relax,” he comforted, “Don’t make it worse.”
From the little crack in the walls that made up the window, a few rays of sunlight broke through the darkness, shining an almost heavenly light over everything. “Look,” Jimmy whispered, “Sunlight. The rain is almost done.” He shivered and Scott pulled him closer, trying to keep him warm with his body heat. “Take me home when this is done, okay? The rain will keep our flowers nice and healthy.”
“I will, love.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Jimmy’s forehead to seal the vow. “I’m not going anywhere. You can sleep now. I’ll be okay.”
Jimmy gazed up at Scott, the soft shine in his eyes fading rapidly. “I love you,” he breathed, then lay still. The deep rumble of thunder, signaling the first permanent death of the server, rolled over the red desert as the crack of lightning lit up the sky.
Scott bowed his head, not bothering to hide the tears rolling down his face. “I love you too.”