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“this isn’t you,” jumper says, shaking her head as if stating it firmly enough would make it true.
“yeah? i’m kinda bad at this evil stuff,” minute confesses, a small smile playing on his lips. it’s heartbreakingly familiar, speaking of gentler times and a team buried six feet under. lifesteal works as a conundrum; memories of last season were not meant to carry over, but that rule never quite applies to the unquenchable thirst for vengeance — they all inevitably develop it, even if they weren’t born with it.
“why, minute, why?” jumper’s voice is a broken plea, the sole remaining tether to minute’s rationality (or lack thereof, because this is jumper.) why aren’t you the same? — he wants to ask.
“you know why,” he says instead, offering her a half-answer that’s neither here nor there. she can think the worst of him. it would only make things easier for both of them.
“i don’t, actually. the minute i knew wouldn’t have given up just because we failed once.” there’s a stubborn set to jumper’s jaw, and the defiant upturn of her chin is a sight that sends a resounding pang within minute’s chest.
“maybe i’ve grown tired, jumper. it’s admirable that you still have the spirit, but-” he pauses, weighing his words. there’s a brief moment of hesitation — jumper sees it in his eyes — then minute follows through with considerable effort, “you won’t be keeping that up for much longer.”
“really?” jumper laughs, already besides herself. none of this felt real, like some poorly scripted nightmare, with her firm ally now drawing his sword against her. “would you be the one to break me? because i find that hard to believe.”
minute starts. he’s wringing his hands out, a tell-tale sign of nervousness. jumper watches the movement closely, saying nothing more. this, too, was a battle of sorts. the wars waged on lifesteal has always been half verbal, half physical. and as rare as they were to come by, so was the tenuous peace brokered.
“just leave, please. i don’t want to fight you.” minute sounds defeated, but jumper gains no satisfaction from it. if anything, it makes her want to drop her sword and pull minute into a warm embrace, like the countless ones they’ve shared in another lifetime.
but the past is evidently dead, is it not? clown ran them through with his scythe, cackling like a maniac as he did, then minute single-handedly wiped the slate clean. all while jumper watched, powerless to change anything but dreaming of the could've-been’s all the same — just as she does now.
“i don’t think you even believe in what you preach, minutetech,” jumper says softly, a whisper that echoes through the caves and reverberates through the village halls nonetheless. (it’s meant to come out more vicious, more bitter, but this is minute.) she can’t bring herself to treat him like an enemy, however much he wishes to masquerade himself as such.
minute breaks off eye contact, choosing to study the floor. it’s uncharacteristically foolish, because she could’ve impaled him on her blade three times over with that window of opportunity. there’s no question that minute knows that just as well as she does, even as she ignores the roaring in her head and the beckoning weight of her sword.
minute shakes his head, a wistful smile in his voice as he murmurs, more to himself than to her, “never change, jumper. never change.”
“you don’t have to either,” she points out, more scathingly this time. if minute needs some sense knocked into him, she would gladly take up that role. anything was better than entertaining the alternative — facing off on opposite sides of the battlefield.
“but i’m not like you. i never started out harbouring idealistic visions for the greater good of the server, jumper. fuck, i was part of the problem. remember the PMC?” he chuckles to himself, adding almost as an afterthought, “kinda hard to forget, with that dramatic betrayal and all. maybe i deserved it. for acting like i was above that bloodshed. donned a fancy suit as if it could wash away all the blood on my hands, right? forgot the very trenches i clawed my way up from.”
jumper tightens her grip on the hilt of her sword, suddenly struggling to breathe. “what do you expect from me, minute? pity? because vitalasy died, bleeding out on my blade. you’ve suffered one major betrayal, and i don’t deny that it hurts, but you’ve never been forced to betray your own teammates. i have every void-given right to go on a rampage, but i’m not. i don’t want to.”
“just like how i know that deep down, you don’t either. the PMC was nothing but business; you should be more acutely aware of that fact than i am.” her voice is strained as the words pour out from her like a dam let loose; futile to even attempt stopping.
“fuck, jumper, i-” minute cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. “i didn’t mean it like that. i’m sorry.”
jumper dips her chin in acknowledgement. somewhere along the line, they’d fallen into this mutual understanding that problems would be addressed immediately, and no hard feelings were to be had. it’s nice seeing that they still didn’t need any further words to be exchanged, but it only serves as yet another reminder of past habits not quite rooted out. she wonders if they would ever be completely erased.
“you know what i’m trying to get at, though. sometimes i wonder if they were right and the whole hero thing was nothing but a cliche marketing gimmick. maybe it was just a role i deluded myself into playing. some batman i was, huh? saving nothing at all.”
“don’t lie to me, minute. it’s painfully obvious,” jumper lets herself adopt a teasing lilt, though the profound sadness in her gaze remains. “you were more hell-bent on those morals than i was. i would’ve killed zam in a heartbeat.”
“yeah, i guess you would’ve,” he sighs, looking more conflicted than ever.
“does that make me any lesser?”
“no.” his answer is resoundingly firm, like he would fight anyone that dares to suggest otherwise. jumper refrains from smiling at the thought.
“then you have your answer,” she says simply, turning to leave. pausing in her steps, jumper spares one final glance back at minute. “come find me when you inevitably overthink it enough.”
a hint of a tender smile graces her lips. “we can overthink it together.”