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Sometimes, Rekrap wondered if his life had been destined to go the way it did. If he had changed things, could have prevented his life from slipping so far out of his control? Had his path always been set, a script that he had to dance to, or could he have changed it? Twisted his story down a different, perhaps unintended route, and found another way to live his life.
Rekrap was well-known in the Universe. The majority of travellers knew him, and if they didn’t, they knew of him. He’d made a name for himself early on by setting himself mad challenges and almost unachievable goals. This alone didn't bring fame, though, it was his success against all odds. That was what brought the fans and the status.
Over time, more people began watching him, especially after he joined Lifesteal. He could feel their eyes, scrutinising his every flaw, searching for a chink in the armour. The attention only grew after he left Lifesteal, as he started doing more and more. The nonstop watching was disconcerting, yet he hadn’t been able to find out how to prevent it.
Some of Rekrap’s friends had warned him. They’d spoken of an audience that seemed to always find them, even in the darkest of caves or on the farthest islands of the End. No one had ever warned against them though, and most seemed to believe them harmless, if a little disconcerting, so he thought nothing of it. Being watched wasn’t that bad, not when they were enjoying what he did, celebrating his accomplishments. He thought it would be fine, there would be no harm done.
Until the whispering began.
They’d murmur in his ear, useless, pointless comments. Sometimes they’d cheer for him, sometimes they’d laugh, and sometimes they’d lie. They’d breathe untruths into his ears and he’d listen sometimes, and they’d howl with laughter. They loved it, when he messed up, when he’d listen to one of their silly little suggestions that were ‘so obviously jokes’.
Rekrap couldn’t understand what had made him so interesting to the beings, to these disconnected voices that only he could hear. He wasn't all that interesting and plenty of others out in the realms did similar challenges to Rek. It didn't make sense.
It only got worse when he began speedrunning.
His first dip into speedrunning was uneventful. He decided he wanted to beat the dragon in under an hour, a reasonable goal for his skill level at the time. He spent hours, trying and failing. It took him eighty-nine worlds before he finally accomplished his objective. The voices, his audience, had cheered with him when he’d finally done it, their proclamations that ‘he was the best player ever’ and ‘that no one could ever stop him’ echoed in his mind for days afterwards.
After that, he didn’t run for two years. The voices stayed and the eyes never let him escape their gaze. They were always watching from wherever they were hiding, unseen and completely invisible. He had moments where he was convinced he was going insane. Most of the friends that he’d met on Lifesteal had never reported anything this severe, and none of them had ever mentioned voices.
They were a bit more subdued during this period, less prone to deafening screams. The watching also died down a bit, and he managed to snatch moments of solace sometimes. He’d try to sleep in the dark, and the eyes would leave him for a moment, or he’d be gazing at nothing interesting, and the voices would grow bored and quiet.
He would still wake up screaming though.
Then he decided he wanted to learn how to speedrun properly.
After spending hours upon hours learning bastions, portals, and anything and everything else that he needed to know, Rekrap decided to give it a shot. His first attempts were far from successful, but eventually, after a long while, he managed to get a respectable PB and draw the attention of other speedrunners in the community.
Couriway was one of the first to reach out, offering advice and companionship. The voices seemed to quieten around him. He had a calming effect on them, turning the voices softer and more muted, like Rek was wearing soundproof headphones.
The watching also decreased significantly when he ran. At first, the decreased presence was disconcerting. The feeling had been so unfamiliar that he panicked. His chest had felt like it was collapsing and his breaths came so fast that he was lightheaded. He'd collapsed in a couple seeds, from lack of oxygen or his body just giving out on itself, Rek couldn't say.
He got used to it though, and eventually grew to enjoy it. The voices eventually quietened as well. A couple of voices began standing out, louder than their peers. He could have full conversations with some of them while running. It was quite relieving, a respite from the constant, non-stop chatter that he would hear doing anything else.
Couriway especially had helped him get started with running. He'd give advice, constantly sending him little tidbits of information that he thought could be useful. It was a big help at the time and had only encouraged him further. The knowledge that someone wanted him to be there, that the community was so welcoming, only encouraged him to delve deeper.
If only he'd walked away. If only he knew.
He improved quickly, acquiring PB after PB, improving with every run. He got sub 15 after about a month of work and not long after that he got a sub 10. Rek knew he was reasonably good, not as good as the best, but at the time, he could confidently say he was in the Top 100 if not the Top 50.
When Couriway asked if he wanted to join HBG, the answer was obviously yes. The idea of having a group that shared his interest was too much to pass up. He barely spoke to Lifesteal. He saw the way they looked at him. He noticed the flinches, the earplugs that some of them started to wear, and the excuses made to not spend time with him. He couldn’t hold it against them, not after what he did. He could recognize when he wasn’t wanted, nothing escaped his vision. Not anymore.
Before he accepted, he tried to warn Couriway. Not obviously enough that they would be angered, that would never end well, especially not for Couriway. No matter how much the Universe may favour him, she couldn't interfere. He cautiously said, “I can be a bit much sometimes, just warning you.”
“There’s no way you're worse than Poundy,” Couriway had chuckled, inviting him to the server, and that had been that.
He was a member of HBG.
-
“Fuck,” Rekrap cursed, resetting the run.
“What happened?” Fulham asked, his voice crackling slightly due to the poor connection.
“Forgot to use my fire res,” Rekrap said, resetting the seed. “Another silly mistake.” Mocking laughter and insults rang through his head. He resisted the urge to cover his ears, as much as he wanted to, it wouldn’t help.
“Unfortunate.”
It had been a couple of months since Rekrap had joined HBG, and things weren't getting better. The voices only got more aggressive and insistent with every run, and the non-stop chatter was not helping his focus.
He hadn't been sleeping for the last few months, at least not for longer than a couple of hours scattered throughout the week. Rek had seen Couri watching him, a concerned look in his eyes, but he hadn't commented yet, so Rek wasn't going to ask for help. He couldn't force him into his drama, not when Couri had his own.
“Yeah, I’ve done it a couple of times, it just slips my mind sometimes.”
“It happens, you’ll get used to it. If you don’t, the pain will definitely remind you,” Fulham chuckled.
Rekrap hadn’t felt pain in a long time, not that Fulham could have known that. “I’m getting faster with the resetting, been avoiding most of it.”
“You should do some No Reset with Couri, it would sink in after you’ve died in lava and lost all your stuff and still have to keep playing.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Rekrap's chest tightened with apprehension. He could feel the thousands of pairs of eyes, watching and waiting for his answer. “I dunno if it’s for me.”
“He'd be happy to have you do a couple of duo runs with him, I know he would be.”
“Yeah,” Rekrap smiled in a half-hearted attempt at showing some interest. “Maybe I’ll ask him.”
“You should,” Fulham insisted. “You’ll enjoy it, promise.”
“I'll take your word for it.”
-
“Hey, Rekrap, how's it going?” Couriway asked, a bright smile on his face. His crown perched on his head, perfectly nestled within his hair as always.
“Oh, you know…” Rekrap chuckled, “it's been going.”
Couri laughed, and Rek forced a smile. Couri threw his arms around Rek’s shoulders and began half-dragging him down towards the forest. “What's wrong?”
Rek glanced at Couri, noticing the worried expression. “Oh, just been having some trouble with consistency in my runs. Keep dying to silly little mistakes. Nothing major is going on,” he assured Couri.
“Okay good, I've been worried about you recently, what with your constant tiredness. Is there a particular reason you haven't been able to sleep?”
“Runs just get me a bit wired I think, keep thinking a creeper will jump me any second,” Rekrap said. Hopefully, Couri accepts that.
“Ah yeah. I can't do much to help with that. You’ll find a way to cope, everyone does. I run, for example. Actual running,” he clarified, “not speedrunning.”
“Maybe I could join you one of these days.” Screams of approval echo in the back of his mind, the sound reverberating through his skull. They were nonstop. Usually, they were quieter around Couri, but clearly, something’s changed because they wouldn’t shut it.
“For sure! I’ll message you if I ever head out.”
“Yeah of course.”
“Also, Fulham mentioned to me that you might want to do some No Reset duo runs?” Couri said, ducking under a low-hanging branch.
“I’d be down if you want to.”
“Of course, I want to,” Couriway said, shooting him a small smile, “you’re my friend, I’ll never not be down.”
“Next week?” Rekrap asked, considering his schedule.
“Are you free tomorrow?” Couri said. Rekrap could feel the eyes in the back of his head. He wondered if Couri could feel them too.
Rekrap stuttered for a second, “Oh, um, I can do it tomorrow, sure.”
“Nice, I’ll message you.”
Rekrap muttered out a response, and it must have been good enough because Couri said something after that before walking away. He didn’t know what, as the noise crescendoed and it was like he was drowning in it, sinking into the depths of the ocean where he would never be found.
Falling to the floor, he squeezed his eyes shut, red tears leaking out from them. Rekrap just prayed that they would get bored soon enough.
—
“I'm gonna head for the village, you go for the temple, yeah?” Couriway said, his words quick and succinct.
“Sounds good,” Rekrap replied, already turning to run for a temple, breaking the flimsy dead bushes on the way.
The voices were particularly agitated today. He’d been woken up by them screaming so loud they could cause a house to collapse, if anyone else could hear them, of course.
He knew he should feel guilty for it, but sometimes he wished that others knew what he was feeling. That they too would experience the crushing anxiety of being known , and someone would finally understand him. They'd know why he never seems to sleep. Why when he does, he wakes up less than an hour later screaming. They'll know the hunger in his chest, eating him from within, constantly demanding feeding.
He knew that one day that hunger would overpower him. He would be left with no control, only the voices and the eyes that invisibly urged him on would remain. He would fight the war against his own body, his instincts, until the day he died.
He won't hurt his friends again.
—
“Sub 20, let's go!” Couri exclaimed.
“Holy shit that was crazy, dude that was an insane blind!” Rekrap said, matching Couri’s enthusiasm, tiredness out the window. His joy at completing the run was unquenchable, not even by the nonstop chattering in his ears. Most of the chatter was positive anyway and only bolstered his good mood further.
“I know right, it was actually insane,” Couri flicked a couple of buttons on his comm. “Next run?”
“Let's do it!”
—
The heat of the Nether weighed down on him like a pile of sandbags. They'd been searching for a fortress for the last ten minutes and if they don't find one and get out of the Nether soon, Rek will end up throwing up.
Couri doesn't appear to be faring much better. He's caked in sweat and dust. Trails of blood seep from unhealed wounds caused by the piglins in the bastion. They ran out of food to heal not long ago and they don't have the resources to hunger reset and still be left with enough explosives to kill the dragon.
“Fort should be near,” Couri said, squinting at his pie chart. “Only a few chunks away.”
“Good, good,” Rekrap said.
“Truly getting the No Reset experience here Rek. Is it living up to all your expectations?” Couriway smiled, spinning his axe around in his hands.
“Oh absolutely!” Rek chuckled. “This is just what I was searching for in life, dying of heatstroke in a hell dimension. Remind me why I do this again.”
“Fun.”
“Fuck me and my life choices,” Rekrap bemoaned, dragging his hand over his sweaty face.
“You’ve clearly made some terrible ones if you’ve ended up here.”
Rekrap nodded in agreement. He had a brief moment of respite before the voices cackled at him, their noise getting exponentially louder. His ears ached in pain. “Sometimes, it's just a bit much,” Rekrap muttered to himself.
“Makes sense. Well, I'm always willing to help if you need anything from me.”
“Anything?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Hm,” Rekrap stared at Couri's eyes. They had flecks of gold in them. He already knew that though. He didn’t know how but he did.
Couriway stopped, and stared back, holding eye contact with him. Eventually, he had to blink, as every human does. Rekrap never did though, and he could watch the exact moment that Couri realised that Rekrap never blinks.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Couriway asked a tinge of fear in his tone. Rek smiled, a flame of excitement lighting within him. The warmth of it was comforting.
Rek just watched alongside the hundreds and thousands of voices and eyes that haunt him every day of his life.
“Rek what are you doing? Are you okay?”
‘Are you okay?’ This is the most okay he's been in years. He hadn't felt this great in at least a decade, maybe longer, definitely far before the first eyes began their staring.
“Why are your ears bleeding?” Rekrap froze, reaching up and brushing his hand against one of his ears. His hand came away stained with red.
“They don’t ever stop,” Rek muttered. “They haven’t left me alone. They won’t. Nothing I do gets them to leave.”
“Get who to leave?” Couriway had a fearful look in his eyes. His hands shook. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. “What are you talking about Rek? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t want help,” Rekrap yelled. “Just. Stop .”
A noise akin to a million bees took over his brain, drowning out his surroundings and every voice. He watched, a mere spectator, as Couriway collapsed in front of him. He was shaking, tears dripping down his face and his eyes screwed up. His nails dug into his palms and his mouth was wide open in a mockery of a scream, but of course, there was no sound loud enough to overwhelm the static singing in the air.
Then the noise stopped, and all he could hear was cheering.
“Rek, please stop,” Couriway begged, the pain clear in his eyes.
“I don't know how,” Rek sobbed out. He didn’t know when he started. “It won't stop, they never stop.”
Despite Couri's shaking hands, he still managed to pull out his comm and tap out a message. “Okay, just take a deep breath Rek, it's all going to be fine,” Couri attempted to soothe, but the effect was diminished slightly by the fact that Couri was so clearly not fine.
“It won't be,” Rekrap said, and he knew it to be true. He knew what had happened to Lifesteal, and now the same would happen to HBG. Everyone he was friends with ended up the same. They just couldn’t handle it.
Couriway screamed, high-pitched and pained. He clutched his head, putting it in between his knees. He was crying, Rek realised distantly, Couri was suffering because of him. Rek could only watch. He watched Couri and the voices screamed their approval and he took it all in, the pain, the suffering, the fear .
It was beautiful.
No, he thought, no it wasn't, they were just saying that and he didn't- wouldn’t think that–
The voices overwhelmed him, jeers and boos filling his ears, deafening him to anything else in the world. Distantly, he felt his legs give out underneath him, but he wasn’t there anymore, no room for his own thoughts in his mind. Teardrops spilled down his face, the still bleeding cuts on his face stinging when they came into contact with them.
Throughout this, his vision never wavered, and his view of Couri never faltered, not even when tears began falling. They should have blurred his vision. It was almost sickening that they didn’t, a reminder that he was no longer fully human.
He could feel the eyes on him, the eyes on both of them, drinking the scene in, enjoying their pain and suffering. They loved it, Rek knew. They never wouldn’t, they had a thirst for this stuff, a constant hunger that would never be satisfied. They will always ask for more for as long as Rek lived.
“Couri,” someone yelled, their voice unidentifiable. “Rek!”
The figure moved into Rek's view, blocking his view of Couriway. The voices instantly quieted down at that, the lack of visible pain leading to less enthusiastic participation. “Rek, what happened? Is Couri okay?”
Rekrap nodded hesitantly. He opened his mouth to answer and tried to force the words out, coughing harshly when he attempted it. “Water?” he managed to force out hoarsely, tears still streaming down his face. Fulham nodded and vanished, leaving Rekrap to watch Couri alone, clearly trusting that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Couri.
He wished that was true.
He gave up on restraining himself, allowing himself to fully gouge on the fear leaking from Couri. The meal chased away the headaches that had been plaguing him for the last few weeks. It wasn't enough to sate his hunger, but he had been the closest in a long time.
Couriway wasn't watching him, his eyes pressed tight and wings curled around him. The golden feathers looked matted and damaged, they'd probably need preening, likely by Feinberg. Rek had seen him do it previously. He saw everything nowadays and if he didn't someone would tell him anyway.
He was so tired.
Maybe he should just tell them. He's sure HBG would understand somewhat. They would get it. They get him.
‘No ,’ the voices screeched, ‘ no they don't.’
Rekrap couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep risking it, it didn’t matter if it made him happy. He couldn’t do that to his friends again, he wouldn’t force them to be his entertainment for his endlessly starving audience. Not again, he’d changed, he’d learnt from last time. He wouldn’t get better, not now that he’d had the first taste. It would become an addiction, one that would end in pain and destruction.
He couldn’t let that happen to HBG.
He knew Fulham was walking towards him, holding a bucket of water. Rekrap didn’t turn, his eyes not straying from Couriway’s prone figure. He didn't know what to tell Fulham when he got to him. He would never understand. For once, Rekrap didn’t know what to do.
And that was terrifying.
‘Kill them all,’ the voices whispered eagerly, thousands of separate vocalisations of the same command, ‘destroy them. Make them hurt.’
His hands were already covered in his own blood, he would not stain his ledger a darker red than it already is.
He made his choice. He would not play this role. Not again.
Rekrap2 left the game.