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Tango logged out of the server and stumbled his way through the hub, ignoring the shouts of his friends behind him.
It was just a game.
But it wasn't, was it?
Decked Out was a game, as deadly as it was. Hungry Hermits was a game. Tennis, Ghasketball, Ravager Rush. Those were all games where even if you died, you could up and go again.
The Life Games weren't like that. If you got knocked down, you didn't get up again. Especially if you made the Watchers angry. Their mockery was vicious, focused on only your wrongs.
How about halfway through filming the episode, Tango just knew he wasn't going to be able to succeed as the boogeyman. He kept trying, but the Watchers love Grian and the tnt just never seemed to catch a spark on the first try. He should have been quicker in aiming for Joel during the arena. He was right there!
Tango felt tears form, but he quickly brushed them away. He kept running through the hub, letting his feet guide him.
Past the Hermitcraft portal. Past the portals that could take him to any of his private servers.
A thought crossed him. A place he hadn't been too in years and somewhere he promised himself that no one would find out about.
He wiped away obsidian tears again, and turned down a dark alley. He lost his friends awhile ago but right now he is thankful. He didn't want them to know about this.
He had wanted to forget.
A nether portal lights up with a quick swipe of his claws. He steps through and relaxes just slightly at the heat. He liked being on the overworld but even the hottest days were nothing compared to the Nether heat.
The portal drops him off in a blackstone lined room, quickly closing behind him. Even if someone found that portal, they needed to be a blazeborn to open it.
The room is medium sized, filled with desks and fellow Blazeborns and Piglins. He doesn't see his friend at first, so he sits down next to the portal to wait.
He doesn't have to wait for long, however, because an older Piglin with white hair and large tusks starts walking up to him.
"Tek! Is that you?" His voice is heavy with age. Rhys is probably one of the oldest piglins he knows.
"Hey, Rhys. Been awhile."
"Time is hard to tell down here. You said you weren't coming back."
"Yeah well...things happened. Might as well put my tears and flame to use."
Rhys gave him a look. Tango didn't bother to hide from his eyes, knowing Rhys wouldn't let him do this otherwise.
You see, Blazeborns can cry obsidian tears. But it takes a lot of energy and many choose only to do it when they are very angry or very sad. Which Tango was right now.
"Before you ask, yes, I'm sure."
Rhys sighed and gestures in the direction of one of the hallways. There were five hallways, each with small, sound proof four block by four block rooms that were separated by about five blocks in between. Tango didn't know if they had ever been used all at once, at least not since the last Blaze War.
No one from the overworld was supposed to know this place existed. Their morals and laws were different. Tango knew if he told his friends, they would be horrified.
"Do you have someone to come get you?"
"No one knows about this place and I'd like to keep it that way." Tango's tone was final and the piglin sighed.
"You will stay at my place. My wife won't mind."
Tango opens his mouth to protest but Rhys huffs and Tango's decided he's already pushed whatever luck he had. The walk is quiet, the natural sounds of the nether ambience being a welcomed comfort.
Rhys finally stops at one of the rooms and checks the clipboard. He unlocks the door. Tango passes him his jacket, leaving him in his long sleeve shirt and cargo pants and boots.
"Do you remember what to do?"
"Yes."
Tango sits down in a padded box, adjusting the straps of his mask to fit snuggly on his face. He could lay down if he wanted too, or even stand, but instead he chooses to sit. The blonde haired man gives Rhys a thumbs up.
The room darkens. It gets a little colder. Tango's glad he took off his jacket so it wouldn't be ruined. He didn't know how much obsidian he would produce today. And then afterwards, he could enjoy some good food(Rhys's wife could make a mean hoglin and warped shroom stew) and a place to sleep for the night. Then he would go back to Hermitcraft and pretend like he was fine.
Tango closed his eyes and let himself drift.
Tango just...drifts. Like feathers on the wind.
That reminds him of Skizz and Jimmy and then Grian and Impulse and Ren were willing to give him a life but sacrifices wouldn't count like Scott said and Tango just kept failing at everything and then-
He heard the Watchers mocking him. Calling him all sorts of names and comparing him to his friends and the previous games. How well people played. How Scott choose to not kill anyone, instead of failing every opportunity that was given to him on a single platter.
The first tear formed, liquid obsidian being sucked away almost instantly. At least he couldn't mess this up.
Tango wakes up to a mask full of obsidian. He can't breathe. It's in his nostrils, further than that even. His mouth. His hair. He's clawing at his face, trying to break free.
He's dying. Blazeborns need oxygen to live, lots of it.
He's okay with dying. He'll just respawn, worn down to his core. He just needs some sleep.
Something helps him, allows him to see light and then finally catch a breath. He's coughing and trying not to throw up and his coughing again. He can't hear what the person is saying but he hopes they are a friend.
Tango hears Rhys curse in piglin, hears him say something about how "I was stupid to let him do this" and "i need to call his admin".
That sent Tango's brain spiraling again.
If Rhys told Xisuma, then his friends would know. They can't know. No one is supposed to know where obsidian and crying obsidian comes from. He has to keep the one good thing he can do a secret or he'll lose that too.
"R-rh-ys...Rhys, please don't," Tango rasps, voice still a garbled mess. There is obsidian in his lungs, his mouth, his throat.
"No, Tango. We had an agreement! I wouldn't tell your admin as long as you didn't lose yourself."
"Then you'll lose one of your best producers of obsidian!"
Tango had never seen Rhys so furious.
"I DON'T CARE! YOU NEED HELP IF YOU THINK YOU'RE LIFE IS WORTH LESS THAN OBSIDIAN."
Tango's own rage flared, hair flickering wildly.
"I WISH EVERYONE WOULD STOP TRYING TO HELP ME! I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY!"
Tango's voice broke, as the obsidian kept crawling down his throat. Once he respawned, he would be fine again.
But Rhys pinned him down before he could reach for the diamond chisel on the floor.
"Tango," the piglin whispered into Tango's ear. "We aren't pitying you. We care about you and hate to see you like this."
The fight leaves Tango. He goes limp in Rhys's arms, stops trying to reach for the chisel.
"Because I'm a failure, right? Jeez, I just fucked up the one thing I thought I was good at."
Tango's crying again, but this time the obsidian falls freely. It's pure crying obsidian now, produced only by a blazeborn who is running out of fuel to cry.
He doesn't even care that it's getting on Rhys. He's just so tired and he wants to sleep but he wants to be useful too. Except, he's clearly fucked that up now, so who cares any more.
The next time Tango wakes up, it's in a nest of hoglin furs, blankets, and two happy ghastlings that are chittering, and nuzzling him. He smiles wearily, reaching out to pet them. He flinches the moment he's awake enough to register the fact that his hand, both of them, are covered in obsidian. He can move them but it hurts.
"Oh thank Pyra you're awake. Rhys was so worried about you."
Tango opens his mouth but all he can do is creak.
Gertrude steps into his view with a shimmery blue potion.
"You can't talk, dear. Too much obsidian. You're practically made from it now but this will help you speak."
The liquid diamonds tatse awful but Tango can already feel his voice returning.
"Thank you," He croaks.
"Save your breath dear. Things will be okay in the morning."