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Purple is not a careless person. She only equips her elytra far from any Rocket Corp hotspots, she takes measures to disguise herself when she takes poster jobs, and she hasn't respawned in Minecraft for years now.
All that to say, she thought she was safe in the air on her way to Mango's house. She always had been before, and even if that weren't the case, she was far outside the city limits, so nothing and no one should've caught her with a game item on where a game item absolutely should not be, by the laws of this land. And, well, they hadn't.
It's kind of hard to reassure herself of that, though, when Rocket Corp-issue hoverbikes passed by not three minutes ago.
She was careful. She'd dived below the treeline as soon as she heard the motors, and scanned the skies she was supposed to be safe in (not safe, never truly safe, vigilance is key because permanent safety is a lie) until she found the source. It was hard to see from this far down, but she could have sworn that was the Rocket Corp CEO and her right-hand man, along with... Something... Something that might've resembled a person.
Her problems got a lot bigger than considering some mysterious cargo, though.
Purple did not run. Running was a foolhardy move that put panic in the front seat, in her experience, and she could not afford to panic, even if her elytra were off and stashed away before she'd even touched the ground. But it was because she did not run that she saw everything that happened after.
She saw the false screens. She saw the cursor, hovering over the bay. She saw the sudden strike of blue lightning, and the surge of power that she was sure the Rocket Corp CEO - because it was Victim, she was certain now - was delighting in. And she saw their mysterious cargo anew- she saw it was a person. She saw that person get dropped.
She saw that person get condemned to drowning.
And she heard the laughter as it happened.
For a moment, she wasn't there anymore, skin pressed against bark on an overcast, damp day, the smell of petrichor and ozone in her nose. For a moment, she was back in a home-site horrorland, running for her life as she watches everything burn around her and hearing the shrieking laughter of a hollowhead. Then she was back, because she forced herself back, because she could not afford to get lost in her memories, not here, not now, not with Rocket Corp so close.
She watched the CEO shoot off towards the sky of monitors and leave everything in silence.
It wasn't complete silence. The crashing of the waves against the cliffside and the gusts of wind were still there. But compared to the crashing and the display from ten seconds ago, that was nothing.
Purple took a deep breath. Blue had taught her this- in deep, out slow. She always kept to the precise amount of time they'd spent on their own breaths when they'd shown her. It was something to focus on. It was a way to reorder her thoughts.
When she stopped focusing quite so hard on her breathing (it had paused, when she heard the engines again), she was able to hear the landscape for what it was. The waves, the wind, the rustle of the grass-
And the sound of splashing.
Wait.
Fuck.
As quickly as she dared, Purple dashed to the edge of the trees to lean out over the drop-off. Maybe she was hearing things, please say she was hearing things-
She wasn't. Right there, a little off to the left side of the bay, was a barely-visible fit of disturbed water, of movement, of life.
The stick that Victim had dropped was still alive.
Still alive, and flagging fast.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap. She had no obligation to this person- she had no idea who they even were. But they had been condemned by a hollowhead, just like she had, just like her mother had, and if her friends- if Mango- if anyone knew she'd simply left them behind because she was scared-
Purple looked toward the small shack where she'd seen the second hoverbike land. There was no movement- there were no signs of life. She couldn't be too careful- but they didn't have time- but if he was still around, she couldn't- She looked up at the sky. Quick gaze, quick gaze, she couldn't afford to be wrong about this- there! The CEO's right-hand-man was flying off in the same direction she had, towards the monitors, towards one in particular probably but she couldn't concern herself with that, the important thing was that his back was turned and the engine was loud. She could make it down there without him noticing if she was quiet about it.
With another deep breath and decidedly steady hands, she reequipped her elytra and dived over the edge. They didn't need to flap- she knew their mode of operation well enough to travel miles without so much as a firework, and this was all downwards. She took a moment to scan the bay for anywhere she could drag the drowning stick. It was mostly all cliffs, jutting straight out of the water, but in places, it was flat enough to rest.
When she turned her attention back to the water, her heart stopped. Had they stopped splashing? Were they sinking below the waves as she flew? Was she too late? That terrifying moment where she'd lost track of them ended with the abruptness of a crash landing, because there they were, still struggling and weaker but alive. Purple swooped right over them. Just out of arm's reach, just enough to let them know she was there. Then she circled back around and skidded to a hover, looking off into the distance where she'd seen the second hoverbike leaving. It was far away, not facing them, she could do this-
Purple leaned down, grabbed a flailing hand, and came to the sudden realization that it had claws.
It was a realization she couldn't lend any time to, unfortunately. This person was gripping her with adrenaline-fueled strength, possibly the last of it, and she could do nothing but grip it back just as hard while her wings strained to carry them towards the narrow lip of land she'd spotted. Finally, finally, they made it.
The vice grip around her sleeve left to gouge itself into the wall, hauling the person behind the pitch-black hands into relative safety, where they promptly collapsed and gagged on saltwater.
Wait. No. Not they.
He.
Purple recognized this person. Purple knew this person. No matter how unlikely it was that he knew her, she remembered seeing him, a pure black abyss in the middle of an artificial hell.
Purple had just saved the life of the Angel of Death.
She was already in the air- she hadn't landed. It would be so easy to grab a firework, to shoot off right here and now, to rush back to the safety of the city where she could blend in with a crowd and direct his ire somewhere else, because she had seen what this person could do, she had seen the destruction firsthand and she had experienced its consequences in hospital visits and the money for medication and the burns on her hands and-
And-
He... wasn't moving.
He was breathing, of course, quite heavily in fact, but other than that he'd collapsed against the cliffside, limp and shaking and... and small.
She would've never believed she could think of a hollowhead as small.
But his old red hoodie was soaked to his skin, the skirt that was definitely not his style was tangled around his legs, and his hair was long and messy and scattered about, and she couldn't remember having ever seen the Angel of Death as anything but pristine and strong, and this was... not. This was not that.
And maybe it was a moment of weakness. Maybe it was an absolutely insane connection between him in his current state and her on her birthday six years ago, sitting alone on the cold, snowy street with her clothes practically clinging to her bones, but she wanted to help him. She realized he needed help.
And hey, maybe it would stop him from killing her, who knows.
She looked back at the hoverbike. Still there, still in its same position- still facing away, which was the important part.
"Psst. Hey," she said in a hushed voice. There was only a moment where she saw him tense, and thank code her reflexes were as quick as they were, because she swore his claws cut the hair from her face as he lashed out.
The Angel of Death stared at her like she'd been the one to kill his family, pressing his back against the cliff wall as far as he could go and still gasping for breath. Purple made sure her hands were in view, though she didn't make any surrendering motion yet.
"Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you." Not like she could, anyway. But from the looks of him - she glanced back at the hoverbike again - someone definitely had. "Look, you wanna get outta here, yeah? I know someplace you can go. Far from the city." Purple held out her hand. She looked back again. They really didn't have the time, if that guy decided to turn around at literally any moment, they would both be arrested, or worse, and she really couldn't afford to be arrested because Mango wouldn't know until the next day when she didn't message him good morning-
She turned back to the hollowhead. He was looking up- no, not up, but back. He was looking at the shack.
"What, d- Do you need something from there-?" She tried not to let the anxiety show itself in her voice. They did not have time for this-
The hollowhead looked back at her, and his expression was one she'd really rather not examine at the moment, because he seemed too much like a person and not enough like a monster for her tastes already, but here she was helping him. Slowly, he shook his head, and reached up to grasp her sleeve again. Maybe it was just her, but even with those curving daggers on his hand, he only held her sleeve. She held back fast and yanked him upright, not gently, and maybe a little vindictively. He stumbled. She didn't care to catch him.
"Listen. We need to move fast." As if to illustrate her point, she threw another nervous look at the hoverbike. Was it getting closer? No, it was still turned away. They were still unseen, for now. "How well can you fly right now?"
The Angel of Death stepped back and jumped. His limbs shot down and Purple braced herself for the heat, the sound, the propulsion of flames-
But nothing happened.
The Angel of Death fell back down, and tripped, and landed half in the water, and stared at his hand with a stunned expression. It moved. Quick, snappy motions, clearly meant to summon the fire he was so well-known for, but nothing happened. Not even a spark. Not even a flicker. Purple didn't understand, was it because he was wet? Pretty simple weakness for a Netscape terrorist.
She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Okay. That's- That's better, anyway, the way you fly is pretty loud, just- Come on then, we'll go my way. You'll have to hold on tight." She stressed the last word with a sharp pinch of her fingers. The motion, oddly, made him flinch. But he took her hand when she offered it again, and she allowed him to cling to her sleeve with both arms while she grabbed a firework, and she launched them both back into the air.
The sound of her doing so made her wince, and look back once more. Still unseen. Good. She managed to get them above the bay, unbalanced and heaving from the extra weight, but airborne. From there, it was a simple matter of facing in the direction of Mango's home, reflecting on how bad of an idea this was, and shooting off.
The hollowhead was practically dead weight. She kept her eyes on him when she wasn't making sure to stay on-course, and he'd curled up as much as he could in midair, face buried in the fabric of his wet, wet clothes and eyes squeezed shut. She noticed a tail hanging limply from inside the skirt. Of course he would have one- Victim did, and so did Orange, but the sight made her shudder anyway.
Just a bit of medical attention. Just something to earn his mercy, and then he'd be gone. That was it.
That was all she had to do.