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Chosen didn’t know if it was a blessing or curse that it was impossible for him to age, die, faint, or have any lasting scars. It was something he discovered upon creation, how despite how hard Alan may hit him and with what deadly objects, only a faint sense of pain remained and a small fast healing scar. In fact, he didn’t even die from eating and drinking nothing for the four years he was imprisoned, only feeling hunger eat him away without any effect being done physically. No matter how tired he was, he cannot lose consciousness, experiencing the pain of keeping his eyes open without being able to just fall onto the ground and sleep the horrible feeling away. Speaking of which, he barely slept either, his body constantly active despite his mental exhaustion. It felt like a torture at times, but at the same time Chosen also knew it was because of this that he was still alive, that he still had a chance to live the way he wanted, instead of being trapped and used like a puppet or prisoner by those with no good intentions. Which was basically everyone around him. Well, maybe not everyone…
There was only one person who had never had harmful ideas to Chosen, and that was Second. Second, who in all truth he barely knew and hadn't even exchanged a word with before, once saved his life, protecting him against Dark despite the possible dangers that the latter is capable of. Admittedly, Chosen found it hard to feel any other emotions at seeing all of the orange stick’s friends getting brutally slaughtered by someone he once trusted than guilt, guilt for leading them into this horrible situation, guilt for not being able to stop the monster his friend became.
Or was Dark always that way? It was always hard to tell with him, as at times Dark would be sweet and innocent next to him, acting like a nagging little brother, and at other times he would be looking down at Chosen, manipulating him into doing whatever Dark commands. The more Chosen thought of it, all of Dark’s teasing gestures felt harder to read, the possibility of all of them being frauds to get Chosen to blindly follow him growing more and more likely the more he thought, to the point Chosen would lie down closing his eyes, trying to preserve the little positive memories he has of Dark away from the corruption of reality, hoping he could die sleep like the normal person.
Chosen betrayed Dark with the idea that he would never find anyone who would understand accept him for the monster person he was, just as Dark would always tell him.
“I’m the only person who understands you. I’m the only person who is just like you, immortal.”
Chosen hated it when Dark’s words would ring in his mind, producing that nauseating hypnotizing effect it always had. He hated it even more how Dark was right, how no one could understand him, or at least no one could have enough time to, as death would take them before that. The idea of watching someone you care—love even—die in front of his very eyes as he himself can never was cruel, so cruel that Chosen never seriously considered it, as he didn’t believe he would ever find someone he cared about enough to spend time with them the rest of their life. The search would go on, a cycle of misery and death.
Of course, Chosen never wanted to search, as he didn’t want to see another a person he cared for dying. So he ignored everyone in his sight, staying only with Dark despite him getting increasingly sick of the other hollow head and his hateful plans. It was because of this irritation that he felt the need to abandon Dark some time, for it was hard to picture him spending an eternity with the red stick, an eternity of pretending he still enjoyed the dreadful destruction to please the other and following whatever he demands. The thought made Chosen feel sick, and he didn’t care if he may die(if that was even possible in his state) if he attempted to escape Dark’s grasp.
By some luck, Chosen didn’t need to search at all. The moment green lights shone, taking over the red viracuts, is when Chosen knew that he found someone like him. No, someone even better than him. Chosen looked on as Second gently floated away from the mess caused from the battle, bright emerald spots following him wherever he went. He never really saw someone more powerful than him(sure, Dark was a close call, but that was only with his inventions), let alone this much more. There was something so mesmerizing about Second, which seemed to disappear the moment he fainted but woke up again, back to the normal Orange his friends call him by. From the way the cursor reacted, Chosen doubted their creator knew Second’s actual abilities either.
Sure, Chosen couldn’t be sure Second was immortal the same way he was, but it didn’t matter. Just Second himself was enough to intrigue Chosen, and it was hard for Chosen to place his sight anywhere else when he waved the other sticks goodbye. Ignoring all of the many irrational points on Second’s powers(an example being how could he need Chosen’s help to defeat the virabot when he can kill hundreds of them at a time? Why did he just let his friends die by Dark’s blade if he had this power?) Chosen couldn’t help but feel excited(but not exactly tense like he does in battles) at the thought of just what the orange hollow head can do.
Mainly, if Second is immortal as was suggested by his scars closing instantly, then…then Dark was wrong, then there could be a second person in this world who understands him, who he could befriend without worrying about them passing away in front of his very own eyes.
….Dark.
The sudden reminder of the red hollow head sent a wave of melancholy caused from grief and regret over Chosen. If only there was a way, an ending, where the two could still remain friends without the world burning down. If only Chosen can somehow change him, yet just that simple idea felt so difficult, so impossible.
“I’ll never die! Like you!”
Filthy liar. Then where are you now? Didn’t think you’d be defeated by someone who you thought of so poorly huh? By just another one of the ants below you, as you used to say? Chosen smiled at the thought, yet it wasn’t one of happiness, more of mockery, though to him or his past friend he couldn’t say. In a way, he wondered if he would have been just like Dark if he hadn’t grown aware of what he was actually doing. Would Second have killed him too? Chosen didn’t like that thought, especially not when he was just excited at the thought of being able to spend time with the other hollow head without worry.
See, Chosen would visit Second if it wasn’t for this: he did not want to meet the cursor again. They may have collaborated on defeating Dark, but Chosen did not for the life of him want to spend time with that cursor again. Also, the thought of having to meet and most likely converse with more than one person was equally dreadful, as though Chosen did not have anything against the multi-colored friends he did not want to speak with them.
There was only one time where Chosen visited Second before the inevitable visit from him being under attack. Well, actually this one came when Second found him, not the other way around. In fact, though he spotted Second first, his instinct was to leave the area first. With him was a purple stick that Chosen didn’t recognize, who waved Second goodbye once they reached the borders of the city. Hoping Second wouldn’t look up, Chosen started flying as quietly as he could while going as fast as he could. Unfortunately, Second looked up.
Somehow, he was smiling when he finally chased up to Chosen, who didn’t dare fly away when the former called his name multiple times enthusiastically. Speaking of which….
“How do you know my name?”
“Huh?” Second at first looked at him as if questioning “how not?” but then upon further thinking he noticed his logical error himself and thought for a bit, a confused expression on his face. “I don’t know actually…” he said slowly, gathering his thoughts. “It just came to me when I saw you.”
“Do you need me for anything?” Chosen asked, changing the subject and his tone to sound more controlled.
“Actually yes. I came here especially for you actually.”
“Really?” Chosen responded, trying not to sound too thrilled at that. Did the other want to befriend him too? He resisted the tug at the end of his mouth. The sudden delightment of communicating with someone you cared for reminded Chosen of just how long it has been since he last even talked to someone, let alone someone he liked. “What is it?”
“Well, it’s a bit idiotic actually…” Second started, tugging at the end of his hoodie nervously. Seeing Chosen hadn’t replied, Second continued. “I had a dream and I…I just wanted to know what actually happened that day and maybe visit it?”
Second beamed when Chosen nodded, which admittedly caught the latter off guard. Actually, the way Second behaved this entire time caught him off guard. For one thing, it was impossible to tell that this is the very same person who annihilated Dark and his deadly robots, the mystical feeling of a deity and the unmeasurable power being replaced with a childish happiness that can warm anyone’s heart and a faint anxiety. Chosen, despite his initial off put, adjusted to the change quite well, even enjoying the orange hollow head’s presence in this state. It wore off his previous anxiety about conversing with someone that felt so much more powerful than him, and made their talk feel more casual and cheery.
However, Chosen could tell how Second was bothered by something, presumably that dream he mentioned. He decided not to question it though, knowing very well how you shouldn’t touch on one's discomfort. Which is also the reason he dodged all signs of his previous unhappy experiences with Dark and Alan.
“So who is that red hollow head?”
“His name is The Dark Lord, though I just call him Dark. If you’d like, you can also call him "Son of a bitch” or "piece of shit,” whatever works for you.”
A soft chuckle escaped Second’s mouth at that. Jokes always have that effect, don’t they? Chosen used to joke around by calling Alan various equally rude yet fitting names, which would always make the past experiences feel less horrible. Dark used to joke too, saying one with bad humor but would always make Chosen laugh whenever the latter was sad. Those were good times, and sometimes Chosen would still remember those jokes and say them to himself. It helped preserve the good memories of his past friend.
“Nah, I think I’ll stick with Dark as much as I dislike him. By the way, how do you know him or Alan in the first place? I’ve never heard Alan bring you up before.”
Of course he wouldn’t, why would he bring up the presence of his least favorite creation that trashed his computer? Avoiding that bad memory, Chosen replied. “Well actually, Alan was kind of my creator.”
Before he can go any further, Second interrupted with excitement visible in his voice. “Really! Well actually I guess we do look alike but…wow, Alan can create such powerful sticks like you! I wonder why he didn’t create more…I wonder if I can ever get just as powerful as you…”
You already are, Chosen thought with a smile. More powerful actually. And Chosen was more than content with that, happy even. It was reassuring to know that there was someone stronger than him that was friend not foe, that he can rely on too! As for why Alan didn’t create more, well you wouldn’t either if your last ones tore up your computer. And in a way, he already did create more.
Chosen honestly thought Second was being modest by acting like he was more powerful. No way Second didn’t know his own potential himself right? Or maybe he was doing it as a joke or prank. That would be funnier. Regardless Chosen didn’t think too much of that, nor was he willing to. Second was an immortal like him, that he saw with his own eyes, and that was enough. He just wanted someone like him again, someone who could relate and accept him for who he is.
“Yes but continue,” Second said, his cheeky grin welcoming.
“So that’s how I knew Alan.” It was weird calling the animator by that, as Chosen was so used to calling him by Noogai when complaining to Dark. “As for Dark, he was also created by Alan, and I was there when he was made, so that’s how we knew.”
Simple response. He didn’t need to mention the whole tantrum he threw(twice) on the computer, nor did he need to mention how he was imprisoned and used like a slave for four years. Chosen himself didn’t even dare to think too deeply into it, putting the horrible memory in the past.
“Okay…” Second nodded, processing the information as they walked out of the buzzing city.
“So where did those red spiders come from? I don’t think Alan would create something like that…” Second shivered at that prospect, looking around as if expecting a virabot to pop out any moment.
“No, he didn’t. It was just something Dark made.” Seeing Second open his mouth again, Chosen quickly added “I don’t know how he made something like that. I wasn’t watching, and didn’t even know he had that plan until he showed me when he finished.”
“Oh..” Second frowned, the memory of fighting those bright red monstrous robots coming back to him. For a minute the two said nothing, and unlike the normal tenseness Chosen was used to, this one was strangely more comforting, just the acknowledgment of someone being next to him with no harmful intentions, someone who may be there as a source of protection for the rest of eternity.
Chosen considered asking Second about his powers, since admittedly his first thought was to get the reassurance that indeed he wasn’t the odd one out, that there was someone other than Dark that could also relate to him. That there was someone who he can trust to let close to without worrying about them finding him strange for his powers, that there was someone who would accept him for the “monster” that he was.
“Here we are,” Chosen spoke when they reached the familiar area, the water as still as ever as if no fire had ever touched it, as if someone hadn’t lost his life not far away. Seeing the place again filled Chosen with faint nostalgia, for both a calmer day where he and Dark could still exchange smiles instead of fists.
Second looked around, a feeling of reminiscence also evident in his emerald eyes. At last he stopped at a place, the place where he watched his friends fade out of existence and then back all of a sudden. Chosen followed quietly, choosing not to activate his flight powers despite the risky terrain and the dangerous possibility of falling into the nearby water.
“This was where the dream happened,” Second said, the previous nervousness when talking to Chosen long gone. “It was so vivid I don’t really know if it is a dream…and I did faint for a while so…” he stopped and turned to look at Chosen. Something about the way he acted now reminded Chosen more of the wielder of the green light, someone who can easily dissipate all the fear and hopelessness.
“But I dreamt that I killed Dark, that I didn’t die no matter how much he beat me. That there was a bunch of green light, and that made my friends get revived…” Second stopped here, staring back down at the ground. When he looked up again that mythical feeling was gone, replaced by Second’s normal casual countenance. “But it’s a dream. Thanks for taking me here.”
Chosen frowned, confused on Second’s wording. How was it a dream? Why did Second say that if he knew his actual powers? Unless…he didn’t?
“It’s not a dream.”
Second blinked several times, as if he misheard Chosen. “What do you mean? You were the one who defeated Dark right?”
“No, you did.”
“What?” Then suddenly some thought seemed to enter Second’s mind and his confusion faded. Despite how heart-warming the orange stick’s smiles are, Chosen only felt more frustrated when Second beamed softly. Chosen did not want to know what misunderstanding he gave the other hollow head, all he wanted to do was let Second know that he was the one who killed Dark and the virabots, that he was the powerful one. How can Second not know his own immorality?
Doubts started overwhelming the other thoughts. What if he was the one who was remembering it wrong? After all, how would Second himself not remember? Was this all in his mind, was it really just a dream? Maybe Dark was right…maybe he really couldn’t find someone like him, maybe he really was the strange one, so desperate to find someone who could suffer along with him.
“Thank you for bringing me here anyway.” Second’s voice felt blurry next to all the negative thoughts. But they were wrong, weren’t they? Chosen saw with his own eyes how powerful Second really is, and that was enough to prove all his worrisome thoughts wrong. For whatever reason Second forgot…well he had an eternity to find that out.
“It’s nothing.”
“It was nice talking with you, you should visit more. I mean, if you want!”
“Sure.” With that Second turned towards the sky, where the animator’s computer is located, where his home was. Then a thought occurred to Chosen and he hurried after Second. If he didn’t remember his powers, he certainly couldn’t use them, which means…
“Do you know how to get up there?”
“Ummm,” Second reached atop of his head, as if expecting some type of bar to come up. However, nothing came up and he muttered something along the lines of “oh the minecraft tools disappear here…”
He then turned to Chosen with an awkward smile. “Will you mind uh sending me up there?”
Chosen sighed with a smile of his own. This was exactly why he rushed after Second. “Sure. Here, hold my hand.”
“Thanks!” Second said when he finally let go of Chosen’s hand, which he may have held just a bit too tight the entire time they flew up. Second wasn’t unfamiliar to flying, and he was highly aware that Chosen knew what he was doing and could easily catch him if he did fall, but still he instinctively clung on the other stick as if he was a life line, which wasn’t particularly wrong in this case. “If you ever need help, you can come visit me or my friends! I promise I’ll help.”
Not like he could help much if Chosen couldn’t even handle the situation, but just like last time that wouldn’t stop Second from trying anyway. It wasn’t like him being there or not will make a difference, and really Second did say it out of politeness as he expected Chosen to never really ask for his help, but to his surprise Chosen’s whole mood brightened up at that promise.
“Okay. Thanks Second.” Despite his relatively casual reply, the other hollow head’s reaction was so positive that Second wondered if he did something wrong for promising that. Upon further thinking, he decided that he probably didn’t, that maybe Chosen just enjoyed reassurances like that. Now that he’s thinking about it, he never knew much about the black hollow head himself. Maybe he’ll ask next time…
It was only when the two waved goodbye that Second realized something: How did Chosen know his name?