Work Text:
I survived
The mesa is just as hot and dry, but the red sand and constant hills are enough of a reminder that I survived. I escaped from There. Gritted my teeth through the pain and staggered my way out of hell. The small SMP I stumbled into joined up with a larger server. I go with them. I build a campsite. Mind my own business. Make plans to leave for a single player world as soon as I’m able.
Apparently, the ‘Hermits’ didn't get the memo.
Xisuma whispered to you: hey, doing health checks of Hermits. Meet at mine in 15? :-)
I pace my largest tent. Health check. The admin wants to do a health check. He’ll be suspicious if I say no. He’ll realise what happened, what I am, if I say yes. Maybe it’s something I can lie about. Other players will have scars, right?
You whispered to Xisuma: ok
It’s a tense walk over. I avoid several waves and stares, start wondering if I’m even going the right way. Surely not. I can't seem like I don't know what I’m doing. Incompetence is weakness. In a server this big, and impressive, messing up directions alone is dangerous. Eventually, I come across the admin’s area, a small house of acacia and stained clay. I don't have time to check my exits before Xisuma approaches. Muscled. Armored. A helmet over his head. My stomach twists. I don't show it.
‘Ah! Hey Scar! Glad you didn't get lost. How are you?’
‘I’m wonderful, Xisuma,’ I reply. One hand is on my sword.
‘Glad you’re settling down well… why don't we pop inside, and we can start. Have you done this before?’
‘Mm-hmm!’ I lie. I maintain my smile. It’s too big. Xisuma doesn't notice.
‘Ah, great. Are there any parts you're uncomfortable with? I can modify to- no? Ah, great… sit down, sit down, there are a few quick questions in here, just about your wellbeing, if you’re settling down well. I appreciate it can be a little scary going into a big group like this…’
I ignore Xisuma’s saccharine rambling, under the guise of reading through his questions. Species. Preferred name and pronouns. Former servers. Experience with SMPs. Triggers or medical conditions. Scales of 1-5 of how happy I am, how confident I would be asking for help… I think there are 3 questions I answer honestly, before sliding the book back to Xisuma. He’s staring. I can't meet his gaze. I can’t read his expression. My heart pounds. He flicks through my answers before putting it aside.
‘Yep, that’s all good… now, time for the scan…’
The scan. The scan. The scan. The scan. What scan? Why is there a scan? What is he scanning for? Vexness? Magic? Weaknesses. I try to control my breathing as he switches some settings on his helmet. A purple light shines in my direction. Too bright. A look up and down, straight through me. Straight through the scars and injuries and everything he can weaponise later. He switches it off again with a worried hum.
‘So, I’ve picked up a couple untreated injuries, would-’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. Superficial. Really old,’ I say quickly. Xisuma pauses.
‘Alright… If they bother you at all, don't hesitate to ask me. We’ve got a few medics on the server who’d be very happy to help.’
‘Nope- no, no… everything’s fine.’
‘Sure.’ He’s not convinced. Notes it in his mind. I squirm.
‘Right, now, that’s the easy bit done… Would you prefer to sit or lie down for the servicing?’
‘Uh- Sit?’ Now I can't hide the confusion in my voice at all, nor the fear roiling and bubbling inside. My hands curl around the chair arms. What the hell is ‘the servicing’? What’s he going to do to me?’
‘Ok, perfect… now, just keep still.’
He pulls out a small metal screwdriver. Sits next to me.
Grabs my left arm and holds the screwdriver to my communi-
I yell. Shove Xisuma as hard as I can. A faint bolt of vex magic shoots with it. He flies across the room, crashing against the far wall. The screwdriver clatters from his hand. I run.
My heart pounds. My legs move faster than my mind. My breathing hitches at the realization that Xisuma was about to hurt me. The pain I’ve been ignoring burns through my arm, fighting the poorly-welded, crooked communicator I stole from that player. The player I-. My mind runs over every moment of that meeting again and again and again. Magic. I used magic. He knows I’m a Vex. He’ll hurt me for being a Vex. There’s a shout behind. I try to speed up, but I’m already at full pace, speeding across the mesa, back towards my-
‘Hey man are-’
Thump.
I run into something. Someone. Stumbling backwards I see the grey-bearded neighbour in the labcoat. Cub? Is it Cub? I can't breathe properly. I just stare, lost, for a moment.
‘Scar? Are you ok, man?’ Cub asks, frowning. ‘What-’
‘Scar- jeez, I’m sorry-’
Xisuma.
I shove past Cub and continue. I’m not far from my base. But they’ll expect me to be there. Should I hide? Scare them off? I don’t have energy to keep running, they’ll outpace me, pin me, trap me.
Another shout. There's no time. I hurry to my storage, tearing through chests to the personal supplies at the bottom. Including my crossbow, and a few bolts. I grab them, load a bolt, and aim from the tent towards where Xisuma, and now Cub, have reached my area.
‘Scar, hey- what happened, mate? You scared the life out of me!’
I aim. The faintest click of the safety. Cub glances over. His eyes widen as he sees the crossbow.
‘Xisuma.’
‘Hm? Oh shit- Ok…’
Xisuma spots it too. I try to calm my breathing, calm my nerves, enough to speak.
‘Go away.’
‘Ok… Ok…’ Xisuma raises his hands. Empty. Easy ploy. ‘Cubfan, get back.’
Cub nods, hurrying to the edge of the camp. Xisuma steps closer.
‘I just want to talk. If you want me to come back later-’
I jerk the crossbow closer, duck further down, scowl more. Anything to look threatening. Get him away.
‘Xisuma…’ Cub mutters, voice low and nervous.
‘I’m so sorry for spooking you, Scar. Please- tell me what I did. Well- when you’ve calmed down, and we can discuss-’
‘I said go away!’ I repeat. Scared. Obviously scared. Far too obvious. I need to sound in control. I need to be in control.
‘Ok, ok, I’m going. I’m so sorry. Just- call me when you feel able to, ok?’
Xisuma backs off. I keep the crossbow trained, as he turns and walks out of sight. Cubfan remains a moment longer, but at a call hurries after Xisuma and away.
I lower my aim, taking a deep breath as I return it to its chest, followed by the bolts. The truth slowly sinks in.
I need to leave.
1 year ago
If there's one thing I learn from my time in a zombie apocalypse it’s this:
The living are worse than the dead.
Zombies, you can predict, outrun, kill without moral dilemma. Players?
Well, one, and unless they were particularly aggressive or skilled, you were probably fine. Show them you have a gun, or a crossbow, and they’ll flee soon enough. And if not, a single ally for a couple nights barely hurt. But even 3 or 4 players and you’re in trouble. Too close-knit to join. Too many to fight. Your only options are to hide, or to run.
I count six in the group gunning straight for me.
I inch one hand towards the pistol in my belt, scanning the terrain. Bank, not far back. Good hiding spot, but hard to get out of. They catch me there and I’m dead. Flat open plains every other direction of the way. Raided village not far to the left. Zombie infested. Maybe a way to get them off my tail, but also a good way to be killed or turned. The group has closed in further now. One’s got a sniper rifle. They’ll kill me the moment I run. My only option left is to talk them out of whatever plans they have. I try to smile. Engage first. Feign confidence. Scan for a friendly face.
‘Well hello there,’ I say. ‘Hope I’m not bothering you.’
The largest aims a pistol.
‘No bother at all, Vex.’
I barely turn before I’m hit, right on the shin. I collapse. They’re on me. I draw a knife. It’s torn from my grip. All my gear, my guns, my full backpack, even my jacket and shirt are torn off me.
A hand slams my head into the hard dirt, forcing me onto my side. Another forces my left hand out in front of me. My bare chest rises and falls too fast. My wings flicker behind me by some unfightable fear response.
‘Decent condition,’ one mutters. ‘Would fetch us a sweet fee.’
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen, I’m sure we can find a-’
Knife hits throat. I feel a small rivulet of blood as I swallow down my fear.
‘Shut your mouth before we cut out your tongue too… Start on the wings. And don't fucking damage these ones.’
There’s no point fighting, but I still try. My legs kick the little they can. Hands claw for freedom. Nothing. A small, scared yell breaks from my mouth. They hold the knife closer against my throat until I can barely breathe. Another starts to cut off my wings.
I don't know how long it takes. Time fades into a fog of numb clarity and burning pain. A million Vex in my mind screaming where I can’t through the slow, careful torture. My mind, separate from my tortured body, starts thinking. It’s near impossible not to cry, but the knowledge they’ll hurt me more, think I’m weak, are just enough to stop me.
One wing down. I see it, shimmering blue and marred with blood, in my periphery, as the hunters inspect it. I brace myself for the pain of them removing the other. I still can't anticipate fully. I start to pray for death. The end of this shame, letting these weak bullies take my precious wings so easily. Shame that I even feel this pain, this fear. I feel the blood down my back like it’s been done to someone else. A ghost pain. Not real.
They finish.
With the wings.
And turn to my communicator.
The tech every notice and admin and flashing red sign in public servers warns you must never, ever damage. The one controlling travel between worlds, status and identity as a player, respawn, code.
‘Whole or-’
‘We get more from the parts. And from watching the little fucking Vex squirm for longer.’
So I watch them pull it apart. The shell. The screen. Bloody wires from deep, deep within my arm. Bolts. Soldering. Motherboards and microchips embedded in strips of flesh. All I think through the pain and shock, and ice running in waves of faintness down from my head, and the black hole in my stomach, are fantasies of zombies coming and tearing me apart before the pain gets worse.
‘Might be worth it to get the claws while you’re at it. Maybe a whole finger. Fangs might be good too…’
‘Ears?’
‘The Trader didn't even fucking take them. And there's no fucking way we’re getting an eye out cleanly enough for that fucker…’
‘We might get something for an organ or two- please, we haven't gone for one in ages-’
‘There’s no fucking way we’re not luring over the zombies pulling that kind of shit. Or getting anything before sundown… you done with the comm?’
‘As much as I can. There’s a bit of wire left, but too much effort.’
‘You wanna get a fang? Or a finger.’
‘Dude, a fang would be fucking sick man. No one would dare touch me with a Vex fang around my neck.’
‘Feel free then… Hey, open wide Vex.’
They smile as they push me on my back. As my mouth is wrenched open. As I stare blankly up at the sun beyond them leering, the metal tool dragging each fang out. Maybe they’ll grow back. My gums burn. All I can taste is blood, threatening to choke me, before they let go. Then they beat me up, kicking and punching and laughing as I curl up, demeaned and whimpering. They break 2 ribs, an arm, a leg, and the rest of my spirit before leaving me to die.
Present day
I’ve gathered all my limited possessions by sunset, when I start the long trek towards world spawn. I barely even get out of my base when I hear a voice.
‘Hey- Scar-’
I turn, seeing Cubfan again. He’s panting, a little, from the run to meet me. Keeping distance. My plan to leave quietly shatters.
‘What do you want?’ My words come out harsh and weary.
‘You’re- well-’ Cub sucks in a deep breath, before letting it slowly out. ‘I know- well, I’m pretty sure- You’re a Vex, aren't you?’
‘What?’ I try to act surprised, but all I show, again, is fear. One hand reaches towards my sword. ‘A- a Vex?!’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not a Vex-hunter, I’m not a Vex-hunter,’ Cub adds, quickly. ‘I figured because- I’m also a Vex, and I saw the ears earlier and thought maybe- then hearing your reaction to Xisuma checking your code…’ He trails off. For the first time, I notice his own ears are slightly pointed, with faint streaks of blue. I don't relax.
‘You thought wrong,’ I say, voice strained. ‘You’re wrong.’ The hope of shaking Cub off by walking away vanishes as he follows.
‘Where are you going.’
I don't reply.
‘Scar?’
I don't reply.
Cub keeps following me.
‘Is this about what happened earlier?’ Cub guesses. ‘Xisuma’s a good guy, I promise. Like- most of the Hermits are some kind of hybrid, or non-human player. He won't care that we’re Vexes.’
I don't reply.
Cub remains quiet, but tails me like a dog. The mobs start coming in. Creepers, zombies, skeletons, zombies, spiders, zombies, zombies, zombies. I turn off the path towards them. Before I get close, Cub’s already shot half of them down. Another targets me, claws grabbing dumbly at my jacket. I cut its head off, hurrying up. Cub hurries after.
‘Scar- dude- what’s going on?’
It’s hard to suppress the frustrated sigh building inside as Cub just keeps after me.
‘Are you- dude- Are you leaving Hermitcraft?’ he asks. ‘Xisuma’s a good guy, Scar. You can’t- you don’t have to leave, it’s ok, you’re ok staying here, Xisuma-’
I snap.
‘Just fuck off!’ I turn, swinging my sword at him. Never my strongest weapon. I should’ve kept the crossbow on hand. ‘Go back to your base, or- or I’ll kill you.’
A step back. Cub raises his hands, frowning. Feigning concern.
‘Dude-’
I keep my sword trained on him, glaring. My hand shakes. My gaze doesn’t stray, but it’s the stuck-prey gaze, not the hunting-predator gaze. Cub knows it too.
‘Scar, What kinda worlds are you from, man? What- happened to you?’
‘Nothing.’
My eyes skirt to the ground. My pitch rises.
‘Scar?’
‘I’m fine. Nothing happened. Go- go away.’ I break my stare, and continue on. Only faster this time. Cub stays staring. Thinking. Scanning me over like an experiment. He doesn’t move for a moment, but then hurries after.
‘Are you- like- from a hardcore world or something? Because that crossbow-’
‘Why do you care? I’ll be gone before dawn. You’ll never see me again.’
‘Us Vex gotta stick together, man. We gotta stick together.’
‘What Vex have you been with?’
‘I dunno. What kind of Vex have you been with?’
I don't reply. Cub’s keeping more distance than before.
‘Look, man, I just want someone who- uh- like, understands this kind of stuff. The other Hermits are great and all but, well, I mean- they’re not like us. I’d hate to see you leave so soon.’
‘I was never planning to stay, jeez Louise.’
‘What? Why not, man?’
I shrug.
‘Scar?’
‘Because I’d- just rather be on my own.’ I come out with. ‘Safer, y’know… This was just to-’ I don't want to say ‘recover’ I can’t say recover. ‘This was just a temporary thing.’
‘Safer?’ Cub repeats. ‘What do you-’ He stops speaking. I don’t stay to question why. ‘Wait… Dude- you weren’t from one of those crazy glitched servers, were you?’
‘No.’ It’s getting harder to lie. ‘Of course not.’
‘With- the- mobs going crazy? And the farming, and the villagers just- not working? And the skeletons-.’
‘Zombies. I correct, without thinking. 'They were zombies,’
‘Dude-’ Cub’s tone switches to a deep, concerned sympathy. Something that feels genuine. ‘Scar, man-’
‘I survived,’ I say. No point in pretending now. ‘It doesn't matter where I was before. I survived’
‘How long were you there for, man?’
‘Dunno.’
‘How did you get out?’
‘The way everyone does. I died,’ I say. The bite across my shoulder tingles. The feeling of being pinned as the zombies- ‘One of them got me. I died. Enough of me was still- I dunno- stubborn enough to glitch my way out and- and into Kingdomcraft.’
‘Holy smokes.’
‘I’m fine,’ I lie again. ‘It was just like every other hardcore world.’
‘Scar, the stories- the other people in these worlds don't get out.’
What.
My mind spins circles.
I stop in my tracks.
‘It’s- permadeath. If people die there, it’s permadeath. You- it must be because you’re a Vex man, your soul, or respawn- it’s connected to the Vex.’
‘...what?’ Is all I manage to reply through the breathlessness. The realisation that those people- everyone-
They never respawned
They’re just-
‘Scar?’ Cub steps a little closer. ‘Are you-’
I can’t fight the tears. I can’t fight the emotions. I can’t fight the horror building inside me. I just break down crying. In front of Cub, this near-stranger, who knows everything, who can use everything against me. Who even knows I’m a Vex.
‘Woah- woah- Scar- dude- it’s ok-’ Cub hurries over. A tentative hand on my shoulder. I force him away, smearing tears.
‘I- I’m fine-’ I lie through the sobs. ‘I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine-’
‘No, no, you’re not- here- come on- let’s just- uh- sit down for a moment-’ Cub’s uncertain. Scared? He sits, encouraging me down with him. No hugs. No physical contact. Just sitting next to me as I curl up, knees to chest, and struggle to stop crying. It’s dark. And, now I’m not walking, and burning with terror, freezing.
‘Hey- you’re shivering-’
‘M’fine,’ I mumble. He’s already halfway through pulling off his labcoat.
‘You at least got a blanket among your-’ He glances at my limited possessions. ‘Well…’
‘I’m fine.’ I repeat. I’m not crying now. Just sitting, somewhere in the wilderness, somewhere in this brand new world, with Cub. Who seems nice.
It’s a trick.
But what if it wasn’t?
Cub’s got an enderchest down. He’s searching for something. The terror drowns me again. I reach for my sword and-
He digs away a hole in the sand, fills it with chunks of netherrack, and lights a bonfire.
‘There. Something to keep us warm. And- uh- maybe the other hermits can find us and show us where the path is. Because there’s a chance we’re quite possibly rather lost.’ A chuckle.
‘Oh. Shoot,’ I manage a laugh back. ‘I- just wanted to-’
‘I get it, I get it… if not, we can find our way back at dawn. There should be a landmark or two somewhere.’
I hum back in vague agreement.
Silence. I run a hand through the sandstone. The rough grit is far from the soft ash and dust of There.
‘You trust Xisuma,’ I say eventually. Cub nods.
‘Yeah, yeah… I- uh- he seems nice.’
‘He tried to strip my communicator.’
‘Strip your- dude, he was just checking it works properly. Y’know- because a damaged communicator-’ He peters off. I don’t reply.
‘I thought he was going to break it. Or steal it.’ I say weakly.
‘That’s- a thing that- did someone- Holy smokes, man.’
‘I escaped,’ I say. Again. ‘It doesn’t matter what happened.’
‘And you’re safe now.’ Cub assures. ‘Hermitcraft is safe.’
‘Yeah. Safe.’ I echo, unconvinced. He doesn’t respond.
‘But if you still want to leave, it would be nice to- well, if you wanted to, we could keep in touch? I don’t want you to be all alone out there, man. Not after everything you faced. But- if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m fine with that, man.’
‘I can do that.’ I reply. ‘If I leave.’
‘If?’ Cub notes. There a little bit of hope in his tone.
‘I don’t know. I don’t want Xisuma near my communicator.’
‘Reasonable... Reasonable… I’m sure you could discuss it with him. He’s- well, I keep saying he’s a nice person, but he is.’
‘I believe you.’
‘Really?’ Cub glances over. I look into his eyes, but can't see deceit, or malice, or anything like what I saw There. All I see is concern. Kindness.
I nod, a little.
'Yeah. I do.' I say. 'I- I trust you, Cub.'
'Cheers, man.' He smiles a deep, genuine, honored smile.
I smile back.
Maybe Hermitcraft isn't all bad.