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Mike ran with a gas mask over his face. He was prepared; he knew the game, and he was going to fukcing play it. He wasn't going to slow down, not for anyone or for any reason. He had the voices of the past. Of those before him. But he wasn't alone; he was never alone. Tag team? Sure. And he and his pair were gonna smash it out.
Tommy built up a fortress, from anything he could gather, wood, dirt, and cobblestone. Weak on the outside, reinforced on the inside. Redstone? A commodity. Tommy wasn't a dumb blonde, not that he allowed people to think that. Adoptive father? Philza, the angel of death. Apotive mother? Kristen, goddess of death. Biological father? The legendary redstoner and hidden kitsune, Etho. Tommy was the boy wonder. He knew his redstone, and in this game, he was going to outsource it. push it past its limits, go beyond.
The game gave Mike a rush of adrenaline—a dark fae. On the island, he had to hold back from the blood thirst, but now, he could bathe in the blood. Killing got them higher in the ranks anyway,
"Tommy!" Mike called into his earpiece,
"mm?" his partner replied,
"Gas mask, gas mask! We're in for a gas storm." Mike tightened his gas mask, and he kept on the run. He heard his duo putting him on. Good. Tommy also knew the nature of this game. This is a sick, twisted, morally skewed, adrenaline-fueled game. This was going to a fucking festival. A smile spread to Mike's face.
Tommy had his mask on. gas, that wasn't new, he knew gas, all too well. Especially when, back when, a certain man, blurred and long forgotten in his memory, threatened to gas him in exile. Plus, Tommy had certain advantages as a kitsune. He could easily live through the toxic gas without a mask, but he was in the down low. As for now, Tommy glanced at the small camera he'd sensed earlier. People wanted a show? Okay, he'd give them a show. They were in a game. So the game he would play.
Mike had blood on his hands; the toxic gas storm did him a favour. Made killing people much easier.
Tommy, on the other hand, outsourced redstone, exceeding his biological father's expertise. He lined the walls of the base with motion trackers, managed to get a system to duplicate wind charges, and when motion was detected, the wind charges would send people flying or kill them if they hit them correctly. He made the simplest of traps into a high-complexity redstone design that would be hard to disable.
Tommy also hit a goldmine. He found four monster spawners in a radius of each other, making a perfect plus sign when connected. Using the resources and knowing how factory components worked, thank you, Tubbo. Tommy made a whole system, a whole circuit that used redstone, rails, auto switches, pistons, conveyor belts and a supercharger. He made a mob spawn defence, a moat of sorts, where the spawners were being pushed in a circular circuit, and mods would spawn every 2-3 seconds in each stationary phase of the circuit, having 3 to five mobs. This was an extra defence of the duo's safe point.
Mike checked in with Tommy, washing his hands in a nearby lake.
"Talk to me," Mike demands.
"I did some redstone, and we have a defence system, so I'll send you a specific way to get back to avoid death when coming to our base," Tommy said matter-of-factly.
"How much did you get done?" Mike asked, drinking filtered water through the mask, not to inhale the toxins from the gas storm.
"A lot. You'd be surprised." Tommy said, a mischievous laugh coming from him.
"I look forward to seeing what you've done."
Mike grew increasingly thrilled as he saw his and Tommy's ranks rise. People were dying left, right, and centre, adding to the score, and when seen on the map, it was at their base. The fae was ready to see what his partner had done to cause this chaos.
The base. Mike followed the directions and entered through a fully automated redstone security system. When did his partner have time to do this? But he'd asked questions later.
The game was being broadcast server-wide. And two servers were watching the specific view of Mike and Tommy. Hermitcraft, they had it playing that everyone had stopped all their projects to watch Etho's biological son.
"What the heck...?" Etho muttered, watching his son skillfully use Create. He never taught Tommy those modules. He knew his son was smart, despite the act of being dumb he put on for show; kitsunes were generally smart. So Etho, seeing his son make the moving spawner system, was baffled. As were some of the other redstoners on the Hermitcraft server.
"You teach the boy this?" Doc asked, and Etho shook his head,
"No...we haven't even touched the Create Modules, even though he has asked to do it, but he's using Create at an expert level..." Etho explained, watching the ranks of Tommy and Mike go up, up, and up as the mobs killed the other players. The system went up as the teams entered the duo's territory. It was a smart move.
The gas storm that got the hermits railed up. They all knew Tommy was an adult, as was his partner, Mike, but the hermits didn't see past the little boy Tommy had been.
"Gas!?" Gem gasped, "Is that even allowed?" She questioned.
"This game is a kind of replica of that one time? Purgatory? I think that's what the name for it was." Grian mentioned, recalling how Tommy would watch the Purgatory Game since Philza was in it.
"If it's like purgatory, that means the weather is artificial, meaning it's allowed since the organisers of the game have control," Etho added on.
On the other hand, the QSMP, the islanders, were forced to watch the game. placed in a black room with the TV, watching different POVs depending on which screen you looked at, there were a multitude of screens. But most of them were focused on the screen, which split the screen into the POVs of Tommy and Mike. Philza was, of course, watching as it was his adoptive son, Tommy, the boy who was under his care when he wasn't with his biological father.
"Tommy knows redstone?" Tubbo asked, to no one in particular,
"It seems so, he'd make a good addition to the Regime..." Ash muttered, watching the boy at work.
"Isn't Tommy a little- on the dumb side?" Schlatt questioned
"Considering he managed to use Create and make the moving mob spawner contraption? I don't think he is," Fit commented, with Pac and—Brazilian—Mike nodded with Fit's statement.
Mike and Tommy finally had a breather; the games had a brief grace period, and with that, the two took a break. Mike was calming down from his adrenaline high, and Tommy was taking a breather as he finally took in how many things he got done. The blonde went to the nearby window, seeing his reflection, him in a gas mask, but he saw something, his kitsune features, just the ears. However, still, he knew he was drained of power to keep the features concealed. Well, this was shit timing, because during times like this, he'd leave the island to go to either Philza's world, his hardcore world, or he'd go to hermitcraft to be with his bio dad, Etho. But he couldn't go to either, not this time round, not when he and Mike were in this fucking game.
"Uh- Mike," Tommy said, removing the gas mask,
"Ja?" Mike responded, eating a small amount of their rations,
"I told you I'm a hybrid, right?" he asks, the fae nods. Tommy mentioned it in passing, but not in detail.
"Well, I think I'm a bit drained of power, so I can't keep my features concealed." And with that, Tommy fully removed the gas mask from his face.
As he did, ears appeared on his head,
"Fox?" Mike asked, mid-bait.
"Kitsune." Tommy corrected, turning. His eyes now amber, markings of red graced his face, and tails soon sprouted. Nine tails.
"Kitsunes are mythical beasts and known as messengers for the gods, and divine beasts." Tommy quickly explained, shaking his head, his ears twitching. Mike was in awe; he'd heard of kitsunes but had never seen one. The library in his fae village only had so many resources.
"You're a god?" Mike asked, Tommy laughed,
"Nah, too much hassle, I mean, the closest thing to being a 'god'" Tommy used air quotes, "would be that my biological dad is considered a high rank in our clan, so...maybe a prince?" Tommy was trying to think of how to explain it.
Etho was relaxed with the grace period and sighed and laughed at his son's explanation,
"Are you and Toms royalty?" Gem asked Etho, and he shook his head,
"Not exactly. Kitusne clans don't really exist anymore, but if you know the clans, the markings give a clue to which one they are descended from." Etho started to explain, showing his own markings, identical to Tommy's but more regal and showy.
"Our clan, Onmyō Clan, is one of the longest-lasting clans that is still around. We're centred around balance, looking at the older values," the red-stoner explained, "And, as for rank, the best way to explain in English is- a High Consul, of sorts."
"Which means?" Doc pushed for more.
"I'm somewhat elected to be the next leader or head of our clan, if I choose to be,"
"So- you're a prince-?" Gem asked, "No- because I'm not blood related to the current clan head, I'm just the highest rank putting me in the position, and since Tommy is my son, he'd be the next clan head after me, so he's closer to a prince- or...Heir-Apparent to the Consul? trying to explain the clan stuff in English is harder than I thought," Etho laughed, and just agreed to Tommy's explanation using the European monarchical ranks for nobility to explain.
On the QSMP, many people were in an uproar over Tommy being revealed as a kitsune. Kitsunes, they could be cunning, smart, and calculating, Tommy? he was chaos reincarnate. No way he was a kitsune, and one of prince status? Impossible.
"What the fuck!?" Quackity squeaked. He knew Tommy for a while, being on an old server together. He and Schlatt shared a glance, and they both spoke in sync.
"Philza!" "Phil!"
"Explain!"
"Tommy, he isn't my biological son," was all the angel of death said.
"But you're still his dad!" Schlatt protested
"Yes, and?"
"You should have said something!" Quackity rebutted,
"I'm Tommy's adopted dad, and I am under no oath to explain his origins. It was in the agreement I signed with Tommy's biological dad that for Tommy to join that last server, he needed a guardian, and since his biological dad was busy setting up on a new home server, he was placed in my care." Philza lazily explained as he watched the pov of Tommy and Mike, watching the grace period timer go down.
"How does Tommy have 9 tails? He's only about four months younger than Tubbo," Fit asked,
"Kitsunes either get tails as they age or if they are of special circumstances," Phil explained, "Tommy is heir to my the next head of his clan, after his bio father of course," Phil sounded as he was a father boasting about his own child, as he pretty much was, "that is, if the older kitsune takes role as head, and Tommy than takes to role after, so Tommy has an equivalent to a prince."
The grace period was slowly ending.
"Want to do the same as before?" Mike asked, already packing his backpack and putting on the newly fixed-up armour, "I go out and kill in cold blood, you stay here at the base?" the dark fae asked. Tommy thought for a moment,
"That would be ideal, as I can build up more defences and keep the base safe."
"What do you want, my prince?" the fae asked the kitsune, on his knees, bowing. Tommy laughed and told Mike to stand up,
"Go on, get your adrenaline fix," Tommy smiled, his eyes widening, a glint in them, and his pupils constricting. Mike knew this look; his own eyes mimicked Tommy's own. Oh, this was going to be fun; they were giving into the insanity.
Mike grabbed his gas mask, and Tommy's eyes quickly glinted to the small camera watching them. He looked to the timer, 30 seconds. he could work with that. The kitsune walked to Mike, grabbed the gas mask, held it up near the camera and pulled the dark fae closer to him. The gas mask hid both of their faces. The viewers could be the ones to decide what had happened. After the little stunt, Mike put his gas mask on and went out for more blood, as Tommy started tinkering with redstone again, adrenaline filling him as he built another defensive contraption that would end with someone in their own blood.
Victory would be bloodily delicious.