Chapter Text
Nothing.
There is simply nothing left.
No tools, no food, no escape plan, no George Junior, no hope.
No friends.
Nothing.
All of it burned away.
Burnt to ashes by the hands of someone he used to look up to. Hands who created wonders no one could imagine. Hands who taught everything he knew, even things he never thought of stumbling upon. Hands who, once upon a time, gave him a gift. A priceless gift. A gift that has been with him from the beginning of the end. Until the end of everything. Broken, shattered, unrecognizable.
The gift?
Or him?
It’s been a few weeks since Spoke was stuck in Purgatory. Perhaps Hell would’ve been a more fitting name since he’s in the Nether with its hellish landscape and stuck in a prison with no way out. He’s tried countless times to escape. And for each attempt, the punishment grew worse and worse.
Right in front of Spoke was his best friend, his first friend, his day one. Perhaps, he would be his last day as well.
To the left, stood hundreds of thousands of NULL armies. Waiting for their next order. Waiting to do whatever Jamato desired.
Go to these coordinates? Easy
Catch this guy? Childs play
Make sure that this one target has used up all of his resources until he’s crawling on the floor, begging for one final chance? Begging for someone, anyone, to hear him out? Well, that's a job for someone else.
Of course, everything was already planned out perfectly. It took months to get this far, to catch one of the most slippery targets the universe has ever seen. And here we are, right in Jamato’s palm.
To the right, stood tens of hundreds of people, watching him and Jamato. Not a light of hope shining inside their eyes.
What did we do wrong?
We just want to play in this server freely
Not in this gilded cage called the Farlands
Not in this hellish prison in the Nether
No more repeating biomes, no more lava
No more fears, no more tears
What did the spawn look like again? Was it a locked prison with an ender pearl on your hand? Was it the sounds of the Wither skeleton and the smell of rotting bodies? Was it a blue and white caste leading into a city?
Or was it just a small forest leading into a vast field with a cobblestone tower? Or was it an elevator? There were bases there too right? A cage hanging on a jungle tree, a small dirt shed, a path leading to a lava cast home.
Oh. How long has it been since he’s seen his home? Wait, wasn’t it destroyed?
W̸͔͈̹̜̤͚̳̆̿̆̊̏́̕͝ͅa̴̧̡̩̭͎̺͂͐ş̸̦͖͖̃͌͋̉̒n̵̛̮̻̠͕͓͚͎̅͌̆̒̅̊̃'̶̢͓̇̾̿̓͗͘̚͠t̷̡͖̪̦̅̂̋ ̵̟͎͉͔̖͚̔̕ị̷̥̌͊͗̊̊t̸̛͖̝̏̃̇ ̸̧͉̟̔̈́͂̄̈́̚b̴̨̜̯͖͓̖͛̇̆́̕y̴̫̮̅͒ ̴̧̛̞̣͍͍̦͙̔̽̃̎̍͝t̶̪̱͌͌̀̍͑̉̔h̴͈̰̰͉̥̒̑ͅe̸̹̟͓͐͊̊̋ ̵̺͑͝i̴̲̻͈̰̥͇͋n̴̮̎̿͐̈́͊͑v̷̟͖̣̀i̵̢̺̅̐́͂́͛͘ṡ̵̡͈̦̮͙̳̬̺̈́̿ ̸̧̬̮̗̝͎̇̓͗͝m̸̞̼͛́a̵̻͒͐̌̒̿͋̋́f̶̡͕̙́̐̒̉i̶̝͛̓̊̏̕͘͠ā̷̪͉͎̻͍̠̀̅̎́͠͝?̷̳̖͎̩̱̽͋̕̚
“Everyone, I have gathered you here today to teach you a lesson. This place is your new home. The moment you go in, you can never go out. There is actually a way out of here.
Death.
If you have even some sense of self-preservation, I suggest you to not even think of doing anything. There is nowhere for you to belong beyond this place. This place will be your home and it will also be your grave.”
Jamato walked around, looking at the view from up above, before continuing.
“Here we have someone we all know. Spokeishere. One of the most dangerous players on this server.
He has killed hundreds of players, permanently banning them from this server. Ruined innocent players' lives just for his sick sense of pride. Lying and manipulating everyone, friends or foes, there is no limit to his misdeeds. He has run away from his responsibilities, never faced the consequences of his own actions, and he will continue to do so until there is nothing left to gain, no one left to lie and manipulate.
Even now, he still does it. He still lies, spouting absolute nonsense. Dragging people into his plans. Giving them hope when all he can give them is their demise.”
As a voidling, Spoke has some characteristics of the void. It takes and so he takes. It can never give, and so he also never gives. But despite that, he still tried.
He takes and takes, but he tries giving.
He takes some more, but he still tries to give something.
He takes absolutely everything, but he still tries.
But it seems like trying isn’t enough. It’s never enough to fill what he has taken.
“But that ends here.”
In front of the podium stood Jamato, his back towards Spoke. It seems like the final hour is upon him.
“Let this be a warning. To all those trappers. To all those griefers. Let it be known that we, NULL, will not let these people roam free anymore. Let it be known that the server deserves a chance. A chance to be peaceful, without any destruction. Let it be known that we are the hunters of these parasites that are littering the server with their filth.”
From afar, in the midst of the crowd stood 3 people. Spoke can barely see them from up here but he can make out some key differences.
One wore a galaxy hoodie that fills him with guilt.
I̴̢̢̪̎͆̆̇ͅt̴͎̂ ̸̭̽̑̈́w̸̢͇͐̓̚a̴̢̜̯̯̒̇s̴̖̦͇̄͝n̴̞̖͌̄͗̏’̵̬̮͑̆̊̋t̵͇̯́͒̊ ̵̜̠̈̃͋͝m̸͓̐͊́̽ÿ̷̞̰ ̴̗̆f̷̨̲͂̈ͅa̷̳͆ư̷̲̺͉̹͑͛ĺ̵̡̠͎̹͝t̶̤̝̦̖͌̏
One wore a pink jumper that fills him with regret.
Ỉ̴̥͙̦͕͋̾̂͘͝͠t̷̢͕̹̱̬̺̥̙́́̈̓̏͒̏'̴̛͎͍̪̂̂̓̀͋̔͑s̷͇̰̩͖͕̃̍̎͗̀̕͝ ̵͍̪̺͈̦̲̈́̆̏̑̍́͂͘m̴͍̳̞̖̳̗͂̅͋̈́͝y̴̨̨̞͓̳̣̍͑̾́͒̽͐ ̷͍̣̜̄͛̓͗̉̏̒f̵̝̫͛̀̀̂a̸̳̓͑̌͝ŭ̸̝͔̰̯͐̃͋̕ͅl̶̳̰̫͈̍͂̏͆̽̃͛͌ṭ̶̛̯̮͔̎̎̐̃͆̚
And one.
One wore a red jacket that always, always twists his heart every time he sees it. A pain that fills his entire soul.
I̸͎͉͗̍̕t̸̫̙͑̊̇’̷͕̪̘́͒̎s̴̢͚̜̗̭͍̖̩̲̣͇̗̖͎̒͆͛͌͊͋̔̃͘ ̸̣̭͔̹͖̣̥͚̞̍ă̸̮̹̥̙̠̥͉̈͆̂̐̆̅̋̐̃ͅl̷̡͓̻͍̩̤͔̺̱̺͇̮̥̪̈̔͒́͊͋́̌͒̍̕͠l̴͓̱͋͗͂̿̇͆̒́̂͐̇͑͘̕͠ ̵̛̝͇̤̣͈̈́̀̌͛̓̊̍̀̈̊́͂͝m̶̖̔̅͗̇̈́̄̋́̂̒̒̕ȳ̸̛͔͖̠͊̅͛̉̀͜ ̵̯̻̫̠͖͍͉̈̑̓̿̀͛͑̄͘͜f̸̧̢̬̼̙͎͍̯̦̤͖̖̮̀̈́̋̃̎̋̊a̴̡̞̬̰̝͑́̏̏̒͠u̶̙̯̜͕͆͐̏l̸̡̛̝̬̘͓̹̫̬͓͓̘̖͚͂̾̽̿̑̓̉̾̅̎̈́̈̒͜͜͝͝t̸̺̖͍̘̜̙̮̤̫̊,̴̡̟̻͚̃̒͐̐ͅ ̶̢̢̛̘̮͈̖̤̭̹̳͕̳̻̜̜̐͆̈́͊̾͛͂̋͑̿̔̅̌͝ͅI̷͖̬͓͎̹̲̯̲̊̌̈̔̉͗̒̂̈́̎̉͆͜͝’̵̘̟͍̜̿̌̂͂͌̎m̴̨͔͈͍͈̣̬͍͊͆͌̀̾͊́̋͂̎̄͊̀̅̕͠ ̵͖̗̑̒̏̈́̔͛͐̇̀́s̷̨̥̙̯̝̘̤̝̙͔͙̹͔͛̃̓̇͋͛̋̈́͗̓́̇̅̽̕͝ọ̶̧̘̪̳͍̟̰̉̓͆̒̇ ̸͕̱̫̺̘͓͈̖̖̞̲̆͝ş̶̛̻̤̭̦͎̫̖͈̬̯͍̮̖̏̈́̉̐̌̽̀̄̉̑̃͘ͅo̷̧̡̫͎̙̩̲̟̹̱͔̰̖̦͐̿̈́̀̀̈̽̾̚͠ṙ̷̗̪͓̞̙̩̳͊̏̐͆͝r̴̢͔͓͚̟̫̘͔͍̱͙̮̆̽̈́̎̆̆̈́̾̆̓̈́̈́̓̕͝͝y̴͚͒̂̽̈͂͊̋̓͘͝
“As for you.” Before him was his masked enemy (friend? Wasn’t he Spoke’s first friend?) He could see nothing beyond the mask. Was it contempt behind those eyes? Was it gleefulness? Or was it remorse? Thinking back to the very beginning, to the good times, to when they were innocent and happy. No worries for what they’ve done, no fear for the impending doom, no guilt for betraying one another.
“You have tried so hard to escape, but here we are. I thought this time would be the time for you to change. But, again, you don’t. You don’t change and you won’t change. You have taken so many lives and ruined those who survived, all for your own selfishness. To make up for these sins, death is your only retribution.”
Step by step, Jamato walked.
Tick by tick, the end is coming.
Thump by thump, the heart yearns for punishment.
Then he stopped only to whisper.
“The server will be a lot better without you here. All of this, from the duped items, the mafia, BAT, the Law, even NULL. Everything is your fault.”
A hand held his cheek ever so softly. When was the last time someone held Spoke so gently? Like he was someone precious, someone that was worth something, someone to protect, someone that wasn’t tainted with the sins that they’ve committed?
“Goodbye Spoke. Maybe in a different universe we would’ve been the best of friends”
For a split second, he could see Jamato’s eyes. But before he could guess what was behind them, he was pushed off. With nothing to ground him, he falls.
Looking up at Jamato.
He falls.
Look down at the gladiator ring.
He falls.
Looking at his eyes.
He falls.
I’m so sor–
And then.
Nothing.