Chapter Text
Currently, there was a giant lump under the blanket, sweating profusely and clutching his stomach. That lump was known as Mapicc.
Spoke and Leew0ok were frantically flinging open drawers and cupboards in search of any sort of medicine or pain reliever. Not that there were many cabinets or drawers. When he unlocked any cabinet, 50% of the time there was a cobweb, and the other 50% of the time there was a spider in a cobweb. The storage they used contained only restocks of armor, ender chests, or random items they found on the unstable universe. Clearly, they needed to rank up soon because their living situation could be better. Three no-trimmed mafia members living in one house were not holding up well.
"Spokeeee," Mapicc whined, "My tummy hurts…"
"I know, bro. Don't worry, we're gonna find—AGHH! SPIDER. I REPEAT, SPIDER. LEO HELP—"
"We will find you that medicine, bro," Leow0ok said after swatting the spider off Spoke; thankfully, Spoke finally stopped shrieking. "Hey, do you think the Mafia has doctors?"
"Nah, bro. I feel like Ash doesn't care about us like that. If this guy is pulling stasises for fun, he's definitely not handing out free health insurance to everyone." Spoke replied.
Leo scoured another closet before commenting, "Bro, no way Elon Musk gives health insurance to his Twitter employees and this QR code doesn't. How is Ash worse than the guy who made Cybertrucks?"
"Facts, bro. But it's not Twitter, it's X now, dawg. Get it right."
"Don't care. X sounds ugly."
"Bro, you're ugly."
Mapicc groaned in a mixture of pain and annoyance from the bedroom. "Guys, can we lock in? It hurts."
"Sorry," they said in unison and went back to rummaging through their sad excuse of a house. The dark oak residence had a small living space near the entry, and a cramped kitchen area after that. Luckily, they didn’t really cook, so it didn’t matter, but their bedroom was a whole different story. The creaky, floating stairs next to the right wall led up to their only bedroom. Yeah, there was only one twin-sized bed when they first arrived. Once the trio discovered this, they immediately stole two more beds from the neighboring houses; there was no way those three fatasses would fit on one bed.
Spoke was investigating the bathroom next to the bedroom where Mapicc lay, and Leo was downstairs probing the wardrobes.
"Bro, we actually have nothing," Spoke said after he triple-checked his ender chest.
Leow0ok shook his head in dismay, confirming that he was also empty-handed. "It's already midday. We have to report for a mission soon."
"Fuck. It hurtsss," Mapicc complained for the 50th time. "How are we this broke?"
After some discussion—with mostly Leo because Mapicc was stuck in pain—they decided that Spoke and Leo would leave to get their mission, and Mapicc would rest in bed. He was physically incapable of doing anything in this state, and they desperately needed to find something for him. The Mafia was too big for them to notice one player being unproductive, anyway. Since they were confident their inventory was bare bones, getting a mission would be the perfect excuse to leave Mafia City to search for some remedy. However, Spoke would be the only one to seek the medicine, as he would hand his mission off to Leo to complete. If Leo could at least get some trial chamber keys, it would alleviate any suspicion if any trimmed player decided to question them. With the plan set out, and Mapicc urging them to hurry, Spoke and Leo headed toward the pond together.
From above, Spoke saw the vast, aquamarine lake in the middle of the city, contrasting the muted buildings. They unequipped their elytra and landed onto the dead grass; their footsteps made a crunching noise as they approached the gold-trimmed member. The lone player stood indifferently in front of the body of water, surrounded by dead trees that created an ominous atmosphere. Other non-trimmed players loitered around the lake, and Spoke spotted a familiar emerald floating from an invisible hand. Spoke also held out his identification object, a water bucket with his prized fish, and waved with his other arm. The gold player only raised their chin slightly to acknowledge their presence. Without a word from either party, they grabbed two books from their inventory and presented them to Leo and Spoke.
After picking up the two ledgers and tiptoeing out of range of the standby gold trim, Spoke tossed his book toward Leo without even opening it. Whatever was in there was Leo's issue now. They said their goodbyes, equipped their elytra, and flew opposite directions. Only in midair did Spoke realize that he didn't know where he was going.
The people roaming the city sidewalks looked like scurrying black ants, and he eventually passed the massive black stone walls. As he scanned the blurred terrain, Spoke racked his brain for any ideas. It's not like the server had a blatant potion shop in the open, and Spoke was 99% sure the Mafia did not provide any tonics to cure tummy aches. Seriously, did no one on this server have stomach problems?
With no plan for his destination, he decided to fly toward the person he always went to when a dilemma arose. The first person on the server Spoke contacted to build the Seven Wonders, the one who somehow had everything under the sun, from farming cords to peculiarly named llamas: his good friend Squiddo.
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Spoke unequipped his elytra a tad too early and rolled onto the birch bridge in an attempt to stabilize his fall. He refused to use his precious water bucket that contained George Jr. Rising from his knees and brushing off any dust, Spoke gleefully jogged toward the giant wooden doors to Squiddo's castle. Without knocking, he flung open the double doors and pranced in, expecting to see his orange-haired friend.
Scanning around the partially rebuilt home, he only saw the remains of broken shroomlight, unfinished wooden walls, and disorganized barrels. The cage of cobwebs her Garlic Hamster resided in was empty; that was definitely unusual. Spoke's tail thumped on the ground nervously.
His smile dropped. In the few seconds it took to survey his surroundings, Squiddo would've greeted him by now. Spoke considered the possibility that Squiddo was out someplace, but it was highly unlikely Squiddo left her house. He didn't know what Squiddo did all day, but he assumed that she spent most of her time building, which also included renovating her castle. Was it possible she moved to a new base? No, that was unimaginable. Squiddo would never relocate considering her love for her home. Even after experiencing a fire equivalent to the Pompeii eruption, she still seemed content with her humble abode.
"Squiddo?" he shouted, but the only thing he heard was his own voice echoing back toward him. Spoke began to pace across the cobblestone floors, navigating through the mess of random blocks. He poked his head into the other rooms; although there weren't really designated rooms since destroyed walls held her house up. He noticed some chests were still open—books, fireworks, and random objects spilled out of the containers like someone had ransacked the house recently.
Suspicion slowly crept into his mind, but he continued exploring the abandoned home. He cautiously crept into an area that he guessed was her kitchen and spotted a furnace still lit up, the fire burning bright, which cast long shadows in its radius. Various different fruits lay carelessly littered on the floor. Her castle was a mess. His invisible hand scooped up an apple from below, inspecting it for any clues.
A perturbing thought occurred to him that he prayed wasn't true: Squiddo had been taken by the Mafia. He prepared to yell again when his ears twitched at a foreign sound.
Footsteps. They were barely noticeable, like they were trying to conceal their presence. Spoke's heart started pounding, and his body stilled. The blood in his ears roared, which sabotaged his ability to register the unknown's movement. His breathing became more rapid, and he was aware of the raised goosebumps and hairs on his skin.
Had another mafia member followed him? Was it a diamond player? Honestly, the best-case scenario was that Manepear tailed him to avenge Cedrick. And that was the best-case scenario. Spoke crossed off that possibility because of the unlikelihood and tried focusing on what to do next. His tail had stopped swishing from side to side, which was a dead giveaway that he was aware of the nameless trespasser. Fuck. He was going to have to do something soon.
In a flash, he pulled his sword from his inventory and whipped his head around, not knowing what to expect. However, he didn't even get the chance to see his opponent before a flurry of translucent saliva assaulted his vision. He stumbled back in shock at the unconventional battle tactic and dropped his sword to wipe the substance out of his sclera. By the time Spoke's eyes blinked open, he was already too late because the last thing he saw was the outline of an apple aimed right at his face.
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The amber, amiable light radiating from the shroomlight above gradually filled Spoke's view, but some spots in his vision remained blurry. He realized that he was lying in a soft bed of white blankets, complete with a fluffy pillow. His head felt fuzzy, like he was in a hypnagogic state, and he was desperately trying to form a coherent thought.
Shroomlight had to indicate that he was still in Squiddo's castle, but why was he in bed? Were assaulters this nice nowadays? Also, what was dripping on his forehead; was this that one Chinese water torture method he saw in an Instagram reel?
He craned his neck slightly up, trying to identify the water source, and in doing so, a pulsing pain assaulted his forehead. The splitting headache forced him to lie back down.
"What the hell, man," he complained to no one in particular, "Me and Mapicc are both cooked now."
"Are you boys in trouble again? Did you visit Five Nights and Freddy's without me?"
The excruciating pain dissolved for a second, and he jumped at the sound of a familiar voice. He propped up his upper body with his hands with the slight adrenaline boost, and his tail wagged excitedly.
To his side sat none other than the woman, the myth, the legend. Her opaque, polished glasses reflected the light above and allowed Spoke to stare at his own reflection. He finally noticed that the droplets dripping down from his face were not water, but in fact the same liquid he had gotten ambushed by. The Garlic Hamster stood idly beside the head of the bed frame, chewing grass, which explained the soggy mess on his bangs and face.
"SQUIDDO!" Spoke called out, delighted to see she wasn't under the Mafia's grasp, but that ecstasy lasted shortly. "Wait, Squiddo, are you okay? What happened to the intruder?"
"I got rid of them, don't worry! You know what I always say, Apple PVP keeps the opps away," she exclaimed, beaming with pride. "Well, the Garlic Hamster helped me a bunch, though. I always knew they would grow up to become a hero."
"Then I looked away for a second, and you appeared out of nowhere, and the invisible player vanished," Squiddo said as she shifted in her oak chair to reach for a purple mug on her bedstand. She extended her hand toward Spoke, nodding her head to offer the glass of hot water before continuing, "It's like the server gods decided it was Freaky Friday."
"Wait, they disappeared?" Spoke asked as he raised the cup to his face, taking a few sips as he processed the information. The warm water assuaged his migraine a little.
"Yup! When I saw the invisible player, I rushed out of the house. Like, speed was no longer Mane's specialty if you saw me—that's how fast I ran." She answered while adjusting her glasses, "And I took the Garlic Hamster with me. Then I knocked them out, and you were here, and you know the rest."
Spoke glanced up at the furry animal, reminded of its presence. They were still munching on their earthy meal, and a pool of definitely not water had formed in between the wrinkles of the pillow and bedsheet. Yikes. Spoke shivered at the thought of that puddle resting on his forehead if he were still lying down.
"Are you okay, though? I saw you sprawled on the floor, unconscious. I thought you were dead!" Squiddo exclaimed, "I was woefully planning the flowers I would plant for your funeral."
"I mean—thanks, I guess?" He said, the corner of his mouth lifted as he set the mug back down on the nightstand. His brows were knit, trying to get a hold of the situation. Apples, Garlic Hamster, invisible—Wait. The puzzle pieces aligned and clicked in his mind.
"Squiddo, how did you defeat the invader?" Spoke questioned, his eyebrows still wrinkled and deep in thought.
"Oh, easy. I told the Garlic Hamster to—"
"—Spit them in the eyes, and then you threw an apple?" Spoke finished.
"How'd you know? It's almost like you were there." She asked in awe.
Spoke stared blankly at Squiddo, not sure if he was being pranked or if his good friend just had room-temperature IQ. His friend only looked back at him, eyes widened in amazement. Nope, she was definitely not joking. Spoke knew he wasn't much better in the intelligence department, but even he had connected the dots.
"Squiddo."
"Yeah?"
"Squiddo, when did you see me?"
"Like five seconds after the intruder. Why?"
"Squiddo."
"Yeah? You're acting awfully weird, Spoke. Did someone hit you on the head?"
"Squiddo, you did."
"What? I would never do that."
"Squiddo, I infiltrated the mafia."
"Whoa, that's so cool. What does that have to do with the intruder, though?"
Spoke and Squiddo had a long conversation about the logistics of the invisible trespasser. Spoke must've forgotten that he was still invisible after departing from Mafia City and entered Squiddo's home resembling a mafia member. Because of this, Squiddo knocked him unconscious, and a few minutes later, his invisibility ran out, revealing his identity. It was understandable why Squiddo attacked him, and if she didn't, that'd be more concerning. They both laughed at the stupidity of the situation, and Spoke remembered how much he enjoyed spending time with Squiddo. Just dumb and dumber—tweedle dee and tweedle dum.
After getting on the same page with Squiddo, Spoke informed her of the dilemma at bay. Worried about Mapicc, they checked her abode together for anything useful. She rummaged through her junk storage, and Spoke also combed through her 50 bamboo boats for anything. Unfortunately, they didn't find any medication for Mapicc, but she did find a recipe for a remedy.
"It used to belong to one of my builder friends. She has a younger brother, so she would use it a lot," Squiddo explained as she handed the crumpled paper to him. "I think she told me a long time ago that she joined the Mafia. Say hi to her for me!"
Squiddo gave Spoke some potions of healing for his headache as well, and with a few gulps, Spoke was feeling refreshed and energized. He also washed his face because the traces of llama spit on him were not a pleasant experience. Spoke wanted to spend more time with his friend, but having a mission to complete, he had to cut their meeting short.
"Thanks for the help, Squiddo," he stated, grateful for the assistance. They were walking toward the foyer of Squiddo's castle, sweating moderately after their hunt. "It was nice seeing you again, but I'm gonna have to head out to figure out this recipe."
"Take care, Spoke," Squiddo said as she unlocked the giant wooden front doors, her llama dawdling behind her. "You boys have fun! Come visit soon."
Spoke waved to her as he walked out and chirped goodbye one last time. Halfway out the door, he quickly turned his head behind him to face Squiddo again, suddenly remembering something.
"Hey, Squiddo?" Spoke wondered, "Did you ever turn off that furnace?"
"What furnace?" She replied in confusion, eyes squinted slightly under her orange colored glasses. Then, Spoke saw the realization on her face as her eyebrows shot up and her jaw went slack.
She sprinted back inside the chaotic abode in the blink of an eye, her voice becoming a faint whisper as she yelled, "Good luck, boys!" She hadn't bothered to close her front door as she attended to more important matters.
Spoke was left standing there awkwardly facing the Garlic hamster. He winced, feeling partially at fault for barging into her house invisible, which caused her to forget the state of her cooking appliance. He really did not want to be responsible for burning her house down twice. He was also going to ask for the recipe owner's name or some identification object since he promised to say hi to her in the Mafia, but noting Squiddo had her hands full, he concluded that was a problem for another day.
He prayed her house was okay. Spoke wanted to help her, but Mapicc's medicine was top priority right now. It couldn't be that bad, right? After this was all over, Spoke promised himself he would check up on her again.
Walking out of Squiddo's castle, he glanced at the old recipe. Squiddo's whole library had practically buried the old recipe, leaving it in poor condition, yet it remained legible. It wasn't the worst instructions to follow; just finding some ingredients, preparing them, and heating them to create a concoction. Spoke quickly skimmed the procedure, not caring about it too much. The real problem was the ingredient list. Looking at the sheet, Spoke mentally scratched off some items that he knew he possessed, but he was dumbfounded by the whereabouts of the other items. It listed: honey, ginger, ashwagandha, dihydrogen monoxide, and a little bit of love.
Well, he at least had one of the ingredients. But what the hell was ashwagandha? Why was Ash haunting him in every universe?
Spoke decided he had to get a move on because he had already spent a good hour at Squiddo's house, and half of that time was just him lying unconscious. The easiest food to tackle was honey; it was most likely in some chest at his lava cast base. Though he was puzzled regarding the other items, he started heading toward his house to at least make some progress. Spoke could ponder the remaining problems on the flight there.
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"This game sucks," Spoke groaned. He had searched all his chests, and the only ingredient he found was honey. He had even peered behind the painting into the fallen cobblestone cave. He should really fix that soon.
Spoke's house in general was a mess. After several mafia chases, his base had been subjected to fires, explosions, vandalism, etc. Random blocks littered the floor and walls, and after life-threatening circumstances, Spoke had never gotten the chance to refurbish his beloved home. Even if he wanted to repair his house at this moment, Mapicc was in dire condition, and his hour-long search had left him spent.
Spoke was sitting cross-legged on the cherry wood planks, exhausted. He had also looked for any information on ashwagandha and dihydrogen monoxide, but he was met with nothing. Not to mention the ginger; who needs ginger on an anarchy server? He didn't really have that many books to begin with because Mapicc and Spoke didn't read; the novels he did own were mostly about trapping and exploiting. He really should've asked Squiddo about this stuff before he left.
After enjoying a few minutes of lollygagging, Spoke willed his legs to stand because he knew when he got back, Mapicc would complain his ears off. Spoke begrudgingly creaked his front door open and squinted through the sun's rays pouring in.
Damnit. It was definitely afternoon now, and he only held one useful item. Spoke's tail stirred nervously; he hoped Mapicc was holding up well. Adjusting to the illuminating sunlight, Spoke gazed at the view before him.
Spawn seemed untouched for the most part. Parrot's house, the spawn tower, the giant red TNT arrow pointing at the scuffed-up billboard: nothing says home like a bunch of shitty builds. It was uncommon to see one lingering at spawn. Though spawn was where all players began, they didn't remain there for long, yearning to explore the world.
However, to Spoke's surprise, he spotted a well-known face loafing near Wemmbu's shack.