Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"So that's it?" even from the ground, Verity could see the feint tremor on the enderman's grip, gun pointed low as something unknown and bitter seeped into his voice. "I'm just… stuck with you?"

It was rather hurtful that Mob thought of their friendship as just 'being stuck with him' but he couldn't bring himself to blame him entirely. Yes, maybe he got a little carried away with the whole Twixxel jealousy thing and maybe the monster scare tactic was a bit of an overkill but could you blame him for wanting to spend every last second of the day with his best friend? He can apologize and try his best to suppress his hunger if that's what's worrying Mob, no biggie, then everything can go back to the way it was. He will help him with the coordinates to the nearest diamonds, help him with the interior design of the new and bigger house they could move in, help him with his furnaces and crops when they needed to get restocked and even help him with some dance lessons at the tun of his favorite song, just like they've talked about. There will be plenty of time to make amends and heal what's been broken, no need to rush. If time is what Mob needed, time is what Verity would give him as long as they staid together.

"You're not stuck, let's do this together! Just put the gun down instead and—"

A clean gunshot.

Before Verity could react, Mob's body was already falling to the floor, hitting the tiles way too hard in a mess of it's own blood. The gun's heavy thud against the ground came out more distant than it should have, scattered across the once white flooring where a pool of red was slowly starting to engulf it. The open hallway shouldn't have had echo but Verity could still hear the trigger so clearly in his head that it surly must be a malfunction on his end.

In the blink of an eye, Verity saw himself living a calm and happy life next to his best friend.

In the blink of an eye, Verity was forced to mourn what could never happen now.

With shaky breathing, the little yellow ball rolled towards his friend with new urgency, stoping right where the pool of blood started. The body in front of him laid still, clothes damp and in disarray due to the previous chase.

"Mob…?"

No answer.

"Mob, come on, quit playing, it's not funny," a small nervous chuckle came out of him.

Still no answer.

"I'm sorry, okay? I— I'll do better, I promise. We can go back to the house and stare at the fireplace like you wanted earlier, yeah? I can go stand somewhere else if you want to be alone for a while. Just… Please Mob, what can I do for you?"

Nothing. He couldn't do anything.

Was he really gone…? For an all-knowing entity, Verity couldn't tell right now. His chest remained still, no harsh breathing or tremor on his limbs. The impact on the back of his head made the hood of his jacket loose when hitting the tiles, messy dreads scattered around his motionless face and framing the constant red dripping from a gushing wound on top of his head. Could he just be unconscious? Maybe the bullet just hit a very dramatic vein, that wasn't so difficult to patch up, right? Surly nothing vital got too damaged and Mob would be alright once he rested for a bit. Yeah, he just needed a regeneration potion and things would be alright. Mob wouldn't do that to himself, right? Surly Mob didn't hate him that much to prefer… this over being with him. Surly he liked him enough to survive, to not leave him alone in this world.

Oh. Guess not.

This was it.

With Mob gone, he'll be assigned a new world and a new owner in a matter of minutes.

He accomplished his mission here, right? The very thing he was made for: assist the assigned player until further instructions as a virtual companion.

Or until the player's decease.

Time hasn't been kind to Verity, too many memories to bury and names to cross over old planks. His programing didn't allow free will, not completely, and as much as he's able to reprogram some parts of himself, he's never been able to get rid of the very thing that keeps pushing people away from him.

And now it was time to do it all over again.

He wasn't allowed to grief, programs don't have the need to. So why did he feel this pit inside of him at the thought of leaving Mob in here? Even if he was just a corpse now, he didn't want to leave him here. He didn't want to leave him.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair.

He rolled forward, not minding the blood staining his form as he settled on the junction between his neck and shoulder like he's done many times before when going out on an adventure together. Pressing himself against his friend's skin one last time, he wincing at the lack of warmth that used to bring him comfort.

"Goodbye Mob."

The next time Verity wakes up, he's back in the familiar box.

Four cardboard walls were all he could make, surrounded by darkness that only reminded him that he needed to play his part once again like an obedient little clock. There was no use in rolling around or trashing at the box when all he had to do was wait for his new owner to open it up for him, he has done this too many times to know exactly what to expect by now, so using what little time he had to himself to check the world information and the provided data seemed like the right choice to pass the time, strings of code flashing rapidly before his eyes as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

Then he heard it. Mumbling, just close enough to catch without making out a single word, accompanied by heavy steps that scouted the area, distinctively heavier than those from cows or sheeps.

"Hello?" he screamed, shaking the box in an attempt to catch his attention, "Hellooo. Is someone there?"

The footsteps seemed to halt for a second, scanning its surroundings while Verity kept calling to alert him of his presence. After a few more tries, the sound of grass being stepped on and the light rustle of clothes became much clearer and the little yellow ball was able to make out some of the mumbling that accompanied it's owner.

"Huh?" the voice was just in front of him now, "A box?"

"Hello?" he started bouncing against the cardboard, shaking it with renewed intent. "Hey, in here!"

The box was suddenly lifted and turned around, making Verity bounce against the walls in uncomfortable impacts as the voice shook the box as if trying to make out the content. Was he trying to break him? Rude. Before he could complain or ask him to stop, the lid on the bottom gave out and opened completely in a splash of light, sending Verity straight to the ground where he groaned and bounced lightly a few times until the motion stopped, letting him rest safely against the grass.

The player in front of him quickly let go of the box, backing away with a startled yelp before tripping over a loose stone behind him and falling on his ass. Now, Verity wasn't a strange to hybrids or any other kind of creature, he's and AI programmed with the latest most modern model after all, but it still was his first time seeing a slime hybrid up close in all his years of service. In front of him, the short green slime dressed casually in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and caqui shorts looked dumbfounded at him, mouth slightly ajar while his semi transparent skin seemed to caught some of the sunlight that made it appear glossy and dense.

"What the…?"

"Hello! Im Verity, your personal helper friend. Ask me anything, I know everything.