Chapter Text
Branzy grumbled as he wrapped his arms in bandages- they were to help treat the redstone burns on his arms yes, but they were also to prevent combat injuries.
“Hey- you ready to go yet?” One of his companions asked.
“Just give me a minute.” Branzy replied.
Branzy was used to being the weakest link in whatever group he was in, only kept around for completing redstone tasks and some mild manipulation- what he wasn’t used to- was being the strongest combatant in a group.
That was not a good thing.
Branzy was still horrible at combat, despite the years of training in various different combat hellscapes.
He should never be the best person with a sword in any given environment.
Yet- in this group of absolute morons, he was.
Seriously, why did traveling across the world always have to be a practical death sentence?
The world was split up into different continents and Branzy was used to traveling between them at this point- different places being called different things but it was all the same really. Just various different ways to die horribly- and Branzy thought life steal was bad.
Well, it was but- hey, at least that place had the decency to properly label itself!
Life steal was a small continent- Branzy would honestly call it more of an island but, it had its own unique magic connecting to it so continent was the right label.
It had been years since he left life steal- trying to find someplace safer. Now he didn’t think a place like that existed.
Yet, he kept traveling.
Which led him to this continent surrounded by frankly giant oceans that he didn’t realize the locals called ‘unstable’ until he’d arrived.
That led him to this group of travelers attempting to get off the continent.
Branzy was not having a particularly pleasant time with them… he found himself missing life steal out of places-
Probably because he’d been seeing Parrot and Spokes faces plastered everywhere- bringing back old memories.
Right now, their group was about to head into the nether to attempt to purchase gear and potentially travel rights from the king of the nether himself.
Why the group wanted to travel through the brutal wasteland instead of taking the safer, longer, overworld travel routes was beyond him.
Whenever he brought the issue up, the group would just say that they had more then enough money to purchase everything- like that was the issue Branzy was concerned about.
Unfortunately, what was worse then traveling through the nether which a bunch of idiots? Traveling through the overworld alone.
So Branzy was having to suck it up.
He stood in front of the glittering portal, there was a guard with a golden dragon mask who was giving them strict instructions- Branzy was studying him, trying to figure out his rank.
Not his literal one, Branzy frankly had no way of figuring that out- nor did he have much interest in it.
What Branzy was interested in, was his rank in social standing.
You could figure out a lot of things based on social standing- it was also the easiest way to manipulate someone you don’t know particularly well.
The guard didn’t say his name, but honestly that didn’t seem to mean much here- he was strong, healthy- and seemed to have decently expensive yet practical clothing underneath his armor.
Oh, and of course- the mask, that did, in fact, appear to be made out of solid gold.
So- definitely among the highest ranks.
“Ok, now that everyone understands the rules. You may have your attendance with the king of the nether.” The guard declared stepping aside to let the group through the portal.
There was just a pinch of annoyance in his voice- probably from most members in the group blatantly brushing him off.
King of the nether… King of the nether… did this guy even have a name beyond ‘King of the nether?’ Branzy had been trying to figure it out since his group had decided on this plan, which was quite a few months ago, and he hadn’t managed to get one.
Oh well, it didn’t really matter.
Hopefully he wouldn’t even be interacting with the guy other then just kneeling in his thrown room.
Branzy felt slightly sick entering through the portal- he always did, and it wasn’t helped by the fact it’d been a while.
He literally stubbled out of the portal- being hit with an immediate heatwave and disorientation.
Branzy groaned as he heard some members of his group vaguely talk about the view.
Once he finally managed to collect himself and drag himself up- he was stunned, taking in a hard breath.
Was the castle view gorgeous? Of course- it was one of the biggest castles Branzy had ever seen in his life- the construction was beautiful. Built to seemingly perfection. Was that why Branzy was stunned? No.
Branzy was stunned because of the banners hanging from the castle walls.
They had a very familiar mask painted on them- a mask that Branzy had been trying his best to forget about.
Clownpierce.
The world’s deadliest assassin.
Everyone knew his name, everyone knew his mask, Branzy knew better then most.
Branzy knew how Clown hated redstone- or at least doing it.
Branzy knew how Clown hated the feeling of hair down his neck but grew it out anyway to look cool.
Branzy knew how Clown loved the thrill of gambling.
Branzy knew what his favorite food was, when was his ideal time to wake up in the morning was, how he wanted a tattoo but was to scared of needles to get one- Branzy was probably the only person alive who knew that particular fun fact.
He knew all this from being ‘business partners’ with the assassin for years. Back on life steal…
Clown had hired Branzy to create a redstone funhouse to get shared revenge- then they kept working together to create the casino…
Oh the casino, he missed the casino.
But even after the casino they kept working together until- until they didn’t.
Clown kept doing more, and more crazy, combat focused things and kinda- moved on from Branzy.
Then Branzy left life steal.
If Branzy was being perfectly honest with himself- part of the reason he left was to see if Clown would chase him, fallow him, at least drag him back into his grasp but- he didn’t.
That was the last time he saw the assassin- until now.
Until he was now kneeling in his thrown room- staring up at the mask with a crack snaking down it, repaired with a glowing red plaster.
A mask he’d stayed up all night once repairing.
Clown had always been intimidating- but that was nothing compared to him sitting on that throne. Scythe in hand- but laying almost casually… almost.
His grip was tight on it, extremely tight.
Most people probably wouldn’t notice it- but Branzy was extremely good at noticing things.
He also noticed the way Clown said the guards name- his name was apparently Ferre.
Clown’s voice sounded almost monotone to most people but after years of knowing Clown, Branzy did learn to pick up slight differences.
In this case, it was slightly warmer- slightly lazier, like he didn’t need to brandish the blade that was always in his voice-
Ferre was in Clowns good graces- which was not something easy to accomplish. Branzy should probably be nice to him if he ever saw him again.
As the ‘leader’ of their group talked to Clown, and Branzy and the others stayed kneeling, he couldn’t help but wonder if Clown remembered him- no, no not remembered him, obviously Clown remembered him.
They worked together for far to long- and Branzy had far to recognizable of an appearance.
No, what Branzy was wondering was, did Clown care about his presence?
Clown was usually extremely… controlling.
So the idea of Clown just- letting Branzy leave all those years ago seemed to point to the idea that- no. No he didn’t particularly care.
Clown seemed to be observing the pitch to get new gear- not paying the slightest bit of attention to Branzy, but it was technically impossible to tell were he was actually looking.
However- he didn’t seem to be responding to what was being said.
Usually Clown would tilt his head when listening to someone to communicate that he was, in fact, listening.
Right now, he looked almost like an ice sculpture. Frozen in place. You couldn’t even really see him breathing- he was.
Branzy was checking. Eyes fixed on the small movements of his costume.
Eventually the speech was done- Clown let out a low hum.
Branzy’s eyes narrowed.
Clown hummed in response to a lot of things, it was almost his default reaction, but there were differences in Clowns hums- for example, this hum was his ‘oh no I wasn’t paying attention to a word you said- oh uh… I need time to stall and repay the last five seconds of this conversation!’ Hum.
Branzy was very familiar with that hum.
He used to purposefully trigger it quite a bit.
“Well, I suppose you’ve made a far offer, but… it may take a few days to gather all the gear you wish…” Clown smoothly explained.
Branzy was calling bull on that. Clown and him used to get the amount of requested gear in two days, and now he had an entire army. He probably had over double the requested gear in a random storage room. Also, Ferre looked extremely confused from that answer.
“Well- well of course your majesty- we’d be happy to wait-”
“Good, good. Don’t worry about payment for now. The nether has many ways of entertaining yourself’s in the meantime…” Clown continued- he seemed suspiciously casual.
He had a game… he always had a game. Branzy was just struggling to figure out what it was this time.
“We have a lovely casino open if you’d like to see.” Clown finished-
Oh, well ok. A casino huh? Branzy couldn’t help his breath getting a little aggressive.
Seriously- what was this game? Annoy him as much as possible?
Branzy quickly got an answer to that question when he saw the casino.
It was an exact, one to one copy, of the casino from life steal.
Same dimensions, same decorations, same games, it even had the same nonsensical redstone entrance doors Branzy cut into the wall at random.
They were meant to be temporary but he got to lazy and just screwed some proper doors over the holes in the wall- he knew for a fact that some of those doors just led to random drops.
It’d be ‘rude’ to refuse such an offer from the king to attend his establishment, so Branzy was stuck in his own rigged casino.
He also doubted Clown actually had a place for the group to stay yet- how long he was going to make Branzy wallow in the past he didn’t know.
Branzy obviously wasn’t playing any of the very rigged games- so he was just going to lean back at the bar and drink to much alcohol.
He was watching one of the timing games- one of the ones where no matter how hard you tried, you’d never quite get the jackpot. Except, someone did get the jackpot.
Branzy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw his machine spitting out so many coins- something had to be off with the timing…
He actually got up from his chair and started walking towards a redstone access door when he realized- this wasn’t his casino anymore.
He had no right to fix anything- and frankly he shouldn’t even be thinking about giving Clown favors.
Branzy grumbled and went back to his seat at the bar.
Who knows- maybe Clown had gotten more generous when installing the thing? No. That definitely wasn’t it.
Branzy was staring at his drink- wondering how the installer could’ve possibly messed up the redstone so bad. Sure his old redstone was- bad, and hopelessly inefficient- but it worked dam it!
Maybe they forgot to adjust the dust setter for the extreme heat…
“Not having fun?” A voice suddenly asked next to him.
Branzy whipped his head around and saw Ferre calmly sipping a drink.
“O-oh, greetings sir. I’m- I’m having a fine evening.” Branzy replied lifting his drink and doing an awkward little head bow.
Look weaker and more nervous then he actually was- that was how Branzy kept himself alive.
Then again, maybe he shouldn’t lay it on quite so thick- he didn’t know what Clown told Ferre about him.
“Not big on gambling huh?” Ferre asked, taking a sip of his drink.
“No…” Branzy probably should’ve stopped the conversation there but… curiosity got the better of him. “So- who installed all the redstone in this place?”
“Huh- I don’t know, I think it was a group of people actually… why?”
“Oh- uh- well I’m- I’m a bit of a redstone guy myself! Get curious about these things…” Branzy mumbled in response.
“Redstoner huh? That’s a useful skill.” Ferre responded- clearly trying to get Branzy to continue talking.
Branzy new this game, he was very good at this game.
“Yeah, can definitely come in handy. What about you? Have you ever dabbled in redstone?”
“Me? Oh no… just looking at some of the wiring in traps gives me a headache. Been a fighter all my life.”
Branzy glanced down at the mace and sword strapped onto Ferre’s side- they were polished, but had clearly seen a lot of use.
The sword was custom made, shimmering with dragon symbols carved into the metal, they were probably stained red when in use. Similar to the circus symbols in Clowns scythe.
They were both made by the same hand.
It was definitely a gift from Clown… so Ferre was more then just in Clowns good graces.
Branzy fidgeted with the silver chain hanging from around his neck.
It was a beautiful necklace Clown had given him after Branzy had fixed his mask, made from a mix of iron and netherite. It had an charm of a heart- a realistic heart on it, that was filled with blood.
Clown’s blood.
He said he was giving Branzy his heart when he’d given it to him, it was sweet.
It was also unremovable.
Clown had welded the chain on around Branzy’s neck- now, could Branzy technically cut the chain?
Considering it was partially netherite it’d be a lengthy endeavor- but yes, he could.
Was he going to? No.
He felt safer with it on- even if Clown seemed determined to make him suffer for whatever reason. Even if it also- definitely had a way for Clown to track him in it.
Branzy didn’t know how- but it was definitely there.
Besides- it wasn’t the only permanent reminder of Clown on his body.
Ferre kept chatting for a while before heading off to survey other members of the group- probably attempting to identify threats, making sure everything was going according to Clown’s plan.
Clown’s plan that he definitely either came up with in five minutes- or altered to the point it might as well be a new plan.
Fairly soon Ferre came back and handed Branzy a key card to get to a hotel that the group would be staying in.
Branzy was the first to leave.
The room was almost painfully ordinary, he searched around the entire thing for anything- anything at all to indicate Clowns game- there was nothing.
He huffed and started to rummage around in one of his bags- his redstone bag.
Branzy didn’t have a lot of material, in fact he didn’t even have enough for a proper trap, but he did have enough to set up an alarm system.
When setting it up Branzy couldn’t help but wonder if that was it- if Clown was going to torment him for an afternoon and then let him go, stuck to question things for another three years.
He wouldn’t put that idea past Clown… for anyone other then himself.
Branzy fell asleep slightly chuckling to himself- he knew Clown, even if he didn’t particularly care about him anymore, was far to curious for his own good.
He woke up with a start- his alarm system went off.
“Dude what the heck?” The intruder groaned- it was the groups team lead.
“Sorry, set up a little alarm before bed.” Branzy chuckled- quickly dismantling his work.
The member glared at him, setting up alarm systems was a regular thing for Branzy… so he really didn’t know why he was caught so off guard every time.
“Well- it’s breakfast and then the king has gotten our gear.” He grumbled leaving the room.
So- Clown has finally thought through whatever game he made hmmm?
The group liked to make plans for the day over breakfast, so wanting all of them to eat at the same time wasn’t weird.
What was weird was the entire group looking like wax statues.
They were moving, eating, talking- but everything was stiff.
Oooooo, something interesting.
Branzy patted his pocket- yup, poison antidotes safely in tact! This was going to be fun.
So let’s see… was Clown targeting him, or was this a ‘kill one of your members for safe travel’ situations?
He felt something bubbling in his chest- something he hadn’t felt in a good long while… something sick and bloody and twisted.
He took a bite of his food that was oh so conveniently gotten for him- what will it be? He felt a bit like a kid on Christmas morning.
A kid on Christmas morning who got exactly what he wanted.
Branzy couldn’t help the smirk grow on his face as he felt the very familiar poison rushing through his system. He had antidote. He could stop it… but where’s the fun in that?