Chapter Text
The base was unusually quiet that afternoon.
Branzy sat near one of the windows sorting through supplies while distant rain tapped softly against the roof overhead.
ClownPierce had left earlier that morning to deal with something involving another faction— vague answers, teasing smiles, a quick kiss against Branzy’s forehead before disappearing out the door with bells jingling softly behind him.
Normal.
Everything had felt normal lately.
Or as normal as life with Clown could become.
Branzy was halfway through reorganizing healing potions when something creaked somewhere deeper in the base.
He looked up immediately.
Silence.
Probably nothing.
Still, Branzy stood slowly.
“Clown?” he called automatically before remembering.
Right.
Not home.
The rain outside grew heavier.
Another sound.
Closer this time.
Branzy frowned slightly and reached for the sword leaning beside the table.
Too late.
The attack came fast.
A hand grabbed the back of his hoodie hard enough to yank him backward while another covered his mouth instantly.
Branzy reacted on instinct, elbow slamming backward into someone’s ribs as shouting erupted around him.
“There— hold him!”
“Don’t let him—”
He managed to break free for half a second—
then pain exploded across the back of his head.
The world tilted violently.
Blurred figures.
Rain.
Someone grabbing his wrists.
Voices panicked and hurried all around him.
“Hurry up!”
“He’s gonna come back—”
“CHAINS. NOW.”
Cold metal snapped painfully around Branzy’s wrists before he could fully recover.
Another chain around his ankles.
Someone physically forcing a potion down his throat
Prepared.
These people knew exactly whose partner they were kidnapping.
And that terrified Branzy more than anything else.
Because if they were this scared of Clown already—
What exactly were they planning to do before he arrived?
They took him far.
That was the only thing Branzy could understand through the haze in his head.
Far from the base.
Far from safety.
Far from Clown.
Rain soaked through his clothes during the journey while rough hands dragged him between portals and forests and unfamiliar paths he could barely process. Somewhere along the way they’d forced a Weakness potion down his throat.
Weakness.
The effect settled through his body like poison.
Every movement hurt.
Every breath felt heavy.
The chains around his wrists scraped brutally against skin whenever he stumbled, metal biting deep enough to leave burning lines across already bruised flesh.
He felt useless.
Weak.
The exact opposite of how Clown always made him feel.
“Move.”
Someone shoved him forward again.
Branzy nearly collapsed.
His legs barely worked anymore.
Clown.
Where was Clown?
The thought repeated helplessly through his mind the entire way.
Clown would find him.
Clown would come.
Wouldn’t he?
Eventually, the group slowed.
A base.
Large enough to house multiple players, hidden deep underground beneath layers of stone and reinforced obsidian.
Prepared.
They had planned this carefully.
Panic twisted harder in Branzy’s chest.
“Get him inside.”
The room they dragged him into was cold and dimly lit, lanternlight flickering weakly against stone walls stained with old damage marks.
Not a prison cell.
Something worse.
A room meant for holding people.
Chains hung already attached to the far wall.
Waiting.
Branzy barely had time to process them before someone grabbed both his wrists and violently forced his arms upward.
Metal snapped tight.
Pain shot through his shoulders instantly as the chains locked into place above him, forcing him to remain half suspended against the wall.
Another chain secured around his waist.
Another around one ankle.
The moment they stepped back, his body sagged helplessly against the restraints.
His head dropped forward.
Everything hurt.
His shoulders burned from being forced upward.
The weakness potion still dragged through his veins.
His vision swam every time he tried focusing.
One of the kidnappers crouched in front of him.
“You’re gonna stay very still for us, yeah?”
Branzy tried speaking.
Nothing came out properly.
The man looked relieved.
“Good. Keep him weak.”
Footsteps moved away again.
Doors slammed shut.
Locks clicked heavily into place.
And suddenly Branzy was alone.
The chains dug painfully into his skin every time his exhausted body twitched.
Clown.
Please.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Hours later, far across the server—
ClownPierce returned home.
Bells jingled softly as he stepped through the entrance of the base, rainwater dripping from his coat onto the floor.
“Branz?” he called lightly.
No answer.
Clown paused.
Silence.
Not unusual on its own.
But wrong.
Something felt wrong.
Slowly, Clown removed his gloves.
“Branzy?”
Still nothing.
The smile beneath his mask faded slightly.
He moved deeper into the base.
The supplies Branzy had been organizing earlier still sat scattered across the table.
One healing potion shattered on the floor nearby.
A chair overturned.
And there—
Pinned into the wooden surface with a dagger—
was a note.
For the first time in a very long while, ClownPierce went completely still.
No bells.
No movement.
Nothing.
Then slowly, carefully, he pulled the note free.
The message was short.
A location.
A warning.
Come alone.
We will start removing hearts.
Silence filled the room.
Cold.
Heavy.
Then Clown laughed softly.
But there was no humor in it.
No brightness.
No playfulness.
Just something sharp and wrong.
The paper crumpled slowly in his hand.
When Clown looked back up, the expression behind the mask had gone terrifyingly empty.