Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world warped and twisted around him as he flew, the sky dark but the rainforest darker, everything lit in stark red and black, shadows cutting deeper than should be possible, crimson highlights striking. The scent of fresh blood was carried on wind that whipped and pulled at his hair as Iskall weaved through the trees, wings flapping desperately, muscles burning, heart pounding, every moment shot with terror as trees loomed unexpectedly out of the darkness, threatening to break his neck if he lapsed his concentration for even a moment.

Something was following him.

Iskall’s movements grew riskier as he was overcome with panic, taking turns ever tighter, forcing his already straining elytra to push him ever faster through the air. Despite the danger of hitting trees, he could hardly pull his gaze from behind him, the threat that stalked him from the shadows more alarming than any tree could ever be. It’s shape was indistinct, at times tall and distended, red eyes glittering with palpable, familiar, malice. Then it would duck into the trees once more, and re-emerge spindly, stiff, a single green eye glowing with dull hate, the gory glint of blood fluttering on it’s fingers.

Both appearances of the figure were all too familiar, setting his teeth on edge, forcing his heart into disorganised tremors, pounding against his chest like it was trying to escape, and he reached for his chest with one arm, as if to hold it in. Except, no arm came.

With a flicker of added panic, Iskall cast a glance to his right arm, chest flaring in alarm when he was greeted by a dripping stump, latent pain choosing that moment to shoot through his body, his flight wavering. But the pain wasn’t just isolated to his arm. It shuddered through his legs, tracing long healed bite marks, and stabbed into his face, highlighting a socket that hadn’t felt quite so empty just moments before. His flight faltered, wings missing a beat, rising in a flailing, feathered frenzy as he scrambled to recover, only to fall further, faster. Tears and blood streamed down his face as he plummeted, the forest floor less terrifying than the figure he could feel watching him for below, reaching for him, claws poised. He could almost feel them pressing on his abdomen, his body tense and braced for impact.

And then, mercifully, Iskall woke up.

His hand shot for his stump as he sat up in bed, sweating and shaking, breath coming in laboured, heavy gasps. The stump was still there, criss-crossed with precise scars which he traced with his fingers, but it didn’t bleed. It didn’t hurt. He let out a huff of relief, letting himself fall backwards into his bed, forcing his breathing to even out, waiting for the shake to leave his limbs. It wasn’t the first time he’d had that nightmare, but it had never gone quite like that. He was used to the red and black chase, the red eyed shadowy figure, the pain in his legs, the echoes of events that he was not yet six months past. The second appearance of the figure was new, and he didn’t like it one bit. He thought he had managed to move past that! He thought he was free of him-

He was free of him. It was a nightmare pulling on his worst memories, of course he would show up. It only made sense, how could he forget the… thing that had taken his arm and his eye. The ordeal with Mumbo under the blood moon was one thing, but that… well, it was on a whole other level. Of course it was going to show up in his nightmares at some point. He had nothing to worry about. He was long gone.

… He hoped he was, anyway.

With a small sigh of effort, Iskall sat up, reaching for the metal arm that laid on his bedside table, turning it on with a well-practised flick of his fingers as he moved it towards his shoulder, electro-magnets coming on, holding the arm onto his shoulder as they pulled for the metal plate embedded in there. It was a similar system to Doc’s, indeed, Doc had designed and installed it for him. Iskall cringed as he remembered asking for it, quietly dodging all questions about how he’d actually lost the arm. He hadn’t wanted to scare his friends by telling them, but…. He paused, one leg dangling off the side of the bed. Should he tell them? Wouldn’t it be better if they knew, just in case?

No.
No, it wouldn’t.
Especially after the whole deal with EX, telling them would just panic them. Things would be fine! It was just a nightmare, and he was letting it get to him too much. He’d never had prophetic dreams, and he didn’t see why that would change now.
Iskall chuckled softly to himself, chastising himself silently for his overreaction to the nightmare, before fully pulling the duvet off of him and swinging his other foot off the bed, standing up in one movement, a hand going to his metallic left eye and switching it on as he crossed the room to grab some clothes. Most of them were similar- green shirts and brown vests, blue jeans that were invariably incredibly worn, and with a slight smile he reached for the nearest shirt, shrugging off his nightshirt and replacing it swiftly, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his head that he was being watched.

Having swapped his pyjama trousers for the least battered pair of jeans he could find and shrugging on the warmest jacket he owned against the cold spring morning, Iskall stepped outside of his bedroom and into the main body of his Omega Tree, the wooden floor creaking familiarly under his feet. He paused as he felt scratch marks on the planks, and he sighed, shaking his head. He should really fix that, but his gaze turned skywards, to the unfinished canopy above him. He had some urgent branching to get to. At least he knew what was on the agenda for today, and he crossed the base to his storage system, skirting around the empty pedestal where the diamond pile once sat. The diamonds themselves were still in the vault he’d built with Impulse. Another job for another day, he thought with a sigh. The canopy took priority.

He got to his storage system, fingers tracing the rows of chests until he reached his wood chest, and he opened it expectantly, letting out a sigh of annoyance upon seeing it was practically empty. He shut the lid, backing up and making a quick round of the assorted Shulkers scattered on the floor, but none of them harboured a secret wealth of wood like he had hoped, and at best he found a few isolated stacks. Altogether he had around six stacks, which for most uses was a lot of wood, but to do any significant branching he’d need at least a shulker.

With a sigh, Iskall stepped back from his shulkers and crossed the room, elytra flicking open as he leaped into the hole in the floor, gliding into the little cave that contained his nether portal, landing neatly and stepping into it, bracing himself for the rush of warmth as he was taken to The Nether. He had a new, much less exciting plan for today- grind up a shulker or two of logs at his tree farm, and continue expanding his canopy tomorrow. He shot through the hole in the nether ceiling, landing in his gold farm, the sound of hundreds of zombified piglins immediately filling his ears, making him wince, and he wasted no time stepping into the portal to his Industrial District. As the rush of purple that made his vision sway and his head light nearly fully consumed him, he could’ve sworn he heard the dull thunk of something landing on the roof.

He stumbled out of the portal, shaking the disorientation from his mind, and spread his wings, letting off a rocket and soaring over the fence that surrounded his Industrial District, landing neatly before the building that contained his tree farm. He paused for a moment, flicking open his communicator, making sure there was nothing important happening in chat, but it was nothing but good mornings and idle conversation. Pocketing the communicator again, he headed into the tree farm, climbing up into it and turning it on, making sure it was all in working order. The machine burst into empty clicks, the sound pulsing for a few moments before going silent once more, and Iskall once again let out a deep sigh.

“Seriously?” He muttered to himself, turning the thing off and climbing around into the redstone innards of the machine, “Why is this always breaking?” He poked around the machine, brow furrowing at what he saw. This wasn’t a case of a missed block update, or a mistimed repeater. There were whole swathes of redstone missing, comparators slapped in seemingly random spots, droppers swapped out for dispensers. This felt less like some annoying bug like it usually was, and more like… deliberate sabotage.

The memory of his nightmare caught in his mind, but he shook it off. This was probably just a poorly executed prank, maybe Grian had tried to rig it to ring a bell, or shoot arrows at him. This certainly didn’t look like the work of anyone particularly familiar with redstone. But still… something didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like his friends to deliberately mess up a farm. His eyes fell on the missing patches of redstone, dragging over the whole mess. The comparators seemed to be in places that repeaters would usually be, dispensers replacing droppers, not introduced at random like he’d at first thought. Maybe this wasn’t sabotage. It was starting to look more like an uninformed, slightly shabby repair job, the more he looked at it. A creeper or two must’ve gotten into his circuits.

He nodded, extracting himself from the redstone wiring, even though the explanation still didn’t feel quite right.

He dropped into the little chamber in which he actually used the farm, before walking out, intending to grab his redstone box, and any supplies he had dotted around the district. The repair would.. Probably take a while, but he could deal with it. He’d just have to farm the wood overnight. Stepping out onto the actual floor of the building, he paused, something on the floor catching his eye. It was a trail of footprints, stamped in an alarming red which he at first thought was blood but, now that he thought about it, was more likely to be redstone, even if it was browning in spots, and… well if he didn’t know better he’d say it looked clotted. He frowned, trying to think back to when he had come in. He certainly hadn’t noticed any footprints then….

A lump started to form in his throat, and he swallowed, hard. They must be his own, from a previous repair. He was letting the unsettled night get to him too much. He just needed a moment to relax, have some lunch maybe. He stepped carefully over the prints, squinting into the midday sun. Some lunch sounded great.

He left the tree farm’s façade, heading for his chest monster, ignoring the growing feeling of being watched. And as he leant down to dig through an ender chest, looking for food, he missed the green glint of a pair of mismatched eyes watching him from the shadows.

Chapter Text

The sun was just coming down from its apex as Iskall finished up his porkchop lunch, sitting on a shulker box just outside his tree farm. The uncomfortable feeling still clung on from the previous night, and he was starting to get annoyed. The nightmare had been scary, sure, it dug up some memories he’d have rather left buried, but that was no reason to carry this weird feeling into the afternoon, even if his redstone was muddled.

He stood, stretching his limbs and wings, feeling the joints pop, before brushing his hair from his face and picking up his Redstone box, turning to return to his farm and fix up the redstone. It should be simple, a matter of switching out the incorrectly placed components and replacing what dust was missing. The hardest bit would probably be getting the timings right, but he was pretty sure he had them written down somewhere on his communicator, so it shouldn’t be too bad. He reached for it, flipping it open as he weaved between shulker boxes, the chat very quiet today. He closed the chat, opening up a directory of his files, a cluttered, disorganised mess. He sighed, scrolling through them, not liking his chances of finding the relevant timings in here.

“Timings 1… 2…. Omega Timings… BernieTimings…. OMEGA timings 2….. Sahara-” His muttering trailed off into a weary laugh, and he shook his head as he closed the directory and pocketed the communicator. There was no way he was going to find it. He’d have to figure it out again, which meant this was going to take a while. He stepped into the Tree Farm’s façade, any hope of being able to Branch today quickly fading, and paused, brow furrowing.

The footprints were gone. More than gone, a patch of disturbed dust where they had been indicating that they had been.. Deliberately wiped away. A horrible, heavy feeling congealed in Iskall’s chest, making him feel sick, and the repressed paranoia in the back of his mind flared, prompting him to straighten up and scan the area, eye flickering around the space, breathing picking up.

But there was nothing there. No eyes greeted him from the shadowed corners. No metallic claws strained to tear him apart. There weren’t even any skeletons glaring at him from the dark, no creepers hissing. The façade was completely empty. Iskall swallowed, forcing his breathing to even out, blinking fear from his eye and shaking shivers from his limbs. He was fine! He was fine. Fine, and completely alone.

… But why wouldn’t that paranoid fear leave him alone?

Taking a deep breath, Iskall pulled out a rocket and flew up into the redstone, landing haphazardly on a thin section of redstone dust smeared blocks, doing his best to not break the circuit. He pushed his nagging paranoia to the back of his mind, set on fixing his redstone. There was something up, he couldn’t deny that any longer, but he didn’t seem to be in immediate danger. He’d stay vigilant, finish up what he needed to do in the industrial district, and go home. And the moment he saw anything, he would tell Xisuma, and then he could help deal with it. It sounded like a solid plan to him, and he nodded to himself as he plonked down his redstone box. This way, if there was something- or someone- following him, he could let the hermits know and get rid of them, and if he was just on edge due to his nightmare and mixing things up, he wouldn’t unnecessarily panic anyone else.

With this in mind, Iskall pulled an assortment of redstone components from his redstone box- comparators, droppers, repeaters, dust- and got to work, throwing himself into the repairs about as hard as he could, letting the problem solving, block breaking, and repetitive dust placing take his mind off of his worries. It almost worked, for the most part his mind was so occupied by trying to get the timings right on this hopper clock, or placing this comparator the right way around that he didn’t really have the mind space to be afraid. But even so, every click of a dropper that he wasn’t expecting, every firing of a piston from the sugarcane farm next door, every thump from dropped items made him flinch, forcing his heart into his mouth, making him freeze on the spot.

Despite this, however, he was making fairly good progress. The process of fixing his farm, whilst time consuming, wasn’t as hard as he had feared, and he even found himself enjoying the process somewhat. It didn’t feel like all that much time had passed before he clicked the final repeater back a few ticks and stepped back to admire his handiwork, wiping redstone dust off of his hands and onto his jeans. Everything looked like it should be functional, but there was only one way to find out, he just needed to grab a sapling or two. Iskall dropped out of his redstone onto the rough stone floor of the façade and shivered. It was much colder than it had been before, and with more than a little surprise he looked out of the door to see that the sun was rapidly sinking below the horizon. He’d been working on the farm all afternoon, and his stomach grumbled as he realised he’d inadvertently skipped dinner.

“I’ll eat something after I check that this works..” He muttered to himself, quickly stepping outside to grab a couple of oak saplings from a shulker box before dipping back inside and entering the farm. He flipped the lever to turn the thing on and was met with a series of promising clicks, and as he placed down the first sapling the whole machine sprung into life, growing the tree, and pushing it to the side. Iskall could feel his mouth pulling into a grin, but he couldn’t celebrate just yet, placing down yet another sapling, watching the same series of events play out. He continued growing them, listening anxiously for the sound of TnT that heralded either the logs getting blown up, or the whole farm. Finally, there came a familiar click, hiss, BANG, and Iskall flinched, waiting for the machine to stop, for something to break… but nothing did.

“YES!!” He cried, punching the air and shutting the machine down, grinning wide at his success. He could hardly believe he’d managed to get it right first try, and silently thanked whoever had tried to fix it for remembering where every component went, even if they had got it wrong. He walked out of the farm, grabbing some food to quell his rumbling stomach, before emptying his inventory into a spare shulker, and filling it completely with buffer items, save a single slot that he filled with half a stack of saplings. He was about to step into the machine when a thought caught in his mind, and he pulled out his communicator.

Iskall85: Im going to be grinding logs overnight, could someone come turn off the farm and save my stuff if I die?
Iskall85: if youre staying up
Tango: We can, where are you?
Iskall85: My industrial district
Iskall85: get to it from my gold farm, through my OMEGA bedrock hole of DOOM
Iskall85: Impulse knows where it is
Tango: Alright, happy logificating!
Xisuma: I can also keep an eye out
Iskall85: pog

With a smile he pocketed it, and found for the first time that day his anxiety was easing. He’d gone through the whole day and nothing had happened to him. He had his friends looking out for him, and a simple night of log grinding ahead, and then tomorrow he’d get to filling out the canopy of his tree. It was straightforward. It was easy.

And so, he stepped into the machine and began farming.

He went for hours, allowing himself to zone out as placing saplings essentially became muscle memory and the machine did all the hard work for him, the explosions that rattled the room he stood in becoming welcome background noise so that he didn’t lose his mind to silence and clicking dispensers.

It must’ve been midnight when he heard it, a sound that stood out among the others as unusual snapping him back to reality, his ears pricked and unease trickling down his spine. The noise persisted, coming from somewhere above him, and as he strained his hearing beyond the racket his farm was making he could make them out as footsteps.

…. What?

“Hallo?” He called, hoping it was a friend coming to set up an afk prank. He raised one hand to his head, half expecting to find a dragon head with curse of binding on it stuck on him.
But he found only his own skin and whoever- or whatever- was above him didn’t reply.

He swallowed, anxiety rising in his chest, grabbing at his throat as he leaned away from the machine, familiar fear trickling back in. Something was off.

“Hallo? Mumbo, Grian?” He called again, desperate for a reply, for hushed laughter, for anything to put his fears at ease, “I can hear you! I know you’re there!”

There was still no reply, and now the footsteps had stopped, and between his own yelling and the sound of the tree farm, he didn’t know where the figure above him had stopped. A horrible, sickly feeling swelling in his throat, he turned off the machine and reached for his communicator, opening it as a block broke just behind him, the hiss of TnT where it shouldn’t be making him spin, panicked, a half-written cry for help left unsent on his communicator as the explosive’s fuse ran out and his whole world was consumed by noise, pain, and fire.

Iskall85 blew up.

Chapter Text

Impulse jumped at the sound of pistons firing behind him, letting out a yelp that turned to laughter in an instant when he caught a glimpse of Tango's expression through the quickly closing door, cutting him and Zedaph off from the man. Zed was laughing too, and the joyous sound echoed around the cavern into which Tango was building his Among Us game, filling the air with a buzz of happiness. They hadn't even been here very long- Tango was just in the middle of giving them a tour of the place- but Impulse could already tell they were going to have a fantastic night.

"Gah!! Stupid door!" Tango cried over their laughter, pulling out a pickaxe to break his way through. Impulse sucked in a breath, catching a break in the laughter, but looking up at Tango, seeing his comically furious expression beneath the helmet he insisted on wearing nowadays, the laughter bubbled back up, and he doubled over once again. "Hey! Quit your laughing!" Tango squaked, replacing the blocks in the door and hurrying ahead of Impulse and Zedaph, still playing up his annoyance a little, turning his head to hide the grin that pulled on his lips.

Impulse wiped tears from his eyes, and set off, taking a few quick steps to catch up. He settled into the comfortable atmosphere as Tango continued his tour, from that point onward comically cautious of doors, pointing out some of the tasks they needed to stock up and stress test as they went.

“Some of these tasks,” Tango was saying, hands tucked into his pockets as they rounded the corner into the Redstone Lab, “I need you guys to try out to see if they actually make sense, or if I only know how to do them because I made them and have been staring at them all for… too many hours a day.” Impulse nodded, task testing was what he’d signed up for tonight after all, and Zed chuckled.

“So we’re your crash test dummies again?” He joked, grinning over at Tango, who smiled.

“Basically!”

Impulse snorted. “When aren’t we?”

The conversation paused as their communicators buzzed, the three of them reaching for them at once, curious as to who’d be talking this far into the evening. Not that it really felt late to him, Impulse had never been one to listen to his internal clock, and down here in the eternally lit halls of Among Us, time had very little meaning. He didn’t envy all the time Tango spent down here.

Iskall85: Im going to be grinding logs overnight, could someone come turn off the farm and save my stuff if I die?
Iskall85: if youre staying up

Impulse glanced up from the chat, making silent eye contact with Zed and Tango.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Tango shrugged, before turning back to his communicator and beginning to type.

Tango: We can, where are you?
Iskall85: My industrial district
Iskall85: get to it from my gold farm, through my OMEGA bedrock hole of DOOM
Iskall85: Impulse knows where it is
Tango: Alright, happy logificating!

“You do remember where it is, right?” Tango asked, once again glancing up at Impulse.

“How couldn’t I?” Impulse replied, half chuckling, half sighing. “Took me hours to get through all that bedrock.”

The communicator buzzed again, and Impulse glanced down to see that Xisuma had offered to watch chat as well, and he smiled vaguely to himself, before pocketing the communicator. He was glad this responsibility wasn’t all on them- he could think of a few situations in which they wouldn’t be able to go there, and ways they could miss messages, or-

“Impulse, you coming?” Tango yelled, snapping Impulse from his thoughts, he and Zedaph already several paces down the corridor.

“Yep! Sorry, just.. Zoned out.” He replied, hurrying over to join them, settling into a comfortable pace as the tour continued. They weaved through the maze-like layout of Among Us with no further incident, the tour ending in the dungeon below the keep, the three of them huddling together in the corner, taking a small break before commencing their work. The tour had taken longer than any of them had expected- between those annoying doors and the many, many questions he and Zed had for Tango, the initial walkaround had taken a couple of hours. But it was alright, Impulse, at least, felt more than ready to get testing and tweaking, and was excited to commence work.

“Hey, Tango?” Zed began, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still taking task suggestions?”

“Only if they’re good!” Tango said, humour tugging on his voice, and Zed let out a short laugh.

“You’re asking too much of me!” he joked with a smile, and Tango rolled his eyes, trying to hide his grin.

“Come on Zed, spit it out, what is it?”

“You should have a Void hole! It would be great for.. Sneaky.. Killing. I don’t know, I’ve never played Among Us, but still! It would be great!”

Tango shook his head with a sigh. “I know you love the Void, man, but that just wouldn’t work. I can’t actually kill anyone in here, and if items got dropped in then I’d never get them back. Everything has to be automatically restockable, you know.”

“Aww, come on Tango, I could chuck any items up for you! And catch people if they fall! Just tell me when you’re having a game!”

“Zed- It just wouldn’t work, sorry.”

“Awwwwwww” Zed lamented, pouting dramatically. “I can’t believe my best friend, Tango, would do this to me!”

Impulse snorted. “Oh so Tango’s your best friend? I see how it is.” he joked, and Zed laughed.

“Well, you’re my best friend now, after this betrayal!”

Impulse opened his mouth to reply, but paused as the three of their communicators buzzed together. They shared a glance, all opening them up.

Iskall85 blew up

“Looks like we’ll have to save this for later.” Tango said, quickly tapping out a response.

Tango: We’re on our way
Xisuma: let me know if you need an extra pair of hands
Tango: will do

“Let’s go, then!” Zed said, making for the ladder up and out of the dungeon, Impulse and Tango following closely after him.

“So where is the bedrock hole?” Tango asked as they wove through the corridors, their pace fast.

“It’s in the nether ceiling, I can find the way once we’re in there.”

“Alright, we’ll go through the portal in the Nether outbreak.” Tango said with a nod, directing them down a corridor to their right, which opened up into the intersection of the three main zones within Among Us.
They took to the left, taking the short walk across the Netherrack floor of the outbreak and stepping into the Nether Portal. Impulse closed his eyes, trying to keep the nausea of being shifted between dimensions to a minimum. The three of them stepped out of the portal, and Tango and Zedaph let Impulse take the lead as he guided them through the tangle of tunnels that made up the Nether Hub, pausing as they came to a hole in the bedrock above them. He wasn’t sure who’s it was, and it definitely wasn’t Iskall’s, but he climbed up and through it, before waiting for his friends to come up after him.

“Try and stay close behind, it’s way too easy to get lost up here.” Impulse said as he drew out a rocket, and Zedaph nodded.

“Aye aye, captain.” Tango said with a grin, and Impulse simply snorted and shook his head, throwing himself into the sky on grey and yellow feathered elytra that smelt of smoke, and which were buffeted by the thermals which littered The Nether Roof. Casting a glance behind him to check that Tango and Zedaph were following him, which they were, he set off in the direction that he remembered Iskall’s bedrock hole, and by extension all his Nether Infrastructure and the portal to his industrial district, lay.

It didn’t take long for the floating structure to loom out of the nether fog, and with a final rocket Impulse banked up and then down into the storage area , stumbling and nearly falling, but managing to catch himself on the wall. Tango and Zedaph swept after him, Tango’s eternally smoldering elytra coming all too close to knocking Impulse clean over as he flapped haphazardly to a stop. Zedaph’s landing, conversely, was ever so slightly too smooth, the dark shapes that he called wings folding up to his back and disappearing, leaving the taste of ozone in the back of Impulse’s throat. This was a simple item retrieval mission, but somehow… something felt off. And it was with no small amount of anxiety that Impulse stepped forwards into the portal to Iskall’s industrial district, closing his eyes and bracing to shift back into the Overworld.

The three of them stepped out of the portal, and took to the wing in an instant, scrambling to avoid the mobs that swarmed around the perimeter of the district, clearing the wall and landing messily in the middle of a district. Several farms lined the sides, each enclosed in grand facades, and at a glance it was unclear which the tree farm was.

“I guess we just.. Look for a crater?” Zed suggested, and the other two nodded.

“Yeah” Tango confirmed, and the three of them made their way to the closest building, a tall, mostly featureless brick structure which was filled with the sound of pistons firing. Zed flew up, peeking through the window, before turning back to them, shaking his head.

“It’s a sugarcane farm!”

“Alright!” Impulse yelled back, and he and Tango turned towards the next building, Zedaph landing beside them. This building had a ground floor entrance, and inside was the remains of some kind of wooden chamber. From high above them was the sound of a dropper clicking, empty, and the thoroughly exploded remains of what could only be an automatic tree farm filled the room.

“Well, this is it…” Tango began, squinting into the dark. “Can’t see any items though. Did we take too long?”
Impulse pulled out his communicator and squinted at the time, checking it against the time that Iskall’s death message came through. “No.” he said, frowning, “We’re just in time. Did someone come through before us and clean it up?”

“I don’t think so” Tango said, confused. “Most people are asleep, and X would’ve said if he was coming over, right?”

“I’d think so.” Impulse replied, tapping his fingers idly on the communicator. “I’ll ask.”

ImpulseSV: Has anyone come by Iskall’s industrial district to collect his stuff already?
Xisuma: I haven’t
ImpulseSV: anyone else?

He paused, waiting for a response, before sighing and pocketing the communicator. “No one’s been here.” He said.

“That’s strange…”

“Hey, guys?” came Zedaph’s voice from across the room, and Impulse and Tango turned to look at him. He was crouched on the floor, looking down at something. “You might want to see this?”

“What is it?” Tango asked as the two of them approached, huddling on either side of Zedaph. Impulse felt discomfort spike in his chest as he looked down at what Zed had seen. Reddish-brown footprints, half missing, as if someone had tried to wipe them away in a rush.
“Those are Iskall’s right?” Tango asked, his brow furrowing, “He’s just tracked some redstone around?”

“...no.” Impulse supplied, reaching forwards and pressing a finger against the substance. It was tacky. “It’s the wrong colour, and..” He lifted the finger, and a string of the substance stuck to it, slightly lumpy, “it’s sticky.” He flicked the stuff off of his fingers, and rubbed his hand on his shorts. It smeared red, too viscous to be redstone, not powdery enough.

“Oh dear.” Zed said, his tone grim.

In his pocket, Impulse felt his communicator buzz, and he pulled it out.

Xisuma: should I come over?
ImpulseSV: yes
ImpulseSV: something’s wrong.

Chapter Text

X could remember the last time he’d flown with this much urgency all too well. The wind tugged at his face, grabbing at his fragile bee wings as they buzzed at capacity, Impulse’s message seared into his mind.

“Something’s wrong.”

He had never been one to speculate, but he had a deep, unpleasant feeling in his chest that this was more than just an unfortunate farming accident. His eyes couldn’t help but flicker to the moon- not yet full, but bright and bloated all the same- and even though it’s light shone a stark white, it’s presence in the sky with him only unsettled him more. It felt like it was watching him.

He was flying from Mumbo’s industrial district, since the path there was clearly marked and Iskall’s district, if he remembered correctly, was only a hop, skip, and a jump from Mumbo’s carefully laid out tangle of farms. He could already see the brightly lit area on the horizon, a tall fence enclosing the space and a cluster of figures standing together in the center of the district, watching him. The journey was only five minutes, and the flight from Mumbo’s industrial district even shorter, but it felt like some tortuous eternity before he came to a frantic landing before Impulse, Zedaph, and Tango, his chest tight and the buzz of his wings not even silent before he spoke, forcing the words out between his gasps for air.

“What happened??”

The three Hermits exchanged a look that Xisuma didn’t like.

“We’re… not sure.” Impulse said, turning back to him, his face contorted into a mask of confusion and concern, a hint of grey creeping into his skin.

“Come on, we’ll just.. show you” Tango added, gesturing for Xisuma to follow them as the three of them lead him towards a building on the far side of the Industrial District. It was tall and imposing, but inside was only the charred remains of what X could only guess was Iskall’s tree farm.

“We showed up here to collect his stuff real quick, easily within five minutes, but there was nothing there. It couldn’t have despawned, and it hadn’t been stored in a chest or anything.” Tango began, leading X to the side, away from the door, and pausing in a seemingly random spot.

“We saw no one else, no one’s even awake apart from us!” Zed continued, visibly agitated, fiddling with something in his hands. “And for a farm like this, you need a full inventory, or it doesn’t work, so it’s not like his inventory was empty or anything!”

“Oh-” X began, his face dropping behind his visor, his stomach sinking, a tough ball of anxiety knotting ever tighter in his chest.

“We were just gonna write it off as one of those things,” came Impulse, sticking his hands in his pockets. X couldn’t help but notice a kind of reddish smear on his khakis. It was probably redstone. “But then we saw these.”

He gestured to the ground in front of him, and, just as he thought his stomach couldn’t sink any lower, X realised the spot they were standing in wasn’t so random after all. On the floor at his feet, brownish red, were some footprints. They were smeared in a way redstone couldn’t be smeared, and he leant down, opening his admin panel and running a scan, knowing what the result of his investigation would be.

“Blood.” he confirmed, grimly, watching the code flicker on his screen as it searched for more information. He glanced down at the prints again, their shape was hard to make out, what with the attempt to conceal them, but X was pretty sure they weren’t the print of Iskall’s boots. They didn’t look like the print of any boot, if he was honest with himself, but the prints were too badly messed up to really be able to tell. The panel beeped at him, and X glanced over, reading over the information briefly, before doing a double take.

“What?”

“Huh, what is it?” Tango asked, his expression clouding over with, somehow, more confusion, as X stared at the admin panel in disbelief.

“That’s not just Iskall’s blood.” X murmured, reading and rereading the information on the screen, hoping that he’d simply made a mistake, that enough times reading over it would make this make sense. “For the most part, It’s not even the blood of anyone on the server.”

“...What??” Zed exclaimed, his expression darkening. “But- if-”

“-If it doesn’t belong to anyone on the server then who’s is it? And what is it doing here?” Impulse finished for him, eyes following X as he stood up, still confused. X shook his head.

“I… don’t know. It’s a mixture, most is Iskall’s but some... ” he paused, his brow furrowing. “Do any of you know a ‘Helsknight’?”

The three hermits shook their heads. “Never heard of him,” said Tango, “But if I had to guess it sounds like he’s to Wels what Evil Xisuma is to you.”

X nodded. “That’d be my guess as well, but I haven’t heard of him being on the server. In fact-” X pulled down the Tab list, reading the names. Everyone, aside from them, Iskall, and a flickering, incomprehensible mess of characters representing, X assumed, their trespasser, were greyed out, showing that they were asleep, or, at least, afk. “No Helsknight, and if he shows up on my admin panel, he’d show up in the tab list.”

“Then.. What? X, if he’s not here, why is his blood on the ground? And why is it mixed in with Iskall’s?” Impulse ventured, stepping carefully around the footprints and in front of X.

“I..” X sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. But… If this Helsknight is a suspect, I can’t see why the Hels Welsknight would go after Iskall of all people.”

“...true.” Tango conceded, and the four of them stood silently for a few moments, the quiet heavy, and the smell of recently ignited TnT still in the air.

After a while, X spoke.

“Have any of you tried contacting Iskall? Because if you haven’t, we should probably try.” Zed, Impulse and Tango all shook their heads, and X nodded, mostly to himself, pulling out his communicator.

Xisuma: Iskall, you there?
Xisuma: If you are please respond asap
Xisuma: We’re worried.

“... No response.” X muttered after a few moments, disappointed but not surprised.

“Should we go to his base or something?” Asked Zed, looking up from his communicator and around at his friends. “If he respawned there then we might be able to ask him about it.”

“Assuming he’s still there…” Tango muttered, turning away. The silence returned, awkward this time, before Impulse broke it up.

“..We should go. His tree isn’t that far, and I don’t see why he wouldn't be there!”

Tango shrugged, but inclined his head. “Alright.”

“Let’s go, then.” X said, opening his wings, buzzing them behind him in anticipation for liftoff. Impulse, Tango and Zed followed suit, with Zed, X noticed, not using his elytra, but dark, void-hewn wings, nothing more than black stains stretching from his back. The four took off, flying the short distance to Iskall’s Nether portal, landing in the frame and going through into the Nether, before following Impulse out into the fiery hellscape, following his lead to Iskall’s home portal.

The moment he stepped out into the humid night air of the jungle, Xisuma could tell something was wrong. The wind rustled the leaves high in the canopy above him, and he stood very still as Impulse, Tango and Zed came out of the portal behind him. Something was… off. Something more than Iskall’s radio silence, more than the strange bloodstains and mysterious death. He pondered it, the oppressive silence doing little to ease his nerves.

…That was it.

Since when was the jungle silent?

“What’s the holdup?” Tango asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a scalpel through skin, too sharp, too loud-

“....Nothing. I’ve just got a bad feeling about this, that’s all.”

“..Me too.” Supplied Zed, casting an uneasy glance around. “It’s too quiet out here.”

X nodded, unwilling to speak further, and the four of them proceeded out of the cave which held Iskall’s Nether portal, stepping out on the stone bridge above the foggy void in the centre of the Omega Tree, looking up through the unfinished canopy into a bright, cloudless night sky.

It was by all means a pleasant night. X wished he could enjoy it.

The four rose into the air together once again, with a rush of fireworks and rustle of feathers, shooting up into the center of the tree, and spiralling down, their eyes turned downwards, widening in shock at the sight that greeted them on the main floor of the Omega Tree.

The wooden floor was scored, deep gouges carved into the surface by vicious claws, in some places deeper than those slashed into the surface by Ren on the Blood Moon. And speaking of blood… X swerved in the air, landing carefully to avoid the splatters of crimson that littered the floor, clearly still fresh. He could see distinct bootprints stamped in red crossing the floor, and beside them, in a colour much darker, the same strange prints that were at the Tree farm.

A sickly feeling brewed in X’s throat at the sight, and as he followed the scratches, the prints, and showers of blood with his gaze, they told a clear story, all converging on one spot, the blood printed in a long, blunt shape, with bright green feathers scattered among it.

Iskall was here alright. And it looks like he’d had a nasty fight.

“Well… he got away, at least. That’s good.” Impulse commented from beside him, and X frowned, giving him an inquiring look. “Look over at the feathers.. He took off, his bootprints end, but those other footprints don’t. In fact…” Impulse turned on the spot, gesturing at the track of footprints, “Hey lead to the door. Whoever attacked him couldn’t fly, but Iskall could. He escaped!”

“That’s good and all, but then where is he?” Asked Zed

“And more urgently, where’s the guy who attacked him?” Continued Tango, his red eyes flickering around the tree, catching on shadows.

“I can’t answer that…” X said, slowly reaching into his pocket for his communicator, “But we’re closer to answering the question of just who’s doing this. They’re clearly from Hels, and Iskall clearly isn’t their only victim…. I think I know who can help us narrow it down further.”

“Who?” Asked Tango, his gaze coming to rest on the doorway into the Omega Tree. X tapped a username into the communicator, bringing it up to his ear as it began to buzz.

“Evil Xisuma.”

Chapter Text

It was a pleasant day in Helscraft, the sun hanging high in the sky, the time just past midday. Evil Xisuma was resting, sitting on the half-built wall of his home, finishing up the steak that he’d gotten for lunch, and glancing at his communicator. The chat was littered with a few deaths, mostly from PvP, but this didn’t bother him. Helscraft was very much PvP enabled, and while he didn’t encourage the frequent skirmishes, he was more than content to let them play out. It was how things were settled around here, and as long as they weren’t too large-scale or destructive, that was fine by him. Otherwise, his communicator was quiet, and he placed it down beside him as he chewed on his final scrap of meat and raised up the air filter portion of his mask, clicking it into place over his mouth and nose, taking a deep breath to get used to the familiar resistance of breathing. All in all, today, so far, had been very chilled, and he hoped the relative peace would continue into the evening. If he had to break up one more ‘incident’ like that Helsknight thing he didn’t know what he would do-

It was as that thought occurred, that his communicator began to buzz. It was rhythmic and regular, and he let out a sigh of annoyance at the call. Of course. He shouldn’t have tempted fate like that. He picked up the communicator, looking down at the name on the screen, expecting yet another panicked call from FlimFlam about how that robot of his had gone mental and started killing people again, or how-

His annoyed train of thought sputtered to a stop as he saw the name of the caller. Not a morally questionable mumbo doppelganger, not Joe and Merne calling about the latest misdemeanour in their shop. In fact, it wasn’t a Helsmet at all.

It was with no small amount of anxiety that EX picked up Xisuma’s call, knowing his clone would only call him in a true emergency.

“Xisuma?”

“Evil X! Oh, I’m so glad you picked up. I wasn’t going to contact you until you contacted me but this is an emergency-”

“I understand. What is it?”

“Well..” X began, before pausing, clearly unsure how to continue. “Some strange things have happened tonight, Iskall’s gone missing and we’ve found helsmet blood in his base, and-”

“Helsmet blood?” Ex said in surprise, “How do you know? Do you know who’s?”

“I- I scanned it, had a look at the code. It was a mixture of a lot of your Helsmets, mostly a.. Helsknight? Do you know where he might be?”

Ex frowned under his helmet, and let out a tsk. “Helsknight isn’t one of ours. I don’t know why he’s been bleeding all over your world, but he’s not my problem.”

“It was more than just that though! There was some from a… ‘Flim Flam’, and.. And a ‘J_Valley’, and... Some was yours, Ex.”

“What.”

“We don’t know what’s going on but it’s got something to do with your server-” Ex opened his mouth to complain but X quickly followed up to clarify. “Not that we think it’s your fault! But whatever’s on Hermitcraft has hurt you lot as well as us.”

“...Alright.” Ex said, sliding down from his seat on the wall, and striding over to his ender chest, one of the few on the server. “I’ll be right there.” He opened the box up, pulling out his netherite armour and sword. He usually stuck with diamond, choosing to instead protect these from any budding thieves but… This was an emergency. Xisuma continued to speak as he pulled his gear on.

“Meet us at world spawn, that should be where the portal takes you anyway. We can take you to Iskall’s base from there.”

“Ok” He said, simply, buckling his sword around his waist.

“And Evil X,” Xisuma began, the tone in his voice making EX annoyed before he even spoke, “Don’t try and pull anything. I want to trust you this time.” Evil Xisuma bit back an angry retort, and simply sighed. He supposed it was a fair request. His reputation did proceed him, somewhat.

“I won’t. I pr- ...you have my word.”

“Good! See you later, Evil X.”

“See you.”

With a beep, Xisuma hung up, and Evil X lowered the communicator with a sigh. He knew this perfect morning was too good to be true, but still. Being admin of a server like Helscraft was exhausting. Didn’t he deserve some down time?

Regardless, he supposed he ought to get going, breaking his ender chest and leaving a sign requesting that anyone in the area tries their best to not blow his half-built house up, please, before opening up his communicator and beginning to type.

EvilXisuma: Got to go to Hermitcraft. There’s something going on and apparently it’s a danger to all of us. Try not to blow the server up while I’m gone.

J_Valley: Maybe some Server insurance from VexCorp could interest you? Only thirteen diamonds a month!

EvilXisuma: ha ha, this isn’t the time to try and sell stuff to me. If the server’s still in one piece when I get back, I’ll pay you and Merne a few diamond blocks, how’s that?

Merneith: Define ‘a few’

EvilXisuma: Enough to make it worth your time

J_Valley: deal! Have a safe trip, EX :)

ExeM: Try not to die.

EvilXisuma: I’ll do my best

And with that, he snapped his communicator shut, ignoring any buzzing that came after he put it in his pocket. He turned, and walked into his half-built house, crossing the unfinished floor to a flight of stairs that spiralled down. At the bottom was a long strip mine, but he didn’t go that far, instead pausing about halfway down, and reaching into his inventory, producing a feather, and placing it on a small, one-block indent in the wall. Immediately, the sound of pistons fired up all around him, and a two-by-one piston door opened up behind him. Ex was already halfway through the door before he turned around, walking down a short, intricately decorated tunnel, themed to the Crimson Forest, stepping neatly over the hidden tripwires and pressure plates, skirting the range of a pufferfish detector, and stopping before the portal. It superficially resembled a Nether portal, except it swirled a deep red, and filled the room with the distinct smell of brimstone. It was the Helscraft side of the portals between the two mirrored worlds, the numerous traps necessary for the safety of both Hermits and Helsmets. EX cast a final glance behind him, missing in his hurry splatters of crimson along the floor that didn’t quite match the Nylium, before stepping forwards and into the portal.

EvilXisuma left the game

---------------------------------------------------

Xisuma clicked his communicator shut, letting out the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.

“He’s on his way.” He said, turning to Zed, Impulse, and Tango. Zedaph was nodding, a determined sort of smile playing on his face, but Impulse and Tango looked more concerned.

“X,” Tango began, sticking his hands in his pockets, “Are you sure this is a good idea? The guy tried to kill us all, especially you, not even six months ago! For all we know, he’s behind this.”

X sighed.

“I know, but.. After what happened last time I think he knows better than coming after us again. I know he’s betrayed us before, but this time I really feel like he can be trusted. Plus… It’s not like we have much choice, if anyone can wrangle a Helsmet or two, it’ll be their admin.”

“Not to distract from the sentiment, X, but.. You can’t even wrangle us!” Zed said, with a smile on his face and humour in his voice. X snorted, wearily, and Impulse let out a snicker.

“Don’t remind me! You’re all such headaches!” said X, chuckling. “Anyway, come on, let’s get to spawn.”

X’s wings buzzed up, and with a small hop and a leap he was airborne, buzzing back down into the cave below Iskall’s Omega Tree, knowing from the crackling wingbeats, the rush of feathers and void behind him, that his companions were following after him. He landed in the portal, and allowed it to carry him through into the Nether, stepping out and waiting a few moments for Team ZIT to come through, Tango with that characteristic flicker that always came with coming through portals.

They shot through the Nether tunnels, careful wingbeats and rockets keeping them from the ceiling, before they swept out into the central area above the Nether Hub. X went first, clambering down the warped vines and into False’s Nether Hub. His communicator buzzed, and he checked it as he waited for his friends to come down after him.

EvilXisuma joined the game

X clicked his tongue. “We’re late! He’s already here, hurry up!” he shouted up the vine, his tone neutral, if a little strained.

“We’re going as fast as we can!” Called Impulse, who was the furthest away. “I would help if someone would speed up, though” he added, the sly grin on his face clearly evident in his tone. Zed, who was heading up the group, let out an offended gasp.

“I’m not built for climbing!!” He protested as he carefully lowered himself down the vine.

“Clearly.” Tango chipped in, mock annoyance in his voice.

“Rude!!” Squaked Zed as he dropped the final few feet to the floor and walked out to stand beside X. Tango dropped down behind him, Impulse bringing up the rear a few moments later.

“That was one of the most spectacularly slow things I’ve ever watched.” X commented as he stepped towards the central portal, joining in on the playful prodding.

“Not you too!” came Zed from just behind him, exasperated. X laughed good naturedly, and glanced behind him to make sure everyone was alright. Each of his friends wore smiles, and X found his face mirroring them. The dire situation seemed far away, and with EX waiting for them at spawn… Xisuma let himself feel hopeful, despite everything.

The four of them stepped into the portal, and X closed his eyes as the world swirled into incomprehension around him, opening them again when he felt the cool breeze of overworld air against his armour, and stepped forwards into the Shopping District, wings buzzing up once again as his friends stepped out behind him, the four of them rising into the air as a group, banking around and over the eclectic collection of shops, and heading out to sea. X’s eyes scanned the water’s surface, before catching on a dip in the surface, a spot where lights glittered unnaturally from below, and twisting into a dive towards it, hitting the water and getting caught in the bubble column he’d installed for easy access to the room under the surface.

As he stepped out of the bubbles, however, he was met with a crash and a shocked cry, the sound of something metallic scrabbling against the wooden floorboards. X stopped dead, immediately on high alert, flicking his sword into his hand and creeping carefully towards the side room where the noise had come from. The scraping continued, and he could hear the unmistakably distorted voice of Evil Xisuma now, and although he couldn’t make out what he was saying, he sounded distressed.

A lump formed in X’s throat, as a matted knot of anxiety twisted in his chest, chasing out what amusement remained from earlier. Team ZIT had made their way into the room, whatever they were saying dying in their throats when they saw X, tense and armed, making his way across the room. Xisuma was nearly at the doorway now, and he paused, out of sight of the inside of the room, taking a deep breath, before, with more than a little anxiety, stepping out into full view, sword poised, ready to take on whatever lay within.

What he saw… wasn’t what he expected. EX was sitting on the floor, legs splayed out, one hand scrabbling with his helmet, the other grasping a Diamond helmet that lay beside him. He tensed as X walked in, head jerking up, one hand fiddling with the buttons on his palm to switch the angry expression on his helmet to one of shock, then confusion.

“Evil Xisuma??” X said, finally, letting his sword drop to his side, and his muscles relax. “Wh.. What.??”

“......... You invited me here, remember?” Ex said, tilting his head to the side. “I didn’t think your memory was that bad-”

“No, no I remember that. What was that crash? You had me worried, dude.”

“Oh. I.. uh…” Although it was hard to tell through the voice changer, Ex sounded… embarrassed. “.............. hrmph. If you really need to know, you lot took so long to get here that I decided to look around. I found this… armour dispenser and tried to use it,” As he spoke, he gestured vaguely behind him at the respawn kits X had laid out when he built this place. “But it just dropped a helmet directly on my head, and not only did it really hurt, but one of the cameras in my helmet is flickering and it’s driving me crazy!” With this final exclamation, he returned his expression to one of anger, and returned to fiddling with his helmet. X laughed. He couldn’t help it, the sudden buildup of anxiety needing somewhere to go. “Hey! Shut up!” Ex cried, clearly still embarrassed.

“Sorry, man-” X said, still chuckling. “Can’t help it, you got me so freaked out and all it was was you using one of my contraptions wrong-”

“I didn’t use it wrong, you built it badly!” Ex retorted, caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

“Sure, sure.” Said X, glancing behind him to see what Zed, Impulse, and Tango were up to. They were holding back, doing a very poor job of smothering their laughter. Even Tango, who was, understandably so, very wary of Ex couldn’t help but see the humour in this situation. X turned back to Ex. “You ready to go to Iskall’s base?”

“I guess” Ex said, still fiddling with his helmet, head listing to the right where, presumably, the damaged camera continued to annoy him. “But stop laughing!! We need to be serious!!” As he said this, he stooped down and picked up the Diamond helm that had fallen on him. “And take your stupid helmet!” He added, thrusting the thing in X’s direction. X shook his head, giving his clone a weary smile, before taking the helmet and stowing it in a chest, to be restocked later.

“Come on then.” X said warmly, leaving the side room and entering the central area once again. “I would say we should take the Nether, but that portal,” he gestured at the nether portal that sat across the room from them, “isn’t connected up yet, so it’s probably faster to just fly. Evil X, have you got an elytra?”

Evil X nodded, pulling off the Netherite chestplate he’d previously been wearing, and allowing a pair of dark, iridescent wings to stretch out behind them, the ruff of feathers at the back of his neck puffing up.

“Good. C’mon, everyone. I know the way from here, so just follow me.”

X leapt into the air, wings buzzing behind him, letting off a rocket to shoot through the water and up into the air, pausing to make sure he was being followed, before shooting off in the direction of the jungle, and Iskall’s tree base once again.

The flight was uneventful and quiet, an air of awkwardness hanging between the five of them. X was hardly surprised, but the silence did little to calm his still fayed nerves as they dove down the center of Iskall’s tree, landing in a small huddle amongst the scratched up floor and splatters of blood. X watched as Ex bent down to look at the marks, moving around and examining them fairly carefully. His helmet’s expression remained as angry and plain as ever, but judging by his body language, Ex was deep in thought. The hermits watched him, quiet, not wanting to interrupt, and after a few minutes, Evil Xisuma straightened up and spoke.

“...Yeah. I think I know who could’ve done this.”

“Who??” Demanded Tango, jumping in before even X could speak. Evil X shook his head.

“I want more evidence first. I’m not going to accuse any of my Helsmets without being sure. I know what you lot can be like.” X couldn’t help but notice Ex’s attention shift from Tango to Zedaph as he said this, and from Zed’s expression, he’d noticed it as well.

“But you think it’s a Helsmet?” Impulse asked carefully, hoping to break up the awkward atmosphere in the hollow tree..

“... Maybe.” Ex answered, his tone flat and tilted, clearly not keen on being asked so many questions. X opened his mouth to speak, before his communicator buzzed, pulling his attention away from whatever he was going to say. It buzzed again, and again, and he pulled it out, worried at who would have so much to say at this time. Out of the corner of his eyes. He could see the others doing the same. Even Evil X opened his communicator up to have a look.

Grian: Iskall just came to my mansion
Grian: He’s bleeding.
Grian: I can’t make it stop.

X felt himself tense up, adrenaline shooting through his body, heartbeat rising. He looked up, exchanging a silent look with his companions, before the five of them shot together into the sky, headed for Grian’s base.

Chapter Text

The five of them soared over the jungle, closing the short distance between the two bases with ease, touching down on Grian’s front door in less than a minute. The door was ajar, and they could see a trail of blood leading up the steps, with desperate, crimson hand prints on the door. Past that, the trail of blood became a smear, leading up to where Grian crouched over Iskall, hands pressed on a deep wound across his chest, with more visible on the man’s legs and face. They oozed with blood, particularly the facial ones, which seemed to be clustered around his eye, and which obscured most of his features with gore, matting his beard, and forcing him to hold the eye tightly closed. Even beyond the physical injuries, Iskall was clearly in a bad way. He was hunched half over, visibly trembling and rocking ever so slightly back and forth, the only thing keeping him from curling up fully was Grian keeping up the even pressure on his chest.

The little group paused for a moment at the door, Zed, at least, paralysed into inaction by shock at Iskall’s terrible state, as both men twisted around to look at them. Grian’s face lit up, despite obvious confusion at Ex’s presence, and he jerked his head at them, gesturing them over. Iskall, conversely, flinched away, and as they approached he leant away even more, trying to shuffle further from them. From his position slightly in front of Zed, X frowned and paused, dropping his voice to a low, soft tone.

“Iskall, dude, it’s ok, it’s us.”

Iskall stopped trying to move away, but remained visibly tense, swallowing.

“Hold still, it’s alright. What’s the matter buddy?” X continued, taking a step closer. This time, Iskall did not flinch away, but his gaze remained fixed on.. It was hard to tell, with the metal eye, but something just behind him and X.

Zed and X turned, both making eye contact with EX, who was just behind them, and the group seemed to come to the same realisation at the same time.

“It’s me.” Ex said, quietly, fiddling with a dial on the back of his mask, his voice audibly less distorted now. “I’ll… keep my distance. It’s alright.”

As he said this Iskall visibly relaxed, however remaining hunched, trembling. The group came over, sans Evil X, who stepped back and stood in the doorway, occasionally glancing outside, on the lookout for anything that may be awry. Zed found himself crouched beside Iskall, leaving him a little room and trying to stay out of the way of X who, organised as he was, was already rummaging through an ender chest to find a Golden Apple, or some other source of regeneration.

“So what happened?” Asked Tango, who was crouched beside Zed, giving Iskall room while also leaning in, curiosity battling with courtesy. Iskall swallowed, angling his face away from Tango, before shaking his head.

“I should’ve told you… I…. I should’ve warned you…. He’s… he’s back.. I sh.. Should’ve…” his voice, weak and trembling, trailed off as he shook his head more.

“It’s alright Iskall.” Grian assured him, reaching up with one bloodsoaked hand to get him to keep his head still, before returning it to the chest wound. “That’s all he’s said the whole time he’s been here.” He continued, shifting his attention to the room at large. “That and ‘help’, anyway.”

“Oh-” Tango managed, the air growing awkward. “So… We’re not finding out what happened any time soon then, I guess.”

“I guess not…” confirmed Zed, glancing at Tango.

“It’s alright though-!” Began Impulse, trying to keep his tone hopeful. “It’s probably for the best, really. Gives him time to feel better before having to give us any details.”

“I suppose…” mused Tango, shifting his weight onto his haunches and leaning back, running a hand through his smoking hair, stirring up embers. “Still. It’d be nice to know what we’re dealing with.”

“It would” came X’s voice as he pulled away from his ender chest, an enchanted golden apple in one hand and a health potion in the other. “But for now we can help him feel better. Iskall, which would you like?” He offered the two options to Iskall, who tilted his head ever so slightly in their direction, seemingly considering.

But Zedaph found that his attention was elsewhere. He tried to keep his focus on Iskall, he wanted to make sure the man was ok, but there was something wrong. Something distracting, just pulling on the edge of his psyche. The suggestion of a presence… It stirred up a long honed sense of danger that, for all he tried, Zed just couldn’t ignore.

And then he heard it. A conformation of this feeling, that they weren’t alone in the mansion. He jerked his head up, alert, at the faint sound of metal scraping against stone, and saw out of the corner of his eye that Evil X had done the same. His eyes found their way to the dark that gathered in the doorway to the east wing of Grian’s mansion, and he watched, muscles poised, hairs on the back of his neck prickling, waiting with baited breath for any other sign that something was there.

X was still, the potion fizzing all too conspicuously in his hand as it waited for Iskall’s choice. The jungle outside rustled in the soft, early morning breeze. Distant fire crackled from somewhere within the mansion.

And an unnatural light green light glinted from within the doorway.

Zed was on his feet in an instant, not about to ignore the deeply unsettled feeling that screamed in his chest, sprinting towards the doorway. Evil Xisuma was hot on his heels, his heavy boots casting loud footsteps through the mansion. Tango stumbled to his feet as well, Blaze rods bursting into existence in the air around him as he sprinted after the two of them.

And the thing in the doorway bolted too, it’s footsteps ringing metallically on the tiled floor of the unfinished east wing, desperate to find somewhere to go but met only with the outer walls of the Mansion’s facade. It scrambled to a stop, movements both mechanically jerky and far too smooth, and as the three of them cornered it, brimming with mismatched magic that seethed, ready to strike, it backed up into a beam of pale moonlight that streamed through a high up window on the Mansion’s wall, and Zedaph had to fight back sudden nausea as he saw his adversary for the first time.

It was a nightmare.

A twisted, slender form of metal and wire crouched poised before him, a hand tipped with nightmarish, blood splattered claws raised defensively, the overlapping razors chafing against one another as it moved them idly. It’s whole body was smattered in a shock of gore, new crimson dripping over a crust of old, browning blood, clogging the thing’s joints and making it smell like bitter, sanguine death.

Its face was dull, an expression of apathy hewn into features arranged in a crude facsimile of Iskall’s face. Tangled wire, meant to replicate hair, hung limp from it’s head, matted with thick clots of gristle, framing the face in horror.

But worse than that, worse than the bloodsoaked, metallic form that this nightmarish automaton carried like it was ill-fitted, were the parts of it that.. Weren’t metal at all.

Flesh was grafted messily onto the thing’s right arm, tanned, visibly infected skin half grown onto bloodstained metal, streams of fresh blood and pus still dripping down the thing from the sloppy connection, and yet more blood encrusting the metal claws that ruptured the fingertips and hung, mostly useless, at the thing’s side.

And in its face, accompanying an artificial, green glowing right eye, was a dull, lifeless human eyeball, framed in a smatter of its own, aging gore, held in place with rods and clotted blood in a socket clearly not designed for it.

But somehow, worse than that…. Zedaph recognised that eye. He knew what it looked like in life, warm, brown, brimming with humour, the skin around it crinkled in a great billowing laugh, the friendly face emoting around a great, metallic prosthetic over the left eye.

Zedaph’s breath caught in his throat as he came to a shuddering, horrifying realisation.

Iskall hadn’t lost his limbs. They had been taken.

And now this… thing was back for the rest of him.

Chapter Text

“Kokhet.”

EX’s voice was full of venom, even clearer with the lesser distortion as he took two quick steps towards the robot, putting himself between Tango, Zedaph, and Kokhet. His wings were partially unfolded, held out to the sides, the ruff of feathers at his neck puffed up, body stiff and ready for confrontation, but Zed couldn’t help but notice a slight quiver in Evil X’s hands, the way his breathing had picked up.

Kokhet, on the contrary, seemed relaxed, unconcerned. He leaned back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a too-smooth movement, cocking his head to the side stiffly. When he spoke, his mouth did not move, face set in permanent apathy, and instead the voice came from a circular speaker on his chest, muffled slightly by the gore that clogged the holes in it’s mesh covering.

“Evil Xisuma.”

His tone was flat, full of vague amusement underpinned with blatant contempt. His voice was a mechanical, false echo of Iskall’s. It hit all the right notes, but the instrument was out of tune, too close yet too far, enough to set your teeth on edge if they weren’t there already from his general appearance and manner.

The hair on the back of Zedaph’s neck stood up, and he unconsciously coiled yet more magic under his skin, black creeping into his sclera in anticipation. If Kokhet tried anything, he was ready. He knew hardly anything about the robot, but what he did know was that he was dangerous, and if he tried anything…. Well, Zed wouldn’t let him lay a single, bloody finger on his friends.

Still bristling, Evil X took another step towards Kokhet, looming over him in some kind of intimidation tactic. Yet Kokhet didn’t flinch, staying perfectly still, the only movement in his eye, which remained fixed on Evil Xisuma’s helmet, maintaining eye contact as best as he could with the Red LEDs in the screen.

“What are you doing here?” Evil X growled, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “We have no quarrel with the Hermits anymore!”

Kokhet laughed, the sound cold and mechanical, heartless. It was clear there was no emotion behind it.

“You think I’m here on behalf of anyone else? What does it look like I’m doing, Evil X? I’m finishing what I started.” The slightly light tone he had held at the beginning of the sentence trailed into darkness, and his body language shifted, no longer almost casual, but coiled, as if ready at any second to strike.

“Kokhet..” Evil X began, clearly not sure where to take this negotiation. “We don’t want any trouble with the hermits. I know what you’re like but just go home. It’s not worth causing all this mess.”

“It’s worth it for me.” Came Kokhet’s reply, the growl accompanied by an offputting high note in his voice, laced with anger and determination. Zed swallowed, not at all liking where this was going, and beside him he could feel Tango’s smouldering growing into flames. “You don’t tell me what to do. No one does! And nobody can stop me!” He snarled, a twisted joy grinding into his voice.

“Come on, be reasonable-!” Ex started, but he was cut off.

“No! No. I am doing as I please. I need this. I need to be Him, Evil Xisuma. You know what it’s like! But I feel it stronger… I need his blood, I need his pain, and you may be my admin, but you are NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO STOP ME!” Kokhet’s voice rose to a screech, and his head jerked to the side as he sparked, fixing Evil X with a glare filled with palpable hate. “None of you can stop me.” He added, voice low this time, his usual apathy creeping back in.
“Kokhet, listen-” Evil X began, but was again cut off. But this time it wasn’t by Kokhet’s angry words, but by him hurling himself into Evil X, knocking the armoured man to the floor with a painful crash, claws raised above his head, poised to rip EX limb from limb. However before he could do so, Zed and Tango, leapt into action, Tango shooting a volley of flames at Kokhet, forcing him off of EX, holding the stolen, human arm awkwardly away from the fires, as Zed managed to rush forwards and grab Evil Xisuma, dragging him away from the murderous automaton, trying to ignore the unnatural way one of EX’s wings stuck out and trailed behind him. Tango sprinted over to his side, and took Evil X by the arms, moving Zed out of the way as he did so.

“Zed!” he hissed, voice low but filled with urgency, eyes fixed not on Zedaph but on Kokhet, who had paused for a moment to ensure his arm was unscathed. “Get him! Voidificate! We need him out of here!” Zed shot him an unsure look, scrambling to get between them and Kokhet as the robot turned back to him.

“Are you sure-”

“Yes!! We need to get Iskall and EX out of here before that thing kills us!”

Zed wanted to protest further, but Kokhet had began his approach, and he really had no time, so he simply nodded, turning fully around to face his nightmarish adversary, pushing his magic up, ready to let it consume him as soon as Tango and EX were out of the room.

He held his ground as Kokhet’s casual walk turned into a sprint. He held his ground as that sprint became a leap, claws extended, straining for his face. He held his ground as Kokhet impacted him, knocking the two of them to the floor, Zed rolling with the blow, coming up on his feet, holding Kokhet and swinging around, throwing him to the ground away from the doorway. Zed risked a glance behind him just in time to see EX’s boots disappearing around the door, and he fought a spike of anxiety as he returned his gaze to Kokhet.

This was it.

It was time for Kokhet’s end.

Zed let his magic breach his skin, the feeling not unpleasant as his form collapsed into an incomprehensible mass of void, churning and rearing above Kokhet, fixing him with more eyes than Zed cared to account for, acutely aware that, really, he had none at all. Kokhet stopped dead, gazing up at him with the closest he could come to disbelief with those empty, gore-splattered eyes.

At any second, Zed expected him to begin to twitch, to short out, to collapse, to die, and yet Kokhet just… stood there, cocking his head to the side, looking almost… what emotion was that? Incredulous? Curious?

And then he straightened up once more, and began to laugh. This laugh, however, was not empty or artificial. It was genuine, a horrifying mirror to Iskall’s distinct, joyous laugh.

Somehow that was worse.

“What is this supposed to be? You think you can scare me off?”

Zedaph went to reply, searching for words he couldn’t articulate in any language Kokhet could comprehend, utterly dumbfounded at this…. Plain defiance. How.. How was he alive?? No one survived! No one’s brain could handle him! He melted minds just by proximity! He shattered realities, splintering worlds with every second he existed in his true form!

How could this be??

Zed drew upon magic he hadn’t had to use in a long time, cloying, reaching arms of Void shooting from the ground around Kokhet, each trained on his figure, as Zed felt uncharacteristic anger bubbling up within him.

If Kokhet wouldn’t die like the others, if Kokhet wanted to rip apart his friends, to wear their skin as his own, then he, too, could know the pain of being ripped limb from limb.

Zed surged towards Kokhet in unison with the Void, as the robot leapt into sudden motion, much faster than he had any right to be, leaping deftly between the arms of Void that came for him, managing to leap and grab onto the wall, forcing his talons through stone and climbing up towards the window. Zed threw himself after him, grabbing one bloodstained leg, the corrosive hiss of Void against the metal and gore filling the room with the smell of death, and Kokhet let out a sound of shock as he realised that if he didn’t slip Zed’s grip, he would lose that leg entirely.

He surged upwards, kicking with both legs, driving the talons into the wall, Zed easily keeping up his grip, regardless of how Kokhet struggled and kicked to try and get out of it, and he yanked on the leg, looking to drag Kokhet down to the ground, to utterly destroy him with Void.

But he had left it too late, Kokhet’s lower leg coming away in his appendage, and Kokhet took the chance to close the distance between himself and the window, leaping out of it and crashing away through the jungle before Zed had any chance to intercept him. And as his adversary disappeared, the rage did too, and Zed sank back into his regular form, still clutching Kokhet’s leg in one hand.

He had failed.

Chapter Text

Evil Xisuma crouched beside the small group of hermits, trying to keep the shaking from his limbs. His wing was agony, and his chest still ached from where Kokhet had knocked him to the floor. Gorey marks were scored down his chestplate, and Evil X couldn’t feel anything other than relief that the blood wasn’t his. He flinched against the sound of battle and the stench of void that emanated from the adjacent room, and forced out unpleasant memories of that same void coming for him, instead lending his attention to Xisuma, who was talking to him, softly. The words didn’t register in his mind but the feeling of a potion being thrust into his trembling hands did, and he clutched at it, squeezing down on the glass under his gloves, trying to dampen the pain in his broken wing with some other sensation as he reached with one hand for the lower part of his helmet, detaching it and drawing in a deep breath of Jungle air, not used to the feeling of the humidity as it entered his lungs, forcing down a cough and instead bringing the healing potion to his lips. It was bitter, but buzzed with power, and he tensed as it found its mark in his wing, the pain intensifying for a moment as the potion pulled torn muscle and fractured bone into place, knitting the flesh together, before fading, leaving him with nothing more than an ache where there was once a break, and a large excess of adrenaline in his system.

“Thanks.” he muttered, his voice low, half from the echoes of pain, and half because he didn’t want any unwelcome listeners in to hear him. Xisuma smiled under his helmet.

“No problem.”

Evil X settled down into a sitting position, flexing his wing absently, open, closed, open, closed, feeling the ache throb nonchalantly. He flinched at the sound of a metallic screech from the other room, before pausing, cautious, when the sounds of battle stopped abruptly. He swallowed, carefully reconnecting the bottom half of his mask with a faint click, before standing up, steadying himself against the column the group found themselves gathered around. Every face was turned to the doorway as Zedaph walked out, panting, face downturned, a few traces of void dripping from his eyes and something clutched in his hand. He took a few, tired steps towards them, before sighing and running his free hand through his hair, tossing the object their way. EX frowned, taking an almost unconscious step away from the bloodstained, void-damaged portion of Kokhet’s leg as it slid across the floor towards him. Behind him, Grian opened his mouth to speak, but Zed got there first.

“He got away.” His tone was dull and clipped, full of suppressed disappointment, and Impulse was quick to step in with a few comforting words.

“That’s alright! You did your best, and we’re all ok! We know who he is now, too. Evil X seemed to know him, don’t you?” The last bit was directed to EX, and he nodded.

“I do. That was Kokhet, Iskall’s, uh… Hels.”

Zedaph didn’t seem to look any happier, but he closed the distance that remained between him and the rest of the group, clearly wanting to hear what EX knew. EX couldn’t help but feel a thread of worry start to twist in his chest. He tried not to give out too much information about his servermates, it was rude, but… He guessed this was an exceptional circumstance.

“Ok. So, Kokhet was built by FlimFlam- our Mumbo- as sort of... “ He turned a few phrases over in his mind, looking for the right word, twisting his hand as he did so, “As… protection. An ‘attack dog’ for lack of a better phrase. He answers only to him, and is really violent. Somehow it looks like he’s gotten some sort of… fixation, on becoming organic? I don’t know where that came from, but one day he left Hels and came back wearing someone’s arm so he’s clearly pretty devoted to it. Never did find out where he got that arm, though….” EX trailed off once he caught the look on Iskall’s face. A half-formed thought tugged at his mind as Iskall began to speak, his voice wavering ever so slightly, but stronger than EX had expected from him, after everything that had happened tonight.

“He got it from me. I- I’m sorry, I should’ve told you all before- I just. I didn’t want to worry you and I didn’t think it was something you needed to know, especially after everything that happened with The Blood Moon-” Ex winced internally at this, but chose not to introject, “I didn’t think he’d come back but.. I guess I was wrong. He.. He wants the rest of me.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Well,” Grian said, finally, “He’s not getting it.”

“No, he’s not.” Tango added.

“Ex,” X began, eyes flicking to his clone,

“Yes?”

“You said that he only answers to your Hels Mumbo, right?”

“FlimFlam, yes.”

“Do you think you could maybe.. Ask him to help us? I’m sure he doesn’t want his robot off in some distant server, causing trouble. Sounds like he’d rather have him at home, protecting him.”

EX hesitated, before glancing at the discarded, metal limb on the floor.

“Flim definitely wouldn’t be happy that Kokhet’s wandered off…. And he’s already gotten himself pretty badly damaged… I’ll give him a call.” He said, finally, reaching for his communicator.

“Wait- are you sure?” Came Zed’s voice, concerned. “Is- Is another Hels what we need? No offence-”

“None taken.”

“But he built this robot to be a killing machine! Can we really trust him?”

EX snorted. “Absolutely not. But, he built him to be a killing machine for a specific purpose, one that he’s definitely not fulfilling right now. Besides, He’s weirdly attached to Kokhet. He gets all worried whenever he runs off, even though I’d struggle to think of anyone who’s actually a threat to him. Flim should help us. And if he doesn’t, then the only other option we have to subdue his robot is to destroy him.” Under his helmet, EX grinned an ugly grin. “And I’m sure he wouldn’t like that.”

Zed shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.” EX smiled to him, before realising he couldn’t see his mouth and pressing down one of the buttons on his glove to make the LED eyes on his helmet wink, which managed to get a snort out of Iskall. EX smiled to himself as he opened up the communicator and navigated his way to FlimFlam. He was glad Iskall was feeling better.

Evil X lifted the communicator up to the side of his helmet as it buzzed, before being answered.

“Hello? Evil X, what’s up?” The voice was a little rough, but still carried a similar accent to his Hermit counterpart, albeit a little more confident, and a little less patient.

“FlimFlam, we have a problem,-”

“Ah- EX, you know my help doesn’t come for free! Tell me what you need and I’ll tell you my price.” EX grimaced, and would’ve rolled his eyes if he had any to roll.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, FlimFlam. This is the kind of problem you need to fix for free.” The other end of the line went quiet, before FlimFlam let out a long-suffering sigh.

“What has he done this time?”

EX let out a strained laugh.

“Oh where do I begin? He broke onto the Hermitcraft server, tried to kill his hermit equivalent, tried to kill said equivalent’s friends, tried to kill me-”

“Ok! Ok I’ll come and get him. He’s on Hermitcraft you say? Is he injured? I’d assume that lot would fight back.”

“Oh, they did.” Ex’s gaze fell on the leg. “He’s missing a limb. It’ll probably make him easier to catch though, I think he needed that leg to run?”

“A leg-?! Oh- Bollocks. Alright. I’ll be right over.” There was a pause. “Where exactly… is the hermitcraft portal? I know you moved it a while ago, after the Helsknight incident, but you never actually told us where it was.”

“Oh, right, yeah. It’s in my base- Go down the stairway to my mine, halfway down is an indent in the wall. Put a feather in there and then go through the piston door that’ll open. You got that?”

“I’ve got it. I wonder how Kokhet found it…?”

“You can ask him that when you get here. We’ll meet you at spawn.”

“Ok. I’ll.. I’ll see you there.”

With a click, FlimFlam hung up.

“So, he’s coming?” Asked Xisuma, and EX nodded.

“He’s coming. He sounded worried, which is good for us because it means he probably won’t try to swindle us or anything.”

“Is that likely?” Asked Tango, a worried note in his voice. EX chuckled.

“It’s literally his whole business model back home. Why do you think he needs a defence robot? Scammed the wrong people. But this is a bit different to selling machines that don’t work. We should be fine.” Ex paused, hesitating. “But keep an eye on him.” He added.

“... Will do”

“Anyway, he should be here soon, and we need to get going. Can everyone walk?” EX tried not to stare at Iskall, but his gaze fell on him all the same. Iskall nodded, and with a hand from Grian he got shakily to his feet. He was still visibly shaken up, but the bleeding had subsided and he looked a lot less like a rabbit caught in some headlights.

With X and Grian pulling out ahead, the group took to the air together, mismatched wingbeats carrying them through the stark, white light of the moon. Evil X didn’t like the nervy way that the Hermits kept glancing at it, it made his stomach churn a little. Their wings carried them over the shopping district and, for the second time that night, the small crowd descended into the water, landing in the spawn hub. FlimFlam wasn’t there yet, and EX out a slightly relieved sigh. He needed a second to rest after the non-stop nonsense of tonight. He stepped back and leant against the wall, taking in a deep breath.

It was then that FlimFlam came in through one of the Portals. Ex tried not to show his disappointment at not getting the rest he needed, and he straightened up, walking over to the doppelganger. Flim looked the same as ever, perhaps a little more scruffy. His shirt, stained with redstone and dotted with burn holes, was hanging out of his trousers, the sleeves rolled up. His hair and moustache were undone and scruffy, and his hands were tucked into the space between the toolbelt he always wore around his waist and his hips. A pair of goggles sat on top of his head, like he’d forgotten they were on there, and honestly he probably had. Despite this, he carried himself with an air of confidence and professionalism which just barely failed to cover the strained worry in his eyes. Even so, the others seemed to want to keep their distance.

“Hey, Flim.” EX said, trying to keep his tone neutral. FlimFlam nodded to him.

“Hello… everyone.” He said, a little awkwardly, smiling to the gathered Hermits. “I’m FlimFlam- and- well, you probably knew that already. I heard my robot was causing you some trouble?”

“Some trouble is an understatement.” Said Tango, bluntly, and FlimFlam ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Perhaps it is. But! I can help you. You see- I knew what kind of robot I was making when I built him! So I added in a few failsafes. I can totally deactivate him and take him home! Then he can’t bother you anymore. The issue is getting close enough to do that- I designed it so that these failsafes can only be activated by me, and if he sees me he’ll know I’m here to deactivate him and take him away, so he’ll probably just run off… hm.”

The room went quiet for a moment, before Grian spoke.

“We could always trap him..” He suggested, eyeing FlimFlam with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You’re right! We could!” FlimFlam said, excitedly, snapping his fingers. “And… I know just what we can use as bait. Well…” He began, with a half grin. “Not really what, but who.”

The room went tense as FlimFlam’s eyes fell on Iskall.

Chapter Text

“You’re sure about this?”

“Positive!” FlimFlam said, with a smile that really didn’t match his too-chipper tone, and Tango sighed. He hated this plan. He didn’t trust FlimFlam one bit- at EX’s own advice- and yet everyone was on board with this crazy dangerous plan he’d concocted. Even so, he supposed they didn’t really have much of a choice. What else could they possibly do?

“Ok, ok, fine. Just, run us through it again? I don’t think Zed was listening.” Tango said, shooting Zed a sly half-smile.

“Hey-!”

“Okay, but this is the short version because we’re kind of pressed for time.” came Flim, his voice tense. “You three,” he gestured towards Tango, Impulse, and Zed, “need to distract him until the trap is set up. Then you need to get him to us. We’ll post our coords in chat when we’re done, I’m sure you can do something with that.” Impulse nodded, smiling, as if he already had something in mind. “We will set up the trap. It doesn’t have to be particularly sophisticated, actually the simpler the better, less things to go wrong.”

“Funny how you’re sending three redstone guys out to distract him when we could be helping you make a super awesome Koket-trapinator.”

FlimFlam gave Tango an incredulous look.

“I have all the redstone knowledge I need by myself. Anyway, X and Iskall are just as, if not more, competent at redstone than you three.”

“Owch” Impulse winced, his tone far from serious. Flim sighed.
“And, I guess, you three are probably the least destructible ones here. And, so I’ve been told, work well as a team.”

“Debatable! But we’ll do just fine! And we’re happy to do our part.” said Zed, shooting Tango a look as he said the last part, and Tango rolled his eyes playfully.

“Yes, yes of course I’m happy to do this. We’ve gotta stop that guy and this is the best, _{and only}, plan we’ve got.”

“Great!” FlimFlam exclaimed, cutting short any further conversation between the three. “In that case, I should get going and help the others come up with a trap, and you three should get luring!” He grinned a forced smile and backed up, unfurling elytra that were a steampunk mess of metal plates, jets of flame, and, in Tango’s opinion, excessively large cogs.

“Wait!” Impulse interjected, and Flim sighed.

“Yes?”

“How do we even find him? He could be anywhere!”

“You saw the way he went from where you last encountered him, right?”

“Yeah,” Began Zed, before FlimFlam cut him off.

“Great! Follow the trail of blood. Good luck!” He exclaimed, leaping into the air before any of them could say anything more.

“What the heck, man??” Tango yelled after him, but his words, and FlimFlam, were lost to the wind.

“Rude.” added Zed, pouting. Impulse chuckled.

“We should get going then, I suppose.”

“Mmhm.” Tango responded, unfurling his flaming elytra and hoping vaguely that he could fly through the water over the Spawn Point fast enough that his wings didn’t go out. He glanced over at his friends to see them, too, readying themselves to fly. Without so much as a signal, the three took off together, fighting through the water and soaring up and over the shopping district, headed for the Jungle.

Their first destination was the mansion. They circled around the outside, looking for the window that Kokhet had climbed out of. It wasn’t too difficult to find, a trail of blood and void smeared down the wall, before stopping abruptly halfway down- Kokhet had clearly jumped. The three of them circled and landed in a small group below the window, looking out into the jungle.

“...wow.” Impulse said, bluntly, eyes following the trail of trampled leaves and desperate claw marks on wood.

“I did take his leg off.” Zedaph supplied, glancing towards Impulse, who shook his head.

“This is more than just missing a leg, Zed. Look at the claw marks, look at the branches he’s torn down. He wanted to get away, and quickly. I think you scared him.”

“Can he even feel fear? Or, like, any emotion?” Tango mused, frowning.

“It looked like it.” Impulse replied. “He sounded pretty angry when EX asked him to stop killing people.” Tango shrugged.

“True.”

The three of them set off into the jungle, following Kokhet’s path with relative ease. It was a stark contradiction to the calculated, almost invisible stalking the robot had done earlier that night, and one that gave Tango a boost of confidence. They really had him on the back foot now, so to speak, and an airy, light conversation drifted between them as they followed Kokhet’s path out of the jungle and into an open plain. Aside from a few meters of scattered leaves and branches from the Jungle, there was very little to follow out here.

“Oh come on!” Zed moaned, “It was so easy! Why did he have to ruin it?”

“Oh so this is where you draw the line, huh?” Tango teased, glancing over at Impulse to see if his joke had landed. But Impulse’s face was grim, his eyes fixed on something silhouetted against the horizon. Tango faltered, and followed his gaze.

“Wh… Oh. Oh no.” He muttered as he recognised the shape of a village. The streets were empty, not unusual for a village at night, but no smoke billowed out of the chimneys, not even the Blacksmith was lit. “You don’t think…?”

“I hope not.” Impulse replied. “But where else could he have gone?” Tango swallowed, as the three of them set off towards the village.

—

The Hermits were strange, FlimFlam had decided. So kind, so eager to share, to help. Back home if someone offered you something for free it was definitely some kind of trap. Back home if someone greeted him with a smile… well. He had built Kokhet for a purpose. And yet here they were all so genuine and nice, he couldn’t tell if it was a nice change or completely offputting. Either way it definitely made working on this trap much easier, and Flim smiled as he listened to the Hermits debate and present their trap ideas. He cleared his throat to get their attention, turning on his heel as he did so to face them.

“These ideas are all well and good, but.. They just won’t do.” He spread his palms to accentuate the point a little as Iskall, Xisuma, And EX gave him matching, slightly hurt looks. “Listen, we need Kokhet caught, and we need him caught quickly and flawlessly. There’s no room for anything to go wrong, and with so many moving parts? Something is going to go wrong. Not to mention you’re relying on him following your server’s rules. A little bit of brute force and he’s out! Not that I blame you, of course. You don’t have to build to account for any… Real resistance on this server.” He grinned wryly, making sure his backhanded jabs landed. It felt good to be in control of the situation for once, to not have to rely on Kokhet to make sure his voice was heard. “Here’s my idea. A classic iron door trap. We conceal the doors underground, only to spring up and close when he trips a tripwire. All our friend Iskall has to do is run across the wire without tripping it and we’re golden.” He pulled his lips into a soft smile he didn’t feel. “You can do that, can’t you Iskall?” Iskall huffed, visibly annoyed.

“Of course I can.”

“Great! Let’s get to building.” Flim said, laughing quietly to himself. You really could get away with anything here. As he reached into his inventory for redstone supplies, EX came up to him, fixing him with a hard glare. Though Flim loved to undermine his admin at every chance he got, and would never admit it, the guy was intimidating. He swallowed. “Yes, Evil X?”

“I brought you here to clean up your mess, not to antagonize the Hermits. You made Kokhet, his mess is yours as well. You’re lucky we’re even tolerating you. We all know you need him caught as much as we do. Stop trying to pretend you could do this without us, stop being a prick, and get on with it. This isn’t your chance to make up for the superiority you can’t have at home.”

Flimflam could feel himself shrinking away from EX as he loomed over him, arms crossed. He hesitated, before straightening up, and brushing his hair back.

“Fine. I’ll be nice to these hermits of yours. But- B-” He faltered, unable to really come up with something, and from under his mask EX snorted, satisfied.

“That’s right. Now come on, we need to install this thing as fast as possible.”

Flim huffed as EX turned to join the Hermits as they worked, once again reminded why he built Kokhet. What was he without him? Just some scammy inventor who was too big for his boots. He had to show them. He would show them. For a moment, plans of clandestine revenge brewed in his head, of taking over both servers, of destroying Vexcorp, of replacing both Xisumas as admin… but… no. That wasn’t what he wanted, was it? He didn’t want power, he wanted something else.. Something harder to get. His features set as he settled on a course of action, and he smiled for real as he pulled out some redstone components and walked over to join the others on working on his trap.

—

The village was a mess. Doors ripped off hinges, blood splattered on walls, the air thick with lingering fear. Most of the villagers didn’t seem hurt, at least not physically, and they huddled in groups in the houses that hadn’t been damaged, watching Tango, Impulse, and Zed walk by with suspicious eyes. But the gazes of the villagers weren’t what occupied the Hermits at this moment. Nor were the splinters of broken wood, or faint crying from somewhere in the village.

No.

A streak of crimson blood snaked down the main thoroughfare of the village, between the stalls, culminating at the village’s well, marking where a body had very clearly been dragged. Tango swallowed nervously as the three of them followed it and approached the well, nervous. He hoped the blood was just residue from Kokhet’s general muckiness, but he knew better.

They paused as they reached the well, none of them wanting to look inside. The smell was enough to tell them what was waiting at the bottom, but even so… Somehow it felt like they had to look. Had to make sure. Tango glanced over at Impulse and Zedaph, twin looks of apprehension on their faces, and he steeled his own expression. Someone had to look, and it would be him. That way his friends didn’t have to see what laid at the bottom of that well. He’d seen some gross things before, mostly burns, and those could get pretty gnarly. Surely Kokhet couldn’t do anything worse.

Taking a deep breath, Tango stepped forward and looked down into the well.

The smell hit him before the sight really did. If he thought the stench was bad before it was much worse now, putrefying flesh and blood mixing into a dark, heavy scent of rot. Something buzzed at the bottom of the well, and something else squirmed, and the body- Tango was glad he couldn’t see this poor Testificate’s face as it floated face-down in the water, it’s skin already paling and it’s body already bloating. Tango tried to force himself to focus, fighting down the urge to vomit. What was rot and what was Kokhet? That bit of split skin was definitely down to decay, but that.. That looked like claw marks. And.. hang on, where was their leg??

Tango stepped back, snorting hard to try and get the stink of decomposition out of his nose. Impulse and Zed stepped closer to him, Impulse resting on hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ok? You’re almost as pale as Mumbo” Zed said, trying to inject a little humour into what was an objectively humourless situation. Tango chuckled, mostly just to humour him.

“Uh-” he swallowed. “Looks.. Looks like Kokhet needed a new leg.”

Impulse and Zed’s eyes widened.

“He got one from a villager??” Impulse asked. Tango nodded.

“Oh my god.” Zed muttered, pushing one hand into his hair. “This is my fault.”

“No!” Impulse interjected. “No it’s not, come on Zed!”

“Yeah, You didn’t know he’d go off and decide to terrorise a village and murder a guy to replace it!” Tango added, and Impulse gave him a look. Tango squirmed a little. “Heh- what I mean is.. He didn’t have to do this! He decided to do it, nothing to do with you.”

Zedaph’s eyes flicked between the two of them, and he sighed, shaking his head. “Alright. Come on, let’s go and look for him.”

“.... Sure buddy, let’s go.” Tango conceded, deciding to not comment on the fact that Zed was decidedly not agreeing with them as they turned from the soiled well and started back towards the Jungle.

—

From somewhere in the dark beyond the village, eyes fixed on the trio of Hermits, Kokhet dropped onto his haunches, carefully skirting the light of the Village, letting the long grass hide his figure and hoping the reek of the body in the well would hide the rest. He didn't yet know why these Hermits were stalking him, but a flicker of excitement danced within at the thought of turning the tables on them. They thought he’d returned to the Jungle!

A phrase the FlimFlam had used to describe his purpose came to mind, and if his metal face had allowed for it, Kokhet would’ve smiled.

It was time for the hunters to become the hunted.

Chapter Text

Kokhet crawled on all fours through the tall grass of the plains, careful not to make the grass rustle any more than it reasonably would against the light wind. He didn’t need to see the Hermits to follow them, they were loud enough even without their constant chattering, but he raised his head above the grass every now and then anyway. Even in the dark they were easy to track by sight. What was the sense in sending out someone who glowed? Whoever was behind this little venture of theirs lacked any common sense, or was baiting him. The more cynical part of him erred to the latter option, but at the same time…. Suffice it to say he didn’t hold the Hermits in high esteem. They would absolutely send a glowing man on a stealth mission, and he knew it.

As the little group crossed the treeline, Kokhet drew himself up to his full height, stumbling a little, clumsy on his new leg. He rolled his eye, and crept after his quarry, careful to keep his footsteps as quiet as he could. The Villager’s leg was imperfect, clunky, always catching sticks and leaves, and he counted himself lucky that the sound was drowned out under the drone of the jungle, with its leaves rustling in the wind, and air filled with the cries of various animals, it was the perfect environment to mask movement. Although, with how much the Hermits were talking, Kokhet was fairly sure he could just saunter up behind them unnoticed even without the jungle sounds covering his footsteps. He was, honestly, very tempted to just jump them, but held back. He needed to see what they were doing, and he couldn’t do that with them dead.

Unfortunately.

The Hermits paused in a clearing, apparently to check their communicators, and Kokhet drew close, hovering at the edge, listening in and taking the opportunity to swat bugs off of his body. They were drawn to him, the blood and exposed flesh attracting them like, well, flies. It was a common problem, and although he couldn’t feel them on his body the constant buzzing was a bother all the same. He cursed the Jungle, the humidity attracting such insects in swarms. He swore they were bigger here too. He shook himself off like a dog, displacing a cloud of the horrid things, before stopping dead as one of the Hermits turned to frown off into the Jungle.

“Did you guys hear something?” He asked, his purple eyes glinting just a little too brightly in the moonlight, as if they were trying too hard to convince you that they were, indeed, eyes.

“Nope.” One of his companions responded, shrugging, and the glowing one shook his head as well.

“Must’ve been a parrot.”

The Purple-Eyed One furrowed his brow and swallowed, before turning back to his comrades.

“Yeah. Must’ve been.”

Kokhet waited a beat for them to get moving again, before allowing himself to relax slightly. Curse this server and it’s uncanny inhabitants! Curse their need to travel in packs, curse this… this whole thing! He clenched his jaw, feeling metal press against metal, and flexed the claws on his left hand, the razor-like plates gliding cleanly against each other despite the clotted gore. He had to remember why he was doing this. His body ached for flesh, for the heavy burden of organics. And his mind.. He needed to be more than the bodyguard of FlimFlam. He needed to be more than the twisted mirror to Iskall. He had to be the only one.

The Only One.

Kokhet steeled himself. He hated it here, but it would be worth it to wear Iskall’s face as his own, once and for all. And, after brushing a few more bugs from his form, he lurched back into motion, following the Hermits, skirting around the clearing.

Kokhet continued to follow the Hermits for nearly another 40 minutes, waiting, watching, listening. Their conversation was mostly asinine, full of unnecessary worry, until, finally, one of them said something worth paying attention to.

“I wonder how the others are getting on…” It was the Glowing One talking, pulling out his communicator as he did so. His voice was raised, and if his face allowed for it, Kokhet would’ve frowned. It was weird, but, even so, he had to stick with it.

“They’re probably fine,” responded the Hermit dressed in black and yellow. Something was off about this one too, Kokhet noted. He felt like decay. “I do hope Kokhet hasn’t found them though…”

Now this really piqued Kokhet’s interest, and he quickened his pace, drawing closer so he wouldn’t miss anything.

In his intent to hear them better, Kokhet missed Zed sneak him a glance, missed the lack of surprise in his eyes.

“It would be really bad if he had.” the Uncanny One chimed in, leaning towards his flaming friend. “We should probably go there and check. Do you think you could ask for coords?”

“They’ve already sent them.” came the response, and suddenly Kokhet had heard enough. These three were doing nothing of interest but these mysterious ‘others’? Who they specifically wanted him to avoid? It could be a trap, yes, but also… he had to know. Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but he’d killed plenty of cats himself…

He’d made up his mind. He needed those coordinates, and so… he needed that communicator, and the easiest way he could think of to do that was to tear it from the Hermit’s cold, dead, hands. Flexing his claws, he crouched, reading to strike. He would have to be quick and decisive. He could still feel the cold burn of… whatever the Purple-Eyed Hermit had gotten on his leg, and he didn’t want to feel it again. He shifted to the side, lining himself up so that he had a clear path to the Burning One. Fire didn’t bother him. One of the Hermits muttered something to his companions under his breath. Kokhet didn’t like that, but it was too late to turn back, too late to reconsider. He’d committed now.

In a single move, Kokhet pounced, leaping from his crouch, claws outstretched and poised to tear through flesh, skin, and anything else that got in his way. The Hermits scattered, and the Blaze went down, hitting the floor hard, yelling, Kokhet’s claws leaving deep gashes in his chest. Kokhet didn’t stop to hesitate, grabbing at the communicator and yanking it from the Hermit’s hands, before raising his claws to strike the hermit once again, eye fixed on his jugular.

Kokhet swung as hard as he could for the neck, but his hand was intercepted by dark claws, which wrapped around his arm and heaved him off of his quarry, who scrambled to his feet, running to the Blonde One’s side. Kokhet tried to pull himself from the remaining Hermit’s grasp, but his grip held tight, and he readied a sword with his other hand, although Kokhet was sure he didn’t really need it. With a grating screech, he shifted his weight from his legs, letting the Hermit hold him up, and swung from his arm, kicking at his legs. He couldn’t do much damage, but it had the intended effect, catching the Clawed One off guard and causing him to lose his grip. As Kokhet picked himself up off the ground, the Hermit hesitated before, seemingly at the ushering of his companions, turning and running, the three crashing away into the jungle.

Kokhet sighed, sitting down. That was not an unexpected attack. They had been expecting him. Of course they had been expecting him. He’d been so arrogant not to see it. The whole thing was a set up. And this? He lifted the communicator up to his face, reading chat.

Xisumavoid: Hey, where are you?
Xisumavoid: We’re at -1171, 1272

This was definitely a trap. But it was also his best chance at finally getting what he wanted. If he could turn it on them somehow, use it as a chance to take out all the opposition to his plans….

Making a mental note of the coordinates, Kokhet crushed the communicator in his hand, the sparks causing a little electrical jitter to make its way up his arm.

He could still turn this around. Tonight could still go his way.

With the coordinates on the forefront of his mind, he turned and scampered off into the Jungle, noting that the three Hermits had gone the other way. Fine. Good! They wouldn’t get in his way.

The coordinates were some way away from the bases that the Hermits had set up in the jungle. He wasn’t one for the pretty things in life, but even he had to admit that they were impressive, such gaudy structures would hardly last a day back on Helscraft, so he hadn’t really seen anything like it before. So many precious resources, just sitting around… These Hermits were so naive. He ignored the part of himself that wished that kind of trust existed on his server. There was no room for wishful thinking in his mind.

The coordinates lead to a clearing, and as he approached he could see a figure standing in the centre, seemingly on a call on their Communicator. They paced slightly, occasionally glancing at the sky and at the trees. Kokhet paused, squinting. Their gait was familiar, and as he drew closer, he could make out the main tones of their voice. It was full, and expressive, and Kokhet felt a rush of excitement course through his body, followed quickly by suspicion. It was Iskall.

Oh, this was definitely a trap.

He drew yet closer, pausing at the tree line. Iskall’s back was to him, and Kokhet took the opportunity to scan the trees around the clearing. He couldn’t see anyone, but it was night in the middle of a jungle, so it’s not like he had much light to work with. It was utterly silent, save for Iskall’s side of the conversation and the wind in the trees. The animals around here were silent. They must’ve been disturbed…

Kokhet took a moment to consider his options, doing a lot more thinking than he usually would. But this was important, and he could be pragmatic when he wanted to. It was clear to him that Iskall was being used as bait in a trap. It was riskier than he would’ve expected from the Hermits, so they had to be pretty confident in this working, or else they wouldn’t risk one of their own like this. Whoever else was here must be waiting in the trees. Probably Xisuma and Evil Xisuma, based on the chat messages. This was fine by him. The two were shapeshifters but they were only flesh and blood, and if it could bleed he was confident in his ability to kill it. The three other Hermits were out of the picture, having scampered off in the wrong direction. If they were coming here, he would’ve noticed. If he was quick, if he finished all three of them before they could reasonably do anything to him, he would be fine. The trap would fail, and he would succeed and could finally get the hell out of this place.

If he could, Kokhet would’ve grinned. The Hermits thought they were clever, huh? He’d already underestimated them, it was their turn to underestimate him.

Kokhet waited a beat, making sure Iskall wasn’t going to turn around, before breaking the cover of the trees, taking one, too, three steps, each faster than the last before leaping at Iskall, claws outstretched. Iskall turned and yelled, Kokhet obviously closer than he had expected, and he stumbled out of the way, Kokhet sliding along the ground, claws dragging long gouges in the mud and leaf litter. Iskall began to run for the trees, and Kokhet pulled himself to his feet and ran after him, hampered by his temporary leg but gaining all the same. It seemed odd to him that no one had come to challenge him from the trees. There was no way Iskall was alone…

Kokhet took another swipe at Iskall, but his claws missed by inches, and Iskall glanced over his shoulder, palpable fear in his eye mixing with a strange determination, before he turned, eyes fixed not on the trees, but on the ground in front of him.

….This was weird. Kokhet didn’t like it.

He let his gaze fall on the ground as well, eye fixed on the floor by Iskall’s feet, and he faltered slightly as Iskall’s gait shifted, one step shortened so that he could put his other foot forwards, as if he was trying to avoid something….

Then Kokhet saw it, a thin sliver of light glinting off of a tripwire that was stretched across the forest floor. Kokhet had little time to react, and despite how low to the ground it was, he lept it, really not wanting to get caught up in whatever it would activate. So that’s how they were playing it, huh? With renewed ferocity, he doubled down on his pursuit of Iskall, who glanced behind him once again, preemptive triumph turning to shock and terror as he saw that Kokhet had dodged the trap. Kokhet would’ve grinned, that sweet look of pure horror was so satisfying to him.

“WHAT DO WE DO NOW??” Iskall cried, confirming Kokhet’s theory that he wasn’t alone. Kokhet lunged for him again, but Iskall turned sharply, just dodging his claws, and Kokhet grumbled in annoyance. Annoyance that was quickly truncated when he heard the voice that replied.

“KEEP RUNNING- LEAVE THIS TO ME.”

It was FlimFlam.

Kokhet’s annoyance twisted to anger in a moment, and he swung towards the voice, Iskall forgotten in his betrayal.

FlimFlam.

He knew his creator disapproved of his pursuit of flesh, but… To side with the Hermits? To set him up? To try and lure him into a trap, like some kind of animal? That was too much. It was too much! He let out a furious screech as Flim emerged from the trees, and charged him, claws already raising in a wild arc. Flim didn’t turn away, he didn’t flinch, even as Kokhet sliced through his face, blood surging from the cuts in an instant, instead using his proximity to Kokhet to reach around to the little switch at the base of his head that they both knew would shut him off, face set in determination. He flicked it, and the two made eye contact for a moment as they passed and turned to each other, creator and creation at odds.

In the few moments of lucidity Kokhet had before he shut down, he noted the pain in Flimflam’s eyes, the tremor in his hands as he raised them to the cuts. He realised that he didn’t want this, that nothing was worth causing this kind of pain to his creator- to his one and only friend.

As his vision failed and he felt himself begin to fall, an unfamiliar emotion cut through him, more painful than any void searing through his body, than any ache for form or flesh.

For the first time in his life, Kokhet felt guilty.