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aquaquadrant · 10 months

Text

from eden, part VIII

Word count: 11,296

Warnings: Shipping, self-deprecating thoughts, strong language, violence, blood/injury, mild gore, death, animal death

Summary: After a couple peaceful months living on the ranch with Tango, Jimmy thinks he’s finally found true contentment. Until a stranger named Bravo, who shares a disturbing similarity to Tango, shows up at their door one day. But what happens next is even more unexpected, and threatens to destroy everything they’ve built together.

A/N: Welp, I got this done a lot sooner than I expected despite my summer clinicals. Surprise. Ik this part has been highly anticipated so hopefully I’ve done it justice. Hope y’all enjoy, pls reblog/comment if u do! It really does help <3 - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part VIII - i slithered here from eden, just to sit outside your door

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player sits in a rocking chair.

Jimmy’s head is bent down in concentration as he carefully passes his needle in and out of the fabric. Embroidery has always soothed him, so it’s been his favorite way to spend the time in quiet moments. Several framed squares of his designs already adorn the ranch’s walls- as well as a few shirts in Tango’s closet.

Afternoon sunlight streams in through the window beside Jimmy, illuminating the dust that floats lazily in the still air. He can hear the occasional ka-thunk of pistons as Tango troubleshoots the sugar cane farm in the basement. Beyond that, the animals outside are always audible- though far less so than they used to be, back when the cow pen was adjacent to the ranch house. The background noise is something familiar, now. Something comforting.

It’s been a lovely couple months on the Double Life world since they all agreed to end the death game. Everyone’s bases are really starting to come along, as is the centrally-located shopping district. Infrastructure is gradually getting built up- paths, bridges, landscaping, and even a few communal farms. With the world border down, the Double Lifers are taking the opportunity to spread out a bit.

Jimmy thinks there’ll be an expedition to the nearest stronghold in the coming week to finally procure some elytra and shulker boxes. He’ll leave that particular adventure to the more PVP-inclined players, though. He knows Tango isn’t a fan of dragon fights and truthfully, he doesn’t trust his own capabilities in that regard, either. The last thing he wants to do is cause Tango an unexpected death at an inconvenient time.

There have been a handful of accidents between the two of them, mostly during caving sessions. Those are generally inconsequential and easily laughed off. Jimmy wants to keep it that way.

He can’t deny the charm of the early game lifestyle. Everything’s a bit of a grind at the moment, so the world is consistently well-populated, and it’s nice just to casually hang out and chat with his fellow players. No real objectives, no pressing agendas, no ulterior motives. He feels like he’s finally getting to know the other Hermitcrafters- really know them, in a way that a death game simply wouldn’t facilitate.

Who would’ve thought it? Sure, fighting with or against another player in a battle to the death can make quite the impact. It can forge strong bonds and reveal the deepest, most vulnerable parts of themselves. But it doesn’t paint the entire picture of who a player is.

Jimmy knows them now through the little things.

Scar’s dyslexia manifests itself in both written and spoken words. Ren wags his tail without realizing it when he gets excited. Impulse actually really enjoys mining, and will do it just to pass the time. Bdubs loves the rain, though he’ll make a big show of complaining whenever it comes. Etho’s favorite biome is the jungle- he’s already trying to find one on this world. Despite her intimidating appearance, Cleo is bluffing ninety-percent of the time when they make threats.

It’s nice, and a bit surreal, to get to know the Hermitcrafters this way. Grian, of course, Jimmy’s known for ages- same as Pearl. But ever since they joined that server of legends, it’s felt like they were part of a world entirely out of Jimmy’s reach.

The first two death games helped somewhat in that regard. Though admittedly, Jimmy mostly stuck by people he already knew. It wasn’t completely intentional- he likes the Hermits just fine! But it was sort of intimidating, to get up close and personal with the players he’d been hearing about through the multinet for years.

How silly it seems, looking back now.

“Eeep!” Tango yelps from down below. “Oh, you stupid hopper-!”

Jimmy smiles to himself. One of Tango’s blaze rods probably got sucked up by a hopper again- a startling, but painless, event. Just another quirk that Jimmy’s grown familiar with, the more time they spend with each other.

Jimmy could fill a book with the little things he knows about Tango.

His blaze rods change in temperature to reflect his mood. He isn’t hurt by water, but he isn’t a fan of it, either. He can see in the dark much better than the average player, which no doubt influences his habit of being late to bed and, consequently, late to rise. His skin can get hot enough to accidentally set his shirts on fire. He loves his food burnt, right at the edge of inedible. He can wiggle his pointed ears independently of each other; they’re quite expressive. His teeth are all sharp except for his molars. He thinks bunnies are the cutest mob in existence. He’ll neglect sleep to work on a project if Jimmy lets him. He makes the most adorable squeaking noises when he’s flustered.

That’s the best part in all of this, Jimmy thinks. He’s sure they would’ve made a good team in the death game- though it probably wouldn’t have stopped him from going out early, sad as it is to admit. But he knows it wouldn’t have been like this.

He wouldn’t have known the feeling of Tango’s claws combing through his hair, or gently preening his wings. He wouldn’t have known the sight of Tango’s pale skin flushing bright red all the way down his chest. He wouldn’t have known the sound of Tango’s raspy morning voice humming, “Good mornin’, honey” on the rare occasion that Jimmy is still in bed when Tango wakes up.

Grian said the soulbonds were chosen randomly, beyond his or anyone else’s knowledge or control. Even so, Jimmy can’t help but feel like this was meant to be.

During Third Life, Jimmy had been with Scott, so he hadn’t taken much notice of Tango. Last Life is when Jimmy really started to admire Tango, but always from afar; he’d had the whole Southlands thing going on, and was still too intimidated to approach Tango that way. So being paired with Tango in Double Life had seemed like a sign- one Jimmy had almost been too afraid to follow, him and his stupid self-doubt and second-guessing.

Thank goodness he’d had Scott to talk some sense into him. They might not be together anymore, but he knows he can always count on Scott for some cut-and-dry advice.

Pain pricks into Jimmy’s thumb. He jerks his hand back with a surprised inhale, seeing a pinpoint of red blossoming against his skin. Jeeze, he really drifted off into space there. Pressing his thumb against his lips, he carefully scans his embroidery to make sure he didn’t stain the fabric. Despite this minor annoyance, he can’t help the amused smile that spreads across his face.

Gosh, he really is a sap, isn’t he? Getting so lost in thought about his boyfriend that he let his concentration slip-

There’s a knock at the door.

Jimmy looks over in surprise. He isn’t expecting a visit. And usually if one of the other Double Lifers is going to drop by, they’ll shoot him a chat or whisper beforehand. While Jimmy has most notifications turned off, he always has them on for whispers, and he didn’t hear anything- though it’s possible he missed it, over the clang of pistons down below.

Ah, well. Maybe Tango called Impulse over for some redstone help- it wouldn’t be the first time. Either way, he shouldn’t keep whoever it is waiting, that’d be rude.

Setting his embroidery down on the side table where he’d previously deposited his gloves, Jimmy rises from his seat, the rocking chair creaking behind him. Drifting over to the front door, he pulls his communicator out while his other hand reaches for the doorknob, idly glancing at the chat.

Bravo has joined the game.

Wait, what?

Jimmy’s arm is moving faster than his brain can process this information, already turning the knob to open the door. So the door swings open, and quite suddenly, he finds himself standing in front of Tango.

Wait. No, he realizes a heartbeat later, eyes widening. That’s not Tango.

Not Tango, not quite- but close enough.

The player standing at the doorway looks like he came from the same mold. Everything from his height to his frame to the bone structure of his face is identical to Tango. Jimmy knows that slim nose and pointed chin. He knows the shape of those eyes, even though the color is wrong- green instead of red. He knows that blond hair- though it’s a bit more tame than Tango’s wild locks. The ears are small and rounded, and there are no black stains on his skin. He’s wearing a simple button-up shirt and dark trousers, a far cry from Tango’s usual style, and there are particles dancing in the air around him.

“Hi there,” the player says, in Tango’s voice. He smiles, and his teeth are blunt. “My name’s Bravo.”

Jimmy stares at him. It’s a surreal thing to experience because part of his brain is convinced he’s looking at Tango, while the other part of it can only focus on everything that’s different and wrong. How does he look and sound so much like Tango? “Um… hi? You- what are you-”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Bravo chuckles, waving a hand dismissively. It’s a human hand, no blackened claws, no shackle dangling around the wrist. He looks Jimmy up and down. “Um- sorry, and you are?” he asks politely, quirking a brow.

“Oh!” Jimmy blinks, putting his communicator back in his pocket. “Um, I’m Jimmy?”

Some kind of realization dawns in Bravo’s expression. “Jimmy,” he murmurs incredulously, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “Of course.”

It’s like he knows Jimmy- or, he thinks he does. It’s incredibly unnerving, considering that Jimmy has never met this player before. And hang on, this is a private world, how did he even get in here?

“Nice to meet ya, Jimmy,” Bravo says brightly, holding out a hand. “Sorry to uh, you know, barge in on you like this, I’m- I’m sure this must be weird.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. He doesn’t shake Bravo’s hand. “Um, who exactly-”

“So!” Bravo folds his arms and fixes Jimmy with a keen look. “So uh, is- is there a player named Tango here, by any chance?”

“Uh…” Jimmy hesitates, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something about this doesn’t feel right. “You know, I’m… not sure if he’s back yet,” he says, feigning an apologetic smile. He starts closing the door. “You just wait here a second, okay, and I’ll go check-”

Bravo’s hand shoots out to grab the door.

“Actually,” he says, almost sheepish, “do you mind if I come in?” He’s stronger than he looks, holding the door open against Jimmy without much effort. “It’s just- I’ve come a long way, is the thing, and uh, I sorta need to-”

“Jimmy!”

Oh no.

Tango’s voice comes from the basement. Jimmy hears his footsteps thumping up the stairs, and his heart jolts. He whirls around, opening his mouth to call out, “Wait, Tango-”

The basement door opens. Tango sweeps into the room, blaze rods swirling above his head in obvious agitation. “Jimmy,” he says breathlessly, “have you seen chat? There’s-” He breaks off abruptly when he sees Bravo. “Oh.”

Bravo’s entire expression changes. His eyes narrow, his lips peel back into a snarl. “You,” he hisses, stepping through the doorway.

Jimmy can actually feel the sudden confusion that rushes through Tango by way of their soulbond- something that only happens when emotions are at their peak. The confusion rapidly gives way to recognition, to panic, to fear. It’s overwhelming; electricity buzzing through his skull, through his very data. And he knows, with abrupt certainty, that Tango somehow knows this player the way he knows his own reflection.

Bravo seems to know this, too. “So.” His voice is colder, now. Tight and low in a very non-Tango-like way, barely-restrained anger humming beneath the surface. “You’ve made yourself right at home in my life, haven’t you, Tango? How long did you think you could get away with it?”

Jimmy finally finds his voice. “Woah, hey,” he says sternly, stepping in front of Bravo to block his path. “I- I don’t know what’s goin’ on here, but I think you need to leave-”

“And who are you?” Bravo asks, studying Jimmy with renewed intensity. “Why- why are you here with him?”

Jimmy draws himself up, his wings flaring out defensively. “Wh- I’m his soulmate, thank you very much,” he snaps.

Emotions flash across Bravo’s face, too many to name, before settling on pure outrage. “Oh, so there are soulmates in this world?” he demands sharply, his green eyes blazing with fury as he rounds on Tango. “You’ve stolen mine and you didn’t even tell him?”

What.

“... what?” Jimmy breathes, glancing back at Tango.

Tango still hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word- like he’s frozen to the spot. He’s staring at Bravo with wide, terrified eyes, pupils shrunken into pinpoints. The unabashed horror in his expression is chilling. The feeling of it through their soulbond is even more so.

Bravo cocks his head to the side. “Do uh- do you wanna tell him, or should I?” he asks, taking a step forward.

“Tell me what?” Jimmy demands, stepping back to put a protective arm in front of Tango. “Tango, who is this guy? What’s he on about?”

(He’s been lying to you, a familiar voice whispers in Jimmy’s mind. He blocks it out; now’s not the time for his intrusive thoughts.)

Tango’s chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. He licks his lips, swallows. “I’m from Hels,” he whispers. “Jimmy, I’m so sorry- I- I didn’t know how to tell you, I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Jimmy soothes him, even as his mind races. He puts his hands on Tango’s shoulders, leaning in to meet his gaze with a searching look. “What’s Hels?”

“Hels,” Bravo cuts in darkly, “is exactly what it sounds like. It’s this evil world where all the evil counterparts of normal players live evil lives, doing evil things. Tango is my Hels- my uh, my evil doppelganger, if you wanna call it that. And he was never supposed to be here.” He gives a bitter laugh. “So- so I guess that’d make me your real soulmate, huh, Jimmy?”

Jimmy’s mind is reeling. It’s so much information to take in at once- a secret world full of evil doppelgangers that exist for every single player in the universe? It sounds so bizarre, so unbelievable…

Until he looks at Tango.

There’s no shock or confusion in Tango’s expression at all anymore, and none through his soulbond either. There’s just dread. Just sick, heavy, devastating dread- the kind that can only be born from anticipation. From having the same nightmare over and over again, only to watch it finally come true.

Jimmy knows there’s a chapter in Tango’s life that he’s kept secret.

He has nightmares about things he won’t discuss. He’s sensitive about his claws and the dark stains under his eyes. He doesn’t talk about what he did before coming to Hermitcraft. He never takes those broken shackles off his wrists- Jimmy isn’t sure if he even can. And sometimes, he’ll look at Jimmy with such crushing sadness, it’s like he’s already mourning them. Like he’s just waiting for some terrible thing to come and take all their happiness away...

Oh.

(You idiot. Didn’t you see the signs?)

Jimmy takes a steadying breath, so his voice won’t wobble. “Tango,” he says softly, “that’s- that can’t be right. This doesn’t make any sense, please-”

“Well?” Bravo snaps, losing his patience. “What’s the matter, Tango? You don’t wanna tell him how you escaped from Hels almost a decade ago by swapping places with me? That you took what should’ve been my place on Hermitcraft?”

Tango’s got that cornered animal look in his eyes again. He’s shaking, muscles locked like he’s caught between flight and freeze. Whoever this is, whatever is going on, Tango is clearly not in the frame of mind to take control of the situation right now.

Well then.

Slowly, carefully, Jimmy slips a hand into his pocket. Without looking, he types a message into chat, ‘SOS RANCH,’ and prays he was successful.

Bravo continues without noticing, his focus directed at Tango. “You don’t wanna tell him that you sentenced me to an inescapable prison of- of horrific violence and suffering? That you’ve been lying about what you really are this whole fucking time? And that you stole the life that should’ve been mine?”

Jimmy opens his mouth to protest, indignation burning inside him- who is this stranger, to come to their home uninvited and make such outrageous accusations? But then he feels the guilt bleed through their soulbond.

“I didn’t mean to,” Tango says hoarsely.

With those four simple words, everything comes crashing down into place. It’s a confession- confirmation that everything Bravo’s saying about what Tango is, where he came from, is true. He really is a… a Hels, or doppelganger, or whatever they call it. He really did escape from this so-called prison world, Hels, almost a decade ago.

Which is so confusing, an absent part of Jimmy’s mind thinks, almost in a delirious panic. Does Hels refer to the players or the world? Or both? Why would they do that?

(You can’t trust him.)

“Please, you gotta understand,” Tango pleads, voice desperate. His gaze keeps cutting between Bravo and Jimmy. “I- I don’t know how I escaped Hels, I swear. One second, I’m runnin’ for my life, and then- and then the portal just appeared in front of me. And I knew I couldn’t hang around or they’d find me again, so I just- I went through, and suddenly I was in a place called Hermitcraft.”

That makes Bravo pause. “You… didn’t make the portal?” he asks quietly, brows pinching together.

“No!” Tango cries. He rakes his claws through his hair, his agitation clear in the way his blaze rods whirl and spark. “No, I didn’t make the portal, I wouldn’t know how! And- and I certainly didn’t know that going through it would pull the ol’ switcheroo on us, I- I didn’t know about you, I swear.”

The conviction in his voice is undeniable. Relief washes over Jimmy. He’s still not completely filled in on the situation, but at least this much is evident. Whatever misfortune fell Bravo, it wasn’t a deliberate act by Tango, the way he seems to think it was.

Of course it wasn’t. Tango might’ve been hiding some things about his past, but he wouldn’t do something like that, he wouldn’t knowingly condemn someone to a fate like that-

Then Tango pauses, grimacing. “At least, not at first…”

Jimmy’s heart sinks. “What?”

Tango flinches. “A player came to Hermitcraft a few years ago,” he admits, ducking his head in shame. “Helsknight. He- I never met him, but Welsknight did, and- and he said he was some sorta evil doppelganger from a place called Hels? I- once I realized what it meant, and what must’ve happened-”

“So you did know,” Bravo interrupts lowly, his face darkening.

(What a twist! You fell for his lies again.)

Jimmy doesn’t let his shock show. He doesn’t. But he’s pretty sure Tango feels it through their bond, anyways.

“I’m sorry,” Tango breathes frantically. “I- I thought if I told someone, okay, they- they’d try to send me back, and- god, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He takes a shaky breath, meeting Bravo’s gaze, and Jimmy is startled to see tears in his eyes. Remorse drips through their soulbond. “It was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have just left you there.”

Bravo blinks, something shuddering in his expression.

Jimmy holds his breath. He’s disturbed to find he has no idea what Bravo’s thinking; it’s Tango’s face, he should be able to read it just as well, right? Except wait, no, he doesn’t actually know how to read Tango, does he? Because if Tango’s been able to keep such a big secret from him all this time, even with their soul bond, then Jimmy isn’t as good at reading him as he thought he was.

And isn’t that an unpleasant revelation.

(You’re so stupid.)

(How did you not realize?)

(Your souls are literally linked.)

Jimmy pushes the thoughts away. Time and place.

“It’s okay,” Bravo says after a moment, his tone suddenly flat and calm and entirely not okay. “Cause now we can set things back to the way they’re supposed to be.”

… we?

Before Jimmy can do or say or think anything else, several things happen at once.

An odd sound reaches his ears; the distinctive crash of glass breaking. It seems to come from several directions around him rather than any one spot- and he finds out why exactly one heartbeat later, when all the windows on the first floor shatter and unfamiliar players spill into the ranch.

There’s more than a dozen of them; mean-looking humans, many of them tall and well-built. They’re clad in full enchanted netherite, a couple of them wearing sleek black lab coats over top, and they’ve all got particles swimming around them.

Bravo sweeps forward to push Jimmy out of the way, slamming him back against the wall. In the same moment, several players rush Tango. They don’t wield weapons- their hands are empty, like they’re simply going to try and grab Tango instead of kill him, to hold him down, subdue him.

But Tango’s faster.

Quicker than breathing, he twists underneath their outstretched hands, bringing his own arm up in a wide slash- and tearing his claws straight across one player’s neck. The player disappears in a puff of respawn smoke before their body ever hits the ground, leaving a spray of bright blood arcing through the air.

Without pausing, Tango springs up at the next closest player with a bone-chilling snarl. Clinging to their shoulder with one hand, Tango wrenches their head back and sinks his teeth into their throat. Razor-sharp fangs clamp down onto soft flesh. Another cloud of smoke, and Tango’s already moved on to the next one.

The players are shouting, words blurring into meaningless noise in Jimmy’s ears. Their forms seem to blend into each other, an endlessly churning sea of movement. And in the eye of it all is Tango, baring his bloody teeth and growling a sound that Jimmy’s only ever heard come from a blaze as he continues to attack the invaders, pupils dilated so his narrowed eyes almost look completely black.

In the split-second that Jimmy has to process everything, all he can feel is shock. He’s never seen Tango move like that. He’s never heard Tango sound like that. And he never imagined Tango would kill like that- with claws and teeth over sword and shield. It’s something completely unrecognizable, like some wild creature has taken his place.

And that creature is on fire.

Tango’s blaze rods are absolutely roaring with flame, engulfing his entire form in a swirling inferno. The fire greedily spreads along the wooden floor and snakes up the walls- they have fire tick on here- but it washes harmlessly over the other players.

Splash potions, Jimmy realizes belatedly. That breaking-glass sound he heard was splash potions; they’ve all got fire resistance.

(Oh, now you catch on.)

All of them, that is, except for Jimmy.

He smells the smoke before he feels the burning. A gasp wrenches itself from his throat; his wings. The tips of his wings are on fire, golden feathers glowing with flame. Pain pricks its way up his wings as the flames eat through the first layer of feathers and reach the follicles. He cries out, finally regaining enough awareness to push away from Bravo, wings thrashing as he desperately tries to put them out.

Through the fire and the fray, he finds Tango’s eyes.

Awareness abruptly crashes back into Tango’s gaze. His pupils constrict enough to let the red bleed through again. Horror dawns in his expression. It strikes Jimmy through their soulbond and it’s staggering, like an icicle in his heart.

Tango freezes. A player takes the opportunity to slam him to the ground, hard, the echo of damage slamming into Jimmy’s chest.

As quickly as it began, the fight is over.

Tango doesn’t react as the players wrench his arms behind his back, securing them with chains pulled from inventories. He just stares aghast at Jimmy’s burning wings, mouth parted as he pants, blood dripping from his chin. And that’s all Jimmy can see before Bravo grabs his arm and pulls him out of the burning house.

The sudden rush of fresh air reminds Jimmy that his lungs are full of smoke. He coughs violently, doubled-over, eyes burning. When he finally recovers, he realizes he’s no longer on fire- his shoes and pant legs are suddenly cold and damp, and Bravo is putting a bucket of water away.

The edges of Jimmy’s wings are tinged black, the burnt feathers curled like peeling paint.

(So what? This isn’t the first time he’s burned you.)

But Jimmy’s otherwise unharmed, so he whirls back around to face the ranch. “Tango!” he screams, despite the ragged pain in his throat. He only makes it a couple steps before the players emerge from the doorway, two of them dragging Tango between them.

Two more players surge forward to hold Jimmy back. They’re both much bigger and stronger than him, their grips like iron. That doesn’t stop Jimmy from fighting, anyways, pointless as it is.

The emotions he’s feeling from Tango through their bond right now are enough to send him into a panic. He needs to get to him, right now.

Then one of the players twists Jimmy’s arm behind his back in a very unnatural way, making him inhale sharply. Pain shrieks through his bones, aggravated by even the slightest movement- he falls still, chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths as his eyes prick with tears.

(So useless.)

Okay, Jimmy, calm down. Think. His message- if his message went out successfully, the others should be on their way. And even if it didn’t, someone is bound to notice the new players’ arrivals eventually, right? He just- he needs to hang on until they get here. Maybe he can try to stall them?

(Oh, go on, then. This should be good.)

“Who-” Jimmy’s voice cracks. He clears his throat, tries again. “Who are you guys? What- what do you want?”

It’s Bravo who answers, having circled around to stand in front of Jimmy. He actually looks displeased to see him restrained. “Take it easy,” he murmurs, “we don’t wanna hurt you. Right, guys?” he adds pointedly.

The grip on Jimmy’s arm relaxes fractionally- just enough to ease the pain, but not enough to give any leeway.

“I’m sorry you got mixed up in this,” Bravo continues, crouching down so he’s eye-level with Jimmy. Strangely enough, he sounds like he actually means it. “They’re just here for Tango, okay? I promise they’ll leave-”

“Well, well, well.”

That’s a new voice. Jimmy turns his head to see a tall, slim man stride over to them. He wears no armor, just one of those long black lab coats, his arms folded neatly behind his back. Pale and dark-haired, his red eyes burn from behind a pair of orange shades, and an unnaturally wide smile splits his face.

“Atlas.” Bravo straightens up. “That uh, that didn’t go quite as smoothly as you planned,” he says accusingly, putting his hands on his hips. “I thought you said these guys could handle him.”

The man, Atlas, shrugs a shoulder. “No matter,” he says, continuing past Bravo. “We got what we wanted, didn’t we?” He comes to a stop in front of Tango, his grin somehow growing even wider. “Hello, Mr. Tango. So lovely to see you again.”

Even in Tango’s current state, something in his distant, glassy expression seems to recognize Atlas. A whimper works its way out of his throat. Jimmy can sense that he’s absolutely terrified. He shrinks back, but there’s nowhere to go.

“Oh, come now.” Atlas stoops forward, grabbing Tango’s chin with a red-gloved hand to tilt his face up. He clicks his tongue. “This has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

“Leave him alone!” Jimmy shouts, though it comes out as more of a plea than he’d intended.

That gets Atlas to release Tango. He glances over his shoulder. “And who is this?” he asks, curiosity glinting behind his shades.

“No one,” Bravo says quickly. “Just another player on the server-”

“I’m his soulmate!” Jimmy interrupts defiantly, lifting his chin.

Atlas raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

Alarm flashes across Bravo’s face. “Atlas,” he says warningly, “he’s not important. He doesn’t- I’ll explain things to him, later. Trust me, okay, you- you don’t have to worry about him.”

Atlas studies Jimmy for another moment. “Very well,” he relents finally, turning away again. “Well done, everybody. Now we can finally get back to work.” He pulls something out of his inventory- a thick metal collar that shares a startling resemblance to the shackles around Tango’s wrists.

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Bravo jolts in surprise. “Woah, what’s that?”

“Just a little extra insurance,” Atlas hums, fitting the collar around Tango’s neck. He uses a small key to lock it, and a shrill beep rings out.

Tango hisses in pain. His blaze rods extinguish to a dull bronze color, the way regular blaze rods look when they’ve been removed from their blaze. Without any sort of ambient flame or glow coming from them, they suddenly look smaller, more lifeless. They even hang a bit lower in the air than they normally do, hovering tightly around Tango’s temple like some sort of deconstructed crown.

All the emotions Jimmy was feeling from Tango suddenly vanish, cloaked beneath a thick, heavy numbness. That’s somehow even more alarming.

Atlas puts the key back in his inventory before spinning on his heel. “Alright, gentlemen. Let’s get going.” He grins at Bravo. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Bravo.”

Bravo jerks his chin in a nod. “Take care.”

The gathered players follow Atlas without another word, dragging Tango with them. He makes no sound, no movement- completely limp in their grasps. The players restraining Jimmy shove him roughly to the ground before following suit.

Wheezing, Jimmy struggles to get to his feet, wings flapping as he catches his balance. He glances out in the direction the players are going, and his heart jolts.

There’s a portal out in their wheat field. Bright red light swirls inside the obsidian frame. That must be how they got onto the world, and they intend to take Tango back with them. He can’t let that happen.

(What could you possibly do to stop them?)

Spreading his wings, Jimmy moves to follow- but then a strong hand snatches his arm.

“Hey, hey, hey, wait,” Bravo says urgently, his voice low. “Just let them go. They’ve got what they wanted, alright, they’ll leave.”

Is he serious? “Lemme go!” Jimmy protests, trying to pull his arm free. “He’s my soulmate!”

Bravo holds fast. “Hey, look, I- I know this must be confusing,” he soothes, his expression sympathetic, which is so so wrong. “It’s not your fault. Tango’s been lying to you about a lot of things, okay, he’s been manipulating you. But it’s alright, now things will finally be how they’re supposed to-”

Jimmy punches him in the face.

He’s done listening to this. Whatever Tango did, wherever he came from, Jimmy won’t abandon him.

The blow takes Bravo by surprise. He reels back and lets go of Jimmy’s arm. Pushing past him, Jimmy takes to the air.

Oh gosh, he’s so out of practice- the avians don’t use their wings during death games, as sort of a gentleman’s rule to keep things fair for the elytra-less players. But even after they ended the game, he hasn’t had much need to fly lately, spending most of his time at or around the ranch. And it definitely doesn’t help that his wings are still stinging from the burns and his mind is spinning out of control and his stomach is churning like he’s about to throw up- oh gosh, please don’t throw up.

(This can’t end well.)

Jimmy swiftly cuts ahead of the group of players, wings fanning out as he tumbles into a rather ungraceful landing in front of the portal. His hands are shaking. His heart is pounding. He’s badly outnumbered and outmatched; there’s no way he’s winning this fight.

But he doesn’t care. All he knows is that he has to do something.

Standing between the players and the portal, Jimmy flares his wings out. “You’re not taking him,” he declares, drawing his sword. Somehow, his voice doesn’t waver.

The players stop. Everyone is quiet.

Then one of them laughs. The others quickly catch on, filling the field with laughter. Despite his fear, despite the adrenaline tremoring through his body, Jimmy feels himself flush.

(Pathetic.)

(No one takes you seriously.)

(Can’t do anything right.)

One of the players, a burly man nearly a foot taller than Jimmy, takes the initiative to step forward. “You wanna rethink that, little birdie?” he asks bemusedly, cracking his knuckles.

Jimmy stands firm- or, as firm as he can while trembling. The player shrugs a shoulder before charging.

He sees the first blow coming, and he’s still not fast enough to dodge it. The player’s fist collides with the side of his face. Pain explodes across his cheek, snapping his head to the side. The next punch lands squarely in his gut.

Jimmy manages to stay standing, staggering back as he gasps for breath. He tries to bring his sword up- the player bats it aside with his hand and spins into a roundhouse kick.

Crack.

Blood streams from Jimmy’s nose. Stars flash in front of his eyes. Oh, these players hit hard. He’s barely recovered when a strong hand on his arm throws him to the ground. He rolls out of the way as a heavy boot comes down right where his head was, scrambling back to his feet and blinking blood and dirt out of his eyes.

It’s hard to tell how much awareness Tango has right now; the look in his eyes is a million blocks away. But he winces at every bit of damage that Jimmy takes, shared through their soulbond.

(You’re just making things worse.)

Jimmy somehow kept hold of his sword. He lunges forward; the player sidesteps and snatches his arm, reeling back his own for another punch-

“Wait, stop!” a voice shouts.

Tango?

Wait, no. Not Tango, who is still on his knees at the edge of the circle with his arms chained behind his back, flanked by two players and borderline incapacitated.

It’s Bravo. He pushes his way through the group of players, breathless and angry. There’s a bright red mark blossoming along his jaw from where Jimmy hit him, and yet he takes in the scene with a look of outrage. “Atlas! This wasn’t part of the deal, he’s innocent-”

“He’s interfering,” Atlas says coolly before nodding at the player. “Proceed.”

Another kick to the stomach sends Jimmy to the ground again. His sword flies out of his hand. Before he can even think about recovering it, the player’s boot slams into his ribs. Instinctively, Jimmy curls in on himself, unable to hold back a cry of pain.

Distantly, he hears Tango echo him, hunched over on his knees. Salt in the wound.

“He’s so weak,” another player snickers from the sidelines. “Are all overworlders this weak?”

(They’re right; you’re weak.)

(No wonder you’re always out first.)

(Is anyone surprised?)

Jimmy struggles to get up again, wings flailing, wheezing for breath and coughing up the blood he accidentally inhaled from his (likely) broken nose. His arms shake. His head is pounding. He can’t have more than a couple hearts of health left. All he wants to do is lay on the ground and wait for the world to stop spinning.

But despite everything, he rises to his feet.

“You just won’t quit,” the player tuts. “Maybe a respawn will teach you a lesson.”

Smack.

Two cries of pain ring out. Back into the bloody dirt. Jimmy lifts his head in time to see the player’s boot swinging towards his face, to deal what will most likely be the final blow-

“Stop!” Atlas shouts suddenly. “Can’t you see their damage is linked?”

The player freezes.

Jimmy blinks.

There’s a split-second of shared realization, a heavy silence falling over the field as everyone inhales at once. A single heartbeat of static as neurons fire. Then Jimmy moves, lunging for his sword, snatching it up to plunge it into his chest-

But he isn’t fast enough. The player dives forward and tackles Jimmy to the ground, knocking his sword away. Another player darts over and squirrels it into their inventory.

(Stupid. Should’ve thought of that sooner.)

“No!” Jimmy desperately tries to free himself, thrashing in the player’s grasp.

If he can just knock those last few hearts off, he and Tango will respawn back in their bedroom, in the ranch- which is currently on fire, sure, and not very far away, but at least they’d be able to make a break for it. Gosh, he really is stupid, why didn’t he think of that before? Their health has been linked for months now!

(It’s almost impressive how bad you are.)

One of the other players rushes over to help restrain Jimmy, pulling a pair of shackles from their inventory. Jimmy tries to fight them, but it’s to no avail. He ends up with his hands cuffed behind his back, his wings uncomfortably pinned between them.

Atlas is quiet as he walks over. He studies Jimmy with an unreadable expression, eyes hidden behind his shades.

Jimmy’s heart is in his throat as he stares back up at Atlas. His pulse is thrumming in his ears. He tries to think of his next move, but panic is threatening to overwhelm him. Everything’s happened so fast- it can’t have been more than a couple minutes since his SOS went out.

Assuming it even did. He dreads to think of what might happen if it didn’t.

For a few moments, no one speaks. The red portal swirls behind Jimmy, mere blocks away. The wheat field around them blows gently in the breeze. The animals are calling out from their pens. The sky above them is strikingly blue, with few clouds to cover the bright sun. It’s almost hard to believe this is happening on what would otherwise be such a pleasant, normal day.

Then again, Jimmy supposes, all days start out normal, don’t they?

“... what does this mean?” Bravo ventures finally.

A grin spreads across Atlas’s face.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s been a change in plans,” he says briskly, folding his arms behind his back. “We’ll be taking our new friend back with us, just to make sure this ‘bond’ won’t interfere with our operation.”

(Uh oh, you’re in trouble now.)

“What?” Bravo glances back and forth between Jimmy and Tango, brows pinching together. “But- but what if it does? What if the bond still exists off-world?”

Atlas makes a noncommittal noise. “Then I suppose we’ll be forced to rework our farm design to accommodate it.”

Farm design? Jimmy hasn’t the foggiest idea what that means, but Bravo clearly does, his face paling.

“You can’t do that,” Bravo protests, quickly moving beside Atlas. “You- you said no one else had to get involved, that you just needed Tango-”

“That was before I knew about our little feathered friend here.” Atlas looms over Jimmy, that deranged smile of his growing ever wider. “I wonder how much someone would pay for golden-feathered arrows…”

Jimmy’s stomach lurches. He knows the soulbond doesn’t exist off world, but these players don’t. And it’s starting to look like they won’t care either way.

A shadow falls over Bravo’s expression. “I’m not gonna let you trap another overworlder in Hels, Atlas,” he says, his voice low.

“I’m not asking permission, Mr. Bravo,” Atlas replies coldly, peering at Bravo from over the brim of his shades. “Don’t be foolish. You’ve got your freedom. Just walk away.”

Bravo draws his sword. “I can’t do that.”

Atlas sighs. He doesn’t look very concerned. “You just had to make things difficult, didn’t you?” He turns away towards the portal, waving a hand dismissively. “Bring Tango and his little avian. Everyone else, you know what to do.”

The players standing with Tango grab him by the arms and start to drag him towards the portal. The player restraining Jimmy pulls him roughly to his feet. All the others pull swords from their inventories and start moving in towards Bravo, who tenses in preparation-

A horn goes off.

That gets everyone to pause, glancing in the direction it came from. It’s a sound Jimmy is horribly familiar with; the other Double Lifers teased him relentlessly with that horn during the early days, until he and Tango got horns of their own and the novelty wore off. But right now, he couldn’t be happier to hear it.

The cavalry has arrived.

A second horn joins the first, and two figures break over the hill behind the ranch; Impulse and Bdubs on horseback. As they charge down the hill, Jimmy can make out Joel and Etho riding with them, axes at the ready.

Surprised exclamations ripple through the group as the players shift to face this new threat. But then a third horn sounds, and an arrow hits a player directly in the neck. He disappears in a puff of smoke, items scattering among the wheat. A shadow falls over the group- Grian, up in the air, his double pair of wings flattening into a nosedive, holding Scar underneath his arms as he notches another arrow.

“Well, hello there!” Scar grins.

“Not too late, are we, Tim?” Grian cackles from above.

Shouts of alarm ring out. They’re drowned out by a new chorus of war horns; the remaining Double Lifers approach from the side.

Pearl’s wolf pack rises over the wheat field like a wave, filling the air with howling and snarling, the red-hooded player herself right in the thick of it. Running with them are Scott, Cleo, and Martyn, all with weapons drawn.

Ren is in full wolf mode- something Jimmy’s heard about but has yet to see. All his human features have completely disappeared into the form of a giant wolf, dark-furred and red-eyed. Bigb is perched on his shoulders, holding on with one hand while his other wields a sword.

The Double Lifers let out a battle cry, bearing down on the portal all at the same time.

(Here we go.)

Everything descends into chaos.

The field is suddenly full of moving bodies, packed so tightly that individual forms can barely be distinguished. The air is filled with shouting and growling and the clash of metal, and the scent of fresh blood carries on the wind.

Jimmy catches only flashes of it all.

Scott’s hanging back a little, keeping to the high ground of the hills as he tactfully fires arrows into the fray. A couple of Pearl’s wolves stay with him to provide cover while his chosen soulmate, Cleo, storms into battle-

-Impulse steers his horse around the outskirts, one hand twisted in its mane while his other draws a sword. Leaning slightly out of his seat, his forked tail lashing behind him to keep balance, he slices his blade through a player’s neck-

-arrows rain down over the crowd as Grian soars above them. At this close a distance and against enchanted netherite, Scar’s arrows aren’t resulting in his usual one-shot kill, but they’re definitely leaving their mark-

-Ren charges into the thick of battle with a hair-raising snarl, snapping his jaws closed around one player’s entire torso. Bigb doesn’t flinch as the blood sprays in front of him, merely ducking as one half of the player’s body flies over his head before poofing into smoke-

-leaping off horseback, Etho flicks out a fishing rod and snags a player close enough to land a hit with his axe. As the player moves to retaliate, Joel suddenly appears between them, lifting his shield to block-

-Cleo towers above the other players, grabbing one by the face and flinging him across the field. A sword embeds itself in the back of her knee, making her stumble. Their attacker is quickly dispatched by well-placed arrow from Scott, while Martyn rushes to Cleo’s aid-

-wolves tear at a player’s limbs, sharp teeth glancing off netherite armor. One wolf finds purchase in the crook of the player’s elbow, fiercely hanging on even as the player screams and brings their sword down on its skull-

-Bdubs is thrown off his horse with a shout as a heavy blow knocks its legs out from under it. Landing hard, he can’t recover fast enough to dodge the next slash of the player’s sword, but a fishing line swiftly yanks him out of the way-

- a wolf drops dead mid-lunge, an arrow bristling from its open jaws. Pearl’s red eyes burn with fury as she lifts her axe, and everything is wolves and blood and screaming-

Jimmy is abruptly brought back to himself when the player holding him lurches towards the portal, trying to make a break for it. Jimmy digs his heels in and struggles to get free- and then the player collapses. He sees the arrow sticking out of their chest for a brief second before they respawn away.

“Got ‘em!” comes Scar’s voice from above.

Jimmy glances up. “Grian!” he screams above the din. “Scar! Kill me!”

He sees the understanding flash across Grian’s face. Grian changes direction mid-swoop, his four wings moving with expert dexterity. Pumping his wings to gain some height, he readjusts his grip on Scar before careening into a dive. Scar zeroes in on Jimmy and draws an arrow back-

Then an arrow appears in one of Grian’s wings.

The pair is immediately thrown off course, Scar’s arrow sailing far above Jimmy’s head. Crying out in pain and alarm, Grian goes down somewhere beyond Jimmy’s view, sending up a flurry of wheat and bloody feathers.

Heart jolting, Jimmy turns in the direction the arrow came from.

Atlas is reloading a crossbow.

Jimmy rushes him. He can’t exactly shoot himself with a crossbow while his hands are cuffed like this, nor does he have a good chance at wrestling it away from Atlas in the first place, but he’s hoping Atlas might fire at him on pure instinct.

Unfortunately, it seems Atlas is too smart for that. He merely steps aside, hooking a foot around Jimmy’s leg to trip him. Jimmy faceplants into the dirt with a thump- disoriented, but unharmed. Atlas is being very mindful of how much damage he deals out.

Groaning, Jimmy rolls onto his back. Atlas stands above him, his smile pinched at the edges with fury.

“You’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be,” he says sternly, leaning down to grab Jimmy by the front of his shirt.

Jimmy wishes he could do something bold, like spit in Atlas’s face or curse him out, but he doesn’t get the chance.

A blade swings towards Atlas.

Clang!

In the blink of an eye, Atlas has swapped his crossbow for a sword and parried the blade away, letting Jimmy drop back onto the ground. Once his vision stops spinning, the image comes into focus; it’s Bravo, lunging after Atlas.

He’s breathing hard and bleeding from what looks like several wolf bites, his crisp white shirt torn and stained with blood. But it does nothing to dull the absolute fury in his eyes as he attacks Atlas, diving forward with a powerful slash of his sword.

Atlas moves lightly on his feet, keeping just out of reach as he delivers quick, precise jabs with his own sword. There’s a detached, sort of clinical aspect to the way he fights, his eyes cold and hard behind his shades despite that ever-present grin.

Bravo, by contrast, seems to be fueled solely by rage. He pursues Atlas with the intensity of a wolf on the hunt, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed. Every slash and stab has immense power behind it, metal screeching against metal as Atlas counters him.

There’s no talking, no witty banter. Just vicious fighting with intent to kill.

Forgotten for the moment, Jimmy rolls onto his knees. Struggling to get his feet under him, he glances around.

Most of the enemy players are gone. A few of them have come back through the portal, but seemingly without a backup set of armor. They quickly fall to Pearl’s wolf pack. And with the Double Lifers still gathered by the portal, any attempts to reinvade will descend into a cycle of spawn-camping. This battle is drawing to a close.

Atlas seems to realize this, too. He delivers a parting blow to Bravo’s side, throwing him to the ground, before darting towards the portal. As he steps into the swirling red light, he meets Jimmy’s eyes and grins.

“Until next time,” he calls. Then he vanishes.

Bravo moves as if to follow- but the portal extinguishes.

Martyn pokes his head out from behind the portal frame, which is now missing a block. “Sorry,” he says unapologetically, swinging his pickaxe onto his shoulder, “did you need to use that?”

Bravo draws up short. He lowers his head to charge, sword at the ready, but then a fishing hook snags on his sleeve. Before he can blink, he’s wrapped up in the line, arms pinned to his sides.

Etho drops down from the top of the portal frame a second later. Landing behind Bravo, he plants a heavy boot in the square of his back and sends him to the ground, swiftly moving to hold him there.

“Lemme go!” Bravo protests, outraged. He tries to squirm free from Etho’s grasp but can’t quite get the necessary purchase, so for the time being, he seems thoroughly incapacitated.

“Hang on, Timmy,” Martyn murmurs, grabbing Jimmy’s arm to help him stand. He hooks his pickaxe into one of the links of Jimmy’s chains and snaps them with one sharp twist.

Jimmy exhales as his arms and wings come free. His joints are a little stiff, but he’s regenerated enough health that he’s no longer hovering over death’s door. Some of the Double Lifers are absent, presumably killed and respawned back in their own bases, but the majority of them are still gathered in the field. All the enemy players are gone, piles of dropped items scattered amongst the wheat. The portal is broken.

It’s over.

Jimmy’s breath catches. Now that he’s not in the midst of any direct confrontation, one thought comes screaming to the forefront of his mind.

He’s lost sight of Tango.

Terror seizes Jimmy. For all he knows, someone could’ve dragged Tango through the portal before it went down. If their bond is disrupted, even a respawn won’t save him.

Martyn puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you-”

“Tango!” Jimmy cries. “Wh- where’s Tango?”

“Here!” Impulse’s voice calls.

Jimmy spins around. Impulse is crouched near the edge of the field, only his head poking out above the wheat. Wings flaring, Jimmy half-runs, half-flies over to him, limbs shaky and uncoordinated from the mixture of adrenaline and overwhelming relief.

Tango is kneeling beside Impulse. His hands are free of the chains now, resting limply by his side. The collar is still locked around his neck, and there’s a startling lack of clarity in his eyes as he stares blankly at the ground in front of him.

Jimmy falls to his knees in front of Tango, wrapping him in a hug. “Tango. Oh gosh, I’m here, I’m here.” He pulls away enough to look at Tango’s face. “Are- are you okay?”

(Dumb question. Of course he’s not.)

Tango doesn’t reply, doesn’t even seem to register Jimmy’s presence. Despite his plain expression, he’s trembling, and it suddenly hits Jimmy that he might be in shock.

Impulse’s forked tail thrashes anxiously through the air. “Do you know what this is?” he asks Jimmy, carefully tapping the collar around Tango’s neck. “I tried to take it off, and it seemed to hurt him.”

Jimmy’s stomach sinks. “No, I don’t.” He turns over his shoulder to shout at Bravo. “What did you guys do to him?”

“I don’t know!” Bravo shoots back, almost sounding exasperated. “I didn’t- I wasn’t made aware of that little skadoodler!”

“Can someone,” Grian interrupts, stalking up to Bravo with his wings flared out and eyes flashing, “explain what exactly is going on here?”

“Gladly,” Bravo huffs, “if you can get this guy to stop crushing my ribcage.”

Etho eases up a little so that Bravo can sit up, but still keeps a tight hold on his arms. Bravo glances over his shoulder and finally sees who’s restraining him.

“Oh, of course you’re here!” he exclaims irritably.

Etho blinks. “Uh, have we met before?”

“No,” Bravo snaps, “but I’ve met your doppelganger, and lemme tell ya, the guy’s got major issues.”

There’s a pause as shared confusion washes over the group.

“Doppelganger?” Grian says finally, knitting his brows together.

“Right, yeah.” Bravo clears his throat. “So uh, hi, my name’s Bravo, and your buddy Tango over there is my evil doppelganger from an evil world called Hels.”

Jimmy’s heart twists. “Stop it!” he protests, folding a wing around Tango protectively. “He’s not evil-”

“What, they deserve to know!” Bravo retorts. “After all, it was supposed to be me who joined Hermitcraft all those years ago, but somehow, Tango and I swapped places. So- so he’s been living the life I should’ve had this whole time.”

“Is he for real?” Etho asks incredulously.

Jimmy’s throat is dry. “I- I don’t…”

“Just admit it!” There’s a manic light to Bravo’s eyes. “The Tango you all know is just a facade, a front. He’s been lying to you all for a decade, and he would’ve kept lying if I hadn’t shown up. Right, Tango?” He addresses Tango suddenly, expression twisted into pure rage. “I know what you really are! Do you fucking hear me?! I’ve seen what Hels players are like, and as soon as they find out, you’re done! You-”

Bravo breaks off. His words dissolve into a strangled bubbling sound as he chokes around the arrow that’s suddenly appeared in his throat. Then he disappears in a puff of respawn smoke.

Scar lowers his bow, features drawn into an uncharacteristic glower.

After a moment of shocked silence, Grian rounds on him with a frustrated shriek. “Scar!”

“What?” Scar defends. “I got tired of listening to him!”

Grian throws his arms up. “He might’ve had more information-”

“Forget that guy,” Joel says urgently, stepping forward, “what about the others? How’d they even open a portal here?”

“Well, if Scar hadn’t killed him, we might’ve found out-”

“What if they come back? Grian, can you ban them?”

“No, I can’t ban them, Joel, this is a private world!”

“We have to do something!”

More voices join into the frantic conversation. It all turns to static in Jimmy’s ears, fading into the background. He takes a second to look at his surroundings.

Their quaint little wheat field has turned into a war zone. The soil is trampled and stained with dark patches of blood. Wolves pace the area restlessly, panting and whining and growling, white fur streaked red.

Jimmy turns his head to look at the ranch. Roaring flames flicker through the shattered windows, a plume of dark smoke billowing above the roof. Embers flutter through the air like ambient particles. He can tell just by looking that there will be no saving it, that the building and everything inside it is lost.

Smoke stings Jimmy’s eyes. The reality of their situation finally catches up to him, and suddenly he’s crying. He buries his face in the crook of Tango’s shoulder and sobs, holding him tighter than what’s probably comfortable, but Tango doesn’t react, doesn’t speak. He sits motionless in Jimmy’s embrace, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he hasn’t turned to stone.

The ranch burns behind them, and Tango says nothing.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player respawns in an empty room.

Bravo sways where he stands. It takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the sudden dim lighting, to the stark absence of a sun. Residual adrenaline crawls across his skin. His heartbeat roars in his ears. His heavy breathing rings out harshly in the quiet room.

The reality of what just happened abruptly crashes down on him. They lost. His chance at freedom, his years of planning, gone- dissolved into a messy, chaotic battle and fumbled first impressions. All because Atlas couldn’t quit while he was ahead.

Rage takes Bravo swiftly, his vision turning red.

Moving quickly to the ender chest in the corner, he pulls out a spare sword and pickaxe. He uses the pickaxe to break his still-charged respawn anchor, the item popping into his inventory. Then he puts his pickaxe back into the ender chest before turning on his heel, slamming the button on the wall, and storming out into the hallway.

His pulse thrums with every step. His grip tightens on his sword. His teeth grind together so much, it aches.

He’s so fucking sick of this.

Just goes to show that he can’t trust anyone in Hels. He never should’ve relied on anyone but himself to find a way home. Now that Atlas has shown his true colors and left them all royally screwed, the way forward has suddenly become quite clear.

Bravo’s feet take him to the portal lab without even thinking, the path now so familiar to him. The large room is full of noise and activity; all of Alisker’s hired cronies used communal respawn anchors to set their spawn, so now they’re just milling around aimlessly like the dumb meatheads they are. They haven’t even thought to put on their spare armor, sitting forgotten in a chest by the wall. Some help they turned out to be.

Atlas is already there, of course, having cut and run rather than let himself be killed. He’s standing before the portal, which now has an empty frame, and typing rapidly on his communicator.

“Hey!” Bravo shouts. The room falls silent.

Atlas turns around. “Ah, Mr. Bravo!” He spreads his hands with a beseeching smile. “Welcome back. Now, I realize things didn’t go quite as we had planned, but I can assure you-”

“What the hell was that?” Bravo snaps, stalking up to him. “You had him! You fucking had him, and you blew it. You just had to get carried away tormenting a perfectly innocent player for no goddamn reason. If you’d just taken Tango and left, none of that would’ve happened!”

Bravo can tell he’s struck a nerve from the way Atlas’s grin tightens. Nevertheless, he neatly folds his arms behind his back, quirking a brow.

“Is that so?” he asks calmly. “You think the other players on that world would have welcomed you with open arms?”

Bravo scowls. “I- I mean, at least I could’ve explained things to them!” he insists.

Atlas rolls his eyes. “Yes, because the reception we received was so warm and understanding.”

Bravo makes a frustrated noise, throwing his hands in the air. “They showed up when we had two of their players in chains, what- what were they supposed to think? No, if you guys had left, things would’ve been different. I could’ve-”

“You give yourself far too much credit, Mr. Bravo,” Atlas interrupts cooly. “And it seems I might have slightly underestimated how effectively Tango would be able to endear himself to his new servermates. I didn’t anticipate such strong resistance from them. But now that we know what we’re up against, next time will be-”

“Next time?” Bravo echoes disbelievingly. “Uh, no. No, no, no, there will be no next time. I’m done. You- you think you can just switch up on me like that, and I’ll just- I’ll run right back to your side? No, that’s not how this works.”

Atlas tilts his head. “Oh? And how does this work?” he asks, sounding amused. “Because from where I’m standing, you have no other choice. I am the only one with the means to send you home- or have you forgotten?”

Bravo scoffs. “Uh, I think maybe you’ve forgotten that you need me to open a portal.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Atlas amends, inclining his head. His grin sharpens. “But no one ever said you had to help us willingly.”

He snaps his fingers, and the gathered enforcers rush in.

“Asshole,” Bravo says, lifting his sword.

The years he spent alone in Hels have taught him how to fight against much bigger, stronger opponents. Being smaller has its advantages. It’s all too easy to slip under an outstretched arm and jab his sword up, piercing the joint socket. One sharp twist and the arm dislocates with a loud pop, nearly muffled by the player’s scream. Then Bravo drives his sword down, through the ribcage and into the heart.

Poof. The screaming stops.

Moving quickly, Bravo tucks his chin and rolls- head, shoulders, hips- to dodge another player’s fist, bringing his sword across the back of their legs in a clean slice. The player goes down hard, falling forward onto hands and knees- in the perfect position for Bravo to lop their head off.

He vaults over their body as it respawns away, landing a kick in another player’s gut as they rush forward. They double over, now within reach. Using his free hand, Bravo grabs a fistful of their hair and rams his knee up into their face. Crack- bone shatters against bone. The splinters push backwards into the player’s brain, killing them instantly.

Bravo’s vision is flooded with red. His heart is pounding. Adrenaline is coursing through him and it feels good. Slash, slash, jab. Lunge forward, draw back. Punctured lung, slashed jugular, disembowelment. Keep moving. It’s nothing that hasn’t been done to him before, while trapped in this hell.

It’s nothing they don’t deserve.

(The smell of blood is overwhelming. In his mind’s eye, he sees Tango, snarling with fierce eyes and bloody teeth. He wonders if that’s what he looks like right now, and then banishes the thought just as quickly.)

Absently, Bravo realizes that the players are still just respawning in the lab, enabling them to quickly reenter the fight. As good as it feels to release some of his anger, he can’t fight them forever. And they don’t seem to be trying to kill him- if they get the chance, they’ll just restrain him, chain him up, so they can use him to open another portal. And then there will be no getting free.

So Bravo holds his sword up to his own throat.

That makes the players back up, but Atlas laughs. “Save your energy,” he says loftily. “There’s no point. I’ve already sent reinforcements to your room; you’ll be apprehended the moment you respawn at your anchor.”

Now it’s Bravo’s turn to grin. “Oh, you mean this respawn anchor?” he asks, pulling the item from his inventory and dropping it on the floor.

Atlas’s smile drops clean off his face, eyes widening with realization. He assumed Bravo would immediately rush out from the room to confront him. He didn’t think Bravo would have the foresight to break his respawn anchor. For once, Bravo is genuinely, unexpectedly, one step ahead of him.

There’s something really fucking satisfying about that.

“Stop him!” Atlas shouts, rushing forward. But he’s too late.

Bravo raises his middle finger before drawing the sword across his neck.

And then he’s at spawn.

Bravo’s hands instinctively fly to his throat, half-expecting to feel blood as the phantom sensation fades from his body. He forces himself to take a few, steadying breaths (he’s never killed himself like that before). Once he’s reasonably sure he isn’t going to pass out, he takes a look at his surroundings.

Spawn is exactly as he remembers it- which is to be expected, considering the anti-griefing perimeter. Netherrack and basalt, flame and sulfur. A grim reminder that he’s in Hels again, with the memory of the overworld still fresh in mind.

Anger threatens to overwhelm him. He pushes it down.

“Bravo…?”

The quiet voice comes from somewhere above Bravo, making him jump. He whirls around and cranes his head up.

Not-Jimmy is there, perched on an outcropping of stone.

The black-winged avian hasn’t changed at all since Bravo last saw him, either. Still sickly pale and deathly thin, with big, watery eyes that hungrily take in Bravo’s appearance, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

(“Oh! Um, I’m Jimmy?” says a golden-winged avian with a smile like the sun.)

Bravo stares back at him for a moment, inexplicably struck by the urge to laugh. Right. Of course one of the first players he met in Hels turned out to be the doppelganger of his would-be soulmate.

After a couple fragile seconds, Not-Jimmy spreads his wings out and glides to the ground, landing just out of reach from Bravo. “Is that… really you?” he whispers. “It’s… been so long…”

“Yeah,” Bravo says. “Not-Jimmy, right?”

Taken aback, Not-Jimmy nods. He clearly didn’t expect Bravo to remember him.

Bravo had made the connection earlier, but now he can see it. The color scheme is off, of course- black instead of gold- but the foundation is there. They have the same bone structure- that sharp jawline, that strong chin. If the face was more filled out, if the hair was shorter… he’s taller than Bravo even with the hunched, closed-off posture and drooping wings. If he weren’t so emaciated, he’d share Jimmy’s broad frame. If the skin was tanner, if the eyes were brighter…

Not Jimmy, not quite- but close enough.

Bravo tilts his head. “Is there somethin’ else I can call you?”

Not-Jimmy hesitates for only a moment. “Timmy,” he says softly. “My… my name is Timmy.”

Somehow, it makes perfect sense. “Timmy. Alright.” Bravo crosses his arms, jerks his head to the side. “You wanna get outta here, Timmy?”

Timmy’s eyes widen. “Wh- you mean… leave spawn?” he asks, wringing his hands together. His bedraggled wings flutter anxiously and send a couple dark feathers into the air. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, like he wants to move closer to Bravo but can’t quite commit.

“No, I mean leave Hels,” Bravo says, lifting his chin. “I know how to make portals, now, so I’m definitely not hanging around this dump for another ten years. Once I get everything set up, you can come with me. But we can’t stay here, we’ve gotta get moving.”

Timmy bites his lip. “I… I dunno, Bravo… it’s dangerous-”

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Bravo holds his hand out, a hint of desperation seeping into his voice without his permission. “Just- just come with me, okay?”

“... okay,” Timmy says, taking his hand.

Bravo smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, not yet. There’ll be time for that later. His mind is still racing, residual adrenaline making it difficult to string together coherent thought, to properly plan out his next steps. But this much, he’s certain of.

If he can’t have the sun, he’ll learn to love its shadow.

~*~

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #hermitcraft #double life smp #hels hermits #my writing #buckle up bc there's a LOT happening in this one

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aquaquadrant · 4 months

Text

from eden, part IX (act II)

Word count: 15,401 Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, internalized racism, past abuse/experimentation, dehumanization, self-hatred, kissing, mature implications (fade to black), voluntary decapitation Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This chapter had to get split into two parts bc Tumblr sucks, here's a link to the first half if u missed it. Hope y'all enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do!

Also please don’t think too hard abt the technical portal/redstone junk. I’m throwin a lotta random terms and conditions out there in the hopes of creating a feasible explanation for how portal travel works, and how Hels differs from other worlds in that regard. It’s possible there are contradictions or other things that I didn’t fully think through, but these details aren’t really important. Just try to suspend ur disbelief. - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part IX (act II) - no tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony

~*~

“Right then. Uh, thank you all for coming on short notice.”

Grian’s tentative welcome is met with a chorus of rather subdued greetings from the Double Lifers. Everyone is gathered in a loose semicircle around spawn, standing in their respective soulbound pairs and groups. Jimmy would’ve preferred to have this conversation sitting down, inside somewhere, but Tango had insisted on spawn.

Only now does Jimmy realize that the open nature of the forest clearing at spawn is less enclosed than a room filled with fourteen people would feel, and he understands.

Tango hadn’t been very talkative on the way over. But every time he said something, it was with that same forced ‘Everything’s fine!’ kind of attitude. It’s really starting to frustrate Jimmy, making him want to grab Tango by the shoulders and shout, ‘No, actually, everything’s not fine, and that’s okay!’

But he doesn’t think that’d be well received at the moment.

Tango, standing beside Jimmy, is still maintaining his fake nonchalance. To an untrained observer, he’d actually look quite casual. Simply standing with his hands in his pockets, listening intently to Grian with a plain, but not unpleasant, expression. The only indication Jimmy has that he’s at all uncomfortable is the complete lack of movement.

He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t pace, doesn’t shift his weight- all things that might otherwise be taken as signs of anxiety, but are usually normal for Tango. The stillness, though subtle, is concerning. It means he’s tense and on-guard. As if expecting an attack at any second. Which, to be fair, Jimmy doesn’t blame him for.

But more concerning is the fact that Tango can so easily and convincingly pretend that everything’s fine. He must’ve had a lot of practice.

(Ten years, remember?)

(Of course he’s a good liar.)

(Surprise, surprise.)

Grian clears his throat. “So, as we all know… there was an attack yesterday by some strange fellas who came in through a hacked portal of some sort. I’ve locked the world down for the moment, but until we know all the who’s, why’s, and how’s, I’m afraid that’s only a temporary solution… since I’m sure you all don’t wanna be stuck here forever.”

He says it matter-of-factly, not a hint of any frustration, annoyance, or other ill-feeling in his voice. But Jimmy sees Tango’s face twitch anyway. Unsurprisingly, the guilt is getting to him.

“But that’s why we’re here,” Grian continues, taking a more upbeat tone. “Tango has kindly agreed to explain a little better what’s goin’ on, so hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this and uh… come up with a plan for moving forward.” He gestures invitingly towards Tango. “Tango?”

(Here we go…)

Tango clears his throat. “Right, yeah, thanks.” He takes a small step forward, casting a quick glance around the clearing. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I spawned in a world called Hels, where every player is sort of an evil counterpart to an overworld player elsewhere in the universe. At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the Helsknight fiasco.”

Jimmy can actually see the sudden realization that settles over all the present Hermits- minus Pearl, who seems as out of the loop as the others.

Grian’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, that makes so much sense…”

“Oh, dudes,” Ren breathes, running a clawed hand through his hair. “Not gonna lie, I completely forgot about that…”

“Same here,” Impulse says, looking stunned. “I mean, it was over and done with so fast, and Wels didn’t seem worried, so I guess none of us really thought to look into it? Man…”

Scott puts a hand up. “Um, what’s tha’ Helsknight fiasco?” he asks, frowning.

“Oh, right.” Tango scratches the back of his head. “So, you guys know of Welsknight, right? One of our fellow hermits?” At the group’s hesitant nods, he continues, “On Hermitcraft’s seventh world, there was this player who randomly joined and attacked Wels. None of us ever saw him, but when Wels explained the situation later… he said Helsknight was some kinda evil clone, and that he came from a place called Hels.”

Murmurs of surprise and confusion ripple through the group. Jimmy longs to put a hand on Tango’s shoulder as a reassurance, but based on how tense he is, that’d probably set him off.

“Wait, really?” Pearl asks, her antennae curling in surprise. “What’re the chances of that?”

“I know,” Cleo agrees, “it was really strange, in hindsight…”

“So this Helsknight guy,” Joel says, knitting his brows together. “He’s what Bravo was talkin’ about, one of those Hels players? Like all the other people that came through the portal?”

“Yeah,” Martyn chimes in, “I- I noticed a lot of uh, ‘Hels’ in the names in chat. Or like, ones with ‘bad’ or ‘evil’ kinda vibes.”

“Yep.” Tango nods stiffly. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know Helsknight or- or how he joined Hermitcraft, but it was obvious he was Wels’s counterpart. I mean, he said he was ‘all the darkest parts’ of Wels, right?” He folds his arms. “Well, I’m that for Bravo. A sort of uh- a personification of his badness, I guess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bigb cuts in, holding his hands up. “So- so you’re sayin’ that we all have these… Hels versions of ourselves?”

“Evil doppelgängers, yeah,” Tango amends. “I mean, I don’t know why it’d only be for some players and not others, and Hels is plenty big enough for every player in the universe to have a counterpart. You go to any of the major cities around spawn, and it’ll definitely feel that way.”

“What’s this… Hels world like?” Pearl asks, her red eyes wide with a sort of morbid fascination.

Tango’s expression darkens. “It’s an ancient world, infinite and deadly. The overworld and nether are fused into one crazy, messed-up realm full of these weird hybrid kinda biomes, and- and you can’t access the end. The bedrock ceiling makes it so hostile mobs spawn basically everywhere, but you can’t find naturally spawning passive mobs for like, hundreds of thousands of blocks around spawn, ‘cause the early players murdered them all. And no portal travel in or out- at least, that’s what we thought.”

Jimmy’s starting to see why Bravo described Hels as ‘an inescapable prison of horrific violence and suffering.’

Grian raises his eyebrows. “No end?”

“No portals?” Bdubs echoes disbelievingly.

Etho, who’s been listening with rapt attention, tilts his head. “That Bravo guy, he mentioned something about my, uh… my doppelgänger?”

Tango shrugs. “He must’ve met them at some point in the last ten years, yeah. I- I dunno, I never did.” He pauses, creasing his brows as he glances around the circle again. “Actually, I don’t think I ever met any of your guys’s Hels. Or, if I did, I don’t remember.”

That makes Jimmy frown. “What do you mean?”

Tango gives Jimmy a sidelong look. “I uh, I wasn’t really that social for most of my time there, I spent my childhood being a general menace- most kids do, actually. There’s no infrastructure to look after kids, we- they’re basically on their own. So you can imagine it’s- it’s an interesting world to grow up in.” Idly, he kicks at a clump of grass. “Bunch’a little monsters runnin’ around unsupervised, causing chaos, trying not to get brutally killed by hostile mobs and players, it was great.”

Horror seizes Jimmy. “That’s awful.”

“That’s just how it was,” Tango says bluntly. “I mean, try setting something like that up without an admin, right? See how that goes.”

“Wait, Hels doesn’t have an admin?” Grian repeats.

“Nope. At least, not when I was there.” Tango shrugs. “They hadn’t for a long time before I even spawned, so- so the whole place was basically anarchy, every player for themself.”

Aghast, Scar shakes his head. “What in the world…”

“How long did you spend living like that?” Impulse asks softly, his eyes sad.

Tango’s avoiding everyone’s eyes now, staring off somewhere into the middle distance. “Oh, probably ‘til I was like… fifteen or sixteen? Somewhere in the teen stage? That’s when I met Atlas.” A bitter smile splits across his face. “He told me he was recruiting for his redstone company, Hels Tek, and- and of course he threw in lots of cheap flattery, blah blah blah, and in my young, naive stupidity, I fell hook, line, and sinker. Turns out all he wanted me for was a blaze farm.”

There’s a brief silence.

“What?” Jimmy asks, confused. Is that what Atlas had meant about a farm design? Did they just want to force Tango to make farms for them? He knows Tango’s a bit of an innovator in that regard, but that’s an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that could easily be done by someone else.

“He… wanted you to build a blaze farm?” Impulse asks slowly, brows knitting together.

Tango laughs; a sharp, dry exhale. “No, no. Not to build one. To be one.” He reaches a hand up to tap one of the blaze rods hovering around his head. “I uh, I dunno if you guys have noticed, but these things here aren’t just for show. They’re real, functional blaze rods, and they just so happen to be respawnable.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Oh.

(There we go, now they’ve got it.)

(Makes sense, right?)

(Honestly, it’s so obvious…)

The clearing is deathly silent now. All Jimmy can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Everything is clicking into place, all the strange things he’s seen and heard suddenly making perfect, horrible sense.

They used Tango as a blaze farm. An actual sentient player, reduced to nothing more than a simple mob. A player with complex thoughts and feelings, with creative ideas and passions, with hopes and fears and dreams. They locked him up like an animal to use for profit- and even now, ten years later, he still can’t fully escape from it.

Jimmy has a sinking feeling he knows what Tango’s nightmares are about.

Tango keeps talking. “They didn’t start with that, of course.” There’s a bored sort of quality to his voice, like he’s merely commentating on the weather. “There was this uhh awkward phase where I thought I was helping with redstone experiments, when actually I was the test subject.”

It’s kind of surreal, actually. To be standing here and talking about this so casually. It’s like Jimmy’s having a nightmare he can’t wake up from.

“And once I caught on, well, they uh- they didn’t exactly have to play nice anymore,” Tango laughs. “That’s where I got these fabulous accessories.” He waves a hand, cuff jangling around his wrist.

Jimmy feels sick. They put the cuffs on Tango to lock him in a farm. To think he’s still had those on him, all this time-

“After that,” Tango continues briskly, “it still took, like, another year of testing for them to develop the most optimized farm.” He delivers the information almost disinterestedly, studying his claws. “It was a pretty smart design, nice and compact.”

Jimmy glances around the clearing. Amidst the shocked, horrified faces, he finds Impulse- who seems to be focused on taking slow, deep breaths, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

(Uh oh, no Impulse to the rescue…)

“Wither roses dealt constant damage,” Tango rattles off, “triggering my blaze rods to respawn as quickly as they could be skadoodled away by hoppers, and they had regen on an automatic clock to keep me alive- though there was a backup respawn anchor for any accidents.”

Wither roses. Of course. Jimmy can picture it, in his mind’s eye; Tango chained up among the ashen flowers. What must it have felt like, to be withering all the time? His health constantly wavering between the icy blackness and the regeneration, every minute of every day. How absolutely miserable.

Jimmy somehow finds his voice again. “How… how long did you spend like that?” he asks hoarsely, stepping next to Tango.

Tango won’t look at him- though he’s carefully watching out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I dunno… four or five months, maybe?”

Months. Jimmy’s heart aches. He can’t even begin to imagine what that existence was like. To spend all day trapped in a farm that’s constantly hurting him- and by wither effect, no less. Not to mention how dehumanizing the entire concept is on its own.

“How’d you get out?” Jimmy asks tentatively. “If- if you don’t mind.”

Tango snorts. “Yeah, so, one day, the charge on my anchor ran out when no one was around, so I was able to kill myself to get back to world spawn. And that’s when the portal to Hermitcraft appeared.”

Etho steps forward. “I thought Hels didn’t allow portals?” he asks, his voice as cool and unreadable as his partially-concealed expression.

Jimmy’s taken aback, his feathers puffing up unwittingly. He doesn’t understand how Etho can grill Tango about technical details in such an upsetting situation. In fact, he’d almost think that Etho doesn’t care at all- except the question makes Tango pause. In his expression, Jimmy can see his mind working, and realizes what Etho has done.

By circling back to a scientific topic, he’s provided Tango a distraction. Something less personal for his mind to focus on, and take everyone else’s focus off of him. Already, Jimmy can see that Tango’s less tense as he starts to explain.

“We didn’t have portals in Hels, but we knew the concept from data-mining.” Tango spreads his hands. “Locked comm commands, hidden recipes. But portals to Hermitcraft are made by the universe, right? So- so whatever is preventing Hels players from making portals, it- the universe can circumvent it. ‘Course, at the time, I didn’t know how it appeared or where it was gonna take me, but I went through. And apparently, somehow, a portal appeared in front of Bravo that took him to Hels at the same time. The universe must’ve tried to send Bravo to Hermitcraft, glitched ‘cause of Hels’s wonky portal technology, and swapped us by mistake.”

Etho hums noncommittally. “So it was an accident.”

(Oh, sure.)

(That’s what they think…)

(Yeah, he ‘accidentally’ didn’t tell anyone the truth for ten years.)

Jimmy angrily pushes the thoughts away. So long as Tango didn’t intend to strand Bravo in Hels, that’s all that matters to him.

Tango gives Etho a funny look. “I mean, that’s not the point? Bravo’s been trapped in Hels ever since, ‘cause of me. This whole invasion thing was my fault, they were tryin’ to get me back for the farm and help Bravo escape Hels, and... I dunno, get back to his life? Or, the life I stole from him ten years ago.” He shrugs. “So yeah. Secret’s out, sorry I’ve been lying to some of you for a decade, now, and- and sorry you all got dragged into my mess. I didn’t mean t- well, anyway, that’s- that’s what happened.”

“God, Tango,” Jimmy breathes, reaching a hand out, “I- I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Tango asks incredulously, jerking away from Jimmy. “Wh- for what? That’s just what Hels is like, okay, if it wasn’t the farm it’d have been some other terrible thing, so y’know, it’s- it’s whatever.” He lets out another harsh laugh, raking his claws through his hair. “If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry, I mean, I- I’ve been lyin’ for ten years and-”

“They put you in a farm?!”

Everyone jumps. Impulse’s voice is suddenly several octaves lower, quite a bit louder, and warped with distortion into something truly demonic. His pupils have eaten up the rest of his eyes, turning them solid black. The teeth bared in a scowl look bigger and sharper than they used to, and the hands at his sides have sprouted claws. His horns and tail have grown longer, too, and Jimmy can see what looks like dark, leathery wings sprouting up behind him. His entire body is outlined by a bright golden glow, like his skin has abruptly become as hot as lava, and the absolute fury in his expression burns even fiercer.

Ah. This must be ‘full demon’ mode.

Bdubs quickly jumps in front of Impulse, grabbing him by the shoulders to ground him. Jimmy instinctively steps in front of Tango, wings snapping out to shield him from view.

But the damage is already done. Jimmy hears footsteps, and by the time he looks over his shoulder, Tango is gone.

“Tango, wait!” Jimmy turns to follow him, but a hand suddenly grabs his arm.

Martyn is there. “Don’t chase him,” he says lowly, “he’ll only panic more.”

Jimmy wants to argue, but the severity in Martyn’s solitary eye sobers him. “Alright,” he relents, folding his wings. “I… guess I’ll give him a few minutes to calm down…”

“Right, then.” Martyn gives a short nod, putting his hands on his hips. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Tell me about it,” Jimmy mutters, gazing back over the clearing.

Impulse is starting to settle back down, Bdubs in front speaking to him in low tones while Etho and Joel each hang onto an arm. It looks like his extra demon-y features are reverting back to his usual state, though he still looks furious.

Grian is sitting against a tree, wings splayed out around him. He’s massaging his temples like he’s warding off a headache, his eyes squeezed shut, groaning, “How did I not see this coming?” while Scar, crouched beside him, rubs his back soothingly.

Ren is pacing back and forth across the clearing. “I should’a killed more of those guys,” he growls, tail lashing, ears pinned flat against his skull.

“Hey, you did all you could,” Bigb says comfortingly. “I was the one that got us killed. If I’d kept my shield up, he wouldn’t have gotten that shot on me.”

“I wish we’d realized that Atlas guy was in charge,” Martyn laments, crossing over to them. “If we’d stopped him from leaving, we could’a gotten a lot more information.”

“I wish we’d known Tango was dealing with all this,” Cleo says bitterly, her crossed arms resting on her knees, Scott leaned against their side. “I mean, honestly… ten years and we never knew? That’s- that’s- that’s rubbish. We’re rubbish friends.”

“Hey, hey now,” Jimmy says, lifting his voice to address the group, “this wasn’t anyone’s fault, okay? You guys have been great friends to Tango- otherwise, he wouldn’t have stuck around for so long, right? It’s- it’s just his way, to try and deal with things on his own without askin’ for help. You know that.”

Cleo exhales slowly. “Yeah, I know. Still sucks.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy glances over at Impulse, who seems to have recovered himself back to normal, sitting cross-legged next to Bdubs. “You alright, Impulse?”

Impulse gives a slight nod, expression guilty. “I’m sorry. I- I almost never lose control like that, I just got so angry… not at Tango!” he quickly clarifies. “Never at him. I- I just… thinking about what they did to him, everything he went through…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Bdubs murmurs, squeezing Impulse’s hand. “That’s- it’s freaking crazy, right? With th- hyaugh, evil Hels world, puttin’ people in uh, in farms… sheesh.”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. “I know you didn’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m sure Tango does, too, he was just so on-guard the whole time… he just got spooked, that’s all.”

“Jimmy,” Pearl says urgently, fluttering over to him while tailed by her small pack of wolves, “d’you know- uh, is- is everythin’ Tango said true?” she asks, concerned.

Jimmy swallows. “It’s true. I mean, I- I didn’t know about the farm specifically, but based on what I overheard Atlas say- it makes sense.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And gosh, I didn’t know how awful Hels was, but the way Bravo talked about it…”

“But, um…” Bdubs pipes up hesitantly. “Just- just ‘cause Tango is Bravo’s… uh, Hels… doppelgänger, whatever… doesn’t mean he’s evil, right?”

“I know!” Jimmy cries, throwing his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell him! He doesn’t believe it. He thinks he’s a monster for what he did, killin’ those guys and burnin’ down the ranch.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Martyn scoffs. He’s coaxed a still-seething Ren to lay down now, absentmindedly stroking Ren’s ears as his head rests in Martyn’s lap while Bigb starts to braid his hair. “It was self-defense, yeah? A bunch of strangers invaded your home, and he defended it. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Jimmy has a feeling it’s more to do with how Tango killed them and how the fire got started, plus the fact that Jimmy got hurt in the process. But Tango didn’t share those particular details, so Jimmy’s not about to now. Besides, in his opinion, that doesn’t change anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says ruefully. “But he still blames himself for what happened. For all of it.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Cleo deadpans. Then she pauses. “Or- sorry, his feelings aren’t stupid, but I- I hope he knows that none of us feel that way.”

There are exclamations of agreement and similar sentiments from the rest of the group, which helps ease some of the tightness in Jimmy’s chest. He knows his friends, and knows they’re all good people who wouldn’t judge Tango like that, but it’s been hard not to let Bravo’s words get to him.

“I’ll tell him,” Jimmy promises them. “I’ll try to make him understand, he just- I think he’s always been afraid this day would come, that he’s just been tickin’ down borrowed time.”

“What d’you mean?” Grian asks, rising to his feet. “It’s not like he knew they were coming, right?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s more like… he’s always had that possibility hanging over him.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Impulse says quietly. “The first time he saw a communicator portal open, you would’ve thought he was being sent to his death. It… makes sense, looking back now.” He puts his head in his hands, sighing. “Man, there were so many signs…”

Grian walks over, pulling his communicator out. “So hang on, the world itself is called Hels, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy asks.

Grian doesn’t respond, silently scanning his comm with his brows knit in concentration. And then something very strange happens. For a moment, it almost seems as if Grian’s eyes flash purple, and Jimmy hears his voice in his head.

(There it is. Hm, firewalled. Gonna be tricky.)

Then Grian pushes his glasses back up, and it passes.

“Right,” he says briskly, putting his comm away. “I can’t find the world, so the portal thing checks out. But since Tango’s cut this meeting a bit short, do you have any other information? Anything the Hels guys might’ve said or done that we should know about?”

Jimmy blinks. Grian’s just looking at him expectantly, giving no indication that there’s anything out of sorts. Jeeze, he’s used to having random thoughts, but the stress of everything must really be getting to him if he’s imagining his friend’s voices, now.

“Um, actually,” Jimmy says, “the collar they put on Tango… he said it’s using some sort of… modified wither rose to dampen his fire? It’s uh, also dampening our soulbond.” He clears his throat, glancing away. “As a- as a fun little side effect.”

“Have you tried removing it yet?” Etho asks, stepping around Impulse with his hands in his pockets.

“I did, earlier,” Impulse chimes in from the ground. “Just with my hands, but uh, he acted like it was hurting him.”

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, Atlas locked it on him with a key, and I’m pretty sure he still had it when he left. So I think that might be the way to get it off.”

“Well,” Joel cuts in, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over Impulse’s shoulder, “surely not the only way, right? I mean, you could always…” He makes a noncommittal noise, and draws a finger across his neck.

Jimmy bristles, wings flaring out. “What, decapitate my soulmate?!”

Joel holds up his hands. “Hey, hey, we don’t know if that thing’ll respawn on him!”

“His cuffs do!” Jimmy points out.

“Yeah, but isn’t it worth a shot?” Joel counters.

“I… I guess,” Jimmy relents, letting his feathers smooth back down. “But I’d rather look into a few other options before jumpin’ straight to decapitation, if you don’t mind. Tango’s been through enough as it is.”

Joel backs off. “Alright, fair enough.”

“Okay…” Grian turns to address the rest of the group. “Well, um… this has been an interesting revelation, to say the least. I think we’re gonna have to do a bit more research to figure out how they got here before we just… open the world back up. So that means we’ll all be stuck here a bit longer, is that- is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Bdubs says vehemently.

“Yeah,” Impulse agrees, “whatever it takes.”

Further murmurs of assent ring out from among the group. Everywhere Jimmy looks, he sees faces full of sympathy and understanding, not a single trace of resentment or annoyance to be found. God, he loves his friends.

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it,” he says gratefully. “I’m gonna go check on Tango, but we’ll keep you updated if anythin’ changes.”

“Right, okay then.” Grian claps his hands together. “Uh- I guess that’s all for now?”

Nodding, Jimmy turns and takes to the sky, leaving spawn behind him.

His mind is still reeling from all the heavy revelations, his stomach twisted up into knots, but he’s at least comforted by knowing that his friends are behind them. Seems that the fears Bravo tried to instill were completely unfounded, nothing more than vicious, desperate attempts to sow division between Tango and the others. Jimmy really shouldn’t have doubted them.

(That went… surprisingly well.)

(Give it time.)

‘Oh, shove off,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

He finds Tango back at the spare room in Impulse and Bdubs’s house.

Thank goodness for that. He hadn’t exactly been sure if Tango would consider this a safe place to go. But with the ranch destroyed and the world on lockdown, it’s not like he has a lot of options.

Tango’s sitting on the bed with his back to Jimmy. At a glance, he seems relaxed, but his legs are curled under him in a way that’d allow him to spring up in an instant. And the way his pointed ears swivel back toward Jimmy tells him Tango is quite alert.

(So deceiving…)

“Hey, Tango,” Jimmy says softly. “You alright?”

“Oh, hey.” Tango doesn’t turn around just yet, shrugging a shoulder. “Sure, yeah.”

Jimmy lingers by the bed for a moment, uncertain. “Um, Impulse didn’t mean to lose his temper like that,” he offers. “He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at the situation, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just, in the moment- I- I- thought…” Tango sighs. “Anyway. So- so I guess I should head out, huh?”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “What? What’re you sayin’?”

“It’s over, right?” Tango asks, his voice tight, shoulders hunched by his ears. “They don’t want me around, and I don’t blame ‘em. I mean, once Grian opens the world again, it’s only a matter of time before another portal from Hels opens up. And- and who’d want to go through all that again, right? So don’t worry, I get it, it was my fault, so-”

“No, Tango, I promise- none of them blame you, alright?” Jimmy sits down on the bed- not too close. “None of them believe what Bravo was sayin’ about you. None of them think you’re some… some evil monster that deserves to be locked up in Hels.”

Tango finally turns around. His body is coiled with all the tension of a drawn arrow. “That’s ‘cause they didn’t see me- what I did- back at the ranch,” he says sharply. “They don’t know the whole story.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. He knew Tango would hold that against himself. “Well, I do, and I-”

“No, you don’t.”

Jimmy blinks. “Wh- oh, you mean the Helsknight thing?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “Look, honestly, based on what you told Bravo, I don’t blame you for doing that. You were just scared you’d get sent back, that doesn’t make you evil. I know you-”

“No, you don’t,” Tango says again, more intently. “You don’t know everything about me, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Tango smiles without humor, a hard look in his eye. “You wanna know why I like making those- those crazy mob farms? Why I try to kill them in creative, fun ways?” He tilts his head. “Because I like it. I like to make their deaths entertaining. I’ll even sacrifice efficiency for it, I’ll go out of my way to do it. And I- it doesn’t stop there, I’ll kill passive mobs for no reason. Cats, frogs, things that don’t even have drops, for absolutely no reason. That’s not normal.”

Despite himself, Jimmy feels a chill run down his spine. “That’s not… those are just mobs, it’s- it’s not evil…”

(Are you sure about that?)

Tango exhales sharply- a short, bitter laugh. “Okay. You know why practically all my mini games end in death? Huh? You wanna guess?”

Distress shoots through Jimmy. “Tango-”

“I like to watch players die, too,” Tango says. “And I like it to be entertaining. I enjoy it, that’s- that’s just plain sadistic.” He rakes his claws through his hair. “That’s what I am, I’m a- a sadistic monster, okay, I always have been.”

“Stop it, don’t say that!” Jimmy protests, his heart twisting. “You’re not- people actually sign up for those games, you know. And it’s not like death is permanent, it doesn’t matter-”

“So?” Tango interrupts harshly. He jumps off the bed and starts pacing. “What- does that make any difference? Doesn’t matter if people enjoy them, okay, my- my reason for making them is wrong. Designing games is fun, sure, but I- that’s never what it’s been about. I like to make players struggle, and suffer, and die in the end. I like to watch them experience pain and fear in a trap of my own creation. I like the feeling of control it gives me. No matter how you look at it, that’s- I- I’m messed up.”

Jimmy can’t take this anymore. He rises to his feet. “Tango, stop, that’s enough,” he says, his voice stern. “I know I haven’t known you very long, but-”

“Yeah,” Tango snaps, rounding on Jimmy, “you haven’t! That’s the whole problem! I’ve kept a huge chunk of my life secret from you, my own soulmate. I’ve kept it from the Hermits, too- my friends of nearly a decade. I’ve deceived and lied to everyone I ever cared about. I’ve pretended to be this- this benevolent game maker who just wants everyone to have a good time, I’ve kept so much of who I really am hidden ‘cause I knew that if you guys ever saw the real me, you’d hate me.”

Jimmy’s mind is reeling. Tango’s clever eye for game design is something Jimmy’s always loved about him, the way he could create fun challenges even amidst the throes of a death game. After all, the first time they really interacted was when Jimmy died to his ‘Dare to Flare’ challenge back on the Third Life world. And that had been a laughably simple game compared to some of the things he’s done on Hermitcraft.

Even though it ended up costing Jimmy a life, the rush of adrenaline had been thrilling. And even though in hindsight, he knew it was a deliberate ploy by Tango to thin out his competitor’s lives, Jimmy’s never resented him for it.

So to suddenly realize there might’ve been more to it… that Tango might’ve actually enjoyed watching him burn to death- beyond the simple satisfaction of having outsmarted his competition, of course- is… unsettling, to say the least.

(What a start to a relationship!)

(The red flags have been there from day one.)

(A sadist and a liar, lucky you.)

But nevertheless, Jimmy holds his ground. “I don’t hate you.”

Tango tenses. “You should.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jimmy insists. “I love you, Tango.”

“No, you don’t!” Tango snarls, and the hurt in his voice is raw and ragged and bleeding. His eyes are burning with rage, and Jimmy’s almost certain that if it weren’t for the collar, he’d be on fire right now. “Alright? Just shut up! You love this- this version of me that I’ve presented, okay, this lie I’ve been living. You love Tango the friendly redstoner, who makes ridiculous high-pitched noises when he’s flustered and who’s funny when he’s mad and who can’t fight his way out of a one-block hole. You don’t love the sadistic blaze hybrid that sets things on fire and- and rips people’s throats out with his fucking teeth, don’t be stupid!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

(And there it is!)

(Finally showing his true colors.)

(He did try to tell you…)

For a moment, Jimmy is too stunned to speak. Tango’s never yelled at him before, not seriously, and the sting of his words is almost a physical thing.

Tango seems just as shocked at his outburst as Jimmy is, his face paling as his anger quickly extinguishes. The next words out of Tango’s mouth are almost guaranteed to be an apology, but Jimmy isn’t letting him off that easily.

“Now hang on just a second,” Jimmy says lowly. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel about you. I’m a grown player. I’m not some poor, innocent idiot that you’ve manipulated into loving you, alright? And it hurts that you’d think so little of me, that I’d stand here and just lie about my feelings to you.”

(Ooh, someone finally grew a backbone-)

Jimmy silences the thought, violently forcing it out of his mind. He’s got no patience for that sort of thing right now.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers, “I didn’t-”

“And what’s more,” Jimmy continues, gaining steam, “do you really think I’m the type of person to judge someone so harshly for things outta their control? You honestly think I’m some- some shallow, heartless jerk who’d turn on you, just like that? Or- for that matter, you think the Hermits would? After ten years of friendship, you have that little faith in them?”

Tango’s eyes widen. “No, no it’s- it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care that you’re from Hels,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward. “I don’t care what you did in the past, or that you kept it from me. I don’t care if some random guy thinks you’re just the manifestation of all his evil- frankly, I think that says more about him than it does about you.” He comes to a stop in front of Tango. “I love you. The teeth, the claws, the death fascination or- or whatever you wanna call it- I love all of it. All of you. And I wish more than anythin’ they hadn’t got that damn collar on you, so you could feel that love through our soulbond. But you’ve felt it before, right? Before I knew? Well um, it hasn’t changed, I promise you that.”

Tango stares back up at him. Now that the anger’s gone, he just looks scared. “You don’t-” His voice breaks. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I do,” Jimmy answers, unwavering. As difficult as this conversation has been, this part’s easy. “I promise, cross my heart.”

Tango shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Please,” he whispers, “don’t… I can’t- if I let myself think that but you don’t mean it, I- I can’t handle that. Please. Just tell me now, okay, get it over with…”

Understanding settles over Jimmy. Creasing his brows, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward. “I mean it,” he says, lifting a hand to cup Tango’s cheek.

Tango trembles, but he doesn’t move away. He swallows, licks his lips. “Say it again?” he asks, almost a plea, his eyes darting to take in every inch of Jimmy’s face- like he’s unsure whether he can truly believe what he’s seeing, almost searching for any hint, any trace of doubt in Jimmy’s expression.

There isn’t any. Jimmy leans in. “I love you.”

Something glimmers in Tango’s eyes; a warm light Jimmy hasn’t seen since before the ranch burned.

Something like hope.

Love rises inside Jimmy like a wave- love and the sorrow of shared grief, the fierce determination to withstand it, and the agony of all the past suffering he can’t take away. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating, this sudden rush of emotion. A whirling maelstrom that makes his head spin. But his love burns brightly through it all, a sole lantern against the storm.

Maybe he can’t make Tango believe he’s worthy of love. But he can give it anyway.

Jimmy moves slowly, tilting his face down towards Tango’s. He keeps his eyes open until the very last second, giving Tango plenty of time to move away or say something to stop him, to give any sign at all that he isn’t feeling the same.

There isn’t any. Their lips meet gently, like a familiar greeting. Like the way sunlight falls through the window every morning.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Suddenly Tango’s kissing him back, fervently, pushing against him. Jimmy’s legs hit the bed and buckle, sending him backwards, Tango falling on top of him. His hands cling to Jimmy’s shirt, twisting in the fabric, and his tears wet Jimmy’s face, salt on his tongue. Above the pounding of his heart in his ears, he can just make out the words Tango’s murmuring between kisses, breathless and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Jimmy pulls him impossibly closer, whispering, “I never doubted.”

They don’t need words after that.

~*~

“Jeeze, they weren’t kidding,” Tango mutters, taking in the ranch with wide eyes.

The ranch looks even worse than Jimmy had been imagining. Nearly the entire first floor is gone, just a wide-open plot and their lonely front door sitting ajar. Aside from the odd block here and there, it’s just empty. A couple trapdoors from the furniture in the living room. The smooth stone slabs that made up their kitchen countertops. An occasional unbroken glass pane floating where there used to be windows.

It’s not a home anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Up the intact cobblestone staircase, the second floor has only fared slightly better. Some of the walls are still standing, charred and moth-eaten as they are. He thinks most of the bathroom’s interior was spared, as it was primarily made of different stone materials. Polished andesite and the like. The chests in their storage room made it, of course, even though the room itself didn’t. And their bedroom seems to have gotten the worst of it. From down here, he thinks it might just be the bed itself that’s left.

The roof is gone, leaving their cobblestone chimney awkwardly sticking up from the ground to nowhere. The path up to the house and the surrounding fields have been torn up to make a ditch. Necessary as it was, it’s quite the eyesore. And to top it all off, one of the custom trees that Scar helped build has been hastily chopped down, due to its proximity to the nearby forest. There’s just a couple of logs and solitary leaves left floating in the air.

It hurts. Everywhere Jimmy looks, there’s another source of heartache. Another precious memory that’s been turned to ash. It’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

But he’s also aware of Tango standing beside him. He knows how much Tango is already beating himself up for the fire, and the last thing he wants to do is add to that guilt.

Jimmy turns to give Tango a rueful grin. “Talk about your fixer-uppers, ey?”

Tango exhales slowly. “Man, it’s so…” He glances at Jimmy, expression pinched. “I’m sorry, you worked so hard-”

“It’s fine,” Jimmy says, shrugging. “It’s just a building.”

Tango hesitates. “It’s… alright to be upset. This was our home, and I- I got all ‘rahhhrr angry-burny rage mode’ on it and-”

“Not your fault,” Jimmy says, voice gentle but firm. He puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the Hels fellas for attackin’ us in the first place.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise, scuffing the upturned dirt with his boot. “Sure.”

It’s clear he’s not convinced, but Jimmy leaves it there for now. Their conversation from yesterday is going to take some time to fully sink in. He crosses over to a haphazardly-placed double chest near the front of the ranch and crouches beside it, lifting the lid with a creak.

“Martyn said everything they were able to save is in this chest here, let’s see…” He rummages through the chest’s inventory. A lot of it is random junk; miscellaneous blocks, half-stacks of wheat, dropped weapons and armor from the fight. But there are a few good finds, like some of the clothes from their closet, a couple of flower pots, one of his framed embroidery pieces...

“Oh, hey, look at this!” Jimmy calls excitedly. “My gloves!”

He pulls the gloves out, looking up from the chest to see Tango standing over him. His eyes widen when he sees them- happily surprised at first, and then the familiar dawning of guilt and regret.

“You uh… maybe I should take those back, for now,” Tango says quietly, his ears lowered. “Or- or maybe just forever, yeah.”

“Ey, stop it, no take-backs,” Jimmy chastises him, slipping the gloves on. “Gloves couldn’t have prevented that fire, anyways. And I like wearin’ ‘em, because that way it’s sorta like I’m holdin’ your hand all the time.”

A grin tugs at Tango’s mouth. “Aw, that’s real cheesy, honey,” he teases, even as a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Yeah, but I mean it,” Jimmy says loftily. “I’m keepin’ them.”

Tango holds his hands up, chuckling. “Alright, alright…” His gaze travels back towards the ranch, up towards the storage room with its rows of chests. “Guess we should still have plenty of materials to rebuild, huh?”

“Should do, yeah,” Jimmy says, straightening up. Having the gloves back is an immediate comfort, despite the fact he’d only gone two days without them. He foldings his arms, gaze sweeping critically over the remains of the ranch. “I guess for now, we’ll just focus on the structure? Y’know, get the place liveable again and worry ‘bout the decor and landscapin’ later…”

“Oh, that’s what you think!”

The loud voice makes them both jump. Jimmy whirls around to see Bdubs- of course, because there’s absolutely no mistaking that voice.

“Bdubs!” Jimmy laughs, clutching his heart. “What- what’re you doin’ here?”

Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “I- I can’t believe what I’m- ‘no interior decor’, yeah right! You’re not gonna get outta that very- so easy! I tell you!”

Tango snickers. Luckily Bdubs’s sudden appearance hasn’t seemed to cause more than a brief startle. “Oh, yeah? You gonna help out, then, shorty?”

“Hey!” Bdubs barks incredulously- though it’s clear from his expression he’s not really upset. “I’m tryin’ t- augh, n’you- you stu- yes. Yes, yes, I’m here to help, of course. For goodness sakes. I- how kind, are I! Sweet, kind Bdubs…”

“And handsome, too,” Jimmy adds cheekily.

That makes Bdubs beam, puffing his chest out. “Yeahhh, c’mon baby!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tango groans.

“Oh, stop it!” Bdubs huffs. “Anyway, Impulse would’ve come, of course, but he and Etho- the redstone guys, you know, uh, they’re havin’ a- a- little chat, little brainy-thing… brainstormin’ ‘bout the portal stuff with Grian. But never thy fear! I saw you guys head out and, in my eternal wiseness, have already called in the forcements!”

Jimmy exchanges an amused look with Tango. “Well, any help is appreciated,” he amends.

“Sure about that, Timmy?” calls Joel’s voice, as the man himself appears over the hill.

And he’s not alone. Cleo’s taller figure looms over him, Scott and Pearl walking on either side of her as a small pack of wolves weave between their legs. The trio is followed by Martyn, Bigb, and Ren- the latter seeming to have recovered his friendly disposition and wagging tail. Finally, Scar emerges from behind a tree to round out the group, calling out a cheerful, “Hello there!”

Joel comes to a stop next to Bdubs and claps him on the shoulder. “We figured you two could use the help, what with you not bein’ builders and all.” Cheeky man.

Jimmy snorts. “Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. But slights at their building skills aside, he’s actually quite touched.

Tango blinks. “You guys… all came to help out?” he asks, sounding amazed.

“Of course!” Bdubs declares. “We ha- we help!”

Cleo shrugs, giving a hapless grin. “You know, I- I- I really don’t know… why Bdubs invited me? I’m not that great a builder. But I can supervise, I guess? And- and heckle. Always heckle.”

“And reach tha’ tall bits,” Scott offers, lightly elbowing her hip.

“And reach the tall bits,” Cleo laughs. “Right. Yes.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Martyn chimes in, slinging an arm around Bigb’s shoulders, “since that portal stuff is way over my head.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Uh…” He speaks to Jimmy and Tango behind his hand, despite making no effort to lower his voice at all- for comedic effect. “Normally, I would’ve offered my perfect redstone prowess to uh, to help the other guys out with their little portal thing, you know, but eugh- I knew someone would have ta’ keep all these jokers in line.”

“Ah, of course,” Tango replies sagely.

“Well?” Bdubs turns expectantly to the others, throwing his arms up. “Get movin’ then! Sheesh! Stand around, waitin’ for- for no raisin…”

“Yes, my liege,” Cleo drawls, rolling their eyes.

Ren claps his big paws together. “Yeah, we’re burnin’ daylight, my dudes!”

Pearl’s fuzzy wings unfurl from beneath her red cloak. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with!” she says excitedly, fluttering up to the storage room.

Just like that, the other Double Lifers descend on the husk of the ranch. Placing down temporary chests and crafting benches, sorting through the remaining resources, filling in the ditch with dirt. Multiple conversations start up immediately as everyone sets to a task, and the atmosphere is comfortable- even if a bit strange.

Jimmy can’t recall a time when this many of them have worked on a project together. Not on Third Life, not on Last Life, not here. Something like this just wouldn’t be possible during a death game. Large gatherings between different groups are always fraught with tension and uncertainty, by the fear of a trap or a backstab or a fight breaking out.

But it’s nice. Pearl is hovering above the second floor, working with Cleo to build the walls back up while Scott prepares some stairs and slabs for detailing. Scar and Bdubs are already bickering about how to do the landscaping while Joel grumbles at them, waist-deep in the ditch with Bigb and Martyn placing dirt. Ren’s started tearing down the damaged trees, clearing room for replanting, and Pearl’s wolves mill about, filling the air with curious sniffs and yips.

Tango’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, and it suddenly occurs to Jimmy that this is the most people Tango’s been around since the difficult conversation at spawn. Impulse was checking on them throughout the rest of the day, of course, and a few of the other players stopped by now and again, but not in big groups or anything.

Jimmy steps closer to Tango. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Tango looks at him in surprise. A smile spreads across his face, and he takes Jimmy’s hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”

Jimmy smiles back. “Then let’s get in there.”

~*~

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “Dang, this looks even better than before!” he says, craning his head to look around the room.

After a full day of building and the gradual dispersal of the other Double Lifers, Jimmy and Tango are now seeing their new bedroom for the first time. They were around for the bulk of the structure building, but once it came time for the interior, Bdubs and Scar had insisted it be a surprise. Everything about it is perfect, from the custom furniture to the quilted wool rug to the fancy frame Scar built around their double-wide bed.

Tango clears his throat. “Maybe, uh- maybe we can just…” He kicks one of the beds with the toe of his boot. “... scooch this over a little…”

“Nope,” Jimmy declares, sweeping Tango off the floor and onto the bed. “Nice try, mate, but you’re stayin’ right here next to me.”

“Okay, okay, fine! I ju- don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Tango huffs, but he’s grinning as he says it.

~*~

“Alright, fellas,” Grian says, clapping his hands together, “here’s what we’ve got so far…”

Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Tango is a little tense beside him- probably just nerves. But it could be worse. They’re gathered in the living room of Impulse and Bdubs’s house; Grian perched on the arm of the sectional across from Jimmy and Tango, Impulse and Etho sitting adjacent to them. The familiar setting and fairly limited company seems to have helped put Tango more at ease for what might end up being a tricky conversation.

“We’re... pretty sure we know how the Hels peeps got here,” Grian continues, “but there are a few things we need to clarify, first.” He glances at Etho, inclining his head. “Etho, you wanna explain?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Etho stands up. “Tango, may I see your comm, please? I uh, just need to look at it for a minute.”

Tango blinks. Anxiety flashes across his face for just a brief second before disappearing. “Oh. Uh, sure?” He pulls the item from his inventory, holding it out.

Etho takes the communicator. “So,” he begins, sitting back down, “you said that in Hels, players can’t make portals with their communicators, right?”

Tango gives a short nod. “That’s right. That comm isn’t the one I spawned with, they took that from me at Hels Tek. X made me a new one, after I got to Hermitcraft.” He gives a dry laugh. “I told him- I told him I lost it. Which, I mean, that’s- it’s technically not a lie, just... not the whole truth.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. He might no longer be worried that the others will reject him, but this still can’t be easy to talk about.

Etho studies the communicator, his mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration. “So after you got a new comm, you were able to use it to make portals?”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “it uh, it’s taken me to each Hermitcraft world and everything in between, no problem. Hubs, solo worlds, creative- you name it.”

Etho hums. “Can you use your comm to travel to Hels?”

“No.” Tango glances away. “I’ve looked for it, a few times. Never shows up.”

That brings a couple more questions to mind, but Jimmy files them away for later.

“Interesting.” Etho seems to be delving deep into the communicator’s hardware, typing rapidly. “So uh, the portal issue isn’t centered on players that spawn in Hels, just their communicators. And since overworld communicators can’t find Hels, there must be something about the world itself preventing it.”

Tango knits his brows together. “I suppose…?”

It’s at this point that Grian leans forward. “Have either of you heard about firewalls?” he asks.

Tango shakes his head, but Jimmy’s heart jolts. He has heard that word before; just the other day, when he thought he heard Grian’s voice in his head. But that’s not exactly something Jimmy wants to bring up right now. Or ever, maybe. His weird, random, intrusive thoughts don’t need to be anyone else’s problem.

“Um…” Jimmy pretends to think about it for a moment. “I think I’ve heard the term somewhere before, but I- I dunno what that actually means.”

“Right.” Grian spreads his hands. “So firewalls are a sort of added security measure that admins can use when making a new world. It’s like, an impenetrable barrier ‘round the world that makes it basically impossible for anyone unauthorized to join via portal.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, eyes widening. “What- why haven’t I heard about this? Do all worlds have these?”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, firewalls are kinda outdated. Developments in server security and comm travel have basically rendered them obsolete. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of a private world being raided, besides ours?” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s a real tedious process to set one up, so they aren’t used often. Mostly for multiplayer worlds that are invite-only, if an admin is particularly concerned about hackers.”

Jimmy holds out a hand. “So wait, hang on, this- what’s this got to do with our situation?”

Impulse catches his eye. “If you try to join a firewalled world without permission, it doesn’t show up on your comm.”

“Oh,” Tango says, realization dawning in his expression. “You think Hels has a firewall?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Grian says, nodding. “However, it’s a bit odd, ‘cause firewalls are usually just one-way… meaning that they keep players out, but they don’t stop players from leaving. So if that’s what’s goin’ on with Hels, it’s a firewall unlike any I’ve ever heard of- where it’s meant to keep players in, too. I’m not exactly sure if that’s why comms made in Hels can’t make portals, or if that’s due to something else entirely, but uh, that’s my best guess.”

Tango runs a hand through his hair. “That’s… I mean, this is the first I’ve heard of firewalls, but that doesn’t sound impossible…”

“So,” Jimmy speaks up hesitantly, “so how did the Hels Tek guys open a portal here?”

“How, indeed?” Etho repeats, finally looking up from Tango’s communicator. “Well, we know the portal was red, not purple. That’s like a comm portal, the way their light syncs up with the world they lead to. But uh, you know, the players coming through had items and armor on them, and they didn’t show up at world spawn. Their spawns didn’t reset, either, they uh- they kept spawning back on the other side. That makes me think this was actually a hacked nether portal, not a comm portal.”

Tango frowns. “Hang on, we- we didn’t have nether portals in Hels, either. I mean, how- there was no point, the nether and the overworld were combined into one realm.”

“Right.” Etho’s got that look in his eye- the glint of an idea about to take off. Jimmy’s seen it in Tango countless times. “You know how nether portals work?”

Tango coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, of course I know all the uh, super technical skadoodle bits, but- but maybe you should go over it.” He jerks his head towards Jimmy and Grian. “You know, for these uh, non-redstone people here.”

“Please do,” Jimmy chuckles.

Etho’s eyes crinkle upwards, like he’s smiling behind his mask. “Basically, they grab the coordinates they’re made on and translate it to nether coords, and vice versa. From what you’ve told me about Hels, being a fusion of the nether and overworld realms, a nether portal couldn’t work ‘cause it’d be like… giving it coords to a place it already is? It’d just crash and never ignite. But if you gave a nether portal frame coordinates to a different place… like, say, a different world…”

Even with Jimmy’s scarce knowledge of portals, it’s easy enough to catch Etho’s meaning.

“That’s crazy,” Tango protests. “How’d they- how could they possibly have gotten coordinates to Double Life?”

“I don’t think they did. I think they got coords to you.” Etho leans forward. “Think about it. The portal didn’t open at spawn, it opened down the hill from the ranch- where you were. I think that was intentional, considering you’re the whole reason they came.”

Jimmy’s mind is spinning. “But... how? And how’d you figure all this out?”

Etho shrugs a shoulder. “Uh, educated guess? Like, just kinda based on the things Bravo said, and what Tango’s told us about Hels and the players it spawns. But um, looking at his comm just now basically confirms it for me.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, surprised. “How?”

Etho tilts his head. “Communicators are pretty special items. They’re unique to the player they spawn with- even a replacement communicator like this one. It might not have the hard locks on it that prevent it from summoning portals, but it’s still unique to you. And based on its data, I can tell your player data is a little different. I think it has to do with you being from Hels.”

Tango hesitates. “Okay, and…?”

“If you and Bravo are really counterparts,” Etho says, “then I’d expect your data to be similar. Like, the same word in different languages, in a metaphorical sense. So if Bravo’s data was fed into a nether portal, it’d translate it to your data, and open a portal at your coords. Plus or minus a few blocks, probably.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So… you’re sayin’ they used Bravo to open a portal to Tango?” he surmises.

Etho nods. “I’d need Bravo’s comm or a look at his player data to confirm, but that’s my best guess, yeah.” He holds the communicator back out to Tango.

Tango stashes the communicator in his inventory. “So wait, what about- how does the firewall thing factor in, here?” he asks. “If it stops comm portals, wouldn’t it stop a nether portal, too?”

“Yes and no,” Grian answers. “A firewall works by constantly scanning for portals. If it finds one trying to form, it’ll crash it. If a nether portal was used to travel between different worlds, rather than two realms on the same world, a firewall would recognize it all the same.”

“But,” Etho continues, “if they somehow figured out how to stabilize the portal… like, by sending a constant stream of updates… it’d constantly reset the scanner of the firewall. Sort of like an update suppressor. That way, the uh, the firewall can never actually register the portal as a problem and shut it down. So that’d be one way they could keep a hacked nether portal open, even in the face of a firewall.”

Tango exhales slowly. “Okay…” he says, “and how do we stop them from doing that ever again?”

Impulse winces. “That, we’re not sure about. I mean, if Bravo wasn’t there for them to grab a signal from, I guess that’d stop them. However they built a portal, it probably needs his data to function.”

“Oh, well, great.” Tango throws his hands up. “No way he won’t help them again, he hates my guts. Only reason they haven’t come back yet is ‘cause Grian locked the world down, I- I guarantee it. But we can’t just all stay locked in here forever, you’ve all got lives and other worlds to get back to.”

Jimmy frowns, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Tango, anyone who’s got a problem with you has a problem with all of us.”

“For sure,” Grian agrees.

“Besides,” Impulse says, shrugging, “not to toot our own horns or anything, but I think we handled ourselves just fine against them.”

“You mean Pearl’s wolves handled them,” Tango says flatly. “And you guys had the element of surprise. I guarantee the only reason they went down so easy is ’cause they weren’t expecting much resistance. They show up again, now knowing what they’re up against, and that’s- that’s gonna turn out a whole lot differently.” He crossed his arms. “I need to leave, before Grian opens the world back up.”

“And what, just wait for them to come after you?” Jimmy demands, his wings puffing up. “Absolutely not.”

Tango makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. “It’s- you understand it’s only a matter of time, right?” he stresses. “Maybe it won’t be right after Grian lifts the lockdown, okay, maybe it’ll be days, or weeks, or months. Either way, it’ll happen eventually, and when it does… whether it’s- if that happens here, or back on Hermitcraft, or the next Life world... the result will be the same. People I care about will get caught in the crossfire, I- I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Jimmy pauses, wings drooping. The distress in Tango’s voice is sobering. There’s no question that Tango cares fiercely about his friends, and the guilt for putting them in harm’s way must be staggering. But still, he insists, “We don’t mind stayin’ put-”

“For how long, though?” Tango asks pointedly. “I can’t ask you guys to stay here forever. Like, I- I can’t stress enough how obsessive Atlas is. He came for me after ten years, okay, he’s not gonna just give up or lose interest. There will always be the risk of them opening another portal to me, so long as Bravo is in Hels.”

“So what if Bravo wasn’t in Hels?” Impulse cuts in.

Tango gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Impulse’s eyes are alight with excitement as he gains steam with his idea. “What if we went to Hels and got him out? That way, he’s not mad at you for being stuck there anymore, right, and Hels Tek can’t use him to make another portal.”

“What, you mean we open a portal to Hels?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. “I- I thought we already established that our comms can’t take us there, what- how are we supposed to get there?”

“The same way they got here,” Etho says. “We use your data to open a hacked nether portal to Bravo. Ahah.”

As intimidating as the prospect of encountering Hels Tek again is, Jimmy has to admit it’s probably the only solution. They can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away, not if it means Tango could get randomly attacked at any moment. And with all of the Double Lifers together, they stand a much better chance of succeeding.

“That’s a great idea!” Jimmy exclaims. “We grab him, shake Atlas down for the key to the collar while we’re at it, and get out. Problem solved.”

Tango doesn’t seem nearly as enthused. “No way. Absolutely no way. That’s- that’s way too dangerous, if you guys get stranded there- and Atlas is already looking for more hybrids to make farms with, he was about to take Jimmy for a feather farm!”

A brief silence follows this revelation.

Grian grimaces, ruffling his wings. “Oh, woof.”

“What?” Impulse asks, taken aback. “That’s why he had Jimmy chained up, too?”

Jimmy blinks. “Oh, is that what he meant?”

“What’d you th- you didn’t know?” Tango asks incredulously.

Jimmy holds his hands up. “Hey, hey, I didn’t spend much time thinkin’ about what he said to me!” he says sheepishly. “I was more concerned about you.”

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Oh, great. Well yeah, that’s what he wanted you for, to stick you in a feather farm skadoodler for all eternity.”

Jimmy swallows. No wonder Tango’s been so against the idea of them going against Hels Tek again. Death is no big deal- they’d simply respawn. Few injuries cause lasting damage. But being trapped in a farm like that, with no means to escape…

“Well,” he says, “that still doesn’t change my mind. You’re his number one target, okay, you can’t go without backup.”

“No,” Tango huffs. “Let me do it. I- I know Bravo shouldn’t just be left there forever, but that’s not your guys’ faults! It’s my life, my mistake, you guys shouldn’t be putting yourselves at risk like that-”

“Tango,” Jimmy interrupts, “we’re not gonna make a portal to Hels and just send you through alone-”

“Well, I’m not letting you guys come with me!” Tango shoots back. “Most of you guys are hybrids or monsters, too, and I’m not gonna risk Atlas turning you into farms.”

Grian clicks his tongue. “Ey, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “and what’s the alternative? You just take off to some solo world until Hels Tek comes a’knockin’?”

Tango shrugs. “I mean, I’d be fine with that-”

“No,” Jimmy says firmly. “I’m not lettin’ that happen. This is our only option, to put this problem to bed forever, and we stand the best chance if we do it together. We have to take it.” He grabs Tango’s hand. “Please, Tango.”

Tango hesitates, staring at their intertwined hands.

Now more than ever, Jimmy desperately wishes that he had some sense of what Tango’s thinking- even just the slightest insight to his thoughts, the faintest impression of an emotion through their soulbond. Especially since he’s had his confidence in reading Tango so thoroughly shaken over the last week. It’s scary to consider that he might not know Tango nearly half as well as he should, that Tango can so effectively mask his true feelings even from him.

“... fine,” Tango says, after a small eternity. “Fine, okay, we- let’s plan an invasion to Hels, sure.”

Jimmy gasps. “Really?”

“But,” Tango says warningly, “we gotta go about this extremely carefully, alright? No willy-nilly ‘rushing in blindly without a plan’ nonsense. And- and once we’re there, if at any point I tell you guys to flee, you- you best be fleein’, got it? With extra flee. No stupid heroics of noble stupidness.”

It’s a chance. That’s better than nothing. “Yes, alright!” Jimmy cheers. “Thank you!”

(Yay, we’re going to Hels- said no one ever.)

(Do they know what they’re getting into?)

(Oh boy, here we go.)

Etho shrugs. “Whatever you say, Tango, you’re the uh, you’re the Hels expert, here.”

Impulse folds his arms. “That’s a dirty condition you kinda tacked on the end, there,” he mutters, “but I’ll accept it.”

“Alright then.” Tango gives a tired sigh, but the corners of his mouth are curling into a smile. “I- I guess we’re doin’ this. We’ve got some room in the basement at the ranch, we can build it there.”

“Excellent.” Grian grins. “Let’s build a portal to Hels, fellas.”

~*~

Jimmy’s startled awake by a shout.

Heart pounding, he squints into the dark room. As his eyes struggle to adjust in the scarce light, he can just barely make out Tango sitting upright in bed. His rapid, shallow breaths wheeze through clenched teeth, faint sparks emitting from his dim blaze rods as they try to ignite.

“Tango,” Jimmy whispers, sitting up, “you okay?”

Tango’s breathing hitches. Then he turns to collapse against Jimmy’s chest, clinging fiercely to his shirt. His entire body is trembling. “Nightmare,” he manages to get out.

Jimmy’s heart twists. He knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see. Gently, he wraps his arms around Tango, then his wings for good measure. “I got ya,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

Tango tucks his face against Jimmy’s shoulder and falls silent. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it in the morning, maybe he won’t. But for now, Jimmy just holds him, and hopes that’s enough.

~*~

Jimmy stares at the redstone circuitry laid out before him. “I understand none of this.”

Though it’s only been a few days since they started work on the portal, they’ve already made a lot of progress. Impulse and Etho have been over basically around the clock, with Bdubs and Joel tagging along more often than not. They’ll watch the redstoners work until they get bored, and inevitably wander upstairs to bug Jimmy. Grian checks in on them every now and then, and the other Double Lifers have popped by for little visits, so it’s been a lot of activity at the ranch. Lots of people coming and going.

It’s strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. Almost like an actual pleasant community feeling. Neighbors helping neighbors and all that.

A dedicated digging session has left them with a bit more space in the basement, allowing them to section off a separate room from Tango’s sugar cane farm. They finished it with a stone floor and simple wooden walls at Bdubs’s insistence (he considered it unacceptable to just leave it all as freshly-dug dirt). An obsidian portal frame (complete with corners at Etho’s insistence) stands empty against the back wall, leaving abundant floor space for the redstone- of which there is plenty.

Redstone dust wires criss-cross through rows of repeaters and hopper lines. It’s all far beyond Jimmy’s capacity to understand, of course, but even Tango seems a bit baffled. He’s claimed many times that his understanding of redstone is surface-level at best, and that his real skill comes in applying the various components and systems in creative ways. But he’s at least been able to help with the construction, the actual placing of redstone components.

“Right,” Tango laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s- lemme see if I’ve got this right…” He points at a long line of redstone dust. “Main circuit to the portal.”

Impulse nods. “Yep.”

Tango steps gingerly around the redstone, gesturing towards a rather complex looking amalgamation of observers and comparators. “This nonsense over here will turn my skadoodle bits into a fireable signal.”

Etho, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, chuckles. “Pretty much.”

“And this,” Tango waves at the hoppers, “will count out the final coords before they hop on the main bus line to the portal.”

Jimmy nods hesitantly. “Okay… okay, cool, so- so is it done, then?”

“Not quite,” Impulse says. “We need a player detector.”

Tango creases his brows together. “What, like a- like a pufferfish? A skulk sensor?”

“No, more like a- a whole separate system,” Etho explains. “It’s more than just registering your presence. We need something that can read your data, pick out your coordinates, and send them to the portal for translation to Bravo.”

Tango exhales slowly. “That… sounds pretty complicated.”

“Oh, it will be,” Impulse says, folding his arms. “I mean, just think about how much data each player contains, right, all the codes that dictate our behavior and biology… we don’t wanna overload this thing, so it’ll require some heavy-duty filtering.”

“Not only that,” Etho continues, “but uh, if that firewall thing turns out to be a problem, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to stabilize the portal, too. That’ll take some tinkering with different power sources til we find the exact right input to override the firewall’s checker.”

Jimmy winces; he’d been hoping for a quicker solution. It’s already been over a week since the invasion, and he knows Tango hates being stalled. The sooner they get this problem taken care of, the sooner they can stop worrying and get back to their normal lives. Jimmy himself doesn’t have anywhere else to be, but the other Double Lifers do. And even if they don’t mind the unexpected stay-cation, it definitely bothers Tango that their lives have been disrupted for his sake. Goodness knows he’s already got enough of a guilt complex.

But Tango simply gives a bemused smile. “Well, let’s get started, then.”

~*~

“Are we really sure we wanna do this?”

Jimmy winces at Tango’s tone. “I know, I know,” he says regretfully, “it wasn’t my favorite idea either. But if it can get that collar off’a you, we gotta try, right?”

Trying to remove the collar manually had resulted in a sharp, shooting pain through Tango’s neck at the slightest movement. Trying to remove it with redstone had proven unsuccessful- clearly, it was designed to be insulated against any outside signals. Trying to pick the lock had resulted in nothing but a lot of frustration. So that left them with their last resort.

They’ve moved outside, round the back of the ranch, to avoid getting blood stains all over their newly refurbished house. A random bed has been placed down to provide them with a quick and easy respawn, their items temporarily stowed in a chest. Impulse holds a Sharpness V sword, tail flicking as he watches them apprehensively.

“I’m only gonna do this if you’re okay with it,” he tells Tango seriously. “We can go back to the drawing board, come up with some other things to try…”

“No, no,” Tango shakes his head, “I don’t- you shouldn’t be wasting time on this, you’re already working pretty much nonstop on the portal.”

The frustration in his voice is evident. Impulse frowns. “I don’t mind…”

“Well, I do!” Tango says, crossing his arms and glancing away.

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse before putting a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder. “I know there’s a chance it won’t work,” he starts quietly, “and we’ll have killed ourselves for nothin’. No one likes gettin’ their head cut off. But it’ll be over quick, we’ll respawn straight back here, and then at least we’ll know we tried everything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Hey, I- I’m not afraid of a little decapitation, alright, I just… I feel kinda bad putting you through this, you know?” Guilt creeps into his expression. “It’s not your neck that the stupid thing is stuck on. You shouldn’t have to-”

“We’re in this together,” Jimmy tells him steadily. “So if you’re willin’ to try it, I’m happy to die along with ya.”

Tango manages a faint laugh. “Jeeze, honey, you- you don’t have to make it sound so dramatic. We aren’t on a three-life system anymore.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Well, that’s how I feel! Honestly, if there’s even a chance this’ll get that thing off’a you, I’m down.”

“Alright.” Tango takes a quick, steadying breath. “Okay, I wanna try.” He glances at Impulse. “Uh- commence the chop-ificating, then, I guess.”

Impulse nods; he’s keeping his expression and general demeanor calm, reassuring. “Okay, then. So here’s what I’m gonna do…” He carefully sets the edge of his blade along the rim of Tango’s collar, so that the metal is just barely touching skin, and then pinches the collar between the fingers of his other hand. “I’ll give it one quick, clean slice, and try to pull the collar off your body, okay?”

Tango tilts his chin up. “Okay,” he whispers. He’s nervous, now; every muscle in his body is rigid.

Jimmy reaches for his hand. “I’ll be right there with ya.”

Impulse tightens his grip on the sword. “Tango, gimme a countdown whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright.” Tango exhales shakily, closing his eyes. “Five... four... three... two...”

Jimmy closes his eyes and squeezes Tango’s hand.

“One.”

Pain slices across Jimmy’s neck- an intense, searing burn, like he’s swallowed a bucket of lava. There’s a rush of vertigo, the world spinning off-kilter around him. He’s instantly thrust into darkness, that all-consuming void with which he’s rather familiar.

And then it’s over. He’s back, sitting on the bed with Tango in a piled heap of limbs.

Jimmy sucks in a breath. Now that everything’s stopped spinning, he can see that the collar is still around Tango’s neck.

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, sweeping Tango into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Tango’s laugh is muffled against his shoulder. “Worth a shot, right?”

Impulse, standing a few feet away and holding a bloody sword, looks dismayed. “No good,” he says as he walks over, putting the sword away. “Your body respawned before I could pull the collar off. But uh, that’s… not the only issue.”

That makes Tango look over. “What is it?”

“I caught a look at the inner face of it,” Impulse says, frowning, “the part that’s actually touching your skin? And, um… it looks like there’s a bunch of little… spikes on the inside of the collar?”

“Spikes?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I don’t know how else to describe them?” Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Um, they’re black in color, not super big... probably thinner than my pinky finger but not like, needles or anything…”

“Oh.” Tango blinks. “It’s the thorns. They’re wither rose thorns. That’s how it works.”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “What?”

Tango spreads his hands. “When Atlas locked the collar, it must’ve caused a- a bunch of thorns to pop out and dig into my neck. But they aren’t- they don’t have the full strength of wither rose, so that’s why I’m not getting the full wither effect, and after a while, you know, they sorta- they numb the area, so I don’t feel them. But when we start yanking on the collar, it forces them deeper into my skin, so it hurts.”

“Oh... my gosh,” Jimmy breathes, aghast. “That’s- that’s horrible!”

The whole concept of the collar is already inhumane- to treat a fellow sentient player like a simple animal. But this? This is just plain evil.

Impulse seems to be trying very hard not to get upset again. “Well, then,” he says, voice tight. “That rules out my next suggestion, which was to just go at it with a few sharp axes. I don’t wanna like, hammer those thorns deeper into your neck...” His expression turns thoughtful. “What if we try and get something sharp between your neck and the collar, slice off the thorns all the way around? Then we could-”

“No,” Tango interrupts. “Look, I- I appreciate the help, but if we tweak this thing the wrong way, it could probably jab an artery, or puncture my trachea, and then I’d respawn and be right back at square one again! No, I- I think we’re done.”

Impulse looks like he wants to argue, but Jimmy catches his gaze, giving him an imploring look.

“Alright,” Impulse relents. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “we’ll get that collar off, I promise.”

“It’s fine.” Tango’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “It... might not be the worst thing, you know, to have my fire locked down. Considering our fancy new house and all.”

Oh, they can’t have that. Jimmy puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tango,” he says seriously, “your fire is a part of you, and I’m not gonna rest til we’ve got it back.”

Tango sighs, but when he looks up, his eyes are fond. “I know.”

Impulse exhales slowly. “Do you... wanna try and get the cuffs off, then?” he offers.

“What?” Tango jolts. “Why? They aren’t hurtin’ anything.”

Impulse holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s okay, I just thought... if they’re from that terrible place, maybe you’d wanna get rid of ‘em?”

“And y’know,” Jimmy chimes in, “it’d be a lot easier for someone else to crack them off ya, couple good swings with an axe, maybe…”

“That won’t work,” Tango says stiffly. “They’ve been on me for so long now, been through so many respawns that if I’m not the one to remove them, it- they’ll just keep coming back.”

Impulse inhales through his teeth, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, man.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks, his heart sinking. He isn’t overly familiar with the universal rules that determine what does and doesn’t respawn along with a player, but Tango seems pretty certain.

“Yeah. They’re basically part of my data now.”

“Oh.”

The unspoken question is glaringly obvious: ‘why haven’t you removed them yet, then?’ The cuffs seem just as well-made as the collar, but surely there’s a way to cut through them. At least, he should’ve been able to find a way sometime during the last ten years- even if he wasn’t comfortable asking any of the Hermits to help him.

But Jimmy can tell Tango’s already hit his limit for today. It’s a subject he’s always avoided discussing in the past, so they’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

(Oh, gonna make that mistake again?)

‘Shut up,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

“Need some help, hun?”

“Ack!” Jimmy gives a start, accidentally yanking out the feather he’d been teasing. He whirls around. “Tango!”

Tango holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Jeeze,” Jimmy laughs, catching his breath, “I- I thought you guys were still working on the portal!”

“Well, yeah,” Tango says, closing the door behind him, “but Etho thinks we need a redstone ore block and we didn’t have any layin’ around, so he and Impulse went mining.” He crosses over to sit on the bed, curiously studying the feathers strewn about. “Doin’ some preening?”

“Um...” Jimmy ducks his head sheepishly. “Yeah, just- just the uh, burned ones... they’re startin’ to itch.”

Tango gives him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide it from me, I- I won’t get all weird mega guilt-trippy about it.”

Jimmy softens. “I just... I know you’ve been beating yourself up about it, that’s all.” He gazes at the burned feather in his hand. “It was an accident. I don’t blame you.”

“I know.” Tango runs a gentle hand over one of Jimmy’s wings. “Can… can I help?”

Jimmy smiles. “Sure.”

~*~

“Wait, are you serious?” Tango asks, eyes wide. “You think the portal’s ready to go? Right now?”

Grain nods. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimmy glances between them with raised eyebrows. They’d called Grian over for a little update on the current state of the portal project- now complete with the fancy player detector system that the redstoners have been painstakingly building over the past week. But once Etho explained that the final step was stabilization, Grian had dropped a bomb on them.

“I’ve uh… been doin’ some research,” Grian continues, “and I’m pretty sure that Hels has a firewall that’s just been sorta… inverted? It’s still a one-way barrier, it just stops players from making portals out rather than in. ‘Course, it’s still inaccessible by comm portal, but our little set-up here should circumvent that. Once we’ve gotten the portal to lock onto Bravo’s coords, there shouldn’t be anythin’ stopping it from forming.”

Etho scratches the side of his mask. “Well, if we don’t have to stabilize the portal, that’ll definitely simplify things,” he says. “We might actually have everything we need already.”

“Couldn’t hurt to fire it up,” Impulse agrees, glancing at Tango. “Just to give it a little test drive? If we do get a portal open, we can easily shut it down right after. We don’t have to actually go through it.”

Tango hesitates. “But wouldn’t Grian have to lift the lockdown?”

“Yeah, I will,” Grian amends. “But I’ve actually just finished settin’ up a firewall, so when I lift the lockdown, we’ll still be protected. We’ll be able to leave through any portal we want, but no one else can get in without bein’ on the whitelist.”

“Wait, really?” Tango looks surprised. “Why- did you let the others know? I- I’m sure they’ll wanna get back to their other worlds.”

“Ey, I only just finished it!” Grian defends. “I wanted to let you lot know first, so there wouldn’t be any panic or confusion if people started randomly leavin’ through portals. I’ll inform the others, but uh, I’m pretty sure they’ll wanna just stick around til we get this done. Especially if the portal’s ready to go. All that’ll be left to do is come up with our plan of attack, and we’ll need all hands on deck for the actual mission.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says easily, “Hermitcraft can wait.”

Tango chews his lip. “I… I guess we can try it,” he relents.

“Great!” Grian pulls his communicator out. “Gimme a second to lift the lockdown, okay…”

Jimmy turns to Tango, taking him by the hands. “Hey, is this alright?” he asks softly. “We don’t have to try it today if you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Tango assures him, squeezing his hands. “It’s just- it’s a bit sooner than I was expecting, you know? But this is good. I mean, if this works, then this whole business will finally be over.”

Jimmy’s eyes trace the collar around Tango’s neck. “Yeah. And not a moment too soon.”

Obviously they’ve still got a pretty significant task ahead of them. It’ll be no easy feat to storm Hels Tek, not if they’ve got as much muscle backing them up as they did for the invasion. Atlas is one slippery fella, and it might be hard to get Bravo to listen to them long enough to cooperate. But getting the portal in working order is another hurdle down, so they can shift gears towards the impending mission. And once that’s done, there’ll no longer be a threat hanging over them.

Suffice to say, Jimmy’s looking forward to getting back to his domestic bliss.

“Okay,” Grian says, glancing up, “lockdown is officially lifted. Go ahead.”

“Alright, Tango.” Etho pushes away from the wall. “Uh, just hop onto the redstone ore block whenever you’re ready, I guess? Everything should be in place.”

Tango exhales shakily, looking nervous, but he manages to give Jimmy a smile. “Here goes nothin’...”

Turning away, he steps onto the redstone ore block, which immediately lights up. It starts a sort of ripple effect along the dust that connects it to the rest of the redstone, triggering all kinds of ticking and flashing. It’s all Jimmy can do to follow the signal as it travels towards the portal frame-

Static fills the air, and the portal ignites. Swirling red light fills the frame.

“Oh, nice,” Grian breathes.

“Yes!” Impulse cheers. “We did it!”

“Okay, uh, Tango?” Etho nods at him. “Go ahead and step off the block, now.”

Tango doesn’t respond. He’s staring at the portal with an unreadable expression clouding his gaze, almost as if in a trance.

Jimmy quickly hurries to his side. “Tango,” he murmurs, gently shaking his arm, “come on.”

“Huh?” Tango jolts. “Oh, oh right, sorry!”

He steps aside, and the portal remains lit. Impulse grins. “Alright, looks like we’re good,” he says, stooping over to hit a button next to the portal. A piston extends across the redstone line, and the portal extinguishes.

Jimmy lets out a breath of relief. An irrational part of him had been worried that Hels players would immediately start pouring through. “You okay?” he asks Tango quietly.

Tango nods. “Yeah, sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’m fine, it just… kinda hit me all at once.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says, “I definitely wasn’t expecting to have a working portal today, either. But hey, good job guys!”

“Yeah, nicely done, fellas,” Grian says, sounding pleased. He starts typing on his communicator. “I’m gonna let the others know we’ve got the portal workin’, and tomorrow… we’ll all meet to start planning our invasion of Hels. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solid plan to get Bravo, get that key from Atlas, and get out.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, sure. Easy peasy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jimmy says, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “We won’t go through til we’re all good and ready, yeah?”

Tango’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Grian puts his communicator away. “Get some rest, everyone, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Details in chat.”

~*~

<Grian> portal done. meet @ impulse and bdubs tomorrow at noon for hels invasion plotting. all ideas welcome

<PearlescentMoon> Ooh :0

<InTheLittleWood> wait seriously? already??

<Renthedog> YO amazing job on the portal guys! :D

<BdoubleO100> oh THANKS A LOT for volunteering us to host GRIAN!!

<Grian> :P

~*~

Later that night, in the dark quiet of their room, Tango rolls over to nestle his head beneath Jimmy’s chin, claws bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Jimmy hums. “For what?”

“For… not givin’ up on me.”

“What’d’you mean?”

“I mean… you know, I- after everything I did, and- and everything I said…”

“I already told you, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But when I realized the secret was out… that things were- that we couldn’t just go back to normal… I mean, I was convinced it was over. Everything, my- my new life, my freedom, my friends. Us. But you never gave up hope.”

“Of course. It’s been a long road here, alright, I- I’m not givin’ that up without a fight.”

Tango tilts his chin up to look at Jimmy, red eyes glowing in the dark, and leans in to meet his lips. They kiss slow and sweet. Warmth hums in Jimmy’s chest.

This hasn’t been an easy journey, and he knows there’s plenty more challenges still ahead. Even if the mission to Hels goes well and they achieve all that they want to, the experiences Tango’s been through won’t magically go away. It’ll take time. Healing isn’t linear. But with everything out in the open now and the support of their friends, Jimmy’s hopeful that Tango can start to unlearn his self-hatred. Jimmy will be there every step of the way.

All too soon, Tango pulls away. “We should get some rest,” he whispers, settling against Jimmy again.

“Yeah,” Jimmy sighs ruefully, draping a wing across Tango. “Gonna need all two of my brain cells at full strength.”

Tango huffs a soft laugh. “Love you, honey.”

Jimmy closes his eyes, smiling. “Love you, too.

~*~

Jimmy wakes up to a cold bed.

That immediately sets off alarm bells in his head, because since when has Tango gotten out of bed before him? Then he opens his eyes and realizes it’s still night; a faint crescent moon hangs in the starry sky visible through their window. Their room is dark and empty. Tango is nowhere to be seen.

The alarm bells become a siren.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jimmy springs out of bed, sparing a second only to grab his shoes off the floor before throwing the door open. His heart is in his throat as he flies down the stairs to the main level- all dark and empty- and hooks the corner to wrench open the basement door.

Already he can see the chilling red glow from the portal cast across the wall, a shadow of bleeding light, and a million curses scream through his mind. His stomach feels like it’s knotted in on itself and his lungs are burning for air, he’s moving faster than what seems physically possible and yet not nearly fast enough as he crashes down the stairs and bursts into the portal room, mouth opening to cry out-

Just in time to watch Tango vanish into the red light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player walks through a portal.

Tango’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. He’s already started shaking- if it weren’t for the wither effect flowing from his collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be igniting right now. It’s a bizarre mix of emotions. The scent of ash and the sight of netherrack are comforting, in a way. Familiar. But it’s also terrifying, because there’s no mistaking where he is.

(There’s a reason he doesn’t like hanging out in the nether.)

Fear threatens to swallow him. He pushes it down; he’s got a job to do.

Forcing a steadying breath through his clenched teeth, he takes in his surroundings, ears pricked cautiously. He’s definitely not at spawn- he’s at the border of a basalt delta, actually, fine gray particles fluttering through the air. Aside from the portal behind him, there’s not a structure in sight. No sounds save for the distant bubbling of lava and the distinctive slap of magma cubes.

Tango frowns, chewing his lip. The portal was supposed to take him to Bravo, so he must be around here somewhere. Why he’s not at Hels Tek, Tango isn’t sure. Maybe they’re out on an errand run? Either way, he ought to start looking around.

But first, he’s got to break the portal so no one can follow him. Everything he’d packed made it through with him, thankfully, so he equips his pickaxe and turns back to the portal-

Just in time for Jimmy to emerge, running straight into him.

The collision knocks Tango to the ground, pickaxe flying from his hand, his forehead stinging where it smacked against Jimmy’s chin. Blinking spots from his eyes, he pushes himself up on his elbows with a groan. Once his vision stops spinning, he locks eyes with Jimmy, who seems just as shocked as he is.

Both of them shout at exactly the same moment.

“What are you doing here?!”

~*~

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #my writing #hermitcraft #double life smp

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