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The pair gazed down upon the tarnished earth from their spot in the blood-colored welkin. Masses of risen dead rhythmically moved across glass-protected ruin like an ever-damned plague.
“Gross,” remarked Technoblade, trying to dismantle the dramatics at their roots.
Phil repressed a snort with force. Now was not the time for laughter, even if this was a bit humorous to him, on a cosmic level.
“So,” the father sighed, “where do we start?”
“Well, Niki’s fine.”
“How do you know that?”
“She’s Niki, n’ she’s got a place underground.”
“Oh,” Phil knew the source of the girl’s intuition, but kept silent. Once again, not the time.
“Yeah. R- Uh…Boo’s fine too, bein’ a ghost.”
“We know it doesn’t affect ghosts?”
“I mean, yeah, probably,” Techno huffed, peering through the lens of a spyglass. The Angel of Death could tell his confidant was nervous, despite his common gruffness.
“Alright. We find the gang, get things sorted out, fix this problem the way we know best—“
“Heh?” The blade distractedly grunted to himself, interrupting the winged man.
“What is it, mate?”
“Look.” He held the spyglass toward Philza, brows drawn in concern.
He took the scope, and with it, regarded the world with keener eyes-
And there he was. Tommy, marching in grand strides, donning a full set of shining, lavender armor, with a trident to match. A crowd of undead stumbled behind.
“What the fuck,”
They weren’t behind him in a chase.
They were following the leader.
“Jack, get in the car!”
Wilbur bellowed, grasping his brand new toy with intent. The rolling winter plains had hidden a mob of the dearly departed.
They only knew to eat.
“Fucking hell,” Jack spat, starting for the vehicle—
A glimmering trident halted his path with a screech. It flew above him, then slammed into the car’s metal door.
He knew that weapon anywhere- He knew any item he’d lost.
“Wilbur-“ He began, but he was too late. Another deep voice disrupted his warning.
“Do you like them?”
The pair grew stiff in their positions as the growling mass became noiseless. A boy emerged from its center, bloody and armored.
“Tommy?” Wilbur’s hold on the shotgun wavered.
Tommy’s bangs draped over his eyes in alabaster-caramel strands—A patch of the skin beneath was discolored an unnerving shade of decomposing olive.
“Hello, Wilbur. Oh, and, ah-“ He dismissively waved his bony hand. “Jack.”
Jack grimaced.
Wilbur was quiet. Unusually quiet.
“What do you want, Tommy,” snapped Manifold, baring fangs without intending to.
“First, I want you to answer my question!” The boy cheerfully beamed, gesturing to the group of grotesque beings that lay in wait behind him. “Do you like them? I brought them here just for you guys.”
Jack took daring steps forward. He held an axe now. “You what?”
Tommy repeated himself deliberately, in a mocking tone- Like Jack was too stupid to understand what he’d said.
“I brought them here. Just. For. You guys.”
Wilbur waded through the forming argument with a gentle tongue.
“Tommy, what happened?”
Jack glanced at his companion, then looked back to Tommy, who appeared- Offended.
“You shouldn’t be asking that, asshole!” He pointed to Wilbur with a longsword born of diamonds.
“But- Your face, Tommy,”
“Don’t say my name like that,” He grit his teeth, “ Don’t say my name like you care. Like you’re sorry…That’s what I’m here for, by the way.”
“What-?” Jack raised a brow.
“God. You’re both useless.” He scoffed, shifting the teal blade toward his feet. “I’m here with a sort of would-you-rather, yeah?”
Tommy dug the longsword’s edge into the snow.
“If Wilbur apologizes, I’ll leave you alone.”
“That’s it?” Jack groaned. “You came all this way for a fucking apology-“
“THAT’S NOT IT, JACK.”
Jack flinched.
“If Wilbur doesn’t apologize I won’t leave you alone! Simple. I’ll kick your asses with all my, ah…Zomboys n’ zomgirls. “
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Manifold grumbled, putting a hand to his temple, “Wilbur, apologize to this little shit.”
Wilbur remained motionless, minus the twitch in his hands.
Jack hesitated, then repeated his name. “Wilbur?”
“I- Tommy, I…”
“Wilbur, you can’t be serious,”
“Ten seconds, Wilby.”
“—Wilbur, c’mon—“
Wilbur trembled, wobbly in his words, which fell on no ears.
“Ten, nine,”
“Tommy, I’m sure he’s sorry,”
“EIGHT,” Tom suddenly screamed, his grip on the weapon’s hilt worsened. “SEVEN,”
“Tommy, I can’t—“
It was just like Fundy.
He looked just like Fundy. His face, the rot- The hurt in his eyes. It wasn’t that he couldn’t apologize.
It was that he couldn’t breathe.
Jack was quiet. Tommy was, too, before he laughed an arid, painful laugh-
“Of course you can’t.”
“No, Tommy—“ Wil’s eyes grew wide behind his glasses. “Tommy, I’m-“
“Oh, you’re sorry, you’re sorry! Shut up,”
Wil opened his mouth to speak again through labored breaths- But Tommy continued,
“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP-“
Wilbur’s shout pierced the cold air, “TOMMY, I’M SORRY,”
“NO, YOU AREN’T!”
He shut his eyes, clutching the sides of his head- His nails dug past his blonde hair and into pale skin.
“You aren’t fucking sorry, you’ve never been sorry, never, never, never,”
“Tommy, don’t,” Jack whispered, a twitch in his fingers. This was familiar.
The horde’s howls rose once again.
“THE BLOOD MOON’S HIIIIGH, JACK!” Tommy lifted the longsword. “MY SWORD WILL CUT THE WORLD IN HALF!”
“Wilbur, LOOK OUT-“ Jack knocked himself and Wilbur out of the blade’s trajectory, then grabbed the shotgun. “CAR, NOW!”
“YOU CAN’T RUN FROM ME,” Tommy shrieked.
“I CAN DRIVE!” Jack retorted, just as loud. Wilbur, whimpering, tried to stand, but found himself beneath the jaws of a rotting corpse.
“Fuck, fuck!” He swore, fighting its grip, relieved when Jack shot it dead.
“LET’S GO, ASSHAT!”
Wil nodded, swiftly getting on his feet. Jack tossed Charlie’s gift into his hands, breaking into a mad dash toward the car. Gunfire erupted out of his view. He didn’t know how to drive a car, despite his claims- But he was certainly going to try.
Then Tommy leapt from the masses and onto the vehicle’s roof.
“HELLO, MANIFOLD!”
“What the FUCK!” Jack screamed, ducking to avoid Tommy’s sword. “WHAT’D I DO TO YOU, HUH!?”
“Oh, Jack, you idiot-“ Tommy maniacally smiled, “It doesn’t matter if you’re a good or bad guy now.”
He dodged another of Tommy’s swings-
“I need to eat.”
Jack understood now. This wasn’t wholly Tommy anymore.
He ducked again, ripping the forked trident from the door and quickly bringing its long handle against the sharp side of Tommy’s longsword. The Manifork. He thought he’d lost it.
“Guess you’re not as much of a pussy as I thought, Manifold.”
Jack released an angered scream, pushing toward empyrean to shove him from the roof- He careened backward, and Jack tailed his fall, weaponry clanging as the boys began to brawl.
“TOMMY, PLEASE,” Wilbur pleaded, continuing to fire at the gaunt troop.
Tommy ignored him, focused on Jack, who landed a solid punch across his face. Blood spilled from his nostrils.
“YOU KILL ME AND THEN YOU CALL ME A FUCKING PUSSY!?”
“YOU ARE ONE! YOU TOOK MY HOTEL!”
“YOU DIDN’T DESERVE IT!”
“YOU TOOK IT WHILE I WAS DEAD!”
“LIKE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” Emotions swelled in Jack’s dry throat.
Tommy pushed him from his chest, raising the sword once again-
“JACK!” Wilbur cried out, swiveling—
A considerable force rammed Tommy off of Jack, who promptly coughed and sat up to see his lifesaver.
“Get in your car,” commanded Techno. Tommy had skid to a stop several feet behind his back.
“No, no, NO,” bellowed the leader of the dead, “GET THEM!”
Wilbur traversed the battlefield in an instant, hopping in the passenger seat and yelling-
“TECHNO, GET ON!”
Techno side-stepped a corpse and clambered atop the car with dangerous grace. As he did, Jack got in the driver’s seat, dodging a thrown longsword.
“Move,” demanded the piglin, killing the closest zombies with a crossbow.
Jack recklessly stepped on the gas, sweat coating his skin.
“YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE,” Tommy declared, meeting Techno’s gaze. “I’LL KILL YOU!”
“Jack, you’re a horrible driver,” Wilbur anxiously spat, gripping the sides of his seat. The car rumbled as Jack steered.
“And you’re a horrible person.” Jack replied, white-knuckling the wheel.
Before Wilbur could defend himself, Techno knocked on the driver’s side window-
“Hey, can you roll down the back window or somethi-“
“WHAT THE FUCK-“
The car swerved and wobbled, but Jack regained control of it. A long silence followed.
Techno broke it.
“Can you roll down the back window.”
Jack glared at him, then granted his wish. Technoblade quickly swung into the backseat, long, regal, rosy hair coating its leather.
“Okay, you can roll it back up now.”
Jack huffed, “Don’t tell me what to…” His comment deteriorated into incoherent mumbles as he rolled the window back up.
Another long silence.
Once again, broken by Technoblade.
“Where’re we goin’.”
“I don’t know,” Jack snapped, shoulders risen.
“I have a place-“ Wilbur tried—
“I don’t give a shit.” Jack shut him up.
“I…” Techno tried, and succeeded, to suggest something to Jack, “Have a place.”
“Give me coords. Now.”
Jack watched as Techno opened the side of a mountain by grazing a button.
“C’mon,” grunted the blade, entering the vault.
“This is just like…” Wilbur softly spoke, then teased, “Oh, Technoblade, you shouldn’t have.”
“Shut up.” Techno’s lips curled into a mischievous grin, “Welcome to my crypt.”