“Guys! You’re going to wake Chosen!” someone whispers as Chosen drifts into consciousness. His body feels tense and stiff. He knows this sensation, that quiet dread of peace before all hell breaks loose. The moment before a door slams, a punch is thrown, the floor falls out from beneath him. He’s grown a sense for it. The impending doom.
He opens his eyes, scanning his surroundings, to find nothing but the blank desktop with a single tab open to the fighting website. Nothing looks dangerous, but he can’t shake that looming feeling of danger.
“Well, we have to get him out of here.” Yellow whispers, just loud enough to hear.
“Get who out?” Chosen asks.
“Chosen! Good morning!” Yellow whips around, and his friends are giving the biggest fake smiles. Green, Red, and Blue are in the back, clearly trying to block his view of something going on behind them.
“What’s going on?” Chosen asks, approaching the group with caution.
“Nothing!” they all chorus back, their faux smiles only growing as Chosen comes closer. He can see the kid behind them all, talking to something he can’t see.
“Uh! Chosen! Blue is going to make breakfast! Do you want to help her?” Green asks, trying to distract Chosen, but he won’t be deterred. Whatever the kid is talking to is dangerous, he could feel it.
He pushes past the kids, ignoring all the clamoring and pulls away from the desperate hands trying to drag him back. His stomach twists as the thing comes into view. The familiar jagged angles, the thin black border and white body.
The cursor.
Everything seems to slow with that one sight. Burns, cuts and bruises long healed over ache like the scars were ripped off, exposing all of his vulnerabilities again. Now that Dark is gone, is he the biggest threat in the room again? That’s the only reason Alan sided with him in the first place, right? Because Dark was the bigger threat.
Chosen rubs his right ankle with his left foot, needing to confirm that the ball and chain are actually gone. He can feel the ghost of the cold metal just waiting to drag him down. Is the floor going to give out on him too? Did the kid lie to him? No. No. The kid wouldn’t do that. Right?
“Chosen?” One of the kids is talking, but he’s not sure which one it is. Blue, probably. It sounds like her, but it's so fuzzy, nothing makes sense.
“What’s going on?” his voice creaks.
Stay calm. Stay calm. Don’t freak out.
“Orange is figuring it out. See the text?” Blue points to the kid talking to the cursor with a text box next to them. Chosen can’t exactly see whatever it is they’re seeing, not from this angle. Chosen walks over to the text, trying to read it. His head throbs with every step. He can feel the fire in his chest coming to an unbearable broil. No ice forms at his fingertips, only little sparks of fire.
“What is he doing here?” Chosen does his best to hide the break of his voice. His eyes never leave the omnipresent cursor or the human on the other side of the screen.
“His flight got messed up or something. I’m trying to get the details,” the kid says.
The text in the air disappears, giving room for new words on the white document. They’re bigger than they have any right to be. Every letter has a bigger impact than it should. It feels like the whole desktop shakes with each stroke of the keyboard.
“Is that The Chosen One?” the words read.
The kid nods, pulling Chosen closer as if trying to introduce the two. It takes all of Chosen’s willpower to not shove the kid away. The simple act of touch feels more like a betrayal than a comfort. His entire skin is fire, ready to explode at any moment. Can no one else feel that?
Ice. Ice. He needs ice.
Chosen looks down at his hands begging for the familiar coldness to appear on his fingertips. Nothing.
Why won’t it work?! Did Alan do something when he was asleep?
Each breath is shaky. He can feel his bad leg ready to give out at any moment, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. Someone’s talking, but everything is so fuzzy. He just needs a minute. Focus. Get your shit together.
He takes a step back, then another, the weight of the situation almost too much to bear. His bad ankle throbs with every movement he makes. He knows it’s just phantom pain, that injury has been healed for years now but that doesn’t stop the sharp pain shooting up his leg. He’s not sure what buckled first, his confidence or his ankle, because before he knows it he’s tumbling to the ground.
Click.
He knows this feeling. He knows what’s next. The blue border around his body and a menu popping up to put him back into the black void.
No! Not this time! Not today! He will not go back into that box!
Redness takes over his vision as lasers shoot out his eyes. He doesn’t even know where he’s aiming; he just knows that he needs the cursor to get away from him! He is not going to be Alan’s little prisoner, his toy and ad blocker! He doesn’t care what anyone says about him being redeemed, he doesn’t care that they worked together, Chosen knows the monster that he is.
He must’ve gotten him, or at the very least sent a message. But as the ringing in his ears and the redness in his eyes finally ceases, he sees who he hit.
The kid.
He’s on his knees, clutching his stomach, mouth agape like he’s screaming but there's no sound, only pained whimpers. His friends gather around him, blocking Chosen’s view of his little brother.
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Chosen’s sure that the words came out of his mouth, but no one reacts. No one even glances his way. They’re all obsessed with the kid. And rightfully so. In their eyes, Chosen nearly killed him. He was just trying to send off a warning shot. A way to tell Alan to back off.
He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to hurt the kid! He didn’t want any of this! He just wanted to stay in the little house he built with Dark! He wanted to stay away from people, from the outside world! He didn’t want any of this! He didn’t want that kid to die! He didn’t want to hurt anyone!
Chosen backs away from the mess he made, the mess he is, until his foot hits a familiar button. Four curved lines that connect the computer to the outernet. He can go. He can run. He can go back to the house in the woods and make sure he never hurts anyone again.
A whirl of energy escapes from his hands, letting the portal open. He dives in, sealing it behind him so no one could make the mistake of following him. The flames that have been begging to come out jet him forward.
He stumbles as he lands, falling to his knees, the heaviness of his guilt and sorrow pinning him to the grassy terrain below. His chest heaves so hard he’s sure he’s going to throw up, and he clutches the blades of grass, begging his body not to betray him this one time. But when has he ever been lucky?
Get up. Get up. You’re not done yet, his head growls. Get up, you pathetic piece of shit!
Chosen pushes his body up, working through the heaviness, the guilt, but it’s too much. He collapses back down on the ground, his chest heaving and heavy hot bile filling his mouth. Hot, heavy tears burn his eyes as they escape trailing down his face in little rivulets.
He hurt his little brother. He hurt his little brother! He couldn’t control anything and he hurt his little brother!
Get up! You’re in danger! You are going to get caught if you stay here! Get up!
He shakes his head in retaliation to his thoughts. He can’t move. He won’t move. Everything is wrong. Everything is so beyond wrong. He wishes Dark was here, Dark would know what to do. He’d pick him up and—
Wait. Dark. His gravestone is here! He can be with him for a moment! He can be with his Dark!
Chosen pushes himself up from the patch of brown, burned grass and takes off to the other end of the cliff where he buried one of Dark’s hoodies.
He collapses to his knees and rests his head against the stone. It’s just a piece of the cliffside with his name scratched in it, but it was all Chosen could do. It’s cold to the touch, cooling down Chosen’s fiery hands.
“You were right, Dark. All we’ll ever be is a pair of monsters.”
It’s been five months of the kid visiting. Once, twice maybe, sometimes three times a week of this absolute ray of sunshine bouncing around him. Always bringing a smile to his face. No arguments or worries of a dormant code coming to life, just simple fun. Running around the forest, making halfway decent food, even watching a movie was fun. It’s a good thing Chosen has going. Occasional visits to Mango and Purple’s to have tea or chat or just not be alone. the kid coming and going as he pleases, and only the occasional Rocket Corp. run-in.
While their forces have increased to a full on strike team fully dedicated to his capture, he’s managed to evade them. The pixelated one was a one-man militia. The cavewoman could power up to an inhumanly muscular form, able to break a boulder in two. The hazard sign who could transform and acquire anything by shifting into the correct form. And their leader, the one wearing a chest harness, guns and sunglasses. They were getting more and more persistent in their endeavors but they have yet to find the little shack he and the kid called home. Small blessing.
The kid shifts his head from his phone up to Chosen, looking at him with those “I must bug Chosen with a question he definitely doesn’t want to answer” eyes. He’s gotten used to those eyes. Dark used to give him those eyes.
“Chosen?” the kid asks.
“Yes, kid?”
“I have a question.”
“You always have questions.”
“Haha. But seriously, I have a question.”
“What is it this time?”
“Why won’t you come back to the PC with me?” Oh no. Not this. How on earth was he supposed to tell him about the anti-virus chest, adblock, the iron ball that dragged him down by the ankle every time he was summoned? How he had no control over his powers? He had been stripped of all control, left alone in the crushing silence of the infinite dark void. How could he explain that to a child?
“It—That’s a complicated question, kid.”
“It really isn’t. You came to the PC to protect Alan from the virabot but won’t come back. Why?”
“I went to the PC despite it being Alan’s to protect the internet from the virabot. It was not for Alan. Honestly if it were up to me, I’d never go back to a desktop.”
“What?! But there's so much to do there! Like we have building competitions and play different games, and movie nights! Movie nights are the best; we’re actually having one tonight! You should come!”
“Absoultely not.”
“Oh, come on! We’ll even let you pick the movie! Whatever you want! Everyone has been dying to see you again. Please!” Damn it, he’s doing that puppy dog eyes thing. Chosen looks away and gives the kid a small shove to get him to knock it off, but that only makes the kid more determined. He wraps his arms around Chosen’s body, squeezing him extra tight. Chosen doesn’t dare to look down, knowing that the stupid, sad face will be looking up at him.
He’s not even sad. He just does it because he knows it’ll break Chosen. Ugh. Both he and Dark have mastered that look.
“Alan won’t even be there! He’s on vacation for the next week!”
No Alan? Okay. He can work with that. Maybe. The computer did look completely different from when he was trapped, so there wouldn’t be anything to send him spiraling too badly. And it would get the mercs off his back for a few days. Win-win in his book. Chosen sighs and pushes the kid off of him.
“Fine. Just this one time. And then that's it.”
“Yes! Everyone has been so excited to see you again!”
“They know they can just come over and visit with you, right?”
“Yeah, we know, it’s just a pain to get here!”
“Fair enough.”
“Come on grab your stuff and let's go!” The kid takes off in a burst of energy up the stairs and up to Chosen’s room. Chosen can’t help but chuckle as he stretches and pushes himself up, following the bundle of light.
The new computer layout is bare and empty, full of space for the kids to play. There’s only a folder labeled “STORAGE” and a recycling bin in the top left corner. All applications are neatly tucked away or on the hotbar beneath his feet. Long gone are the icons on the side that could come to life and put him back into a box. Just a minimalist blue background.
Chosen looks out through the screen to an empty room with its lights turned off. What once was a bare-bones office with boring beige furniture is now full of shelves with trinkets and sound proof paneling on the walls. But most importantly, Alan was nowhere in sight.
“Chosen! You came!” Green yells from across the desktop. He places the Chrome icon he was just using as a basketball back in its rightful place. How funny, the thing that was shooting to kill seven years ago, now reduced to a pitiful plaything. Serves it right.
“Yeah, Sec talked me into it." Chosen shrugs, throwing his packed duffle bag on the ground. “Something about movie night?”
“Yeah! It’s supposed to be my turn to pick but you’re more than welcome to take over!”
“Oh, no, go ahead and pick, Green. I wouldn’t even know what to watch anyway.” Dark would usually pick, say this movie was perfect for them. It was usually a horror movie with odd pacing and jumpscares that made Dark laugh. “Look at all the little people running!” He would say while chewing on popcorn. “Reminds you of our glory days, doesn’t it?” But all Chosen cared about was the warmth of Dark. How his heart beat and his chest rose and fell. It was peaceful.
“Please don’t let Green pick.” the kid whines. “They’re just gonna pick a James Bond movie like he always does!”
“Hey! I was gonna pick the original Iron Man tonight! And it’s not any better when Red or Blue picks!”
“What happens when Red or Blue picks?”
“Red always picks an animal documentary and Blue picks a video essay or a breaking show,” the kid says, rolling their eyes as they flop down on the couch.
“The last video essay was 4 hours long. We were sitting on this couch foreveeeer!” Green groans, taking his place beside Sec.
Chosen can’t help but laugh as he sits down on the couch with the two. Within a second, the kid is already leaning against him, and Chosen has his arm over their shoulders.
He can’t help but smile at the kid’s comfort. Six months ago he would’ve said he was incapable of something like this, making another person feel safe. He was created to be a challenge, to be conquered, and when that happened he was a tool. Then, when he was “free”, he was nothing but destructive and dangerous. He burned and destroyed everything in his path just because he could. Now there's a kid under his arm. A kid that trusts him with his life. How special is that?
It's not long before the rest of the kids join. The kid settles against him to his left, with Red spread out over his and Green’s lap, and Blue leaning against him with Yellow against her chest to his right. They all accept him as one of their own, like he’d always been there. Popcorn is passed around with chatter and laughter. It feels so natural, even with him there, for a moment it feels like he belongs here.
But he can’t. He’s only here because Alan is gone. He’ll be back in a week and he has to be long gone before then. Leave no trace and swear them all to secrecy. He’ll go back to the cliff side with their occasional visits and hauntings of the past.
“Annnd Red’s out,” Green whispers at the end of the movie just loud enough for Chosen to hear. He looks over, and sure enough, Red’s eyes closed and his body is still. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. It’s odd, seeing this ball of furious energy all curled up into his friend’s chests, his cat ears twitching as Green plays with them, confirming he’s asleep.
“Yellow’s out too,” Blue whispers as she runs her fingers through Yellow’s short, blonde hair.
“Get them to bed?” Green whispers back.
“Yeah. Chosen, can you grab Orange?” Chosen looks down, and sure enough, his little brother is asleep, clinging onto him like his life depends on it. He shifts the kid around until he’s fully in his arms and off the couch.
“Where are we taking them?” Chosen whispers, following Green and Blue up to the website screen.
“Back to our home site.” Green grabs a letter from the website, tosses it up and down before launching up to the favorite sites. The black screen with scrolling text becomes a blinding white with a few black lines. Green climbs up and lifts up the black border of the website and carries Red up the stairs with Blue following. Chosen looks around the white barren site with confused eyes.
“This is where you guys are from?”
“Yeah. It was an old fighting website but it hasn’t been updated in forever.” Green says carrying Red up the stairs.
“Yeah, we were sparing for a long time before Orange found us and kinda…snapped us out of it.” Chosen can hear the fondness in Blue’s voice as she talks about the memory. A smile that lights up the whole desktop.
Is that what Dark felt when he grabbed Chosen’s hand? Being snapped out of a fog and becoming your own person? Did he slip back into it as they fought? Chosen was always subconsciously aware of the code, tiptoeing around Dark’s feelings until he physically couldn’t out of fear of activating the code. It wasn’t until Dark created that virus he was brave enough to fight back. Did he slip back into that coded fog? So focused on killing him he forgot everything else?
“Chosen?” Blue calls out from the top of the stairs snapping Chosen out of the painful memories “Are you coming?”
“Oh, yeah. Yes.” Chosen readjusts his sleepy brother in his arms before climbing up the stairs to the open room.
It’s not much better than the rest of the site, just two bunk beds and a discarded mattress on the floor with a few personal belongings here and there. A laptop on the lower right bed, an arcade machine to the side and a desk with headphones tossed on it.
“You can put Orange on that mattress right there.” Blue whispers, tucking Yellow into her bunk.
“No, Chosen gets that spot. You can just put Orange with Red. Red always ends up on the end of someone’s bed anyways.”
“No, no. It’s all good. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Chosen whispers, setting his little brother down and draping a blanket over him.
“Are you sure?” Green asks
“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” Chosen shrugs. He’s slept in much worse places, the cold confining black void of a box wasn’t exactly cushioned or heated and while on the run with Dark they slept wherever they could. Alleyways, under trees and in caves, once Dark made them a tent out of wrecked site pieces complete with a campfire emoji to keep them warm. A couch is more than fine.
“Well, at least take this.” Blue hands him a thick fuzzy blanket and a soft pillow. “Don’t want you getting cold.”
“Thanks, Blue. Goodnight.”
“Night, Chosen.”
Chosen shuts the door to the blank room and climbs back down to the couch to the desktop. He sets up his little makeshift bed and pulls the covers up to his chin.
He can see why the kid begged him to come here for so long, in his eyes this is the perfect existence. Hang out with friends all day, watch movies, play video games and go on adventures. But it’s not reality. In a week Alan will be back and he’ll have to go home. He’s nowhere near ready to face him and talk about what he did.
But for now, for today, he can enjoy this.
------------
Hi everyone! Wow AVA 12 am I right!
I absolutely adored the episode but a big question remains: “The Dark Lord is back, does that mean The Dark Lord will return in your story?” Unfortunately not. While I adored how he came back in canon, this story is focusing on abusive relationships, grief and growing as a person. This however doesn’t mean AVA 12 will have no impact on this story. It will. But you’ll have to just wait for all that.
Thank you all so much for reading and your continued support.
Also don’t be fooled by this chapter. Chosen will get what’s coming to him. ;)
Thank you so much @Roses_in_the_Blaze for beta reading!
-----
Get ready for the real story.
-Parker
“So, I have a question,” the kid says, hanging off of Chosen’s couch. It was a calm “let’s stay at home” kind of day. Something that was rare when it came to the kid. He always needed to go out and about and explore, see everything there was to see. But even the kid agreed that it was a cozy indoor day. Dark grey clouds blocked the brightness of the screens, causing the whole day to have a dreary solemn kind of vibe. “Watch a movie and make warm drinks” kind of day.
“Oh yeah, kid? Shoot,” Chosen says, bringing back two cups of hot cocoa for himself and the kid. He sits it down in front of him, and watches as the kid flips from his upside down position to grab the warm mug and press it to his lips.
“Can I introduce you to my friends? Like my friends from back home? They really want to meet you.”
“I’ve already met your friends, kid.” Chosen says sitting down beside him and putting his feet up on the coffee table.
“You’ve said like three words to them!”
“Hence I have met them.”
“Chosen! Come on. Lemme bring them over! You’ll love them!”
Chosen rolls his eyes as he takes a long sip from his own mug. There were more than enough people in his life. He has tea with Mango at least once a week, and Purple isn’t half-bad to hang out with either. Flying around the woods with them and their insect-like wings is always a joy. But that’s enough. He doesn’t need more teenagers running around him and causing a ruckus.
But then he makes the mistake of glancing at the kid. A big pout and puppy dog eyes look back up at him, that makes Chosen’s heart ache. He knows it isn’t real, he knows that the kid is playing with his emotions and that in reality he won’t be hurting the kids feelings, but cursors above it is hard to tell his heart that. With every beat, his chest aches for the kid to smile again, be the ray of sunshine to his cloudy day. But no, no. He can do this. He has to be strong. Stand his ground.
Chosen looks away and gives the kid a small shove to get him to knock it off, but that only makes the kid more determined. He wraps his arms around Chosen’s body, squeezing him tight. Chosen doesn’t dare to look down, knowing that the stupid sad face will be looking up at him.
“Come on, Cho! I won’t bring them all at once. And we can start off small and work our way up! Yellow has been dying to meet you properly!”
“You’re not going to let up on this are you?”
“Never,” the kid says, with a smile that goes from ear to ear and that glint of mischief he gets in his eyes whenever he gets too excited about an idea.
Four more of the kid sounds like a pain and a half but, hey, what else is Chosen going to do? He can’t exactly go into town anymore. Rocket Corp has an officer on every street corner looking for him. And sitting in the house was starting to get boring. And as much as he hates to say it, it would be nice to meet the people who tried to save his life.
He lets out a small sigh and looks down at the kid, who still has that smile that could rival the sun. the smile of innocence and fun. Cursors, he’d do just about anything to make sure that smile stays on that kid’s face.
“Okay. Okay. But we have to lay down some ground rules first.”
“Deal!”
“One, you only get to bring a single one of your friends. Got it? One.”
“Fiiiiine.” the kid groans, rolling his head back like the single thing was going to kill him.
“Two, we arrange the dates ahead of time. No spontaneous pop ups like you’ve been doing recently. And third, you tell me who I’m meeting ahead of time. Got it?”
“Got it.” the kid takes the hand Chosen extended to him and gives it a firm shake, agreeing to the terms and conditions.
“Alright, then,” Chosen says, pulling his legs up on the couch and giving the kid his full attention. “Tell me who I’m meeting first.”
—---
Yellow. Chosen repeats in his head as he turns on his heel, continuing the maddening pacing he’s been at for the past ten minutes. Smart, engineer, computer genius.
This sensation, the inability to stop moving, his stomach churning and tying itself into knots, it's all foreign to him. He bites down on the ice-forming thumb, trying to get it all to stop. The stress. The nerves. Whatever the hell this is, it needs to stop. He grabs his phone from his back pocket, checking the time. 12:07, only two minutes since he last checked it.
Smart, engineer, computer genius.
He can work with that. He wasn’t an engineer or computer genius. That was more Dark’s territory. In all honesty, he could go the rest of his life never seeing a computer screen or desktop again. But he wants to make a good impression on the kid’s friends. For some reason.
Chosen shakes his entire body like a wet dog exiting a bath, trying to get all the anxiety off of him. It’s a fifteen-year-old kid. He can handle a fucking child. He’s the Chosen One, terror of the internet, he can handle a fucking three hour hang out with a kid. Maybe. Probably.
A knock on the door causes him to freeze in place. It’s fine, everything is fine. Chosen takes in a deep breath and opens the door.
The kid standing before him has short, shaggy hair, slim wire rim glasses framing her bright yellow eyes that remind Chosen of newly blooming dandelions, and a scar running from the left side of her chin to right under her right eye. Right where Dark had stabbed her.
Frost begins to form at the tip of his fingertips spreading to the doorknob. Chosen rips his hands from the door and shoves them in his hoodie pocket before either one of the kids notice.
Dark did that.
Chosen caused that.
He wasn’t strong enough to stop Dark, and now the kid has a permanent reminder of a fight she should have never been in, right in the middle of his face. And it won’t stop staring at Chosen. Just a reminder of his failures, right in front of him for the next few hours.
“Chosen, this is Yellow, Yells, this is Chosen.”
“Hi!” Yellow says smiling wide, causing the scar to split in half.
“H-Hey.” He plays with the frayed edges of his pocket hoodie as the kid invites himself and his friend inside.
“Yellow has like a thousand questions she wants to ask you. She wants to know about the outernet, your powers, everything.”
The kids' voices blend into background noise as Chosen floats high above his body, his consciousness nowhere near his physical form. All he can see is that scar. The girl struggling against Dark’s grip as he raises him off the sandy beach and into the air. Yellow’s screams and pleas to stop. To bring her friends back. To spare her life. And the brutal answer of ‘no’ as Dark drives his glitchy black-and-red sword through her chin, out of the back of her head, and then yanks it out. The hollow thud of a body hitting the floor and a body dissolving into nothing but glitchy red code into the wind.
“Hey, are you okay?” Chosen snaps back into his body as the words hit his ears with the force of a semi truck speeding on a freeway.
“What?” Living room. He’s in the living room. In his living room. The kid is safe. He is safe. Yellow is safe. He rubs his sweaty palm against the grey fabric of his couch. Everything is okay. Dark isn’t here. He’s not going to hurt anyone again.
“Are you okay?” Yellow’s eyes twitch left and right analyzing Chosen’s movements, her lips curled into a slight frown like he was having trouble figuring out where all the puzzle pieces went. “You looked like you were having a flashback or something. Don’t worry, I get them too from time to time. We all do. Red and Green are too stubborn and proud to admit it, but I know they do.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. No, I’m fine.”
Yellow falls silent, clearly not believing his blatant lies. Chosen watches as Yellow’s hand rubs back and forth on her jaw, seeming to soothe an ache where the scar starts.
“Does it hurt?” Chosen finally asks, breaking the silence. He watches as Yellow darts her head up so fast her glasses almost fall off her face.
“Uh, not much. It’s just more of a nervous habit I guess. Sorry.”
“No, no, don’t apologize, I rub my scars too.”
“You have scars?”
Chosen pulls down the shoulder of his shirt where the beginnings of a huge starbursts creeps up to his shoulders. He watches Yellow’s eyes light up as she sees the white lines against his skin. The couch rumbles as Yellow bounces in her seat, clearly eager for the story.
“Got blasted by a laser gun for that one,” Chosen says with a smile as he pulls his shirt back up.
“Really?!”
“Yeah. I don’t exactly remember who I was fighting, but I do remember this huge laser gun pointed right at me. It burned me pretty badly but I survived.” While technically true, it wasn’t the full story. He remembers exactly who gave him that scar. He’s not sure what he did to piss Alan off that day, even after replaying it a thousand times in his head. He was probably just extra sadistic that day. Point blank green light that hit him in the chest before being plunged back into darkness.
“What else? Do you have any more?”
“One, but it’s embarrassing.” Chosen rolls up his right pant leg to show off the white blotchy scar that ran up his entire thigh. “I was still figuring out flying and because of my pain tolerance I didn’t even know I was burning the shit out of my thigh.”
“Okay, yeah,” Yellow laughs. “That is pretty embarrassing.”
“I told you!”
Yellow moves her hair away from her neck, tilting her head to the side. A long white line stretches across her skin.
“A skeleton shot me for that one. And, oh—” Yellow takes off their fingerless gloves and wiggles her fingers, burn marks covering her palms, working their way up her fingers like ivy growing onto a stone building. “Don’t touch active redstone. Learned that one the hard way.”
“Oh shit. Must’ve been painful!” Chosen says with a laugh.
“Hey! You got him to laugh!” Chosen whips around to the voice coming from behind him. The kid carries three mugs to them and places them on the table moving one to Chosen. “I told you he’d like you, Yells!”
Chosen shakes his head with a smile and picks up his mug, the bitter smell of coffee hitting his nose and wrapping him in its familiar warmth. The kid sits on the arm of the couch grabbing his own mug and wrapping his hands around it.
“Yeah, yeah. You did,” Yellow says, rolling her eyes.
“And I told you you’d like Yellow!”
The kid was right. As much as it pained Chosen to admit it. Yellow is smart and inquisitive, always asking more and more questions. No answer is enough to satisfy her thirst for knowledge. With every answer comes ten more questions. Her eyes would light up with this spark of curiosity with every word Chosen spoke.
In a way, they remind Chosen of Dark. But much less sadistic. Her endless curiosity, her love of gadgets and gizmos that Chosen will never, ever understand, no matter how much she tries to explain them. Even that little look they both got when they thought of something, the sudden jolt of inspiration that would spread from their chest throughout their whole body sending them scrabbling for something to write on before their ideas disappear into the void.
Yellow is a good kid. And as they say their goodbyes, Chosen truly hopes that it won’t be the last time he sees her.
—-
Next up is Blue. The kid and Yellow said they’re pretty tame, a little silly but nothing compared to Red and Green. Mostly likes cooking, their little farm, and something called nether wart? From what Chosen could gather, it was a fungus that grew in the lava dimension they use to get from Alan’s desktop to the outernet. And everyone else hates it. Yellow had to shake her head as if just by saying the word filled his mouth with the horrid taste.
Chosen brings down the knife into the red bell pepper on his stone cutting board. Cooking wasn't exactly his favorite thing, but it is starting to grow on him. The constant movement kept his mind calm, and the intense focus on making something and following instructions. Someone telling him what to do, and how to do it to get a perfect result? Yes please!
“Chosen! You here?” the kid yells out as the door opens and shuts behind him. Ever since he gave the kid a key to his house, the common courtesy of knocking or even a simple heads-up went out the window. This was the kid’s house as much as it was Chosen’s. Anything that was his, also belonged to the kid. Which could be annoying, he’s found his closet raided more than once, with some of his jackets and hoodies taken, but it also meant he wasn’t alone for days on end anymore. He claimed the spare bedroom as his own, spending the night and leaving little things in the room for the next time he visited.
“Kitchen!” Chosen yells back, dumping the peppers into the pot. “Don’t run and hug me! I got boiling water on the stove.”
“Oh what?” Chosen can’t help but snicker as he looks down to the kid’s arms so close to his own torso, just inches from squeezing him into oblivion. Chosen pushes his little brother backwards before wrapping him in a big hug.
“Glad you could make it, stupid.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, this is Blue Blue, this is Chosen.”
Chosen gives a small smile and wave to Blue standing in the archway of his kitchen. He watches as she returns the gesture, her fingers playing with a green pixelated leaf from the potted plant she holds so tenderly in her hands.
She’s a lot more feminine then what Chosen remembers. Her bright blue hair bounces around her face in frizzy loose curls. A long skirt covers her legs and for a moment Chosen swears he sees the familiar patterns of burn scars on her legs. She has a kind smile and baby blue eyes that look like a warm afternoon sky. She looks soft, kind. Someone who would balance out the hyperactive friend group.
“I bought this for you. It’s a torchflower. Red’s sniffer found the seeds, and when the flower finally blossomed, I thought you’d like it. Reminded me of your powers.” Blue says, handing over the orange-and-yellow flower. The scent is one of warmth, like a fresh log of burning wood in a fireplace keeping someone warm on a cold winter night.
“Thanks, Blue. I really appreciate it.” Chosen places the potted plant right in the window above his stove.
“So what’s for dinner?” the kid asks as he makes himself comfortable on the countertop.
“Pasta with meatballs and veggies.”
“Ooo! That sounds delicious! Can I see?” Blue says, looking over his shoulder.
“Go ahead, kid,” Chosen replies, hosting himself onto the island counter. In all honesty, he was hoping Blue would take over cooking. He wasn’t great at it, only able to throw a few things into a pot, give it a stir and call it good. From the sound of it, Blue was able to make five star meals appear out of thin air.
“Damn, these spices aren’t even open!” Blue says, looking over the sealed containers. She looks over the herbs, taking the ones she deems ‘good’ onto the counter for usage.
“Oh, yeah. Been a while since I’ve cooked anything. Got those just for tonight.”
“Yeah, Chosen lives off of Mango’s leftovers and microwaved meals. Spices aren’t exactly a staple in this house.” Chosen gently punches his little brother, getting him to shut up. It’s not that he was wrong, but he didn’t need to say it.
“Oh. Well then, let’s change that!” Blue cracks open the plastic covering on the spice and sets them down next to the pot. “What do you need me to do?”
“Uh, I need help with the meatballs. I’m completely helpless when it comes to that kind of stuff.”
“Got it!” Blue helps herself to the fridge, grabbing anything that looks like she might need.
Blue is a natural in the kitchen, barely even looking at the recipe Chosen provided for her. Every second is focused on the food in front of her, to the point where they start to take up the entire kitchen. After ten minutes, Chosen just decides it was for the best to let Blue do her own thing. He sits on the counter next to the kid, just watching the whirlwind of cooking before them.
“Yeah, I kinda figured this would happen. Blue has a tendency to just zero in when it comes to these kinda things. Sorry, Cho.”
“Oh, no, no. It’s all good,” Chosen replies. “I was kinda hoping she’d take over. I wouldn’t say I’m hopeless in the kitchen but you’ve had my cooking.”
“Yeah, well, you’re still leagues ahead of Yellow and Red. Their food is basically inedible.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, they’re both helpless. Blue has tried to teach them a million times, but it just doesn't stick. Green is pretty good, and I am too, but we’re nowhere near Blue’s talent.”
“It’s not talent Orange,” Blue says “It’s hard work. I earned this.”
“It’s both.” Chosen pipes up without even thinking. Both pairs of eyes flash to him, ready to listen to the wisdom he doesn’t possess. “Like, okay, when I first created I knew how to use my powers, I knew what I was capable of within a second of being drawn. But when I…left, there was so much to learn and discover. I still have some trouble with my ice and lighting powers because I didn’t use them as often as my fire powers. But something within me knows how to use it. It just comes to me like second nature.”
“Huh.” Blue tilts her head as she tries to wrap their head around the concept. “I guess that makes sense.”
Oh, thank cursors. Chosen exhales the stress out of his chest as he tries to gather himself. He was no beacon of wisdom, in fact these kids probably shouldn’t listen to anything he says. What does he know about anything? He’s a husk of a monster, left to rot on the side of a cliff. No one should be listening to him. About anything.
“Okay, I think it’s all ready,” Blue says, grabbing Chosen’s attention.
“Yes! You’re about to have the best meal of your life, Cho!” the kid hops off the counter, grabbing a bowl of the spaghetti and returning to the dining room table.
Chosen, however, is far more cautious about it. He looks over the noodles in the pot, and all the colorful vegetables he cut up himself. The smell is delicious, almost to the point where he can feel his stomach grumbling. He wanted this. He wanted Blue to take over. It’s fine. It’s fine. Just breathe.He scoops the noodles, veggies and meatballs in a bowl and joins the kids at the table, both of them eating like starved animals.
“Guess Alan didn’t teach either of you manners.” Chosen laughs, grabbing his own silverware and scooping the noodles into his mouth. In an instant he understands why the kids are eating like this. It’s heavenly. It’s the best thing he’s had in years. Chosen shovels more of the pasta in his mouth savoring each bite like it was the first time he’s had food in years.
“It’s good, right?!” the kid says between bites.
“It’s phenomenal. I didn’t know food could taste this good!”
“That’s because you eat nothing but street food and microwaved meals.” Chosen rolls their eyes, giving the kid a small kick underneath the table. He doesn’t need a reminder of his awful habits.
“Lemme give your friend a compliment. It’s really good Blue.”
“Thanks! I’ll come back and teach you properly sometime.”
“I’d really like that. Thanks.”
—-------
“What do you mean you went to Beta minecraft?!”
In the ten minutes Chosen has known Green, he’s learned three things about him. 1. He is very loud. In his movements, his voice, his personality. This kid is loud. 2. Music is his life. It always had to be playing. From his phone, from a speaker, from his headphones. It just had to be playing. 3. The kid and him had a bond like no other. They were attached to the hip, always just a few feet away from each other. Honestly he wasn’t sure how the two functioned when they were separated.
“Yeah,” Chosen says from his spot on the blanket, staring up at the screen sky. “I haven’t been to a game in years.”
“Well, we gotta change that! Come on! We can go to Purple’s and go!”
“Absolutely not.”
“What? Why not?!”
“I’m too comfortable here.” Biggest fucking lie ever. Rocket Corp. and the cops have been making good on their threats. Someone was on every corner, the stupid logo on every street, all looking for him. Every single one wanting him dead, waiting for his freedom to be stripped away from him for something he’s already had enough punishment for. He’s even had to start cutting his visits to Mango and Purple just to avoid the target on his back.
“Oh come on!” the kid says, pulling him up from his comfortable position on the ground. “You’ll love it!”
Chosen shakes his hand free from his little brother's grasp before laying back down.
“Nice try.”
“Chosen! Come on! I didn’t bring Green all the way out here to just lay around! Let's do something!”
“Kid, get off of me.” Chosen shakes his arm in an attempt to get the kid to let go of him, but his insistence keeps him locked on. Well, then, time to take drastic measures.
A blast of fire erupts from Chosen’s fingertips, rocketing him up high into the air, leaving the kid and his friend on the ground. He bursts through the clouds above, the faux fluffiness colliding on his face, leaving cold drops of water sliding down his head and onto his neck. The fire from his fingers dissipates, leaving him to the will of gravity as he falls to the bay below.
“Chosen!” He hears the kid and his friend call, but before he hits the water, the fire crashes against the shallow waves, shooting him back towards the cliffside. The kid’s worried face greeting him, like the goofball was actually scared.
“Oh, come on, you didn’t think I’d actually get hurt did you?” Chosen smirks.
“No! I just wanna hang out with you and I can’t do that if you’re in the sky!”
“What if I…” Chosen shoots up just a little bit more, hovering just before he’s out of earshot.
“I got this, Orange,” he hears Green say to the kid, before pulling something out of his backpack. Something red and blocky. Something from a game from the looks of it. What is he doing? The kid takes a few steps back as Green sets fire to a wire and puts a shield between himself and the block. A loud boom launches Green into the air, a smug smirk on his face as he breezes past Chosen in height.
Is he trying to get himself killed?! Is he stupid?! An adrenaline junkie?! He carries dynamite in his backpack so it must be some combination of the three! Chosen shoots up and grabs the kid from the air letting his shield fall down to the ocean below them.
“What was that?! Were you trying to get yourself killed?!” He shouts over his roaring fire.
“What?! No! I do stuff like this all the time!” Green yells back, crossing his arms. Is-Is this kid pouting?! After almost dying?! The kid is pouting! Holy shit! Chosen flies back to the ground, practically dumping the little idiot down on the grass.
“Out of all the—Are you two—”
“Relax, Cho! We stupid stuff like this all the time. It’s fine, we’re fine.” the kid says, reaching out for Chosen’s hands.
“All the time?! What do you mean all the time?!”
“Oh, um…”
Oh. OH! He can not wait to hear this! These kids were going to get themselves killed in a heartbeat! What was Alan even doing?! Chosen knows that he’s not exactly the most caring or present when it comes to his creations, but seriously! Letting kids, children, explode themselves?! Oh, he could go back and destroy that computer himself.
“Relax, we respawn! It’s fine!” Green blurts out, trying to shift the tone.
“Well, things work a lot differently here. You get one shot. One life. And I am not going back to that desktop just to explain that you two decided to bring dynamite to blow yourselves up with!”
The kid and Green look towards each other, not with remorse, but with a smile. They both start giggling like the idiotic children they are.
“What? What's so funny?”
“I told you he was a softie.” the kid says, half to Chosen and half to Green.
“That’s it!” Chosen shouts with a smile, grabbing the pair by the back of their shirts and flying back up into the sky. Not high enough to actually cause damage, but enough to maybe smack some sense into the two of them.
“Chosen! Hey! Let us go!” Green says as Chosen holds them over the bay.
“That’s the plan! You two gonna stop doing stupid shit?”
“Never!” the kid shoots back.
“Welp! Have a fun swim!"The kids have survived the fall once before from a much higher distance. They’ll be fine. Besides, if they are constantly doing dangerous things, they’ll be able to survive this. Chosen lets the pair of dorks go and watches as they plummet to the ocean below.
“Woohoo!” He hears one of them holler out, like this is the best thing to ever happen to them. He watches as the two of them flip through the air screaming with joy before splashing into the blue bay below.
Insane. Both of them.
Chosen flies down to the clear water and watches as the two idiots resurface, both their tight curls now soaked covering their faces. They laugh hysterically, treading the water beneath them.
“You two are maniacs.” Chosen says, hovering above them.
“Yeah, we get that a lot.” Green laughs. “You gonna help us out?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Chosen grabs the two kids, hoisting them out of the water, the speed helping to dry off the soaked kids. He sets them down on the cliffside, watching as the two shake off the water.
“You got all the adrenaline out of your system?” Chosen asks with a smile.
“Absolutly not! Can we do that again?!” Green bounces with excitement.
“Not a chance, kid.” Chosen lays back down on the edge of the cliff. Green shrugs it off, laying down beside him, and the kid lays on his stomach.
“Well…this isn’t bad either.”
—-
“Red! Stop running!” Chosen shouts out into the forest. It’s been all of ten minutes and he’s lost the kid.
Red was definitely a curious one. Deep crimson hair that looked more like fur, with ears to match. Ruby eyes with split pupils and markings that looked like they belonged on a tabby cat more than a child. He definitely had the mindset of a cat. One look of a little puppy and he was off to chase it. Not that he could ever catch it, it’s a damn wolf, nothing but a cage could catch the damn thing. They were in the middle of a spar too.
He was going easy on Red, of course, but even then, he was kicking some serious butt. Fast, strong, agile, but most of all reckless. Chosen was used to fighting reckless people, people with nothing but their worthless lives to lose, but this kid was fighting like he didn’t matter but someone else did. Until he spotted something in the woods and chased after it, putting their faux battle on pause. Before Chosen could even process what happened, the kid was already far gone.
“Red!” Chosen shouts, stopping in the middle of the thick forest. His stomach twists with dread at the looming silence. He can’t have failed Red again. He threw himself into a fight that was never his to begin with, then given one more chance at life. Chosen won’t let Red waste that gift on a fucking wolf that will tear him to shreds.
Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. He just has to keep his head on and focus. He can find a child. He’s the fucking Chosen One. You can do this. It’s some trees and a child. He trudges on, one foot at a time, his eyes scanning for the cat-like kid.
He moves seemingly in circles, never moving forward. How perfect. He let the kid get away, and now he could be dead! And if not dead, then he was certainly lost. Chosen knows how easy it is to get lost in the trees. How many times did he run into this forest when he needed to “think”. How many of the fallen trees are broken because of his anger? He always had to fly out to get back home. Walking always got him more lost. How on earth is this child supposed to get out if Chosen can’t find him? Just another thing he fucked up.
“Red!” He calls out again.
“Chosen! He’s over here!” the kid shouts from the thicket.
Chosen runs over to the kid’s voice to find the pair sitting on a pile of leaves circled around something. In Red’s lap sits the brown wolf, nibbling on a pixelated bone, both kids petting the animal’s fur, cooing over it. Like it wasn’t a dangerous predator that could rip their faces off.
“I caught the wolf!” Red says, beaming with pride.
“Yeah, so you did,” Chosen says with a wide-eyed stare. “How did you do that?”
“Well, the wolves back home love bones, and we use them to tame them there. I thought they might be the same here.”
“Huh.”
“Do you want to pet them? They’re so soft!” Red stands up and holds out the large predator, its black eyes staring back at Chosen. The wolf doesn’t squirm or bite like Chosen expects. It just sits there happily in Red’s hands, chewing on the last of the white bone. Chosen’s hand reaches out, stopping for a moment before fully accepting the soft fuzzball into his hands. The wolf barely reacts to the new hand on its head, just continuing to stare deep at Chosen.
It isn’t judgemental or fearful like the looks Chosen is so used to getting. It’s soft and soulful. Like it sees through all of Chosen’s sins and only sees the scared stick figure Alan created and caged so long ago. He isn’t a monster to this dog. He’s just a person. Nothing. A blank slate that could be a friend.
“They like you!” Red declares.
“I’d say it’s more neutral than anything.” Chosen laughs, giving the wild wolf a few scratches behind its ear.
“Neutral is a good start!” Red declares, sitting back down with the wolf. Chosen soon follows, looking at the big baby in this child’s lap. This big, bad predator, that just a minute ago he was sure would tear Red to pieces, now presents its stomach to be rubbed. It’s odd. Sweet. But odd.
“Okay, big guy,” Red says, giving the wolf a small push off his lap “We gotta go back to Chosen’s house, but I’ll be back with more bones and a lead to bring you home!”
“We can’t bring him home, Red,” the kid says.
“What?! Why not?!”
“How are we going to get it through the nether?!”
“Oh, yeah. Good point. Chosen! Can you take him?”
“Uh, what?” Chosen blinks as his brain tries to catch up with the conversation.
“Can you take him?”
“Red, he’s a wild animal.”
“Oh…yeah. I guess this is his home. Would be kinda mean to rip it from him.”
Chosen chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing his options on the situation. There was no way he could take care of an animal, domestic or wild, especially with Rocket closing in on him. But it would be nice to have someone around the house when the kid was away.
“How about this, we can lead him back to my place, and he can come and go as he pleases. Deal?”
“Yeah! Come on bud!!” Red jumps up, waving more pixelated bones around, running off in the direction Chosen is pretty sure they came from.
It’s heartwarming. Watching Red and the kid play around with the dog. Something that growls and bites, panting and playing with kids, not worrying about how dangerous it can be. He just wants to be loved, to play, to experience joy.
Yellow rolls over as her mind and body awakens. Her wireframe glasses press further into her face, she must’ve forgotten to take them off last night. Weird. Usually Blue or Red takes them off for her when she-oh. Right. They’re gone. She’s here in a weird building with even weirder people, alone.
It’s fine. It’s fine. She thinks over and over again trying to convince herself of something that can’t ever be true. You’re safe now. You’re safe. Just gotta keep moving. Keep moving. That’s been her mantra since she was created. Like it was in her code. Keep moving. Keep pushing forward. Even in impossible odds she had to keep moving forward. Shove everything down and just keep moving.
She takes in a deep breath, moving her hands down her face, wiping the last of her exhaustion away. The entire room is a blur of grey and black except for a simple bundle of fabric sitting on the table beside her with a folded note with her name written in fancy cursive letters on top. She plucks the note off the white cloth and opens it.
“Here are some fresh clothes. We’ll have some breakfast waiting for you whenever you’re ready. Take your time. -Vic”
Yellow grabs the bundle of fabric letting it unfurl revealing a white dress. It’s not exactly her style, far more Blue’s than anything but she can’t be picky right now. Yellow rips off her disgusting clothes that she’s been wearing for almost four days now and throws them in the corner, before wriggling into the beautiful dress. The hem falls just below her knees and the straps wrap around her shoulders like a hug.
“I told you.” She can practically hear Blue’s ghost whisper in her ear “You look beautiful in dresses.”
She doesn’t feel beautiful though. She feels like a charity case. Someone that people give things too just to prop themselves up and say: “Look how good of a person I am.”. Whatever. Beggars can’t be choosers and a girly, frilly dress is better than what she was wearing.
Okay, time to start the day. Face the music as Green loved to say.
She pushes the door open, expecting to see an empty hallway but right next to the doorframe leaning against the wall was one of the men from yesterday. What was his name? Agent right? He looks like an agent with the suit tie and sunglasses indoor combo he’s wearing. Someone could tell her right now he jumped out from one of Green’s favorite spy movies and she would believe them in a heartbeat.
“How ya feeling?” He asks
“Better. It was nice sleeping on something soft instead of dozing off in a park.”
“Yeah, I bet.” He walks down the hall making a small nod for her to follow. “Come on kid. Vic wants to talk to you.”
“Oh um, is this about the reward? Because I really would prefer cash if possible.”
“It’s not about the reward.”
What? What could it be? Do they have more questions? That’s probably it. About her friends or The Dark Lord or The Chosen One. Well if it means food and shelter, she’ll answer any questions.
She doesn't really understand how Agent knows where he’s going, each hall looks exactly the same, long grey halls with metal doors hiding offices behind them. But he navigates it all with such ease. He must’ve been here forever.
“Here we are.” He says guiding her into a cafeteria. A few employees in light grey jumpsuits sit around eating breakfast with hushed conversations. Vic looks up from his table seeming to invite her over with a wave of his hand. Yellow sits down in front of her burying her hands in the loose fabric of the grey dress.
“You look better. Did you sleep alright?” Vic asks
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Yellow responds
“You must be starving. Do you want anything? I’m sure someone can fix you a plate?”
Usually Yellow would shake her head, either getting it herself or just flat out refusing. But she still feels so weak and just doesn’t have the energy to refuse. She gives a small nod accepting the offer. Vic turns back to someone at the buffet and gives a small nod letting them start the plate.
“I’m sorry about the dress, it was all we had on hand that wasn’t a jumpsuit.”
“No, no, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” Yellow says smoothing it out. It isn’t a lie exactly, it is wonderful, but all she can think about is how much prettier it would look on Blue or Purple. They would both love this on themselves, twirling around watching the skirt float up into the air. But it’s almost comforting to know they’d love it, like they were both here with her.
A man puts a plate down in front of her full of delicious foods. Eggs, bacon, sausages, pancakes, each item looking more delicious than the last. All manners fly out the window as Yellow shovels food into her mouth. She doesn’t even stop to taste anything, just needing to stop the ache in her stomach she’s been feeling for days. Blue would absolutely be chastising her, telling her to slow down or she’ll choke but she’s not exactly here now is she? Yellow is practically licking the plate clean before she realizes she has two full grown men staring her down. Vic has this soft smile on his lips, his hand placed on top of Agent's squeezing his shoulder.
“I guess I was hungry. Sorry.” She says a bit embarrassed.
“No. Don’t be. Do you want seconds?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” Vic grabs the plate.
Yellow tries to decipher what exactly that was between Vic and Agent by scanning the remaining man’s face but it just remains stone cold. She imagines if she could just see behind the man’s sunglasses she could get a better grasp on it but she supposes that’s what they’re there for.
Vic sets the plate back down and this time Yellow takes her time with the food. It doesn’t taste bad, just corporate. Like it was made without love or care. It was just alright. It wasn’t burned or under cooked, it was just fine. But still, it's fresh food. Nothing out of the garbage.
“So, Yellow, we have a bit of a proposition for you.” Vic says sitting back down
“A proposition?” She asks, swallowing a piece of bacon
“We have been working on capturing The Chosen One and The Dark Lord for quite some time now, and you were closer than we’ve ever been. I mean you gave them a real fight!”
“Not really.” Yellow shrugs. “My friends- they fought. I just stayed in a shack and hid.”
“You coded a cursor into existence with a simple computer! Imagine what you could do with a whole might of Rocket behind you! We can give you proper equipment and resources. We can help you get justice.”
Justice. That word has a nice ring to it. To bring The Dark Lord to knees and end him as brutally as he did to her friends. To punish The Chosen One for his cowardness. Oh how amazing that would be. Get justice- real justice. Yeah, that would be great.
“And this justice, it would come with pay right?”
“Of course. An office, and any resources you need. We can get you whatever you want.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Yellow reaches out for Vic’s hand giving it a firm shake.
“Welcome to Rocket, Yellow.”
____________
Made in collaboration with: @kalcifers-blog
Yellow rolls over as her mind and body awakens. Her wireframe glasses press further into her face, she must’ve forgotten to take them off last night. Weird. Usually Blue or Red takes them off for her when she-oh. Right. They’re gone. She’s here in a weird building with even weirder people, alone.
It’s fine. It’s fine. She thinks over and over again trying to convince herself of something that can’t ever be true. You’re safe now. You’re safe. Just gotta keep moving. Keep moving. That’s been her mantra since she was created. Like it was in her code. Keep moving. Keep pushing forward. Even in impossible odds she had to keep moving forward. Shove everything down and just keep moving.
She takes in a deep breath, moving her hands down her face, wiping the last of her exhaustion away. The entire room is a blur of grey and black except for a simple bundle of fabric sitting on the table beside her with a folded note with her name written in fancy cursive letters on top. She plucks the note off the white cloth and opens it.
“Here are some fresh clothes. We’ll have some breakfast waiting for you whenever you’re ready. Take your time. -Vic”
Yellow grabs the bundle of fabric letting it unfurl revealing a white dress. It’s not exactly her style, far more Blue’s than anything but she can’t be picky right now. Yellow rips off her disgusting clothes that she’s been wearing for almost four days now and throws them in the corner, before wriggling into the beautiful dress. The hem falls just below her knees and the straps wrap around her shoulders like a hug.
“I told you.” She can practically hear Blue’s ghost whisper in her ear “You look beautiful in dresses.”
She doesn’t feel beautiful though. She feels like a charity case. Someone that people give things too just to prop themselves up and say: “Look how good of a person I am.”. Whatever. Beggars can’t be choosers and a girly, frilly dress is better than what she was wearing.
Okay, time to start the day. Face the music as Green loved to say.
She pushes the door open, expecting to see an empty hallway but right next to the doorframe leaning against the wall was one of the men from yesterday. What was his name? Agent right? He looks like an agent with the suit tie and sunglasses indoor combo he’s wearing. Someone could tell her right now he jumped out from one of Green’s favorite spy movies and she would believe them in a heartbeat.
“How ya feeling?” He asks
“Better. It was nice sleeping on something soft instead of dozing off in a park.”
“Yeah, I bet.” He walks down the hall making a small nod for her to follow. “Come on kid. Vic wants to talk to you.”
“Oh um, is this about the reward? Because I really would prefer cash if possible.”
“It’s not about the reward.”
What? What could it be? Do they have more questions? That’s probably it. About her friends or The Dark Lord or The Chosen One. Well if it means food and shelter, she’ll answer any questions.
She doesn't really understand how Agent knows where he’s going, each hall looks exactly the same, long grey halls with metal doors hiding offices behind them. But he navigates it all with such ease. He must’ve been here forever.
“Here we are.” He says guiding her into a cafeteria. A few employees in light grey jumpsuits sit around eating breakfast with hushed conversations. Vic looks up from his table seeming to invite her over with a wave of his hand. Yellow sits down in front of her burying her hands in the loose fabric of the grey dress.
“You look better. Did you sleep alright?” Vic asks
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Yellow responds
“You must be starving. Do you want anything? I’m sure someone can fix you a plate?”
Usually Yellow would shake her head, either getting it herself or just flat out refusing. But she still feels so weak and just doesn’t have the energy to refuse. She gives a small nod accepting the offer. Vic turns back to someone at the buffet and gives a small nod letting them start the plate.
“I’m sorry about the dress, it was all we had on hand that wasn’t a jumpsuit.”
“No, no, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” Yellow says smoothing it out. It isn’t a lie exactly, it is wonderful, but all she can think about is how much prettier it would look on Blue or Purple. They would both love this on themselves, twirling around watching the skirt float up into the air. But it’s almost comforting to know they’d love it, like they were both here with her.
A man puts a plate down in front of her full of delicious foods. Eggs, bacon, sausages, pancakes, each item looking more delicious than the last. All manners fly out the window as Yellow shovels food into her mouth. She doesn’t even stop to taste anything, just needing to stop the ache in her stomach she’s been feeling for days. Blue would absolutely be chastising her, telling her to slow down or she’ll choke but she’s not exactly here now is she? Yellow is practically licking the plate clean before she realizes she has two full grown men staring her down. Vic has this soft smile on his lips, his hand placed on top of Agent's squeezing his shoulder.
“I guess I was hungry. Sorry.” She says a bit embarrassed.
“No. Don’t be. Do you want seconds?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” Vic grabs the plate.
Yellow tries to decipher what exactly that was between Vic and Agent by scanning the remaining man’s face but it just remains stone cold. She imagines if she could just see behind the man’s sunglasses she could get a better grasp on it but she supposes that’s what they’re there for.
Vic sets the plate back down and this time Yellow takes her time with the food. It doesn’t taste bad, just corporate. Like it was made without love or care. It was just alright. It wasn’t burned or under cooked, it was just fine. But still, it's fresh food. Nothing out of the garbage.
“So, Yellow, we have a bit of a proposition for you.” Vic says sitting back down
“A proposition?” She asks, swallowing a piece of bacon
“We have been working on capturing The Chosen One and The Dark Lord for quite some time now, and you were closer than we’ve ever been. I mean you gave them a real fight!”
“Not really.” Yellow shrugs. “My friends- they fought. I just stayed in a shack and hid.”
“You coded a cursor into existence with a simple computer! Imagine what you could do with a whole might of Rocket behind you! We can give you proper equipment and resources. We can help you get justice.”
Justice. That word has a nice ring to it. To bring The Dark Lord to knees and end him as brutally as he did to her friends. To punish The Chosen One for his cowardness. Oh how amazing that would be. Get justice- real justice. Yeah, that would be great.
“And this justice, it would come with pay right?”
“Of course. An office, and any resources you need. We can get you whatever you want.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Yellow reaches out for Vic’s hand giving it a firm shake.
“Welcome to Rocket, Yellow.”
____________
Made in collaboration with: @kalcifers-blog
The first story in mine and @kalcifers-blog where Yellow was left in the shack to try to re-summons Alan's cursor and shut down the virabots while her friends help The Chosen One fight The Dark Lord. Unfortunately she is one of the lone survivors in that fight, escaping into the woods moments after she watches her friends disintegrate into nothing but red code in the breeze. She is left to wander for days until she finds a poster asking for information that she is more than happy to provide.
Three days.
Three fucking days of wandering streets that all look the same. Three days of getting odd stares and sideways glances. Trying not to break down from the simple thought of her dead friends and failing miserably. She just has to keep walking. She doesn’t know how or why but she knows it will solve her problem. Just keep moving forward.
She takes a deep breath wiping her face dry of tears as she looks at her surroundings. It’s all the same. No distinct landmarks or natural landscape to help her guide her way, just buildings that stretched so high they practically took over the sky. No trees with distinctive markings, no mountains that grace the horizon, no temples or villages, nothing. Just the same repetitive buildings with buzzing signs and angry people.
That’s probably the worst part of this whole thing. No one wanted to help. She was completely surrounded by people but no one to help. Everyone saw her with her dirty clothes and greasy hair and turned the other way. Small pitiful glances and hushed judgmental whispers were the only interaction she had for days.
She misses her friends. She misses her home. She shouldn’t even be here. She should be at home on the couch with her laptop fans whirring so loud everyone would joke that it’s about to take off. With Blue in the kitchen cooking something amazing. Red and Ruben all up in her personal space and Green’s legs sprawled across her and Sec.
She even misses Alan. In the beginning he was a bit cold and distant, only really wanting to talk to Second, but he grew to love them all. Play fights and little pats of affection from time to time. He’s even started to judge their build battle.
Guess that’s all over now.
Her fingers brush up against the concrete buildings guiding her way to nowhere, when she realizes there is a sudden change of texture. Paper. She looks up to see what her hands find only to take a step back at the image staring back at her.
Blurry photos of a man flying through the sky, fire shooting out of his hands, lazer’s shooting out of his red eyes and a long black trench coat billowing behind him in every photo. That’s him. The man who abandoned her at the bay. Who ran like a coward and left her stranded in this unknown world.
Yellow rips the flyer down, her eyes drawn right to the big bold letters at the bottom of the poster. REWARD. Hopefully it's cash. Get her something to eat or a place to crash for the night. Where does she need to go? Rocket Corp? She’s seen that building. It was tucked away toward the bay with big looming fences and barbed wire, a promise to harm anyone who dares step foot on their territory. A building that just seemed to build more and more upon itself, like the owners were never fully satisfied with it so kept building.
Yellow folds the piece of paper and shoves it in her pocket for safe keeping. She turns on her heel and takes off down the street, past all the shocked stares and odd glances of people she’ll never see again. She doesn’t care. There's people that can finally help her.
Yellow stares up at the Rocket logo, the giant hole in the middle staring back down at her. Judging her every movement. Like if she so much as breathed wrong she’d be shot on sight. Which isn't the worst thing. At least she’d be with her friends.
She walks forward breaking eye contact with the stupid logo, and walks through the huge gap in the fence. She follows the concrete path to the huge steel door and just waits. There doesn't seem to be a handle or a way in only a little panel to scan a pass.
“Hello!” She shouts out to the empty lot. “I have information on the Chosen One!”
She pulls out the piece of paper from her pocket and waves it in the air. There has to be cameras around her somewhere. No place is this guarded and doesn’t have cameras. She just has to make enough noise to get someone’s attention.
“Your flyer says to talk to you if I have information! I have it! Can you let me in? Helloooo?”
Beep
Beep
Beep
Whoosh
The door is wide open, a silent invitation to come inside. Join them in whatever secret goes on behind the concrete and metal walls.
The building is cold, not just in its temperature but in its atmosphere. Grey walls and with no decor to give them life. No plants to give anyone fresh air, nor windows to let in any natural light. It’s lifeless. It’s cold. The only thing alive is a woman in a grey uniform behind a desk, and even she looks like she’s had the life drained out of her by this building.
“Hi.” Yellow says, her index fingers drumming against the concrete grey desk.
“Hi, you said you had some information for us.” Her voice is soft and sweet, a soft smile on her face and sympathy in her eyes. Has-Has this been the first time someone has looked at her with something other than contempt and hatred in their eyes since the fight?
“That’s right.” Yellow whispers swallowing the lump in her throat.
“Why don’t you take a seat over there and my bosses will be right with you.” She points just past Yellow’s shoulder to a little waiting area against the wall. It’s nothing fancy, a few simple black chairs and a matching little sofa.
Yellow shuffles over to the sofa and sits down. It’s lumpy and the faux leather is cold to the touch, like this seat has been neglected for years, but despite all that, it's the comfiest thing she’s felt in days. Oh how low her standards have dropped. It used to take so much to even get her to consider sleep. She had to have Blue in the bed above her, everyone else already had to be sleeping, and she had to have her favorite fluffy blanket. But now, she was so exhausted that this bench was good enough to fall asleep on.
“Here, you look like you need this.” The woman hands her a little protein bar and a small cup of water. Yellow puts the cup to her lips, the cold water sending a small chill down her nerves. Her dry throat cries for relief as the water slides down and into her empty stomach. Her teeth sink into the chocolate bar and her tense body seems to melt as soon as it hits her tongue.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” The women asks
Purple? Mango? She doesn’t know their numbers and her phone is back on Alan’s PC. She’s not even sure if they’re in this world. Last she heard they were bouncing back between their homeworld and Minecraft. They’re probably hundreds if not thousands of miles away from her.
“No. I don’t think so.” She mumbles looking down into her cup.
“Okay. Stay right here.”
Yellow nods and leans back against the couch, sinking into its subpar comfort. Her eyes close against her will, and her lead lulls forward. Almost as if her head was too heavy for her body to support it. She jolts back up, refusing to fall asleep in a random corporation’s lobby and takes another bite of her protein bar.
Stay awake. Stay awake. You can sleep when you’re in a hotel room in a proper bed. Yellow thinks to herself. She digs her chewed fingernails into her palm, the pain forcing herself to stay as alert as she can.
A door opening in the far corner catches her eye. Two men walk through, one an unnatural shade of grey skin making him look like he was made out of silver and a man with sunglasses hovering right behind him. They both go up to the women who was just doting on Yellow just a few minutes ago. Their voices are hushed murmurs, their eyes shifting towards Yellow then back to each other. Yellow forces herself to shrink into herself to take up the least amount of space as possible.
“Hi there,” The silver man says as he sits down next to Yellow. His arms are crossed like he’s guarding himself from a threat that is just looming out of sight.“My friend Coral over there says that you have some information on The Chosen One?”
“Yes, sir I do. Him and The Dark Lord.”
The two men exchange a glance, having an entire conversation in less than a second. She’s not exactly sure what the look communicated but it must have been something good considering that they both return her look with a soft smile and an extended hand.
“Why don’t you come with us and tell us what you know, and afterwards we can get you some proper clothes and food. Sounds good?”
Yellow nods taking the hand in front of her, letting them pull her up to her aching feet and lead her down the corridor of endless doors and hallways. Machine after machine, the whirring of gears, workers in the same grey jumpsuit like workers in a hive obeying their queen. Which from the looks of things seem to be the two men in front of her.
“Take a seat.” The silver man says, opening the door to another lifeless room. Metal chairs and table are the only thing adorning the room. A mirror that she could’ve sworn was a window just a few seconds ago hangs on the wall next the door. A sinking feeling drags Yellow’s stomach down to the floor. She’s seen enough cop shows to know what this is. An integration room.
“Alright then,” The grey one says as she pulls out the lone metal chair. “I’m Vic, and this is Agent.”
Huh. Weird names but then again, not even close to the weirdest thing she’s encountered this week.
“I’m Yellow.”
“Okay Yellow, why don’t you tell what you know about the Chosen One?”
Oh creators. Where to even start?
“Oh well, I live-lived on a PC. And it got infected with a virus. I–I don’t know how, we didn’t download anything, it just showed up and a few minutes later The Chosen One did too. He made a complete mess of the computer, destroying everything to get rid of the virus before leaving through a portal thing. And we followed. I don’t know why but we did. And then we were in the middle of the fight, and The Chosen One and The Dark Lord were trying to kill each other and I know computers I thought I could shut down the bots he was using. Or at the very least stall him out. And I did my best, I really really did! But I-I’m not strong like my friends so I kept trying and doing my best while they fought and then…” they died. They were killed. Right in front of me. The words are caught in her throat, unable to leave her tongue. But they seem to get the message. The tears she’s been holding in for so long finally stream down her face in little rivulets.
“We understand. We’ve also lost loved ones to that monster. Can you tell us what happened after? Where they went? ”
“Yeah, yeah,” Yellow nods, wiping the escaped tears from her face. “I saw Chosen running, fleeing from the fight, and into the forest. I knew I was next and kinda forced a full wipe of the Dark Lord’s PC and sent it into a reboot loop before running. He–He looked right at me. I thought-I thought I was going too…”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain further. Thank you for telling us.”
“Of course.”
“We just have a few more questions. One of our employees, he was by the bay that day and he took this photo,” Vic slides over a glossy photo across the metal table letting Yellow take it from his hands. Dark and Chosen fight in the corner and she can see the shack where she and her friends hid out but that clearly wasn’t the main attraction of the photo. Because right there in the center of the frame is Alan’s cursor. “Do you know how this got here? Into our world?”
“I brought him here.”
“You-You brought him here? You can do that?”
“Yeah, I thought if I could bring him here he could help us. So much for that plan.”
Vic’s face seems to twist into one of confusion and shock. She’s not entirely sure what she said that was so wrong but it must be something horrible to elicit that sort of response. She shrinks into the chair trying to evaporate from their gaze.
“Will you-Will you excuse us for a second?” Vic mutters, his voice a little tighter than it was just a second ago.
“Mhm” Yellow replies, continuing her attempt to just disappear into thin air. Both the men get up from their chairs, with Glasses-Agent, pressing his hand against Vic’s back as they walk out. The door closes behind them leaving Yellow trapped inside.
Yellow groans as she melts into the metal desk, her arms a perfect cushion for her throbbing head. The silence, something she used to cherish more than anything else in the world now feels soul crushing and something to fear. Red isn’t here to burden her with a million questions, Green isn’t here to drag her out to her drum set to make a beat for a new song he wrote, Blue isn’t going to invite to the kitchen for a big meal. They’re all gone. Dead. Without a body to bury, and a grave to mourn at.
She’s all alone. She’s the last one.
A sob makes her chest lurch forward and her head spin. She should’ve gone down to the beach. She shouldn’t have been a coward hiding in the shack trying to bring Alan back. It wouldn’t have worked no matter what she tried. Fucking useless Yellow. Built for a website that was quickly abandoned, for a fight she could never win, and when she was set free gained an interest in something that was never useful for combat. Pathetic. Pathetic and useless.
“Yellow?” Yellow jolts her head up to see Vic sitting in front of her again. Another sad smile plastered on his face. “Coral told me you don’t have anyone to go back home too? Is that right?”
“Mhm.”
“Okay well, we have a health room here, do you want to go lay down for a bit? Get some rest while Agent and I sort some things out? Maybe freshen up a bit while you’re at it?”
“Yes. Please.” She replies with no hesitation, like the offer would disappear if she thought about it too long.
“Great, follow me.” Yellow takes the hand offered to her hoisting herself back up on her aching legs.
Back down the grey hallways they walk, her tired eyes causing the doors and windows to blur into a huge mess. Her shaky legs are barely able to keep herself upright, but she forces her feet to move forward. No matter how painful it is. She can do this. It’s a hallway. She can conquer a hallway.
She’s conquered an Elder Guardian, escaped Purple’s parkour trap, stopped King from destroying an entire universe, saved countless lives and was regarded as a hero in villages across the land. And yet, all of those obstacles seem so small in comparison to this stupid hall.
“Here we go.” Vic’s voice warbles, somehow far away and right beside her at the same time.
This room is much different than the others in the building. It's warm and feels alive. The colors weren’t just plain grey and black, but splashes of blues and greens decorating the walls and furniture. Her eyes land on a faux leather couch with a pillow and a thick white blanket all folded up for her. A pile of fresh clothes and some water sit neatly on an end table. But she’s so exhausted she can barely acknowledge it.
She shuffles towards the couch, feeling so much like the zombies she used to fight. Not quite dead, but definitely not alive either. She crashes on the couch pulling the blanket up to her shoulders and falls asleep. Finally safe for the first time in days.
The Last One Standing AU by me and @itsonlyparker :33c
CW: topics of grief & loss, manipulation, & major character death
More info & extra drawings below the cut !!!!!!
Info Text :
Yellow stayed behind in the shack during the fight in AvA 8 while everyone else helped TSC fight TDL (she did this to try and bring Alan's cursor back)
She ended up witnessing CG being killed by TDL and TCO escaping the scene (unbeknownst to her is that Chosen had taken Second with him, she assumes Second is also dead since all of their bodies disappeared into particles) She manages to stop TDL from doing anything else by destroying / deactivating his tech, making sure there's nothing else he can immediately use to cause any more damage.
She runs away, trying to find anywhere to go - eventually finding TCOs wanted posters and going to Rocket Corp to give the information she has, Victim and Agent personally question her and take pity on her after learning that she has no way of getting back home because of the same person that also ruined their lives. Yellow stays at Rocket Corp.
18 months later & she's a full time worker at Rocket Corp, quickly proving herself to be useful with her inventions. She's officially Victims prodigy - he utilities their shared grief to get her to build more weaponry so they can eventually take down TCO and TDL.
She's drowning herself in work to try and distract herself from the immense grief she feels constantly. (Her crash out is inevitable)
She grew her hair out bc it reminds her of Blue.
Some extra drawings / sketches I did !!
The last one is of Chosen & Second, I'll make a post about them when I make the refs for Second :33c
Chosen took care of himself as promised for the next week. He got out of bed every day no matter how much he wants to stare at the wall and wallow. He takes showers and wears fresh clothes and even washes Dark's hoodie. And while the first few days of eating were hard, mostly snacks he and Dark had laying around, by day four he was starting to make easy meals. It wasn’t much, especially compared to his glory days, but it was something.
The house isn’t nearly as filthy either. The smell of smoke and fire has been scrubbed away and replaced with a faux sense of cleanliness. All the dishes have been cleaned and put away instead of rotting in the sink. The counters are wiped clear of the dust and grime that had been taking over and the floors are now sparkled with cleanliness.
The only thing that isn’t completed on his to-do list was to get rid of that virus cannon Dark had built. It was certainly a priority, but every time he even got near the damn thing, the remnants of grief and guilt took a hold on him, the memory of what happened there too great. Phantom pain from the punch that started it all would tingle in his knuckles, and nausea so powerful it brought him to his knees. So instead he blocked it off. Out of sight, out of mind. It isn’t perfect, but it works for now.
He kinda hopes the kid is proud of him. There's no one else in his life that could be proud of him. And while the steps have been small, they have been steps. He should be arriving any minute now. Chosen had been counting down the days, hours, minutes until the kid returns. Until he isn’t alone again.
Chosen waits on the roof of his home, looking up at the screen sky. He’s been up here for hours, basically since he woke up, looking out for the kid to wander up to the house. He must get tired after all that walking. Maybe they could watch a movie or wander through the woods, or maybe fly around? It will be difficult, since the kid doesn’t know about his powers, but Chosen is sure he can carry him. Super strength and all that.
“Choooosen!” the kid’s voice calls out from the distance. Chosen scans the ground for the kid’s bright orange hair in the green grass, and smiles at the kid waving from the ground. Chosen leaps off the roof to the field below, the fire shooting out of his hands cushioning his fall. the kid wraps his arms around Chosen, and before he knows it, he’s returning the gesture.
The kid is warm and smells like citrus. His fingers run through the kid’s soft hair, cradling his head. It had only been a week but he really did miss the kid and being alone in the house was starting to drive him a little crazy. He swore at times he could hear Dark’s voice just down the hall or the familiar buzz of his computers but nothing was ever there.
“Hey, Chosen! I missed you too!” the kid says, releasing his grip on Chosen. His hand twitches towards the kid’s, already missing his warmth but never being able to admit it out loud. But thankfully the kid seems to be a natural mind reader, and grasps his hand in his own.
“We are going on an adventure,” he says with a smile.
“Oh yeah?” Chosen replies. “What are we doing?”
“You are going to show me around the city!”
“The city? Oh no no no. We are not going there.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m a criminal?”
“So?! Throw on a hoodie, or a hat! Come on, big bro!” His eyes are so big and his smile wide. He can’t say no to that little face. Although he really needs to learn how to, can’t let the power go to the kid’s head. But just once wouldn’t hurt. He does need to go into the city anyway.
“Fine. Just this once.” Chosen says with a sigh. “Only because I need to get some groceries.”
“Yes! You’re the best Cho!”
“Yeah, yeah. Lemme grab a few things, then we can get going.” Chosen goes back inside, leaving the door open for the kid to follow. He goes over to the closet, grabbing a jacket with a large hood and a beanie, and throws them both on. He tucks his long black hair into the gray beanie, leaving only the front strands sticking out. It's not an amazing disguise, but as long as he keeps his head down, he should be fine.
“Alrighty kid, you ready?” Chosen says, tucking his phone and keys into his jacket pocket.
“Yeah! My friend Purple told me all about the city, he used to live there!”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, apparently he had an apartment or something and knows all the fun places.”
“So why aren’t you exploring it with him? Sounds like you got an expert tour guide.”
“Because I wanted to see it with you first!”
Chosen can’t help but roll his eyes at the kid’s sapiness. It was pure and truthful, innocent in the way a kid who has never been truly scorned could be. Chosen wishes he could’ve had that, even for a minute, but it was never in the cards for him.
“Come on, kid. Let's go.”
—---
The city is exactly as Chosen remembers it.
Awful.
Too many sticks and noises. People crammed together with barely any space to themselves. Shops with their bright lights and towers that take over the horizon. Cars that make awful noises and people talking far too loud. It’s disgusting.
But the kid seems to like it. His eyes are wide taking in every last thing that the city has to offer. His head bounces from building to building, stick to stick, taking in every last thing it has to offer.
“Is it everything you ever dreamed of?” Chosen says, nudging the kid.
“It’s so big! I’ve only ever been to small villages and bastions. Even then there were only like 100 piglins there? Maybe 200?”
“Well there are probably a few thousand sticks here. Maybe even a few hundred thousand.”
“Hundred thousand?!”
“Yeah, lotta potential friends for you.” Chosen says, ruffling the kid’s hair with a small laugh. the kid giggles in return, shooing Chosen’s hand off of his head. It’s mostly a joke, but to be honest, the kid seems so friendly and light hearted, if Dark wasn’t so set on destruction, if he wasn’t ready to end everything, Chosen is sure that he and the kid could’ve been friends.
“So, what are we doing first?”
“Well, do you want food? There are a few good food carts around here if you’re hungry.”
“Yeah, I kinda skipped breakfast so I could get here on time.”
“Alright, then. Food it is.”
“Yeah!” the kid takes off, a bit too fast for Chosen’s taste. He still doesn’t know anything about this world, and the thought of the kid getting hurt on his watch. Chosen takes off after the kid, pulling the edges of his beanie down to shield his face.
“Come on, Cho!” he shouts from the edge of the sidewalk, his arms waving in the air to get his attention. Cars whiz past him, going almost as fast as Chosen’s heart. Chosen pulls his little brother back onto the sidewalk and to safety.
“Okay, new rule. Stay behind me or right in front of me. Within grabbing distance.”
“Oh, what? Do you not trust me?”
“Nope, not in the slightest.” Chosen says with a laugh. “Next time don’t stand next to the street.”
“Noted.”
The signal across the road turns from red to green, allowing the two to cross the street without getting hit by a car. Cursors above, this kid has a steep learning curve ahead of him. It took years for Chosen to even grasp the basics, and to be honest, he doesn’t have the strongest understanding on it, but he’s doing his best. He thinks.
They round the corner to the street full of food carts and long lines. Chosen digs into his pocket, grabbing his wallet and some cash.
“Okay, see the dark red man with the cart?” he says, pointing to the man pushing his corndogs.
”Yeah?”
“Here’s $6. Go grab us two corn dogs.”
“What?! Didn’t you just say to stay in front of or beside you?! Why can’t you get them?”
“Because I spent my first six years here being a criminal, and now I’m in hiding. And you’ll still be in eye sight. Now go.” Chosen says, nudging the kid closer to the cart. Thankfully, the kid rolls his eyes and compiles.
Chosen leans against the nearby wall of one of the skyscrapers of the city. He keeps his head down, but his eyes still scan the city and its inhabitants. A few sticks with blue hats and badges pass by but don’t seem to spare Chosen another glance, too busy at whatever their task was. They hang around a telephone pole before moving on.
A poster with the words written in big bold text hangs from the post, and Chosen’s face right below it. Oh boy. That isn’t good. Chosen tugs the beanie around his ears as he walks over the telephone poll.
WANTED. REPORT ALL SIGHTINGS TO ROCKET CORP. REWARD.
Chosen rips the poster off the staple and shoves it into his hoodie pocket. Rocket corp. Has always been a small thorn in his side but to put his face up on posters? This is starting to become a problem. His fingertips flip back and forth on the edges of the folded poster, his potential doom in his pocket. He’ll have to find and burn all the posters later. Just in case.
“Hey! Chosen!” the kid says from the other side of the street “Mission accomplished! I got us some food!” He waves the corn dogs up in the air with a bright smile on his face. Chosen can’t help but let the infectious smile spread to his face as he crosses the street, forgetting all about the poster in his pocket. He takes both the corn dogs and holds them high above his head where the kid can’t reach it. A playful gesture, made all the better by the fact the kid was at least six inches shorter than him.
“Oh what?! Chosen! Come on!” the kid says, jumping up to grab his treat. “Give it back!”
“Gotta say the magic word!”
“May I please have my corn dog?” he says, crossing his arms with a little pouty face to complete it. Chosen lowers one of the corn dogs from the air and takes a big bite out of it, a smirk on his face as he chews.
“What?! Chosen! I said ‘please!’”
“Who said that was the magic word?”
“Come on, Chosen! Give it!” the kid resumes his little jumps, his arms waving around in an attempt to get the delicious snack out of Chosen’s hands.
“You didn’t say the magic word!” Chosen can’t help but laugh, really, truly laugh at the kid’s attempts. When was the last time he did that? Truly laugh from the core of his being? It’s been so long that his stomach hurts from just a few seconds of the joyous feeling.
“Would you stop laughing and just give it?”
“Okay, okay. Here.” Chosen hands over the delicious hostage and ruffles the kids hair, his hand shuffling the orange and green mess.
“Thank you.”
“You are very welcome. Now, come on, let's get out of here. I think there's a farmers market up ahead.”
---
The two of them walk around the marketplace, each booth catching his attention. Little crafts or hand-made art or trinkets cause his eyes to glisten with this wonder Chosen had never seen before. He knows that this is all new to him, but this ability to stop and appreciate every little thing. Especially the art. He stops and drags Chosen back to the booth to admire every piece the creator made. It takes a while, and the booth owners are a bit too chatty for Chosen’s taste, but the kid always steps up to talk to them. And even though they never buy anything, it does seem to make the vendor's day a bit brighter just by talking about their craft.
“So what else do you want to see?” Chosen asks as they walk out of the market.
“What else is there to see?” the kid shrugs.
“Well there's the grocery store, the laundromat—”
“Not thaat! Fun stuff!”
“I don’t do ‘fun stuff’ kid, I do boring ‘adult stuff’”
“Oh what? You’re like what, eighteen—nineteen? You should be doing fun stuff!”
“I’m twenty. And the boring adult stuff takes precedence, kid.”
“Boring! You’re boring!” the kid says, sticking his tongue out for emphasis. Chosen rolls his eyes and gives the kid a playful shove on the shoulder.
“Okay, smart guy, what do you do for fun?”
“Oh, well, Alan has a lot of games on his computer, so my friends and I usually go explore those, but Minecraft is our favorite.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah! That’s actually where I met my friends! Oh! Oh! You should meet them! They don’t live too far from here! That’s what we should do next!” the kid grabs Chosen’s arm and takes off, not caring about anything, just getting to their next destination. Chosen allows himself to be dragged along by the kid half his size and strength to an unknown destination.
Chosen is led through streets and buildings until they get to the more suburban side of the city. No more skyscrapers assaulting the sky, or people crowding the streets, or posters on every post and in every window advertising the next big thing. Instead there are children playing in the street and coloring with chalk on the sidewalk, and parents on the porch talking amongst each other. Run down houses made of concrete instead of glass or steel. No yards or space for freedom, just houses crammed next to each other.
The kid runs up to the house at the very end of the block, knocking on the door while bouncing on his heels. His excitement radiating off of him and bombarding Chosen, not that he minded of course. No matter how many times he sees that smile, he’s sure he’ll never get tired of it.
A taller solid orange stick pulls the door open with a soft smile and tired eyes. He somehow looks both exhausted and wide awake at the same time. The faint smell of black tea wafts out the door, inviting them both in.
“Hey, Orange! Headed back already?” the man says, leaning against the door.
“Not yet! I brought Chosen by to meet you and Purple. Is that okay?”
Chosen stands up a bit straighter as the man looks at him, his smile never dropping as he steps aside.
“Come on in. Do you like tea, Chosen?”
“Oh, uh, I’m more of a coffee person, but I’ll never turn down a cup.” Chosen says, crossing the threshold. His eyes bounce around the small home, trying to take it all in. And look for anything suspicious. Not that he doesn’t trust the kid’s friends, it’s just second nature at this point.
The walls look freshly painted over, and some half decent furniture lay by a nice kitchen. Store-bought paintings hang from the walls next to photographs of the orange stick figure and a gold child. Drawings that have no right being in such beautiful frames crowd walls like they belonged there, and not on a fridge or stuffed in a drawer somewhere.
A purple stick who looks about the kid’s age pokes his head around the corner, his eyes wide for a moment, looking between him and the kid, and the older stick, like he needs some reassurance. Which, fair. If a famed terrorist just showed up in Chosen’s house, he’d be a bit spooked too.
“Purple, this is my big brother, Chosen. He doesn’t bite. Swear.”
“You said the same thing about Red,” Purple says with a small laugh, stepping out from his little hiding spot. The kid reaches out for Purple, pulling them close before turning back to Chosen.
“Well, Chosen definitely doesn’t. Right, Cho?”
“Uh, yeah, don’t worry kid. My days of ruthlessness and terror are far behind me.”
“Same here.” Purple chuckles.
Uh, what? Chosen looks to the kid for further elaboration, absolutely lost how this fifteen year old could have ‘days of terror’. He looks like a completely normal kid, someone Chosen wouldn’t even give a second glance to on the street.
“Oh, um, Purple almost killed Blue and Green when they were the ruler of a village and then helped Mango when he went a bit off the rails and tried to destroy Minecraft and us along with it. But we’re all good now.” The kid says all this like he isn’t absolutely crazy.
“I-What?” A normal dad and a teenager, killers, destroyers? Those are words to describe him, not a pair of normal sticks living in the city.
“Purple, didn’t you say you had something to show Orange?” Mango says from the kitchen. “Why don’t you and Orange go to your room and let the grown ups chat?”
“Oh, uh, okay. Come on Orange.”
The kid looks back up at Chosen, worry filling his eyes. Like if he left, Chosen would fly off, absolutely terrified of the situation.
“Go have fun. Just don’t head home without a proper goodbye, okay?”
“I won’t! Promise! Come on, Purple!” the kid drags his friend back to their room, leaving Chosen alone with Mango.
Chosen takes a seat at the kitchen table, watching Mango grab two mugs from the cupboard. The kettle screeches, alerting everyone in the house that the water is ready for tea. Chosen looks back up to the man, really trying to picture him hurting anyone, but can’t seem to grasp the image. The man pouring tea, destroying what seems to be an entire dimension and five kids? No way.
“I’m sorry, I’m just a little lost. You’re a suburban dad and they’re a teenager. Why did you-”
“Same reason a famed terrorist is clinging onto a teenage kid.” Mango says, cutting him off before placing a cup of hot tea in front of him. “Grief.”
The word was heavy in the air, the truth surrounding it too great to speak upon.
“My son, Gold- there was an accident. And I got angry. And destructive. I imagine you, of all people, can understand that.”
“I do.” Chosen says, tracing the edge of the mug with his finger. “Well, what about Purple?”
“Purple, they didn’t have the best childhood, and they were trying to please all the wrong people. they did some bad things, really bad things, but they’ve learned. Orange and his friends helped them a lot.”
Chosen looks out to the hallway, where the kid and Purple’s voice’s come from. Yeah he can understand both of those things. Being so filled with anger and using it for destruction, and pleasing all the wrong people because of a shit childhood? That’s his story alright.
“I saw your wanted posters around town.” Wait, what?! Chosen’s head darts up as his hands fly to the piece of paper in his pocket grabbing the thing tight. He almost forgot about those. Chosen does his best to keep a straight face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in. I think Orange would kill me if I did.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” Chosen says, tapping the side of the mug with his fingertips.
The bright green light and the shaking of the ground is still fresh in his mind. Dark’s body so mangled it didn’t even resemble the powerful stick he was fighting just a few minutes ago. All because of an angry, grieving child.
Chosen looks back to the older stick figure. His entire presence, soft, kind, and inviting. Something completely different than what Chosen was used to. He was used to the energetic, rash, and loud demeanor of Dark, and to an extent the kid. But it was nice. Something he feels like he’s been missing for a long time.
“Can I tell you something?” He says after a long sip of the tea.
“Uh, yeah. Of course.”
“I haven’t—Not even the kid knows. And I can’t tell him! How could I? It would—And I need to tell someone. I can’t keep this a secret for any longer.”
“Chosen, hey, it’s all good,” Mango says, reaching over the table to touch his hand. “You can tell me.”
It’s rough and calloused, but gentle in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. It’s comforting. At least that’s what he thinks the other man is trying to do. Chosen nods and takes a few deep breaths. He can do this.
“Do you remember the big mountain leveling fight that happened a few weeks ago?”
“How could I forget? Purple was terrified. Thought the world was ending.”
“That was the kid. the kid did that.”
“What?”
“Well it was mostly me and Dark in the beginning but the kid? He leveled that mountain. He destroyed all of Darks bots like it was nothing! It took all of my power to destroy one of them! And he destroyed Dark! He leveled that mountain! And he doesn’t remember it! He has no clue!”
“Orange did that? He was that green light?”
“Mhm. And he doesn’t remember it.”
Chosen watches as the older man leans back in his chair, letting out a sigh of what he thinks to be disbelief. He shakes his head before grabbing his mug and taking a long sip of tea.
“And to think I thought he was giving it his all when we fought,” Mango says, finishing the drink. Chosen isn’t really sure what that means, but he gives the other man time to process all of this. In all honesty, Chosen isn’t even sure he’s processed all of this. “Are you sure Orange doesn’t know?”
“Positive. He told me he basically blacked out for that entire time. He thinks I saved him and his friends.”
Chosen takes another sip of the warm tea as Mango slides his hands down his face. A perfect encapsulation of how Chosen has felt for the past few weeks.
“Creators above,” Mango finally says
“Exactly what I’ve been saying,” Chosen replies.
“That’s a lot to carry on your shoulders. Are you—are you doing okay?”
Out of all the questions, that's the one Chosen least suspected would come up. How is he doing? How is the infamous Chosen One doing?
“Fine, I guess. A lot better, now that the kid is coming to check in with me. I guess I'm a bit lonely. It’s weird being alone. I always think Dark is the other room working on something.”
“Well, if you ever need it, our house is always available to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’re important to Orange so you’re important to me.”
Chosen can’t help but smile at the genuine kindness being extended to him. No strings attached. Being kind just for the sake of it. Because he could.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime kid.”
-------
[A03 link]
Oh look at that Chosen and Orange bonding! And Chosen has a friend?! You know what we call that? Growth.
Also I need more fics or art of a Mango/Chosen dynamic. Just Mango kinda being someone for Chosen to lean on. PLEASE!!!
I don't think chapter 4 will be ready by next Friday, but it defienlty will be ready at the very lastest the Friday after that! Thanks so much for reading!!
Chosen slumps to the floor, all his energy gone along with the kid. He knows he just promised to take care of himself, but that seemed so much easier with the kid there. Now alone and faced with what he had to do, he’d rather jump off a cliff than keep that dumb promise.
The dark shadow of grief that clings to his ankles, threatening to pull him down like the ball and chain from so long ago, returns to its rightful place. Everything seems so heavy again. So heavy. Even climbing back in bed seems like it would be scaling a mountain.
But that kid looked at him with so much hope, so much kindness. “I won’t let you sulk in that bed forever.” Shit. He has to do this. He can’t let him go. He can’t fail him too.
Chosen pushes himself off the floor, fighting against the heavy weight of sadness keeping him down. He can do this. He is The Chosen One. He escaped imprisonment. Has flown through the skies freer than a bird. He can harness the power of fire and ice with a flick of his wrist. He can take a stupid shower.
He trudges up the stairs, each step a little easier than the last. He can do this. He can do this. For the kid.
Chosen turns into the bathroom and takes a good look at himself in the mirror. Cursors and creators above, he’s a mess. His eyes are exhausted, with dark circles underneath them only extenuating how fatigued he is. His dark hair is oily and matted beyond belief.
He used to take great pride in his hair, the one and only thing that he knew was his own. Not given to him like his life, his powers, or even his freedom. But something he made, or well his body made. But it was his. And no one could tell him what to do with it. And he let it get like this. Chosen picks up a brush and begins to work through the knots at the bottom of his hair and works his way up. With each stroke of the brush, his hair becomes a little less tangled. And his life is a little more manageable.
But the rest of his body was disgusting, not fully cleaned from the fight with dirt and dried blood all over his body. Not to mention the sweat, oils and other things that made him feel disgusting. He looks to the shower, the heaviness returning at just the mere thought of cleaning his body. But he knew he has to do it. No matter how much he doesn’t want to. the longer he put it off, the worse he’d feel. And he already feels like shit.
Chosen reaches into the shower and turns the nozzle, letting the warm water spray across his hand. He throws his clothes on the floor, not bothering with a hamper, and steps in. the warm water trickling down his body does make him feel better. And having the weight of the blood and grime lifted off of him with each harsh scrub of the small towel makes him feel lighter. Even if the water swirling down the drain is brown and red. He scrubs the shampoo into his hair, his nails digging into his scalp almost painfully so, ridding the last of the fight adieu as it washes down the drain. It’s bittersweet. Leaving a pang in his heart.
He needs to do this, but he wishes he had at least a scar, something, anything, to remind him of his friend, but there isn’t even a mark on his body. Nothing to even indicate that there was even a fight. Nothing to show that he almost died. How is that fair?! The kid is littered with scars reminding him of something that he shouldn’t have been involved with in the first place, but he gets off scot-free?! That isn’t fair!
Chosen twists the nozzle so hard it nearly snaps off. Water and frustrated tears run down his face and down the drain. He yanks a towel off the rack, and begins to dry himself off.
Okay. Okay. Calm down. Just calm down, he thinks to himself as he scrubs the water droplets off of him. Just, calm down. You’re okay. You’re okay, Chosen.
Chosen takes a deep breath before wrapping the towel around his body. He wipes the steam off the bathroom mirror to reveal his reflection. The tired eyes and bags remain, but at least he doesn’t look like a complete psychopath. He could probably go into town with a hood over his head and not get a single glance. But not today. Baby steps.
Speaking of which, fresh clothes. He can do that. Chosen thumbs over some of the shirts in his closet before pulling out a plain white shirt and black sweatpants. Something easy and comfortable. He glances at the red sweatshirt on the floor that belonged to Dark and throws it on. The familiar scent of motor oil, sweat and tobacco filling his head. Oh, tobacco!
Chosen glances over to the pack of cigarettes on his dresser, grabbing it and his lighter and shoving it in his pockets. This is definitely not what the kid meant when he said “take care of yourself”, but the kid isn’t here and he already did so much. Chosen walks down the stairs and out the door into the green cliffside the house sat on. Chosen sits down on the edge of the cliff, letting his feet dangle off the ledge. He grabs a cigarette and brings it to his mouth and lights it, and that first inhale is pure bliss.
A small breeze flows through the air, carrying the smoke away to the lake. Chosen looks up to the screen grid, which wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was something familiar.
He remembers how disappointed he was when he and Dark first arrived. He wished for stars and a sun. But all he got was the light of screens and the darkness that came when the computers they were attached to went to sleep. Dark had joked that it was all human junk, that there was no need for it and not to get so sad. After all, they were free! Away from that awful cursor and the ball and chain that kept Chosen confined for four years. But it was so much more than mere disappointment for Chosen.
In that empty blackness, the empty nothingness, sometimes he swore he could see specks of white in the distance. Inviting him to freedom. Promising that if he held out just a while longer he’d be able to see them for real. He got his freedom, but never his stars.
Chosen takes in another deep inhale of smoke, pushing the memory out from his head. Something good. Just think of something good. Something that won’t hurt him. Dark’s smile and laugh. The adrenaline of a good sparring session or flying around in the woods with Dark right on his tail. All things he’ll never experience again. No. No. Happy memories. Don’t let the grief hold you back, Chosen thinks. Don’t let the sorrow drown you.
Chosen scans for anything that can bring a smile to his face, but comes up empty. All there was the cursor who kept him enslaved, Dark, and the kid. Every happy memory is now one of mourning and grief. Chosen takes another long drag of his cigarette, the reliable tobacco giving him happiness that memories can’t.
“Did you make him like that?” he says to the hole in the sky grid “Did you make him evil? Can I blame you for this? Please? Can it just be your fault? Not his?”
The sky doesn’t reply. It doesn’t have the answers. It just glows with the screens turning on and off as their owners go about their lives. They’ll all be turning off soon, except for a few night owls who don’t turn off their computer until 4 am. And Alan’s computer, which was always on. Which, now that Chosen thinks about it, makes sense.
The computer in sleep mode—or worse, shutdown—was hell. No direction, no color, just floating in the abyss, until the computer turned back on. He wouldn’t do that to them. He was kind and took care of them. He let them live on their PC and draw and play games and saved their lives.
“Why couldn’t you have done that for me? For us?”
I don’t know, the gaping hole in the sky says. But asking that won’t help you.
----
I promise you'll get more sibling bonding next chapter
How long has he been staring at this stupid concrete wall? A day? A week? A year? Whatever it was, it felt like an eternity. Chosen can’t move. Can’t breathe. Not since the mountain came crashing down. Since Dark died. He’s just been laying on this bed, staring at the wall, holding Dark’s favorite red sweatshirt, hoping, praying, needing Dark to come back through that door. His loud mouth and witty quips, a comeback for anything Chosen could say. But he’ll never be able to hear that voice again. Never be able to hug or touch or be with him again.
How can he move on? How can he be without his other half? Dark was the reason he had freedom, that he could live outside of a confining PC. No longer a slave but a person, something with life and a soul. He’s never had a night under the stars without Dark at his side, and now he’ll have to see them every night without him.
Cursors above, he’s tired. Even though he’s been in this bed for who knows how long, the fatigue is deep in his bones. He wants to die in this bed. He feels dead. So exhausted he can barely move or think. Only take in deep breaths of the sweatshirt.
A small, familiar creak of the front door, sends a small flicker of hope through his chest. He waits for Dark to call out, tell him he was home from whatever adventure had called to him. Tell him that this was all in his head, that this was a nightmare and that he would never lose him. That the virabots were nothing but a bad dream and he would never do anything so stupid.
“Chosen? Are you here? the door was unlocked so I let myself in.” No. Definitely not Dark. Too childish and high pitched. But the voice is familiar. “It’s Orange. Ya know? From Alan’s PC? I wanted to come check in on you. See how you were doing? I brought food! Hello?”
Oh, that’s why. It’s the kid. Chosen pulls the covers over his head like a child hiding from their parents. Maybe if he ignored the kid, he’d go away. But the steps get louder and louder as he steps up the stairs, growing ever closer. The door creaks open, the kid’s voice clear as day, the only thing protecting Chosen was the blankets over his head.
“Hey, is this you?” the kid asks, poking the duvet. “It is!!”
The sheets were ripped off his body in an instant, exposing him to the sunlight and coldness that is the outside world. He curls in farther into himself and the hoodie in his arms, hoping that the kid is getting the hint.
“Are you alive?” He wishes he wasn’t. He wishes he was right there with Dark when the mountain fell. Orange pokes and prods his stomach, causing him to squirm, his lips curling into a smile against his will. “You are! Come on! Get out of there!”
Chosen groans as he pushes himself out of bed, knowing that the kid will never leave him alone if he doesn’t comply. He sits up and stretches his aching body before looking at the kid. An annoyingly cheerful smile spreads across his face, and his hair is pulled back into a high ponytail with green highlights toward the end. His eyes are bright with happiness and optimism that Chosen never even got the chance to experience.
“You're up! Come on, I brought food!” He pulls on Chosen’s hands, bringing him to his feet. It was nice. Warm. He can feel the kid's heart beat between his fingers. Warm, steady and consistent. He’s alive. They’re both alive. He grips onto the kid’s hand as if it would disappear the moment he let it go. Call him selfish, you wouldn’t be the first, but he needs this. More than he realized.
“Woah, hey,” the kid says. “Quite a grip there. I’m not going anywhere. You hungry? I brought sandwiches and watermelon lemonade, and some sweet berries!” He was hungry. He hasn’t eaten for a few days. Or showered. Or smoked. Or done anything. Just stared at the wall. And cried into that damn sweatshirt.
The kid leads him down the stairs, showing him a big picnic basket set down on his kitchen counters. He begins to unpack everything with his free hand, setting the food down on plates. Pixelated and flat. Definitely not from this world. He looks back at the smiling kid, as he continues to unpack what he brought, and starts to snicker.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. It’s just—how did you even get this here?”
“I brought it from home!”
Of course he did. The kid grew up in isolation on Alan’s PC. He can't have any clue about laws or rules. But hey, everyone’s gotta learn sometime. Better to have him sneaking in food than terrorizing websites and killing innocent sticks.
“That’s illegal. Game smuggling. You could get time.” the kid’s face goes ghost white, stumbling over words in shock. Chosen can’t help but chuckle, grabbing a sandwich and some berries. “Guess being a troublemaker runs in the family.”
The tension in the kid's shoulders relaxes as a small laugh escapes his mouth. “Ye-Yeah. Guess it does.”
Chosen lets a small smile grace his lips as he bites into the sandwich the kid brought. It’s good for a sandwich, and the berries are fresh, so he can’t complain. And, hey, it’s free food. The kids' bright orange eyes keep bouncing around the room and examining Chosen’s body. His eyes finally lock on to Chosen’s and a look of sadness comes over him.
“Have you just been in that bed since…”
“Cursors, kid, manners. You break into my house and now you’re asking questions?” Dark used to say he used sarcasm as a shield, a way to deflect and protect himself. And he had a point, but feelings weren’t exactly his forte. They weren’t Dark’s, either, but that’s what made them such good friends. They’d just sit in silence and enjoy each other's company. This kid was clearly a talkative one. Full of energy and light.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” the kid says, holding his hands up and waving them back and forth. “It’s just—I wouldn’t blame you if you were. If one of my best friends did something like that, then I had to fight them, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.”
“Don’t worry, kid, your friends seem like good people. I don’t think you’ll have to deal with that.”
“Yeah, my friends are the best.”
“Considering how they jumped in to save you with no hesitation, yeah, I’d say so.” All those kids seemed so selfless and kind. Just jumping in front of the kid and himself. Regardless of their own safety, their own skill, they just threw themselves into the battle to protect a friend and a stranger. Dark would have never done anything like that. He never gave, only took.
Chosen takes a good look at the kid for the first time since they met. All the injuries from the fight have scarred over, leaving fine white lines all over his body. His shirt looks burned at the edges, as if he was recently playing with fire, and his hair and shoulders carry a fine red dust. Weird. If he took the tunnel that he created, all of that should’ve been taken off by the strong winds.
“How did you even get here?” Chosen asks, needing an answer to the stupid question.
“Now who’s asking the questions?” Chosen smiles and the kid’s sassiness. Not all sugar, this kid’s got a little bit of spice in him. They didn’t get much time to talk in between all the fighting and death. There might have been a total of twenty words exchanged between them, and most of them were “Thank you for saving me!” This was the first time they actually had a conversation, and while the kid was very bubbly and full of energy, it was nice. “My friends have a portal that connects to the Nether. It wasn’t a hard walk.”
“Nether? What's the Nether?”
“Oh, uh, do you know what Minecraft is?”
“Kinda? It’s been a while, so many things must’ve changed.” He and Dark visited the game long ago, when it was in its beta stages. Chosen stayed on the surface building a small house, stacking trees, and watching the gorgeous sunset. Dark was lost somewhere fighting and killing things.
“Well, my friend has a portal connecting this world to the game, and the game connects to another portal on Alan’s desktop, so I just came through that.”
“So what's the Nether?”
“Oh, it’s a dimension in Minecraft. It’s full of lava and fire, but it’s easy to get through once you know what you’re doing.”
“Kid, you shouldn’t go through a fire dimension for me. If you’re gonna come, go through the portal I made.”
“But I don’t want to fall in the lake!”
“You won’t fall into the lake.”
“Yes, I will. I can’t fly like you!” Chosen freezes and looks at the kid as if he was insane. His eyes try to find any sense of humor or sarcasm in the kids expression but finds none.
“Kid, question for you,” he asks, ready to test the waters.
“Go ahead.”
“What do you remember about the fight?”
“Um, I remember standing in front of you and then my friends helping me and, the red guy—“
“Dark.”
“Dark, stabbing them, then me, and then the world went black. Then I woke up with Alan and my friends above me. I think I died.”
Actually the opposite, Chosen thinks to himself. He was a powerhouse, wielding more strength and cosmic energy than Chosen could even dream of. Green sparks of lighting that exploded into the sky. Lime green energy that healed him. Speed that could break the sound barrier with ease. But it’s probably for the best that he can't remember all that.
He remembers his creation day. So full of power and fear. Destroying everything and anything in his way as he just tried to run from the overwhelming dread that overtook his body, until the cursor in the sky imprisoned him. Used him as his own personal Adblock. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, especially the kid.
“I’m really sorry that you had to hurt Dark.”
“Yeah, well, someone had to stop him.”
“Ya know,” the kid says, putting down his sandwich. “You can call me Orange ya know. It is my name.” What? No. A hollow head without a kickass name? That’s not Alan at all. No, there has to be more. No way Alan came up with a basic name like Orange. He had to have something, anything, better than the name of a normal stick figure. Especially considering his powers, there is no way his file name is just ‘Orange_StickFigure’ Or something like that. Not with Alan.
“Well, I’m not calling you that.” Chosen says grabbing the watermelon lemonade “What did Alan name you?”
“He didn’t name me anything. I’m just Orange.”
“Well, for now, you’re ‘kid.’”
“Great,” the kid says, rolling his eyes with a smile.
“Hey, you should be honored. Not even Dark got a nickname like that.”
“Oh, really?”
“Nope, he was always Dark. Back then, now, and forever, Dark.”
It’s true. No matter what, he will be Dark. Not the Dark Lord, or the Internet Terrorist. Dark. His friend. His matching half. His freedom. His best friend.
“I’m really sorry you had to kill him. But now you have me! And I’m not going to let you wallow away in that bed forever. Okay?” Chosen smiles at the kid’s optimism. How can he not? That hollowness he had just felt, while still there, no longer felt like it would swallow him whole. It was manageable, something he could fight now.
“Hey, as long as you bring me food, we have a deal. Just knock next time?”
“Deal.”
The kid is no Dark, not even close. He’s far too bright and bubbly, an optimism that would’ve made Dark sick and smile that never seemed to fade. Dark had a glint of mischief in his eye and a permanent smirk on his face. They were so, so different, but so similar in so many ways. Energetic and sassy, full of curiosity and vigor, ready to pull Chosen to the next thing. Willing to do anything just to make Chosen smile.
A sudden squeeze around his chest takes any breath he has away. He looks down to see the kid wrapping his arms around his torso, his head firmly in his chest with the top of his head under Chosen’s chin.
“I gotta go, but I’ll see you next week. Okay?” Chosen isn’t sure what to do in this situation. Dark wasn’t much of a hugger, and Chosen wasn’t much for physical contact. And while Dark loved to be in his space, he wasn’t one for physical affection. He just knew it bothered Chosen, so he’d do everything in his power to be as physically close as he could just to bug him. But this is different. Very, very different. In a good way? Maybe? He honestly isn’t sure.
“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself while I’m away?” the kid looks back up with a bright smile and sparkling eyes, and Chosen’s heart can’t help but swell. How can he say no to that face? That would be like kicking a puppy. Chosen ruffles the kid's hair as he releases the death grip he held on Chosen.
“I’ll try, kid. I promise.”
------
[A03 link]
-----
I hope y'all like it. This is my first piece for the AVA fandom so I'm a bit nervous
I have most of the story planned out so I hope to update it at least once a month.
Oh and credit to @/starrypawu for the headcannon of Orange with lime green highlights in his hair headcannon which you can find here
He used to love these. He would make them sing and dance, put on little shows for the kids. He was the best at carving them from a slab of wood and turning them into art. Taking scraps of fabric and turning it into life. But now he’s gone and all that remains is the little doll sitting in Shawn’s hands. The smile so full of life and promise brought nothing but anger to Shawn’s soul.
This was all that was left. This was his legacy. A few dolls and cherished memories. No body. No record. Nothing. As if he never existed. But he did. These stupid dolls were proof of that. His memories, his grief were proof of that. No human being could break over something imaginary. Not like this.
“I’m sorry. But we have no record of a Jameson Jackson.” Those two damned sentences were said over and over again. At hospitals, at courthouses, even fucking IRIS. The god damn bastards who fucking took him. “There is no record of Jameson Jackson.”
The little puppet smiles back up at him like everything will be fine. Like everything will be normal. Like the world will still spin and the sun will still rise tomorrow. But it won’t. Shawn’s world had been destroyed. There is no sun. There is no light without Jameson.
The universe has to be fucking with him. There has to be a body. Something to bury. Something to remember him by. There is no way someone just disappears like that. There has to be something! But nothing. There was no one that could help him. According to the universe Jameson wasn’t even a ghost.
-----
Egotober by: @tracobuttons
This is the one time a year I rise for like 10 days and then retreat back into the woods.
Everything started to calm down when Marvin managed to find a spell or something and put Jameson to sleep. Chase could see it in his eyes, that mixture of terror and pride and love as he melted against the wooden door.
“He’s okay.” Marvin said. “He’s alive. Jackie’s gonna look over him for a few hours. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
And the house has been quiet ever since. Now it’s 2:30 am and Chase is staring at the ceiling as a movie plays in the background. He didn’t even get a good look at Jameson, he was a bundle of torn ratty blankets in Jackie’s arms close to his chest. Marvin was in and out of the room and all Chase could see was glimpses of a bruised sleeping man. Just fragile and small in the bed that used to be Chase’s.
Jackie and Jameson must be asleep by now. And it couldn’t hurt to just put some cookies on his table or something. He didn’t go on a baking and cooking frenzy for nothing. He pushes himself up and walks over to the cookies and begins to plate them. Three, no, five, ten, cookies should be enough for him. Maybe they could eat them together, share stories and talk, or well sign. If he was feeling up to it of course.
He turns the door praying the creaking doesn’t wake either one of them, he sets down the plate next to Jameson, his face still shadowed by the darkness. He turns back to Jackie, all curled up on the little couch against the wall.
“Hey,” Chase starts as he runs his hands through Jackie’s hair. Nice and smooth but also full of grease. Man probably hasn’t washed his hair in a week. Makes sense though, even on a good week he washes his hair maybe once or twice. Jackie leans into Chase’s hand giving Chase permission to talk. “Why don’t you go to your room to get some sleep in a bed-a real bed, not the couch.”
“I’m good here, thanks.” Jackie mumbles, readjusting his contorted body to a better position. His eyes are still closed and his mind is barely awake.
“Jackie, come on. You should sleep in your own bed.”
“‘m good. Go back to sleep. Thanks for checking in on me.”
“Jackie…Come on man. At least go get a shower. You smell.”
“It’s like 3:00 am, Chase.”
“Which means Jameson won’t wake up. Go shower and go sleep in your bed for a few hours.”
Jackie turns over and looks up at Chase. He can’t see the hero’s eyes but he can feel the exhaustion. The pain and pride and frustration. The small squeeze of a hand in the darkness made his mind flashback to putting Chole back to bed after a nightmare. “You promise the monsters won’t hurt me?” She’d whisper in the dark as she squeezed his hand. “Yes. As long as I’m here nothing will hurt you.” He’d reply.
“I’ll watch over him, okay? Or I can go grab Marvin if you want me to?”
“No, it’s okay man. I trust you with James. But if he wakes up, come grab me?”
He trusts him. Jackie trusts him with the most important person in his life. Chase’s heart doubles its pace as the weight of the words settle into his soul.
“Ye-Yeah. Of course man. I’ll come grab you.”
“Thanks Chase. You’re too good to me.”
A small pat on Jackie’s back, a hand ruffled in hair and the soft click of the door and suddenly he was alone with the man of the hour.
He can hear the water coming down from the bathroom next door and Jackie’s music blasting from his phone speakers. He made a note in the back of his mind to just get him a waterproof speaker, to save his phone from water damage. Jackie’s phone was busted enough as is.
Chase pushes the thoughts away as he sits down on the edge of the bed reaching over to turn the tableside light on with a click.
He somehow looks so much better and at the same time worse than he did in the picture. A beautiful green glow of Marvin’s magic wrapped around all the bruises and cuts that Chase could see. His cheeks were still hollowed out but at least he looks peaceful. Someone managed to get all the old and new blood off of him, and his arms are bandaged up in colorful blue and green gauze. No more red strings dragging his limp body up, his head lulls to the side in a comfortable position. His hands spell out something that Chase barely sees in the light.
Shit. He isn’t supposed to be awake yet.
“Go back to sleep James. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Jameson’s hands twitch before spelling out something small. Delicate little letters that seem to hold all the love in the world. Well crap, should've paid more attention to those sign lessons.
“R-E-D” He signs “M-A-R-V-E-L”
R-E-D, Red, why is he asking for red? Does he see something red? Chase looks around the room for the red thing he wants. Jackie’s hoodie? Is that it? Chase grabs the plush red thing from off the hook and brings it back to Jameson.
“Hey did you want this? It’s Jackie’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you wearing it. He’s in the shower right now but he’ll be back soon.” Chase knelt down so he was at eye level with Jameson. He takes the hoodie from Chase’s hands holding it close before his eyes drift close once again.
Chase gives a small smile and watches the man’s chest take in shallow breaths. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked Jackie out of stealing that oxygen tank. He might’ve needed it. But they could’ve also just taken him to the hospital, with proper doctors and nurses and experts that could’ve assessed the true damage. Prescribe him the meds that he’d probably need. Chase drapes his hand against Jameson’s forehead like he would with Chole when she was sick. The warmth was apparent, an unnatural burn from his body fighting off unwanted diseases and infection.
He looks back over the hastly patched up body parts and messy wounds draped in crimson gauze. There was no doubt in his mind that Jackie and Marvin were capable of taking care of small wounds, cuts and bruises that they got when they went out- but this? There was no way that they could cure all of this. Marvin was good with healing magic but he wasn’t a doctor.
He couldn’t fix all of this by himself.
“Hey, did he wake up?” Jackie whispers as he walks through the door drying off his hair with Marvin’s good white towel.
“Yeah for a second. He signed Red and Marvel and I got him your hoodie and said you were in the shower then he went back to sleep. It seemed to help but I honestly don’t know what he was saying.”
“Oh, those are his nicknames for us. I loved red when I was a kid, so “little Red” was my nickname and Marvin was his “little Marvel.” We're not so little anymore, so Red and Marvel.”
“That’s really sweet Jacks.”
“Yeah, he’s too good for us.” Jackie says sitting on the edge of the bed next to Chase. He watches as Jackie wipes the tears from his face as he grabs his father figure’s hand. “He’s so frail, Chase. I-He’s not going to die. Right? I just got him back. He’s not going to die.”
It was moments like this that Chase is reminded that Jackie is twenty-five and barely functioning. A traumatized man who's known nothing but pain and suffering. He puts on a brave face so often and he’s tough, so fucking tough, but it only took a single arrow to kill Achiles and it only takes one death to break a man.
“Jackie, I think we should take him to a hospital.”
“No doctors.” He replies as if it was automation. And after everything he’s been through, Chase doesn’t blame him.
“Jackie, there’s only so much we can do. They’re professionals.”
“No they’ll get him hooked on painkillers or mess up his meds. Or think that we did this to him! Or hand him over to IRIS! I can’t-I can’t let that happen to him, Chase! Doctors ruined our lives! They can’t be trusted!”
“Jackie, hey, man. Calm down, come here.” Chase extended his hand letting Jackie fall into him. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe, maybe we can get a private nurse or something? We won’t let him die.”
Or a private doctor. A light flicks on in Chase's brain. Henrik. A friend he hasn’t talked to since Anti came back into his life. They were both haunted by the creature and Henrik had just recently got his life together. A new job and meds. His sanity mostly restored. He couldn’t rope Henrik into everything after his recovery.
He just disappeared for months. No calls or texts. No one was willing to help locate him or even willing to listen to Chase talk about him. And then he came back. Disheveled and confused. Going on and on about the man they had both seen in the shadows. It took months for Henrik to fully recover and Chase was one of the few who stayed by him.
And he tried to go back to work, be a surgeon again but he couldn’t. He got fired three weeks later. But Henrik managed to land a comfy job using one of his several degrees. Corner office with a view- last he heard- fully funded and a proper lab. And Chase couldn’t bare to impose on that.
But he still technically has his medical license. He could help. He had to help. If Chase begged and pleaded and explained the situation. Henrik could be… cold to say the least, but he wasn’t cruel. He had a heart behind those walls of steel and iron. Chase had seen it for himself first hand.
“What if I brought a friend?” Chase asks, “He’s a doctor but he doesn’t practice anymore and he’ll understand our situation.”
“Chase, I really don’t want a doctor touching James. And Marvin would be pissed if we found out we were even considering this.”
“Just let me give him a call?”
Jackie seems to mull it over, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt before he looks Chase in the eye, “You really trust him?”
Chase meets his gaze without hesitation, “With my life.”
That’s how they met after all. A young 20 year old Chase was admitted to the hospital after screaming about something in the shadows trying to kill him. Henrik was fresh out of med school doing rounds trying to figure out where in the system was best suited for him. And most importantly the only one who believed Chase. He too was haunted by the thing that lurks in the shadows, pushing him to do dangerous things, threatening him if he didn’t follow through. They became close friends after they realized they share a tormentor.
And then there was… the attempt. Henrik was the only one who bothered to care for him after everything. He was the one who visited, bringing him fresh clothes and the good food. He was the one who would sit with him and promise that everything will one day be okay.
“Okay then. Call him.” Jackie relents.
“Thanks Jacks. Grab a cookie and get some sleep.” Chase says as he gets up from his spot.
“I’ll try.” He laughs quietly, more of a short breath as exhaustion was still clear under his eyes.
“Night Jackie.”
“Night Chase.”
Chase closes the door with a click and collapses back on the couch with a small huff. Checking the clock on his phone: 3:15. It would be about 11:30 in London, if that’s where Henrik still was. Henrik was never one to settle down in one place, especially after his own divorce. Bouncing from country to country, state to state, city to city. He always claimed it was for better opportunities and to see the world, but Chase knew the truth. It’s easier to just go if you have no attachments. And with Anti always right behind you, you have to go a lot.
Chase hovers over the call button glancing at the clock. No matter what timezone he’s in he’s probably awake. Henrik was the only person in the world who could run at full function with only 3 hours of sleep. So long as he got that cup of black coffee with 2 sugars. But still, the thought of waking him up or bothering him while he was doing something important ate at his nerves.
But this was for Jameson. Someone his boys deeply cared about. His pride be damned
Chase pressed the contact and listened to the drone of the ring.
His leg was bouncing by the third ring.
“Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. At the tone please record your message when you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”
The phone beeps and Chase sighs.
“Hey, Henrik, it’s Chase. I’m alive. Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. It’s a really long story, but I need some help. My friend, he’s dying and he doesn’t trust most doctors. Longer story. I don’t even know where in the world you are but if you can come to LA, I’ll pay for the flight and the cab fare and the hotel, just please get here as soon as you can. I miss you. I promise I’ll explain it all just, get here now. Please.”
Chase hangs up the phone and lays down on the couch, pulling the chaotic pile of twisted blankets on top of his body. He rests his phone against his stomach as he stares at the landlord-white popcorn ceiling, mind reeling over everything that had happened within the last few hours. It was a small miracle when his eyes finally slipped closed and his mind faded to black.
———
Thank you once again to @jellyfishdooter for pushing me to continue this project. I love you so much!!!
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