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Deathbound

Zedweek Day 4 - Hermitcraft 9-10 / Death

The Life Series has its own designated reaper. Jimmy has some feelings about that.

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My name is Jimmy, and this is the man that ruined my life.

Things used to be good! I was just another player, and sure I had a few silly deaths, but so did everyone. I had a nice base, good allies. I wasn’t even the first death of the series! No one could mark me as an omen any more than they could Grian, which is the really the way I think this should have gone. I died to his trap and at his base anyway! That’s two of three!

But I was happy and alive and sort of mostly respected…kinda. I was working on it! And I would have gotten there if this guy didn’t have it out for me!

You think you know how this story goes. I know you! Oh, you think you know how it goes! But you’re gonna hear it my way now and see none of it was my fault!

I met him back in 3rd Life. That’s where it all started. I was at Grian’s bunker with Scar, and I’d just gotten hit with an arrow from someone, so I went to try and hide lower in the bunker, but then another arrow-!

-

With a whistle and a gory thwuk, an arrow speeds through the small gap in the sandy bunker and straight into the lowered head of one Jimmy Solidarity. Rapid velocity sends the sharpened flint blasting through bone, tearing through the tissue in its way. There’s no time to react, no time to scream, as his skull is speared through. Jimmy can only gasp in agonized surprise as his body seizes, nerves lighting up like fireworks.

He collapses.

For a single horrifying moment, Jimmy feels all of it.

For better or worse, it takes no time at all for what’s left of his poor brain to go spotty and shut down.

Then, something hooks around his very being, deeper than his crumbled body and ruined skull, and it pulls.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for someone to die!”

Being separated from his body is not painful, especially compared to an arrow in the head, but Jimmy screams. His soul is peeled away from flesh, leaving behind the stinging numbness of fried neurons for a frigid detachment from the rest of the world. It’s a foreign sensation and not one he imagined when he got the invite to this experimental series. Is this what hardcore players experience?

There is no reprieve. As soon as his new eyes focus, Jimmy’s met with a pair of haunted, glowing, purple ones only centimeters from his face. He shrieks, stumbling backward and haphazardly swinging his limbs. The figure grins under their dark cloak at him, something horrifying.

In his scramble, Jimmy’s heel catches on something, sending him careening with arms circling wildly to catch his fall. He fails to stop screaming, because what he just stumbled over was himself.

The Jimmy of the corporeal world is face down, saturating the sand red. Blond hair is stained dark around the arrow’s point of impact, his scalp still tacky and leaking blood. The blue shoulder of his favorite outfit fared similarly: dark sickly purple with another arrow—

Jimmy tears his gaze away, but the image is already seared into his mind. He’s fine, his data is fine. He’ll respawn back home soon enough and it’s fine and he’s fine if this scary hooded figure doesn’t kill him dead forever right here.

He’s pretty sure he’s shaking, but it would be embarrassing for a spirit to shake, so he hopes he’s not. The shrouded figure hasn’t moved, still staring and smiling. Jimmy swallows and opens his mouth to speak—

“Congratulations!” it suddenly shouts, tossing up a handful of confetti that it got from who knows where. Their voice is as deep and dangerous as Jimmy had anticipated. The noisemaker that they toot is a lot less so.

Scraps of purple and pink and yellow rain down upon Jimmy, stark against his twice-horror-stricken face. “What—huh? Who are you?”

The figure swings their pink shepherd’s crook and hits themself in the head with it. “I am…Death!...Zedeath. I’m Zedeath. And you’re the first to die!”

Jimmy’s shoulders slump. It’s really over. He’s out of the game first for real, if seeing his own corpse wasn’t already enough to prove it. “First out,” he corrects, recalling Scar’s near-immediate demise at spawn. “My name is Jimmy.” He’d rather not be marked as the first to die by someone forever if he can help it. He’s got a perfectly good name he picked himself.

Zedeath pulls a piece of paper from his robes and squints at it, holding it close to his shadowed face. “Not...you are SolidarityGaming, right?” he queries, missing the large S plastered across Jimmy’s chest.

“That’s me,” Jimmy confirms automatically, then kicks himself for it. Could he have lied to death to get back in the game? Was this reaper only playing a trick on him? He’s heard the stories of trials like that, and this fellow seems the type.

Zedeath makes a mark on the paper with a pen, then tucks both back into his robe, which flutters open into a dark expanse of void. The swirling depth and stars make Jimmy’s head spin, which he does not need any more of, thank you.

He takes the opportunity to instead squeeze his eyes shut and press his palms to his head, reveling in the steadying pressure. He’s fine, he’s fine. Deep breath—okay there’s no air in his lungs, but that’s fine. He pulls his hands down his face, cards them back through his hair. Imagines pushing a breath out. The arrow didn’t transfer over with him thankfully, but he doesn’t understand how it would, since it’s not a part of him anyway. He’s still relieved. He’s still here and will respawn after the game. Maybe sooner, depending on how his reaper works.

“Can you—do you do respawns?”

“We would be in a lot of trouble if I couldn’t! Ready to leave?”

There’s a tattered hole still in the knee of his pants from a slip earlier in the game. Jimmy picks at the loose threads. “Not much point sticking around, really.”

“Okay, rude.” Was he really? He does still have three allies in the game…

“I already lost, though,” the dead bemoans. “I can’t do anything.”

“You won at not winning, though!” Death says brightly, looking quite pleased with such a notion. Jimmy is not.

“I wanted to actually win! Or at least not be last.” Gosh, he’s last. “I wish I didn’t die.”

“What’s wrong with death?” the reaper asks, leaning on his brightly coloured staff to look Jimmy in the eye.

“That’s easy for you to say!” Jimmy can’t believe he has to explain this. “You don’t have to worry about dying!”

“Not until you all start doing it,” Zedeath quips back.

This guy has absolutely bonkers priorities. Maybe being a reaper does that to someone. The constant flow of death could warp their mind or something…Jimmy knew it would make him crazy if he was surrounded by so much of it.

Zedeath hands over the noisemaker and offers a fast respawn, which Jimmy declines. He’ll stay and watch the games for a while more, he’s decided. Maybe he really isn’t ready to go quite yet. The reaper ominously tells him that he’ll know when he is ready, before stalking off to another portion of the map. Jimmy watches him go until he disappears, privately glad to be rid of the spirit for now.

Finally alone, Jimmy sighs and looks down at his hands. Well, first out. But it’s still the first game.

He unenthusiastically toots the noisemaker. It doesn’t make him feel better. Okay, well, it does a little bit, but he’s not about to tell his reaper that. Maybe he can use it to go cheer on Scott and Scar instead. They’re bound to go farther.

No matter, Jimmy tells himself. He’ll do better next time. There’s no way he’s dying first twice in a row.

Fine, yes, dying was mostly my fault that first time. It wasn’t my best, I’ll admit, and Skizz got a lucky shot! But Last Life was completely unfair! It was an accident! I didn’t realize the drop was that far!

I didn’t even get three lives either! Mumbo had more than me and he still died right after, so really, I should have been at least second.

Another death caused by Grian, too. He was supposed to be my ally! If you’re gonna call me a canary, then you should at least call him…coal…dust or something. What kills canaries?

-

Heart pounding in his chest, Jimmy dashes for his life, rapid footfalls speeding alongside the hammering against his ribs. He pushes himself forward, yelling back at Grian to cut it out. His couple of hits were just good fun, come on! Don’t—stop! Stones skid under his boots and he prepares to leap from his pursuer.

His feet leave the roof.

That’s…not the drop he expected it to be.

He flails.

He hits the ground.

Nestled within the stinging pain that shoots through his body is the tugging he can now identify as being from a bubblegum-coloured shepherd’s crook. The pull of his soul from his body is a vaguely familiar sensation now, but Jimmy still screams, quickly pitching into a wail. Zedeath detaches his crook and watches Jimmy’s small tantrum.

“It was an accident!” the ghost begs. “I didn’t think it was that high! I didn’t mean to!”

Death makes no move to act on the plea, no sympathy for the plight of the loser. “Well, the intentional deaths are always better.”

Jimmy’s desperation crumbles into disappointment. He drags his hands down his face and wills his spirit back up to the roof his body fell from. He’d really rather not be on the ground with his corpse right now. Besides, a perch sounds kind of nice at the moment. He plops down to sit on the edge, resting his translucent chin on his translucent knees. “I’m out first again…What is wrong with me…”

A chill settles next to him, and Jimmy doesn’t have to look up to guess that the reaper has chosen a seat next to him. “I’d guess lots! For one, your skin was looking a bit grey even before you died.”

Jimmy huffs. The more time he spends with this guy, the more exhausted he feels. Death is the worst. Taking him twice was enough but he just has to rub salt—wait. He only ever had two lives. Surely Death would have been in charge of that? “Hey, why’d you only give—”

“Another thing is you’re growing little baby feathers,” Zedeath continues obliviously. “I don’t think that’s right.” He doesn’t even give Jimmy an opportunity to question what he’s talking about before there’s a quick and sharp sting on his back.

“Ow! What—”

But when he looks, there’s a small and shimmering golden feather between Death’s grey fingers. His throat catches, and he tries in vain to peer over his shoulder to where it came from. It’s not enough for Death to cut his life short, he has to mess with him too?

“I wonder if the colour is meant to match your hair or a kind of bird,” Zedeath muses to himself, running a finger along the barbs. “Can I get a sample of your blood? No reason.”

“No!” Jimmy shouts, turning so that his back faces away from the bloodthirsty and curious reaper. “I don’t even want to be a bird! I just wanted to play a game with my friends! What’s happening to me?”

“Some of your friends are birds,” Zedeath points out, squinting at the feather. It would be easier if he pulled his hood down, but he does not. “Oh, hang on, hold this.” He drops the feather back onto Jimmy’s head and vaults himself off the building with his staff. A moment later, Mumbo’s familiar voice pipes up.

“Oh goodness, that wasn’t much good, was it?” The posh lilt makes Jimmy’s heart lift just a little. Any company besides the spectre of death is more than welcome. He’s not alone anymore, and with his ally, no less!

Then the realization that he was so close to not being first settles in. Something bitter coats his mouth and he frowns, eyebrows pinched. Mumbo is his friend, but someone else could stand to be out first this time. He’s had his turn! If he had as many lives as Mumbo, he definitely would’ve survived past him.

The reaper and his latest ghost continue to chat out of sight, but Jimmy opts to continue sitting alone above them. The dark voice of Death reaches Jimmy’s perch, appraising how fantastic Mumbo is at dying, to which the dead gives a flustered chuckle.

Jimmy sighs and twirls the feather in his fingers. Still not better than he is, apparently.

I don’t know what happened! I swear I didn’t look at that enderman! I got under a tree!

Tango…I’m so sorry.

-

Jimmy gasps as the crook tears him from his body once more, a sensation that’s becoming familiar at an alarming rate. The searing pain in his arms and chest vanishes in an instant alongside the rapid pounding of his heart, leaving only phantom sensation and Jimmy coughing with surprise. He squeezes his eyes shut, the vibrant angry purple of his final moments still seared into his retinas.

He knows by now not to look down at his body. Experiencing it was enough, thank you.

Instead, he grasps at his heart and glances around. Zedeath can wait this time; there’s someone really important he needs to find first. To his surprise, his fingers actually catch on something. After all that time imagining it, the tether linking him to his soulmate is visible and tangible and gleaming a brilliant ruby red. Jimmy’s never been more relieved to see a piece of string.

He needs to get to the other side of it.

The thread loops around to stretch off behind him, so that’s where he’s headed. Jimmy spins on his heel to follow it, footfalls silent in the space after life, desperate to find Tango while he can. His rancher is out there somewhere alone and confused and dead and Jimmy needs to tell him he’s sorry!

It doesn’t take long for something to have him stumbling on his feet.

Ah. So that’s where Zedeath was.

The reaper isn’t looking at him, instead rummaging through those reality bending robes. His long dark sleeve conceals what he unearths, but only until it catches the light of the moon.

Oh.

Jimmy takes off running with renewed purpose. “Wait!” he shrieks, struggling to stay vertical with his frantic speed. “Stop!”

Death has already taken the thread into his hand, the blade of scissors held against it. Zedeath turns with a “huh?”, but he was already in motion. It was already too late. With a simple shifting of fingers, the soulstring is snipped as easily as if it was simple sewing thread. As if it didn’t mean anything. As if it wasn’t the closest, most understanding ally Jimmy’d ever had. As if it wasn’t an ounce of faith that Jimmy would not die.

The string is clipped, and it is unremarkable in how easy it was.

The broken ends of the thread turn a dead grey, which quickly spreads outward in either direction. As it goes, the string itself begins to crumble with it.

As it goes, something shrivels in Jimmy’s chest with it.

He needs to apologize to his rancher…but the reaper is right there. And Jimmy just watched him cut his soul apart from Tango’s. And he’s so angry.

His run towards Tango turns into a lunge against Zedeath. He shouts and scowls, spit flying and wings puffing up. “You! You took me from him!”

Zedeath screeches and collides with the ground. “You were the one that died!” he defends, keeping his staff between the two of them. “I know the rules to this game! You die and you’re out and I go snippy-snippy!” Jimmy brings a fist down toward the reaper’s puffed-up cheeks, but he slips away in a puff of dark smoke.

Jimmy’s head swims with adrenaline, irritation, agony, and…memories of an enderman he swears he didn’t look at. “No…it was you! I didn’t die! You got me killed! I need to talk to Tango!”

Zedeath looks at him with those eyes—those damn purple eyes! He has the nerve to cross his arms and huff. The audacity of Death to be the one annoyed! “How many times do I have to tell you! Killing is not in my job description! I just move your soul so you’re not stuck like that forever!” He swings an arm out toward where Jimmy knows his corpse is prone and mangled. “Is that what you want? Hm!?”

Jimmy clenches his fist. He knows they’re wasting time. Tango is all alone! He’s never been the first to die before! Still…Jimmy can’t seem to put a lid on his fury. If he was a little calmer, he might’ve seen the irony.

“I wasn’t ready to die!” His voice cracks and he mentally smacks himself for sounding so small. “You’re the one that takes my soul away! You’re the one that takes me out of the game! And you took Tango too this time!” I was the one that died. It’s not fair to him. He shouldn’t have lost.

“Oh, Tango!” Zedeath snaps as if remembering. “He’ll be able to tell you you’re wrong!”

Jimmy seethes. He is so sick of Death.

“You already took me out! You gave me these—these wings! Isn’t that enough?” To have Death turn his own rancher against him is a new level of cruelty, and one he’s too fired up to let pass.

Before Zedeath can say anything else stupid, that beautiful rough voice calls distantly through the trees. “Ze-e-d!” To Jimmy’s utmost dismay, it’s not his name, but the reaper turns his head with a bright smile.

“Tango!” he shouts back. “Over here!” He waves his arm as punctuation as if Tango would be able to see it.

“No!” Jimmy refuses, nose scrunching. “Tango!” he shouts himself, taking off in the direction he heard his soulmate’s call. His horn still swings from its tether on his neck, so Jimmy brings it to his lips and sings out for his rancher.

His Tango sings back. Just like he’d promised.

In true Team Rancher fashion, the two find each other via full collision, torsos and limbs crashing together between the trees. Tango’s horn knocks against Jimmy’s chin, Jimmy’s digs into Tango’s gut, and they both fall over with the force of it.

“Jimmy!” Tango chirps brightly, rubbing his forehead.

“Tango,” Jimmy breathes, relieved. “Whatever this death guy says, don’t believe him!”

“Death guy?” Tango looks a bit bewildered. “Oh, Zed! Yeah, I try not to.” His eyes crinkle like it’s a wonderful joke and Jimmy feels his chest swell with warmth. With their legs still tangled up, grinning together, he can almost imagine their soulbond is still there.

Jimmy pushes forward and wraps his soulmate in a hug. “Whoa there!” Tango yelps, but returns the embrace, toasty but steady. “You okay?”

“I really liked your tower,” Jimmy whispers, voice wet. “Even if it did look like a foot.”

Tango barks out a laugh against Jimmy’s ear, but he doesn’t mind. “I’m glad you were my soulmate too, buddy.”

With a tighter squeeze, Tango starts to extract himself. He offers a hand down to pull up his companion, which Jimmy gladly takes. “Ready to go home?”

“Home?” Jimmy repeats dumbly.

“Yeah.” Tango nods over Jimmy’s shoulder. When he turns, Zedeath is waiting, appearing to try and balance his staff on his palm. Jimmy is stunted as Tango separates to sidle over to the reaper. “The game’s over. I’ll see you in the next one though, right, rancher?”

Jimmy nods, knowing he looks foolish but not quite caring. At least Tango isn’t mad. At least he gives Jimmy a sharp grin and double thumbs up as the reaper pulls him into a respawn.

Jimmy sighs heavily. Tango’s probably super busy on Hermitcraft. He did tell him all about the new season and his big plans. His rancher has massive ideas and a selective attention span. Jimmy knows this and can’t blame him for hurrying out.

“Ready?”

What else is there to say?

It’s over. Go home.

The reaper loops the hook of his staff around Jimmy’s torso. The canary pointedly does not look at him, staring off to a static enderman through the trees. Zedeath tugs his staff, and Jimmy is pulled through space in an instant, landing back on a permanently dusty bed with an absence in his heart.

…

-

The canary does not even startle as the crook pulls his soul out of the most recent wretched game. He does not gaze down where he knows his corporeal body lay, head smashed and bones broken. He does not look to find his allies. He only curls in on himself and cries.

Shimmering silver tears slip down past his shades and paint his cheeks with grief. He hiccups and sobs, throwing his glasses away with a strangled shout.

First out again. What is wrong with him? He had been doing so well at the start!

“I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.”

He’s the worst. He was dragging his team down. He should’ve worked harder.

But does it even matter what he does? It’s always going to be him. It’s always going to be him.

After a game where every second counts, Jimmy doesn’t know how long he cries. He likely would have wept longer, but there’s a tapping on his head that makes him look up.

Who else would it be?

Zedeath stands at a distance, patting his head with his shepherd’s crook. “There, there,” he says, looking uncomfortable. “There, there.”

Jimmy is…tired of seeing Zedeath’s face. It only affirms what he already knows: that he’s died, that’s he’s lost. Seeing the cloaked reaper is his own personal symbol of failure.

He reaches up to shove the crook away. “Why’d you have to push me?”

To his credit, Zedeath does pull his staff back. “It was more of a…consolation pat.”

“On the bridge,” Jimmy bites out without much hostility. He just doesn’t have the fight in him right now.

The reaper looks at him strangely, dead eyes squinting. “My thing is really more of a pull. And at the splat site.”

“You don’t have to act stupid.” Usually he’d roll his eyes, but right now Jimmy is content to only look at his scuffed sneakers.

“Oh, this is no act! Rest assured, I’m stupid for real.”

“I didn’t fall off the bridge.” Saying it out loud should be some remarkable realization, but Jimmy is so tired. “I got pushed.” He knows this to be true in the deepest core of his being, but he does not voice as such.

“Hmm….” Zedeath stares back up at Bread Bridge, glancing around for something Jimmy doesn’t think he’d be able to see if he tried. “Grian does seem like the type. He’s pushed me around before; extremely rude fellow.”

Jimmy lets his forehead fall back onto his knees. His eyes feel strained and puffy. “I don’t like you,” he murmurs, more for himself than Zedeath.

“Neither does Grian,” the reaper returns easily. “And probably a bunch of other people, but I don’t keep track. Who has the time?”

“You don’t listen. I’m sick of you killing me first over and over.”

“Well now who’s not listening? I don’t control when you guys die! If I did, then I would kill Tango first. I like Tango.”

This startles Jimmy into a laugh. “Hey! That’s my rancher! You already took him first once!”

Death winks at him and Jimmy feels the truth of his own words wash over him. Tango was also a first death, wasn’t he? He’d only ever thought about it as dragging him down but…maybe he can be allowed a little selfishness to not feel so lonely.

The reaper continues on regardless, waving off concerns. “I’ve done worse to him, anyway. And he’s done worse to me.”

Jimmy wipes his nose on his wrist with a gross snuffle. “Like…dying all the time?” He doesn’t know what else Death could possibly do to torture someone. He feels he’s already gotten most of it.

“He gets himself killed enough as is. What I do is more fun! Like refilling caves he digs out and dragging his unconscious body around.” Death sounds as chipper as Jimmy’s ever heard him, and he has to gape.

“I didn’t know you could do things in the real world like that.” He’d had his suspicions, but these would have to be largely involved, which is a scary thought. His rancher never mentioned being puppeted by a reaper…could it happen to him too? Jimmy’s already had enough of playing toy. He’s certain this would be the last straw to completely break him.

“I can’t! This is on Hermitcraft. Off the clock.”

“YOU’RE ON HERMITCRAFT?” Jimmy can’t help but shout. The spectre that’s haunted him for so long spends his normal time playing pranks on Hermitcraft? Jimmy’s even visited! He feels like he would have recognized the fellow if he ran into him at all!

“Did Tango not talk about me? I’m hurt!” It may be only a trick of the light, but Jimmy thinks he can see a stray bit of blond peek out from the dark hood.

Frankly, he didn’t even think Zedeath was anyone under the shadow of his void cloak. How could he, with such a powerful and terrifying being? With someone seemingly made of shadows and stinking of death, who only serves to pry him from the games and his friends? Who cursed him into a sacrifice of a songbird?

This changes everything.

After a short conversation, he stands and allows Zedeath’s crook to snag around his middle. It’s biting cold even through his leather jacket. Zedeath’s always cold.

“I’m gonna do better next time,” Jimmy promises him, tear tracks still glinting on the apples of his cheeks.

“I won’t count on it!” The reaper—Zed—beams and pulls his staff.

Jimmy had it all wrong this whole time. Death isn’t an all-powerful force working against him. Death is a Hermit in a dramatic cloak he dons for the job. Death is his rancher’s friend. Death has a player name.

Death is only human.

It can falter.

It can make mistakes.

It can be swayed.

Jimmy steels himself and rises from his bed. He will not be the one to die first again.

He’ll make sure of it.

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