A very long time ago, Anthony Frost had decided to not talk. Running one's mouth off was demeaning, drew unnecessary attention to oneself, and it was harder to hear other people say stupid things.
Not long after, he decided to not smile, for similar reasons. He found it much easier to not smile than to not talk. You could only get so far in life by not answering people's questions. He had never encountered a situation, though, that had required him to smile. Maybe others would disagree, but these people were often the same ones running their mouths off and saying stupid things.
One day, Anthony packed his things, strapped his custom halberd to his back, put on his cat ear headband, said goodbye to his parents and his siamese cat, and left the Frost mansion in the Virginia hills. He felt like he was getting nowhere there in the high society of his parents, despite, well, despite everything. He was first in all the regional martial arts competitions, known throughout the state for the skillful way he wielded his halberd. His parents had paid his entire tuition when he attended the University of Pennsylvania–everyone told him he had a bright future in actuarial science. What he actually wanted to do involved more chaos and his halberd, though.
So he up and left, and traveled to the coast of Virginia, got on a boat headed nowhere, and thus began his adventure.
The ship soon came upon a mass of land which hadn't shown up on any of the radar, but before the boat recalculated its route, Anthony disembarked and wandered north. He figured a country which wasn't supposed to exist would be rife with chaos, so why not.
He passed through a village where the people ignored him except when he tried buying food, and then they proceeded to ignore him again when they discovered he carried the wrong currency. A helpful woman, no doubt skeptical about his chances of survival, did tell him to make a fire every night to ward off the "mobs."
He continued north. For all his halberd-training, he knew little about living off the land, and he realized he would either die of exposure or starvation if he did not figure it out soon. But he did make a fire every night, and the first time he saw one of the "mobs" the woman had mentioned, he nearly had a heart attack.
Regret set in from not bringing anything more suitable to wear than his oversized, shoulderless, long-sleeved sweater and a pair of shorts. His hateful shoes quickly disintegrated, and he gladly shed them, even with the possibility of frostbite. He picked through the forests blooming with crimson and gold, searching for anything edible, as watchful reindeer, birds, squirrels, and rabbits eyed him from the shadows, as if they knew he posed no threat to them.
Mushrooms and berries abounded, but Anthony couldn't tell which ones would kill him or not. And he couldn't bring himself to use his halberd against any of the woodland creatures. I've never heard of anyone hunting with a halberd, though. Actuarial science has nothing on adventuring, except maybe a decent chance of finding good food. I don't really mind sleeping outside, though a sleeping bag would make it better. Sleeping bags are weird. It's like you're a taco or something. I want a taco right now.
He kept traveling, getting weaker by the day. His bare feet, so used to marble floors and plush carpets, began to blister. His already stick-like limbs thinned out. Worst of all, he detected a faint fuzz on his upper lip and jawline, but he could hardly shave with a five-and-a-half-pound halberd.
Why didn't I bring a knife? I'll die out here, and anyone who finds me will know I was some rich kid trying to be cool.
Anthony awoke at noon on that twentieth day–or maybe it was the thirtieth day–in the middle of a forest like all the others he had been through. Every sinew, every vein ached from hunger, exhaustion, and cold, and he did not think he would ever be able to stand again.
Is this my last day? Will I die out here in this strange land? Will my parents miss me? Will my cat miss me? What about my friends? He frowned a little. No, I guess I don't have any friends. I was always too busy studying or practicing martial arts. But maybe I should have given actuarial science more of a chance.
He rubbed his nose, which had begun to run on account of the cold.
A high-pitched voice ripped through the congealing air: " 'Eeeeeey, wot's that! Techno, there's a dead cat or something over 'ere!"
Anthony sat up with a burst of concerned strength and looked around for the poor dead cat. Then he noticed the armless child hopping over to him from between the trees, followed by what looked like a pink cloud carrying a huge greataxe.
I must have died. Is this heaven?
No, the child was wearing a patched tunic or poncho of some sort which concealed his arms, making him look rather like a cone. The pink cloud materialized into a very tall man with long pink hair in a high ponytail, still carrying a huge greataxe.
"It's alive!" cried the child, staring Anthony down from the two pale blue-green globes of his eyes. A strong odor accompanied him, but Anthony wasn't about to judge since he figured he probably bore his own peculiar scent.
"I think it's a person," said the man, joining the boy.
His energy spent in sitting up, Anthony collapsed back into the undergrowth beside his satchel and halberd.
"But it 'as ears, like Fundy," insisted the child.
"I think that's a headband," droned the man.
Am I so wasted that I don't even look human? Or have I always looked like this? Is this why I don't have friends?
The child leaned in closer. "Ohhhhh, you're right, Techno."
The man crouched beside the boy. Anthony watched him, wary, though he didn't know how much he would be able to defend himself. The man picked up the halberd before Anthony could react–which wasn't saying much–and stood, tossing it in his right hand. Anthony noticed his left hand was bandaged. "This is a good weapon," said the man. "Not as good as mine, though." He laid it down again. "Are you an orphan, kid?"
"Can I 'ave it?" asked the child. He bent over to pick up the halberd.
Anthony made himself sit up again. His head spun, and he almost threw up. "No," he said, answering both questions, and dragged the halberd closer to him. The child hopped back as if Anthony had suddenly turned into a cow.
"It talks!" he cried.
Anthony rose to his numb feet, to prove he was indeed human, and fell forward, almost gutting himself on his halberd.
Are you going to kill me?
And then he blacked out.
Pain ached in Anthony's head, down in tendrils through his neck and shoulders. Something pulled tight across his mouth and jaw, and something heavy rubbed against his wrists and ankles. The inside of his mouth tasted sour. As consciousness cleared in thin layers, he realized a strip of cloth–a gag–was bound across his mouth, and shackles hung on his limbs. A length of more chain attached to the cuffs on his hands wound away into a stake in the rocky ground. He lay on his side in what looked like a massive cavern lit with lanterns. Shapes and voices wafted through the cold air. He recognized them as the voices from before–the tall man and his loud, smelly, British child companion. Suddenly, the loud, smelly, British child crouched in front of him, braces and eyes flashing. He held Anthony's own halberd in his grubby hands. A large, wolf-like hound accompanied him, growling low in his throat.
Anthony made a feeble attempt at petting the dog. I prefer cats, but I would never hurt you. The growling lessened, though the dog's hackles remained up.
" 'Ey, 'ey, 'ey, Techno, 'e's awake! Can we torture 'im now?"
Wait, what?
The tall, pink-haired man joined him, carrying a pickaxe. "We were going to use him for slave labor, remember?"
"Yeah, but 'e could be a spy for Schlatt an' we could get some information out of 'im.!"
"Don't we already have Tubbo for that?"
"But this one can be our 'ostage!" The boy poked Anthony's stubbly cheek with his free hand. "I'm Combat-Lord Tommy Innit. This 'ere is Technoblade. Pre'ty pog, right?"
I suppose it's pretty pog, whatever that means. Where's the rest of my stuff? They hadn't taken the headband; he could feel it stuffed on his skull at an awkward angle.
"All righty, kid, I got some food for you," said the tall man, Technoblade. And he handed Anthony a potato.
Tommy laid the halberd on the ground and removed the gag. "Are you at all associated with Schlatt or L'Manberg, my good gent?"
Anthony blinked down at the tuber.
What is a Schlatt? You sound British, though I suppose you could also be from South Africa. South Africans probably have a different accent, though. I can't tell because I've never met anyone from South Africa, unless, of course, you are. Is Schlatt a South African word? What does it mean?
"Are you?" persisted Tommy.
"No." Anthony lifted the potato between his chained hands and nibbled on it. Bland, not fully-cooked, but it was more food than he'd had in a week or so. He consumed the rest at a steady pace, and felt a little better by the end.
"All right, we're goin' now," said Technoblade. He dug the stake out of the ground with the pickaxe. Tommy butted in.
"Techno, 'e could be lying!"
Technoblade shook his head. "I seriously doubt this guy is a spy. Let's just exploit him as a slave."
Tommy's eyes brightened. "Then let me, Techno, let me!" Tommy picked up the halberd and took the chain from Technoblade. "Get up!" he ordered, shaking the chain. The dog barked.
Anthony stood because he had nothing better to do. Really, now that he was no longer at the mercy of the elements, he found this all rather exciting. What are we going to do? Are you going to torture me? What is torture like? I guess at the very least, this will be interesting. Better a tortured slave than dying alone in the wild.
Anthony had to shuffle on account of his chained ankles, and of course, the soles of his blistered feet didn't like it. Technoblade at last released him from the shackles after about a yard. They walked down a narrow pathway which zig-zagged across the caverns in bridges and steps carved out of the rock. Anthony kept gaping up at it all, nearly pitching over the edge more than once.
"We used to have safety railin's," said Technoblade after the last of these incidents, "but Wilbur–he just really enjoyed fallin'."
Who's Wilbur?
They soon came to the bottom of the cavern–the bottom except for the last level. Anthony could see it in places where the floor fell away on the sides into what looked like a canyon filled with bubbling hot springs. They walked down the length of the cavern, passing a little pool of water, to where fewer lanterns shone, darkness making a hole threatening to engulf everything.
Technoblade strode up to Anthony and stared him down. "You. Mine iron. Give iron me. Go." He gestured to the cavern wall, then tossed Anthony the pickaxe, which he managed to catch even with his chained hands.
Anthony looked at the stone. He looked up at Technoblade. Maybe lesser men were intimidated by the pink-haired giant, but not this cat-boi. Just in case, he asked, "What do I get out of this?" He had not said so many words at once in a few months, and he coughed.
Technoblade drew his greataxe from off his back and leveled the end of it with Anthony's shoulder–a nice touch, one Anthony could appreciate. "You're our slave now, in case we didn't make that clear," Technoblade said.
No, you made that very clear.
"All right. Get to work."
Anthony toiled at the wall with the pickaxe, placing the iron-veined rocks into a bucket. Thanks to years of martial-arts training, his hands did not blister and his back didn't ache, but his mind felt like it was shriveling.
I really don't like this. I thought I was going to be tortured. This is boring. I'd rather go back to those endless drills with my fencing instructor than do this. I guess it's better than actuarial science, though. Is Mom still worried about me? Maybe I should write her. Do you guys have a post office here?
Technoblade left and returned with a water skin for Tommy and a vial of golden-colored liquid for himself. They slurped and watched, talking in loud voices and laughing. The dog dozed nearby. The inside of Anthony's mouth felt like parched potatoes. After a few more minutes, he put down the pickaxe and looked over at his captors. Tommy had dropped the end of the chain. The halberd lay across his arms.
"Keep minin', boy." Technoblade strode up to Anthony, ruby eyes flashing.
Anthony made no move to retrieve the pickaxe.
"What's goin' on?" Technoblade rolled his shoulders back, crossed his arms, spread his legs apart.
Anthony darted around him and ran for the pathway leading up to the entrance, on the far end of the massive cavern. He had barely gone three steps when Technoblade caught him by his fluffy hood and pulled him back.
Technoblade clicked his tongue. "I thought we could do this the easy way, but I guess you like pain or somethin'."
Tommy jumped up, swinging the halberd with obvious incompetence. "Oh, oh, oh! Does that mean we get to torture 'im now?"
"Sure. Let's get some knives, one of those stretchy machine thingies, maybe a whip…"
Anthony tried running again, but Technoblade's grip was iron, and he only succeeded in scratching his already sore big toe.
Mom was right. I should wear shoes.
His captors secured the crude shackles back on Anthony's ankles. In spite of what Technoblade had said, and also in spite of what Tommy undoubtedly desired, there was no stretchy machine or whip. They did give him some water, though.
Anthony kept working.
After about an hour of putting up with Technoblade and Tommy, a deep, British, and very manly voice resounded from above:
"What are you two doing?"
All four of them, including the dog, looked up at the imposing dark-haired man standing on the edge of one of the upper levels. He even wore a billowy trenchcoat, which Anthony found a bit much. The newcomer narrowed his eyes, and his voice became parent-y. "Tommy…"
Is this Tommy's dad?
"Wilbur!" Tommy cried, sounding nervous for the first time.
"Wilbuuuuur," said Technoblade, not sounding nervous in the least.
"Wilbur…uh–'EEEEEEEEEEEEEY! 'Ey, 'im, Techno, 'ey 'im–EYYYYYYYYY!"
"Ayyyyyyyyyy," said Technoblade.
Tommy cut in. "Okay, Wilbur, why don't you go back in your cave and-and smoke or change your wrappings or something…"
And I thought I had a strange relationship with my dad.
Wilbur glared down at them. "What are you doing? Who is that?"
Tommy floundered. " 'E's our…our new friend!"
"Tommy–" Wilbur began. He sighed. "Technoblade, are you keeping Tommy out of trouble? I trust you have a very good reason for letting a stranger into our secret headquarters."
Technoblade, no longer bothering to look up at him: "Sure."
Wilbur sighed again. "Can I have a potion please, Techno?"
Now Technoblade raised his head. "No. I've told you, those were for the worst of your injuries."
Wilbur huffed and disappeared back to wherever he had come from.
Anthony mined the rest of the day, and by the end, he felt sore and sweaty and hungry. But then both Technoblade and Tommy wanted back massages, and then they wanted him to make dinner. Anthony had never cooked a day in his life, as his family always had a chef to do it for them. That, or they ate out at a stuffy restaurant where Anthony had to wear a suit and tie and shoes. Technoblade ended up helping him a lot with the meal, though they were still left with a pot of watery soup bobbing with half-boiled potatoes. Tommy ate most of it. The child's father did not join them.
After dinner, Technoblade and Tommy allowed Anthony to bathe, and Tommy even lent him his "razor," which was just a kind-of-sharp rock. Tommy then retired to his own cave, though first he begged that Anthony stay with him–so he could keep an eye on their slave. And that was how Anthony found himself chained to a stake beside Tommy all night, but his captors needn't have feared his escape. He was too tired to do anything but sleep.
Anthony awoke to a face-full of Tommy.
"Good morning," the child breathed, and Anthony gagged. "We're going on lit'le jaunt, me and Techno, and you, of course, because you're our slave, and who else will carry our picnic basket?"
Technoblade arrived soon afterwards, donned in a suit of menacing spiky armor and bearing his greataxe. Tommy collected the halberd and strapped it to his back, and then they dragged Anthony outside, shackles and all. The world beyond the caverns looked much the same as it had when Anthony had left it yesterday–he felt a little surprised at his wonder. It had only been a day. Why should anything change?
Maybe I'm homesick. No, this is an adventure. I've never been kidnapped before, which I guess is lucky seeing how rich my family is. And I've never been a slave before, either. And that mining business was new, also, though I really didn't like it. It's new, but it's not chaotic. Maybe this trip will be chaotic.
" 'Ey, slave, snap out of it." Tommy loaded him down with a large basket which smelled very strongly of potatoes. "I need to check on me pogchamp cow in me pogchamp 'ouse." The child wound a length of rope around the basket and Anthony's already chained wrists. "Wilbur's feeling better so 'e can sit around in the caves all day by 'isself for all I care."
And then Technoblade wrapped a length of a cloth around Anthony's eyes. "Can't let you figure out where we live," he said with a cackle.
They set out, Tommy toting Anthony behind him. After a ways over leafy, stony, and now sandy ground, Technoblade removed the blindfold. They stood on the rocky shoreline of what looked like an inlet. Gray cement buildings languished above them. They skirted the coast, heading down to a maze of docks breaking into the inlet waters. "Last time I was in L'Manberg," Tommy honked as they went, "I was Santy-Claus. They almost got me, but Tommy Innit is a fast man, a fast man is Tommy Innit."
They crept down to the docks, and commandeered a rowboat. Tommy yanked Anthony in after him, and Anthony tripped, almost pitching over the dock and into the seawater. Instead, he recovered enough to face-plant into the bottom of the boat, but he managed to keep the basket intact.
" 'Ey, don't squish our lunch."
Anthony righted himself and began checking under the basket lid as best he could with his shackled and roped wrists, but Tommy smacked his hand. "Our lunch, as in Techno and me. Our lunch." Anthony blinked at him. Tommy narrowed his eyes. "Not–not the slave's."
Anthony's stomach announced its lack of breakfast. Tommy ignored it.
Technoblade untied the boat from the dock and leapt in beside Tommy and Anthony. He took the rope off of Anthony's arms and passed the oars to him. "Row, slave."
Good for both of you, I actually know about boats, unlike mining. Anthony rowed. They sailed past the docks, past a quiet beach rising into rocks again. The brisk autumn wind chopped up the waves, and the boat kept veering toward the coast, threatening to capsize, but Anthony had seen harder waters than this. The jagged shoreline grew into cliffs, climbing higher and higher above them. Beside the tops of the bluffs rose a massive trestle railroad. About halfway down to the end of the land before it turned in on itself to the west, stood a strange tower which looked as though it had been built in the water.
In another half hour, the strange structure clarified before them. Crooked plumbing, corrugated metal plates, and rebar all mutilated and stuck together in one way or another, be it welding or a good deal of screws, formed a nebulous, twenty-five-foot tall replica of the Eiffel Tower. This tower melded into a hundred by hundred-foot island of nothing but more wreckage, dubiously marked "Karl reef" by a wooden sign. Paint splattered both tower and reef with the brightest colors known to man, trimmed with rust. Overall, it looked like an abominable amount of work for something so aesthetically hideous. A second wooden sign attached to the tower appeared as they sailed past it.
"It says…'Karl's tower,' " Tommy read. "That's pretty…shtupid."
The water grew rougher as they approached the place where the cliffs jutted out, a blocky little house perched on its tip. The sea tossed them up like a kitten playing with a ball, one side and then the other, pitching forward and back, further into the cliffs, and nothing Anthony did with the oars changed that fact.
"I think we'll have to disembark soon," said Technoblade right as Tommy screeched,
"Wot are you doing, slave?! You're going to kill us! ROOOOOW!"
The waves heaved them over, depositing them all onto a rocky shelf before smashing the boat into a thousand splinters and a couple skeletal ribs of wood beside them. The picnic basket had disappeared. Anthony felt himself slipping, and he clutched the side of the shelf, shivering as the wind touched his wet skin and clothes. His headband had miraculously survived.
How did we not die?
As his watery vision cleared, he realized that one of the small rocks decorating the shelf was actually a potato.
"Like Scylla and Charybdis, but a lot less cool," said Technoblade below him.
"All right, let's climb!" Tommy shouted from above. Anthony raised his head and saw the dripping child already clawing his way up the cliffs, the halberd dangling off his back. The chain, looped around his arm, pulled on Anthony's wrists, forcing him to start climbing as well. Technoblade brought up the rear, still bearing his greataxe, which had somehow escaped the wrath of the sea.
It took a good hour to climb the cliff–what with the wind freezing the water to Anthony's skin and hardening his coat, his limbs burning as they held all of his (admittedly diminutive) weight in their skinny sinews, his feet feeling ready to drop off his legs, the roaring of the sea reminding him of its presence should he slip and fall–but worst of all, Tommy haranguing him on as if he cared about Anthony more than Anthony knew the child actually did. Not to mention Tommy constantly tugging on the chain and making it bang around Anthony's bruised wrists. Technoblade offered nothing–comments or help.
At last they scrambled onto the dry turf banking the edge of the cliffs. The sturdy form of what must be Tommy's holiday home shadowed them. Anthony rolled into the grass and closed his eyes, but he heard Tommy bound toward the door, slipping and falling forward when Anthony did not get up.
Anthony lifted his head and gazed up at the plain wooden exterior. There better be food in this house of yours.
Technoblade stood and glared at the premises. "Wait, Tommy," he said, rubbing his bandaged hand. "Somethin's not right."
Tommy jumped to his feet and glanced around. "Wot? Everything's exactly the way I left it. See, there's even the flowers I put on my porch." He frowned. "Wait, no I didn't." He jerked on Anthony's chain. "Come on, slave." Anthony got up, regardless of his exhaustion, curious to know what horrible fate awaited them inside the holiday house. If only he had his halberd…
Technoblade drew out his greataxe and crossed the porch to the front door. Tommy slunk behind him. Anthony, following with tiny steps, stared out over the cliffs.
Dear Mom, I am now the slave of a British child and a pink-haired man, and I'm probably about to be murdered…
Technoblade shoved the door open with a violent push. He leaned in, then glanced at Tommy, his expression almost reproachful. "You don't lock your door?"
"Oh no, Tommy Innit is much too smart to…um…"
Technoblade stepped inside. Tommy hauled Anthony in after him.
The interior was stuffy and dark, except for the small windows where the early afternoon light marked the ground in squares. Anthony heard Tommy take in a long breath through his nostrils, and then hiss in a loud voice, "Wot 'appened to me natural musk–"
"SHH," snapped Technoblade, further ahead, peering through a door, greataxe wielded for striking.
Tommy grumbled, and muttered something about someone cleaning in his absence.
Why would someone sneak in and clean your house without you knowing? Maybe they stole something but cleaned as payment. That's actually not that bad. I never had to clean anything at our house. I guess I was kind of spoiled. Is that why I never had any friends?
As Anthony's eyes adjusted to the dark, Tommy gasped and dropped the end of the chain as he darted forward. He tore through the living room, throwing what looked like hay all over the floor. "Where's 'Enry?! Where's me pogchamp cow?!"
Technoblade opened another door and stiffened. He turned and motioned to Tommy to join him. The child wandered over to him, glancing about like a high-strung chicken, as if expecting a bovine to materialize out of the walls.
They're not paying attention. I could escape. But I want to know what's in that room.
Tommy crammed his face next to Technoblade and gasped again, his focus honed. "Ni'achu! Wot are you doing 'ere?!"
Anthony tiptoed up behind them and peered over Tommy's head. The door opened into a small bedroom, furnished with little more than a cot and a dresser. Except for the young woman gagged and tied to the bedpost blinking at them from enormous brown eyes, it was quite the unremarkable room.
"You know her?" Technoblade asked Tommy.
"Oh, yeah, she's like my girlfriend or sister or something…"
"You should probably figure that one out before making any important decisions."
Technoblade strode forward and bent over the girl as he extracted a long knife from his belt. He cut the ropes binding her, and she stood, ripping the gag from her mouth and shaking out her mussed-up blond hair. She trembled, and her freckled face looked a little red in the faint light coming in through the side window.
"Thank you," she whispered. Her gaze roved around the room, catching on Anthony and Technoblade, but then snapped back on Tommy. "Tommy, Sapnap came by just a little bit ago, and he tied me up and took Henry."
"OH!" Tommy ground his fists together. "I KNEW it!"
"But I'm so glad you're alive, Tommy!" She reached out to him, hesitant, then drew him in a hug. Tommy stumbled back a little, but awkwardly patted her back.
"Yes, Niki, but now about 'Enry–"
The girl, Niki, straightened, and really took in Technoblade. "Who are you?" Then she froze, her nostrils flared. "Wait a minute–Tech–"
"Yep, that's me." He sounded bored.
"Where is 'e now?" insisted Tommy. "Also, why were you 'ere in the first place?"
Niki still looked ruffled, but she composed herself and spoke in a level, albeit soft voice. "Schlatt had me imprisoned." She looked at the floor. "Quackity and Eret helped me escape. I hope it's okay that I'm here–"
"No, no, no, it's fine," said Tommy. "But where's 'Enry?" He paused. "Quacki'y and Eret 'elped you?"
"Yes." She took hold of his hand. "I don't know where your cow is, but Sapnap is probably taking him to Manberg. He didn't leave too long ago; you might be able to catch him before he enters the country's borders."
Tommy shook Niki off and glued his hands to his hips. "All right, you 'ear that, men? We're going to get me pogchamp–" Tommy stopped, frowned. "You said that wrong. It's 'L'Manberg,' not 'Manberg.' "
Niki looked down again. Her voice lowered even further, as if she blamed herself for everything, and she spoke in such a quiet, resolute way, Anthony rather wished he knew what they were talking about. "That's what Schlatt renamed L'Manberg."
Tommy exploded. "MANBERG?! 'E renamed it? 'Ow dare 'e!"
"Yes." She glanced at Anthony, looking like she wanted to ask about him, but something else proved more important. "Tommy, do you know–"
"We don't 'ave time, Niki! We 'ave to–OH! We 'ave to go!" The child grabbed Technoblade's arm. "Let's take the train–that's the fastest way to L'Manberg! Oh, it's been so long since I've taken my train. 'Enry, 'ere we come!" He picked up Anthony's chain and dragged him out of the room, followed by Technoblade and Niki.
"Wait, Tommy," she cried after them.
"Not now, Niki!"
Tommy threw open the front door and marched out, then immediately shrieked because a man stood there on the porch–taller than Tommy and Anthony, but nowhere near the height of Technoblade, a hooded green scarf about his neck and a smiling white mask concealing his face. Anthony noted the battle axe and crossbow strapped to his back.
Who's this guy? I like his mask.
"Dream!" Tommy blustered. "Just when things couldn't get worse! Where'd you come from? I don't care. Unless you're 'ere to return to me my disc, you be'ter leave and never not show your face again or I'll peel you like a tater!" Tommy tried to hop back through the doorway, but couldn't because Anthony was standing there.
Dream gave no heed to Tommy's threats. "I was down in Manberg paying Schlatt a…" he tightened, "friendly visit, when I noticed you rowing across the inlet." He focused upon Anthony. "Hi, I'm Dream."
"Anthony Frost." Anthony made no move to shake Dream's extended hand.
Dream awkwardly put his hand away. "You two were not the only ones in the boat, were you?" Dream craned his head to see past the two boys in the threshold, but Tommy always shimmied just in front of his view. Tommy must have been trying to hide Technoblade from Dream, but he needn't have bothered. Anthony had seen Techno spot Dream out the side window and hang back in the shadows a couple yards behind Anthony, hand on his greataxe. Niki remained even further back.
"Stop, Dream!" Tommy blabbed. "You're going to spoil my sweet leverage!"
"Is this guy botherin' you?" And Tommy's sweet leverage, Technoblade, now came strolling up from behind the two boys. Dream visibly stiffened, but smothered his fear remarkably well, considering how most people just wore their emotions like a smiley-face mask.
Tommy looked upset about his sweet leverage getting revealed, but he didn't dwell on it. "Well, look at that!" he crackled, now triumphant. "Technoblade and Tommy Innit are comrades. Wot you gonna do now, Dream? Stand with your friend Sapnap and die?"
Dream's mouth frowned. "Why? What did that rogue do this time?"
"HAH!" Tommy hacked in Dream's mask. "And 'ere I thought you knew everything about everything. Guess wot, Dream?" He swaggered past the man in green toward the porch steps. "We're gonna save poor 'Enry and get our fill of vengeance upon Mr. Sap Pet-Napper Nap. And Technoblade's on our side, so not even you can stop us."
"Wait–"
Tommy scowled. "I just said you can't stop us!"
Dream paused, probably thinking, then spoke. "I actually came to make a trade, Tommy."
"No, you didn't. You're just scared right now."
"I want Spirit," came Dream. "It's been long enough since that skirmish on the railroad. And in return, I will give you…" Tommy's eyes widened. Anthony and Technoblade both leaned forward. Dream took the axe from his back and extended it toward Tommy.
Tommy didn't move. "You're giving me your chopper." Anthony didn't know if that was stupefied thrill or disappointment in his voice.
"No. My services. I will help you get back your cow from Sapnap."
Tommy did not answer immediately. Technoblade said nothing, but examined the blade of his greataxe while he ran his tongue along the edge of his glinting teeth. Anthony noted the silvery inscription on the greataxe's socket, where the head attached to the shaft: Axe of Peace.
"You know wot?" said Tommy after a moment. "I think I'll take you up on that. I'm tired of toting around your dead 'orse, and that will sure give Sapnap a turn when 'e sees I got 'is own ally with me! Let's go!"
"First Spirit. Where is he?"
" 'E's at the embassy. We'll get 'im after we get 'Enry. Time is of the Hessians."
"You mean essence?"
"Aye, aye. Now let's go."
Dream crossed his arms. "What is the plan first, though?"
Tommy stuck his tongue out. "I don't take orders from you." He faced Anthony and Technoblade. "Now 'ere's the plan: we're taking my train down to L'Manberg–"
"Manberg," said Dream, grinning.
Tommy glared. "L'Manberg, and beating ol' Sapnap and rescuing my beautiful cow."
This sounds like a good opportunity for chaos.
Tommy barrelled past Dream, tugging Anthony after him with such force, Anthony almost nose-dived into the porch. Dream and Technoblade hurried after.
"Goodbye, Niki!" Tommy called as they tumbled past the side of the house to where the railroad met it.
Niki leaned out of the door. "Tommy, is Wilbur–"
"Later, Niki! 'Enry must be saved!"
They came to the cave at the base of Tommy's residence, which housed a rickety engine car, coach, and caboose. Technoblade stooped into the tight coach first. Once inside, however, he wasted no space for the others, slinging his arms over the bench cushions, and splaying his legs across all possible footroom. Dream begrudgingly inserted himself next, nudging Technoblade against the opposite window.
Tommy dragged Anthony over to the engine. "You sit up 'ere, slave. Be a good ash cat and take the banjo. I'll stay be'ind as the cushion rider." He shoved Anthony up into the engine car and haphazardly wrapped the end of the chain around an exposed pipe. Any hope Anthony harbored for escape vanished, though, when Tommy produced a deadlock and clicked it in place. Then he squeezed into the coach with the halberd, no doubt marinating the entire car with his fumes.
Anthony picked up the coal shovel, which felt uncommonly heavy in his tired arms. The setup of the engine car looked simple enough. After some trial and error, with no help from the child or any of the others staring at him from the open front of the coach, Anthony got the locomotive to move.
The train started slow, crawling over the gently curving, swinging railroad tracks, preparing to plummet into a freefall. Anthony craned his neck to see around the engine. Did the others notice the two figures walking down the track not far ahead of them? A man, struggling to lead a cow. Anthony paused in his shoveling and reached for what he hoped was the brake lever.
Tommy's voice rose above the clacking of the wheels and the clanking of the engine. "Wait–that's Sap and–and–and–"
Anthony pulled on the lever. It felt like it would snap in his grasp. The wheels screeched, but the train still hurtled too fast down the track toward the figures, even as it slowed. Then every car lurched. Numerous cries sounded from inside and out, overcome by Tommy's singular wail:
" 'ENRY!"
Anthony pulled himself out of the coal supply, which now contained half as much fuel as before. When he turned to look behind them, the tracks were now clear. But things were falling from them, for sure. Man and cow, along with bits of wood from parts of the trestles. Disappearing into the crashing inlet waters.
Did I just…kill them? That'd be a first. I wanted chaos, not murders.
Tommy, blond head protruding from the coach window, spoke in frightened blubbers. " 'E–'e just fell! 'Enry fell off the tracks! What was 'e doing there? Why did–'ow–is 'e okay?"
"He's probably not, Tommy," said Dream quietly, though Anthony detected a trace of anxiety in his tone.
"Be quiet, Dream! Of course you'd say that! Tell me, Techno, is 'Enry gonna be all right?"
"Uhhh…you wanna go back and check it out?"
But they were too far up to do anything. The train only went one way, so they had no choice but to complete a round trip, even if it did take forty-five minutes as Tommy claimed. "She may be an 'ol hay burner, but she's faster than 'iking." Anthony released the brakes and resumed shoveling. By the sound of it, Tommy kept climbing back and forth over the other's knees to peek out each window.
"Before we loop around and see what happened there on the tracks," Anthony heard Dream say, "let us stop at the embassy and get Spirit from your ender chest."
"Aye, aye, of course," said perturbed Tommy. "But I'm not giving it to you until all's done. I need to get my sword anyways. I think I even 'ave some ender pearls there."
Soon, the train neared what looked like a mound of grass and dirt. Tommy yelled at Anthony to put on the brakes. This mound of grass and dirt turned out to be the embassy, as well as Tommy Innit's "hill home," both of which Anthony found hard to believe.
Dream pushed Tommy out of the coach, probably desperate for a breath of fresh air. While Technoblade remained behind, with Anthony still chained to the engine car, Tommy and Dream disappeared through the front door of the embassy-house thing. The two reappeared moments later, yapping and shoving each other with their shoulders. Tommy was struggling to stuff a pouch and a sheathed sword into his tunic, with the halberd still strapped to his back. "I'm not gonna give you your dead 'orse until we've properly enacted our revenge!" he yelled.
"But I knew it!" shot Dream. "You had my sword Nightmare all along!"
"Get in the train, mutton'ead."
They crammed themselves back into the train. Despite all odds, Technoblade didn't topple out the opposite window, but caught himself in the most gainly way possible.
Anthony stoked the engine. The train slowly chugged to speed, now creeping uphill as it swung toward the hill home.
I feel like I'm the only adult here.
Dream and Tommy kept bickering in the back. "Stop hitting me!" Dream complained. "You almost poked me with that halberd!"
"It's not my fault; I'm grieving! If 'Enry's dead, someone must die."
"They will not. Not in my deathless land. We will not be killing anyone."
Your deathless land? What are you, king of this whole place? This country is so strange. Way more interesting than America. If only it wasn't so painful. Anthony rubbed a blistered foot against his leg.
Technoblade got a word in. "You're payin' him to fight with us but he's not even gonna kill anyone?"
"That 'ow it is, Technoblade. We can't kill anyone because Dream decided we can't."
"Wait, was this a thing from the start and everyone knew about it?" Techno's voice rose. "And nobody cared to tell me?"
"Aye, it sucks."
"You bet it sucks. What are the voices gonna say?"
The conversation faded into the background; Anthony paused his shoveling to steal a glance at the view. To the west rose the cutting lines of a great house or mansion, glittering white against the ocean horizon. He also saw two small figures scampering toward them from the direction of the mansion. They kept hopping about and pointing at the train.
"Who are those nerds?" asked Techno.
Tommy assessed the situation. "Looks like it's Bad and Skeppy taking a jaunt from the big Quartz Mansion. Must be coming to say hi."
They kept running, nearing the train. Anthony could see them better now. One of them–the lanky, tall one–wore a hooded cloak which cast his entire face in shadow, except for his two glowing eyes where they reflected the light of the afternoon sun. The other wore a veil with a tacky picture of an eight-bit tongue on it. He raised his hand, but not to say hi. In his hand curled the naked blade of a scimitar, held threateningly above his head.
"Uhh…Tommy?" said Technoblade.
Those did not look like a couple of friendly neighbors out for a picnic, but train-chasing bandits.
That's unfortunate.
The hooded bandit ran alongside the coach, tossing knives at the window before heading for the engine car. One knife bounced off the exterior of the coach, the next whistled inside. Through the open coach front, Anthony saw it almost strike Tommy, except Dream reached around and batted it away in time. "This is not a manhunt, Bad!" Dream yelled.
"What do you want with us?" Tommy squalled. "Stop chasing our bobber, and leave us alone! Can't you see I'm grieving?"
"We just want your head, Tommy!" yelled the shorter bandit, the one with the veil.
"And fifty emeralds!" joined the tall, hooded one. "But mostly your head!"
"Aw, man!" Tommy grumbled. "My shtupid bounty."
Tommy's holiday home materialized into view, rapidly approaching.
"All right, we are almost at the house now," called Dream. "We should slow down."
"Do we really wanna do that while they're chasing us…?" said Technoblade.
"Clean the clock!" Tommy shouted. "Slave! Pull the lever like a good baby lifter."
Anthony deduced Tommy wanted him to engage the brakes. Except before he could, the hooded bandit sprung and glued himself to the port side of the engine car. The train rocked.
"Bad! 'E just flipped the kettle!" Tommy spewed.
Anthony watched the bandit, Bad, scramble aboard, and felt a vague sense of fear–or maybe it was excitement.
"You on, Skeppy?" Bad shouted back at his partner-in-crime.
"Yes!" came the winded reply. The other bandit clung to the coach exterior and set about harassing the occupants by jabbing at them through the window with his scimitar.
Anthony stepped aside as Bad located and broke the brake lever with a swift kick. Glancing at the coach, Anthony could see that Tommy couldn't wrestle out of his seat on account of Dream sitting on his tunic, and Anthony didn't bother stopping Bad himself. So the train careened around the tracks along the promontory, rushing past the holiday home and a bewildered Niki standing just outside.
"Yooooooo," Technoblade warbled out the window.
The ground dropped into the sheer cliffside over the sea once again. The trestles felt like they rattled more this time around.
Bad noticed Anthony for the first time. "Hey," he said. "It's a cat-boy!"
Without thinking, and forgetting their lack of brakes, Anthony resumed shoveling, though he didn't really know why.
"Hey you! You with the cat ears!" Bad wagged a knife at him like a madman. "Where'd you come from? What's your name?" He lowered his squeaky voice as though trying to sound intimidating. How cute.
"Anthony Frost," said Anthony.
"I'm Bad Boy Halo!" He sounded less like a hostile, train-robbing bandit and more like a friendly one. Especially when he reached into that shawl-thing of his and produced a fluffy brown muffin nestled in polkadot wrapping paper. "Have a lil' muffin."
Meanwhile, the passengers in the coach had just about had enough of the veiled bandit poking them with the point of his scimitar, specifically Tommy.
"We 'ave no choice, boys!" the child wailed. "Abandon train! It's this or 'it the grit!" Anthony turned just in time to see Tommy sail out the window, gliding upon the wings of his tunic. Anthony left his post and leaned out the engine car window, feeling some small concern for his young master. Or maybe it was just for his halberd still clinging to the boy's back. The child splatted face-first upon the surface of the inlet before the waves rolled over him and Tommy Innit was seen no more.
"I'm coming, Tommy!" cried the veiled bandit, and he clambered onto the roof of the train and launched himself after Tommy.
Bad replaced his knife in his shawl and prepared to jump out the back of the engine car. "You coming, Anthony?"
Anthony finished off the last muffin crumbs and pointed to the lock keeping his chain hostage. Bad attacked it with a knife and another kick, and the chain broke.
You're pretty cool. Cooler than that Tommy guy and his messed-up family. And you're chaotic.
Bad Boy Halo and Anthony Frost dove off the side of the train. Anthony held onto his headband as he sailed down. They plopped into the chilly inlet waters where the current guided them toward that cut-rate island of art known as Karl reef. Anthony spotted Tommy bobbing not far from him. The straps holding the halberd to his back looked loose. Anthony paddled over, trying to keep quiet.
Tommy didn't see him, and latched onto the man swimming closest to him. "All right, Techno, 'ere's wot we're going to do. We're going to–wait, you're not Techno." No, Tommy was hugging Dream. Dream shook the kid off and pulled himself ashore. "Wait!" Tommy floundered. The straps loosed the halberd into the water. Anthony lunged after it. Tommy didn't notice. "Where's Techno? Oh no! There 'e goes!" Anthony grabbed the halberd and looked up where Tommy pointed. The train still bustled down the shaking tracks along with the pink-haired man who never made it out.
"TECHNO!" Tommy called.
"See y'all when I come around again!" Technoblade hollered in the distance.
"No, my sweet leverage! Oh, this is terrible! Who's gonna save me when Dream turns on me?" Tommy swooned into the water. Dream frowned.
They all joined Dream on the reef, watching their step on the uneven surface. The metal numbed Anthony's bare feet, frigid beneath the autumn sun's halfhearted rays of light. His fluffy sweater felt as though it had drunk half the ocean, and his skinny bare legs shivered.
But I have my halberd again.
"Hey, Sapnap!" called Bad in a manner much like that of one friend to another. That, or an annoying acquaintance who pretends to be on closer terms than reality would otherwise suggest.
An emo boy with a black ponytail stood beside Karl's Eiffel Tower on the reef, strapping on pieces of wet violet-colored armor from a pile at his feet. "Hi, Bad," he shivered, adjusting his vambraces. A murderous glint appeared in his eye as he noticed Tommy. He didn't so much as glance at Dream. Anthony recognized him as the human victim from the railroad incident not long ago. He appeared mostly unharmed besides his shaken demeanor and a few fresh scratches.
He was the lucky one.
Tommy had only to lay his gaze upon the black-and-white mass floating at the base of the wreckage. " 'Enry! No, no, no, 'Enry, surely not!" The child stumbled forward, throwing his arms over it. There he quietly wept, his last goodbye to his dear pet. Anthony felt a pang of guilt, for not noticing them on the tracks sooner, for not applying the brakes faster. Instead, a freak accident had claimed the life of this innocent creature.
I'm…sorry, Henry. I tried.
Bad and Skeppy dropped to silence in honor of the dead. Five seconds later, Skeppy piped up, "So Tommy, I have your disc here. Follow me to Manberg and it's yours."
"Shut up!" Tommy bawled. He buried his face in the damp fur. "Oh, 'Enry, why'd you leave me? Why'd you 'ave to die?"
"We're lucky he's the only one," Sapnap the Emo Boy muttered. He had finished donning all the armor from the pile except the helmet, and took this opportunity to wring out his ponytail. "I almost didn't make it thanks to you and your reckless train."
Tommy raised his face, eyes red and puffy and vengeful. " 'Ow dare you say that." He trembled to his feet, fingers fluttering around his sword hilt. "Sapnap. You killed 'Enry."
Sapnap remained firm. "I did not. I swear. I wasn't planning on killing or anything. I got bored on guard duty. So I was just taking your cow to…"
"You stole 'im and killed 'im!"
"I was just playing around!" Sapnap insisted. "Then you came along, ran us over Tommy-style, and he fell. Tommy, I didn't kill Henry. You did."
Anthony felt his cheeks warm. Technically, it was my fault.
Tommy raged, but he paid Anthony no heed.. "Are you so shtupid not to know what railways are for? Trains!" He stole a critical side glance at Dream before turning back on the emo boy. "Sapnap, you kidnapped my good friend and look at what you've done."
"That is all you do, Sap," came Dream. "Honestly, I am not surprised."
Sapnap's gaze switched from Tommy to the man with the white mask. "Dream…what are you doing standing with Tommy?"
"I have not forgotten about Spirit. Today Tommy gives him back to me, after I–"
"Spirit again," Sapnap cut in. He laughed to himself and looked around. After a minute, his gaze settled on Henry's body and the smile faded. "Spirit was an accident too." He drew his sword and marched up to the corpse, a subtle limp in his stride. He shoved the spazzing child aside before raising the blade and shanking it into the black-and-white mass. Tommy almost tackled him, but Sapnap pushed him away. "Back off!" he snapped. "Everyone, stay back!" He carved through the wet fur, at last cutting off a hunk of red meat.
Tommy recoiled, hands over his eyes. "No, stop! This is just wrong."
But Sapnap wasn't looking at Tommy. "Hey Dream," he grinned, "you know what I think of Spirit?"
Sapnap raised the meat. Sapnap opened his mouth. Sapnap sank his teeth into the raw meat. Anthony gasped without meaning to. Tommy's fingers parted, round eyes beholding this atrocious deed. Pinkish-red liquid dribbled from the corners of Sapnap's mouth. And he licked his lips.
Anthony's stomach rose in his throat, and he almost threw up.
"I'm with you, Sap, but that is disgusting," Bad gagged.
Dream didn't look bothered in the least, but Tommy unsheathed his sword and flung himself at Sapnap, ready to tear him limb from limb. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!"
Sapnap raised his own blade, dropping the rest of the meat and laughing. "Relax, Tommy!"
"Kill them, Dream!" Tommy shrieked, batting hopelessly against Sapnap's armor. "Kill them, slave! Kill them all!"
Anthony looked at Tommy, then at Bad and Skeppy baring their weapons. He could still taste the muffin, the only food he'd had all day.
I feel sorry for you, Henry, and even you, Tommy. I don't like that Sap guy…but Bad and Skeppy are pretty cool, cooler than the rest of you.
Sapnap dodged behind a leg of the tower, and Anthony took this opportunity to leap in front of Tommy. He swung his halberd, awkward with his chained wrists, but not posing any real problems for him. The pole struck Tommy in the stomach. He dropped the sword and sat down hard, clutching his middle. "Slave, 'ow could you?!" he wheezed. "Wot about all our good times together? The joy, the merriment…"
The slavery…
Anthony stepped back, so that he stood beside Bad and Skeppy. Dream had not done anything; now he just turned his mask toward Tommy's idle weapon.
"Yeah, Kitty!" cried Skeppy.
"Anthony," Bad corrected. "Welcome to the chaos."
I like the sound of that. This is why I'm here. For the chaos. That muffin was also tasty.
Sapnap leveled his swordpoint with Tommy's gullet. "Tommy, this is it for you. You're surrounded by no one but your enemies. We have the upper hand."
Tommy hesitated, still sitting on the ground. His gaze darted upon each of them, lingering longer on Anthony, but not once touching Dream. Then, as if summoned by the quiet, a low tremor, a distant rumble, rose from the silence. The railroad. "Oh, you fool," Tommy snickered. He took up his sword and straightened before all his foes. "You think you've got the upper 'and, ey? Animal-Killer thinks 'e 'as me between 'is thumb and forefinger, ready to quash like a biscuit." He tapped the tip of Sapnap's sword with the point of his own. "It won't be today, mate. And I 'ate to say it to you. But there's one thing I 'ave that you'll never ever ever 'ave."
The world simmered beneath Sapnap's condescending glower. "What?"
Tommy's braces gleamed from his grin. "I 'ave the Blade."
Then the Blade himself plummeted from the tracks overhead in a flurry of more loose wood from the trestles, greataxe–the Axe of Peace–blazing in the afternoon sun. He landed squarely on the reef, just beside Tommy and a yard away from Sapnap. Sapnap's bangs blew off his face, his ponytail twirled behind him. Anthony could see his slanted eyes, now wide, almost dazed. Bad and Skeppy shielded their masked faces. Anthony found his own heartbeat drumming a storm in his chest.
So this is what pog means.
Technoblade tilted his head, producing a noteworthy crack from his neck. "I'm gonna tell you now. I know I'm not supposed to kill anyone, but if I slip just a little and someone's head is unintentionally chopped off their shoulders–it's nothin' personal." He unfastened his cloak, letting it slide from his armored shoulders to the ground.
Dream's mouth twitched in annoyance.
"Here." Technoblade tossed a vial of apricot-orange liquid to Tommy. "Just a drop. For your lack of armor."
Tommy gasped, popped the lid, and took an experimental swig. Then he squinched up his face and flapped his free hand as if it would lift him off the ground. Anthony felt his own mouth turn bitter even though he wasn't the one who drank it. Dream looked put-off. "Can I 'ave the green one, too?" buzzed the child.
"No," said Techno, quaffing from the vial himself and making Anthony feel even more uncomfortable. "Blendin's not for beginners."
Tommy darted forward and snagged a vial from the arsenal around Technoblade's belt " 'Ow 'bout the gray one?"
Technoblade narrowed his eyes. He reclaimed the bottle from Tommy. "No."
"All right! Cut the junk!" Sapnap snapped.
Tommy glared, indignant, still buzzing. "You're just in a fright 'cause we're so OP."
Sapnap ignored that. "You know, Tommy," he smiled, "Henry tasted awfully delicious. Almost as tasty as that reindeer Dream sometimes gets me and George." He rubbed at the stains on his chin. They didn't come off. "Maybe next time I'll stir-fry your cow. Or try my hand at beef stroganoff."
Oh that's just gross. And pathetic.
Before Tommy could finish his war cry, Techno rushed in to meet the animal-killer's blade, after shoving Tommy out of the way and into Anthony. The two toppled together onto the reef's painted metal ground. The bandits stopped Dream from joining either one of the scuffles.
Together, Bad and Skeppy fought against Dream, their attacks perfectly coordinated. Skeppy kept Dream's axe busy with his scimitar while Bad wove in and out, his projectile attacks fast and unpredictable. Dream struggled to cut off their dance, reduced to defense.
Tommy scrambled up from where he had landed on Anthony, and, armed with his sleek two-handed sword and bubbling with whatever enhancing power that bottle had contained, assailed his former slave with no reservations. But Anthony could feel the child's ineptitude in every swing and slash, and he held off the child easily, without severing the boy's scrawny legs with his halberd.
"Sapnap," a new voice rose above the din.
Anthony finished flooring Tommy and looked around. A man arrayed in curling black tattoos, selective pieces of armor, and a white cloak stood passively upon a corner of the reef. Anthony did not know how or when he had got there, seeing no viable means of transportation nearby. The man carried a formidable trident, silver edges glimmering like the ocean tides. "Sapnap," he repeated. "It's time to stop neglecting your guard duties. You can't pass it off to Fundy; that's not his job."
Fundy. Someone mentioned him before. He has ears like me.
"What?!" Sapnap yelled above Techno's clanging greataxe. "Punz?! I'm a bit busy at the moment! Get out of here or help me, I don't care!"
"Why should I abandon a paying client to help you?" Punz almost turned to leave (however he planned on doing that), when he noticed Dream fighting against Bad and Skeppy. Punz took one step back, off the side of the reef. No sooner did he brush the skin of the water, than he catapulted into the sky. Everyone paused in their combat and gaped up at the flying man, propelled by nothing as he soared through the air in an arc at least a hundred feet high. Then he plunged down, making a perfect landing between Dream and his assailants.
Skeppy stumbled aside, offended. "Dude! Come on!"
Dream, axe steadied, breath heaving, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, nodded at the newcomer. Then the two of them, Dream and Punz, charged Bad and Skeppy. They separated the two, the dance ceased, and Anthony quickly realized in a moment of fear that the bandits were goners.
Skeppy's scimitar floated desperately around Punz's trident, and not even Bad's throwing knives were faster than Dream's intuition. Anthony came running to their aid, but Punz had already sent Skeppy a'skipping across the inlet like a stone. So Anthony swung at Dream. Dream ducked beneath the halberd, then threw a green pearl, right at Bad's head. The pearl shattered as Bad shielded himself with a knife, and he shrieked when Dream disappeared and reappeared practically on top of him. The bandit scrabbled out from under him, off the side of the reef and doggy-paddled away into the inlet. But Punz stepped into the water, and, as before, shot into the sky over to the bandit.
Before Anthony could witness Bad Boy Halo's fate, Dream's axe came at his halberd. Anthony parried, changed position, and retaliated as he had trained, and Dream did the same. They repeated this for a couple more exchanges, while Anthony's feet ached and his wrists tired from the shackles banging around them. Then Dream changed the game. He leapt back a few times and dropped the axe at his feet before pulling the crossbow out. Anthony rushed in. Dream loaded the crossbow so fast, Anthony didn't see it. Dream fired a yard in front of him and suddenly the painted wreckage of the reef caught fire. Only a few wisps at first, but more sprouted up, like time-lapsed plants growing, infecting the surrounding spray paint. Anthony halted, already feeling the heat through his bare and blistered toes. Dream ran from around the flames with his axe. Anthony blocked, but between Dream, the reef bank, and the sizzling metal, he was cornered. A few more sweeps from Dream, and Anthony tripped over the wooden sign designating Karl reef, and tumbled into the inlet waters.
You set the paint on fire. Was the arrow on fire? The paint is dry, right? How long ago was this junk pile painted? I never liked painting much.
The cat ears slipped a little.
Anthony decided to remain in the frigid water, figuring it the safest place at the moment, though his weary limbs desperately needed to rest on something. Punz was rounding up Bad and Skeppy in the background. In front of him, the fire meandered over the shambled surface of the reef, not bothering with the puddles of water near the bank. It never made it to the opposite end of the island where Sapnap and Techno brawled, and barely approached Tommy's prone form before the child jolted upright and hurtled screaming into the inlet. Nevertheless, once the fire touched the tower, it climbed it like a snake, melted paint on scorched metal and the blackened remains of a wooden sign in its wake.
Anthony caught Sapnap's seething voice above the tumult. "Once I get the rest of my stuff out of the Community Hub, I'm moving out, Dream! It's all Manberg now!"
"He just keeps goin', doesn't he?" said Technoblade, after disarming Sapnap and tossing him into the inlet a third time, by Anthony's guess. Sapnap clambered onto the reef once more, wielding a length of broken rebar painted teal. He lunged forward, heading for no one in particular. Dream's battle axe met his rebar.
While Dream maintained a calm and poised disposition throughout the exchange, Sapnap didn't bother. He just walloped and whaled with that scrap of metal like his life depended on it. "Whatever happened to the Dream Team?" he demanded. "I'm your friend, Dream!"
No reply. When Dream's counterattacks failed to quell this ball of fire, Technoblade stepped in. One hand locked on Sapnap's swinging rebar and wrenched his arm behind his back. Sapnap let out a pained curse before Techno wrangled him into a headlock. The taller man popped the mysterious gray potion off his belt, except he didn't drink this one. He thrust the end of the vial into Sapnap's snapping mouth. "All right, go to sleep now," soothed Technoblade. He tossed away the near-empty vial and clamped a hand over Sapnap's mouth, forbidding him to spit the contents out.
Sapnap's free hand raked at Techno's arm. His eyes bulged, scourging with hate as they stared at Dream. Anthony and Tommy remained in the water and watched. Sapnap kept thrashing, now slowing, but Anthony did not think it was from fatigue or submission. Technoblade let go. Sapnap dropped the rebar and shuddered to his knees, weighed down by what could only be a weakness-inducing concoction.
Dream regarded him with disgust. "Go back to that wretched country of Manberg. Spirit was a better friend than you ever were, murderer."
Anthony had only a faint idea of what they were talking about, but he felt that last word heavy in his chest, and he could only imagine what Sapnap thought.
Sapnap crouched before them all–this shameful, emotional ruin of a man. It didn't look as though he could raise himself from his knees. He couldn't stop shaking. And he couldn't wipe away the tears shredding down his cheeks. So he yelled. He roared with what little strength must have remained in him, no words, just this unwarranted display of his own agony. Weapons gone. Hair sodden and wild. Eyes red as the animal blood staining his teeth.
As those paralyzed minutes loosened their grip, sizzling like the burning tower, it became evident that Sapnap could do no further harm for the day. Or at least until the artificial weakness wore off, however long that would be.
Punz swam to Karl reef, dragging Bad and Skeppy behind him. Each of them froze for a moment upon seeing Sapnap's state, but asked no questions. Anthony slinked onto the reef, the metal still warm from the fresh fire. He wanted to collapse to the ground and sleep, but the danger had not yet passed. He watched the white-cloaked man direct his captives into a sad, sodden line to relinquish their weapons, but he remained off to one side, hoping no one would notice him.
I could try climbing the trestles, or swimming to the beach down there. It's so far, though. I'm already so tired from swimming. What will Tommy and his companions do since I betrayed them?
"If nobody else claims the weapons," said Punz, "I'm taking them. That goes for you too," and he directed this last statement at Anthony. Anthony hugged his halberd.
Bad's head drooped, his movements stiff and reluctant as he passed each throwing knife to Punz.
"Wait, don't do that," said Skeppy, stopping Bad before he handed off any more. Anthony perked up. "Let us go and we'll give you…" Skeppy fished in the swathes of fabric draped over his scale-like armor. Then out he drew a vinyl record disc, a band of green around the middle hole. Tommy straightened as if someone had pulled him up on a string, his eyes wide and cutting.
"They are our prisoners. We can just take it all anyway," Dream pointed out, not even looking at Skeppy or his offering.
"Oh yeah?" Skeppy raised the disc as if to throw it across the inlet like a frisbee.
"NOOO!" Tommy shot forward. "Let them keep their weapons–JUST GIVE ME MY DISC!" Skeppy relinquished the prize to the child, who proceeded to caress and coo at the inanimate object as if it were a comfort kitten.
So Anthony, Bad, and Skeppy got to keep their weapons. Sapnap too; no one dared to step within the five-foot radius of that suffering life form.
I guess they're letting me go. The amount of relief Anthony felt at this realization surprised him. Not all chaos is equal.
"Let's go!" Tommy, this overexcited twig of a child, dragged his obliging warriors, Dream and Techno, to either side of him. "Look at us! POGCHAMP VICTORY!" he crowed, and he flapped his disc in hand. "And I did all of it!"
"I'll be honest, that went a little better than I thought it would," Dream admitted, not correcting Tommy.
"Whether we needed them or not, the reinforcements helped." Technoblade refastened his cloak and came up to Punz, eyeing his trident. "That's a nice piece of equipment you've got there."
"It's a shooting trident." Punz showed it off as he would in a product commercial. "It is a relic crafted in the days of the ancient fairies. Whoever wields it can shoot into the air with just the touch of water."
"Hmm, ancient fairies…" Technoblade rumbled, taking it from Punz's outstretched hands.
Anthony didn't even blink at that statement. The past couple of weeks had taught him that this country played by its own rules. Exactly what I want.
Technoblade weighed the trident in hand, examined the tines, tossed it a few times. Then he went to the edge of the reef and tested its flight power. The sun shone through his rose-colored ponytail and the water droplets showering the air, cloak billowing like a red cloud, his form outlined with light against the sky as he glided over the tower, a few licks of flame still burning near its pinnacle. "How much?" he asked as he swooped back to the others.
"Twenty-five hundred emeralds."
I guess my family's not as rich as I thought.
Tommy's jaw dropped. "I thought you weren't a merchant of goods!"
Technoblade scrutinized the trident a minute longer. "Hmm…deal." He reached into the small satchel hanging at his belt. "I've got one-seventy on me now, but I can get the rest to you later. You have ?"
Punz nodded, and Techno handed him the emeralds.
Dream turned on Tommy. "I would like my payment too."
"Give me a moment, Dream!" Tommy huffed, and reached into his tunic. He produced an embroidered pouch, which he presented to Dream. "This doesn't mean we're allies, just so you know."
Dream took the pouch. "Of course not. I am generally neutral through everything." Dream turned his masked face at Technoblade.
"Aye. Thank you for being 'generally neutral' at the election," Tommy grumbled. "You just did all that endorsing stuff to get us kicked out, didn't you? 'Cause you were too scared to do it yourself."
Dream pursed his lips, but didn't answer. He unfastened the drawstrings of the pouch and took a peek inside. "Thank you," he said, closing it, "for not scamming me. Like how you did with Nightmare."
Tommy tightened, puffed out his chest, looked like he wanted to refute Dream's comment, but couldn't find any way to do so. "I–I've got my disc 'Cat,' so that's all that matters. Mark my words, Dream, 'Mello'i' will be mine again one of these days. And then I'll 'ave both 'Cat' and 'Mello'i,' not to mention my secret weapon Technoblade, and Tommy Innit will be the unstoppable-est adult man on the planet!" He suddenly sobered. "Just wish I 'ad 'Enry." Tommy looked very small and sad then, keeping his gaze away from the cow lying in his watery grave, and Anthony again felt that pang of guilt. "I want to go up to my 'ouse and make a memorial. But not today. We need to get back to Wi–" pause "–to our secret top-base! You know, before that bounty hunter gets any ideas." He glanced nervously at Punz, but Punz made no move from where he stood beside Dream. Tommy came up to the edge of the reef. "Wait just a jolly moment, we don't 'ave a boat! 'Ow are we supposed to get out of 'ere?"
How am I supposed to get out of here?
Tommy desperately turned to Technoblade and the Magical Flying Trident. Techno rolled his eyes and sighed. But he accommodated the child, extending his right arm. Tommy happily bounded into Techno's embrace and nestled into his cloak. Technoblade sighed again, firmly gripping the child as he came up to the edge of water. He glanced at Dream. "Later, sucker. Don't even think about following us." Then he stepped off the edge. Together, he and the ecstatic, shrieking child soared into the sunset.
Anthony gaped after them, only a little sad to see his old masters go. I'm free.
Dream and Punz appraised Bad, Skeppy, and Anthony, but then dove into the inlet, swimming in the direction of the mainland and its bleak, cement skyline. Anthony vaguely wondered how Punz could swim so easily with that armor.
"Hey," said Bad Boy Halo. Anthony turned away from Dream and Punz's evening swim and faced the cloaked man. "I can help you out with those." Bad motioned to Anthony's shackled wrists. Anthony held them out, and Bad worked at the metal with a knife. "Are you–are you by any chance related to...oh, say a weird Dutch guy who only wears black trench coats?"
Anthony thought about this, and decided not to answer.
Skeppy suddenly added, "With ears! With ears like you!"
"Oh yeah, fox ears," said Bad.
Why would I be related to a Dutch man with fox ears? What does this have to do with anything? I think our chef was Dutch.
The shackles fell off, thudding into the sand, and Anthony rubbed his wrists. Bruised, chafed raw in places, and sore, but light and free. Like Anthony himself. His work complete, Bad reached out and stroked the cat ear headband before Anthony became aware of him. When he did, Anthony twisted away from him, the ears catching on Bad's fingers and falling off. Bad let out a cry of dismay, just about deafening Anthony's actual right ear. "Oh no! Anthony! I'm–I'm so sorry–I–" He knelt in front of the ears in a posture of mourning.
Anthony bent down and picked them up, inciting a collective gasp from Bad and Skeppy. He replaced them on his head, which provoked another round of gasps, until Skeppy groaned and said, "Bad, they're fake. It's a headband with cat ears glued to it."
Bad stood and pulled Anthony's hair to one side. "Oh, yeah, he has normal human ears."
Anthony gently pushed him away. Stop touching me...
"Well, I guess that answers that question," said Skeppy. "Not related to What's-His-Face."
"We should be buddies!" Bad cried all of a sudden. "We're all awesome and crazy and like fighting and-and-"
"Chaos," said Skeppy, and Anthony did not doubt the strange diamond-boy had a sadistic grin plastered all over his face beneath the veil.
Bad nodded. "We need buddy names. You can call me BBH, and I can call you..." He thought.
"You can call me Skepster," said Skeppy.
Anthony said nothing.
"Antfrost!" Bad cried. "You can be Antfrost! See, it's the first part of your first name–Ant-thony, and your last name–Frost. Antfrost!"
"Sounds like a lot of frozen ants," muttered Skeppy.
Antfrost. BBH. Skepster. Antfrost. Buddies. Antfrost. Like friends. The friends I never had, the friends I guess I always wanted. Friends would be nice. Chaotic friends are better. Better than slave masters and actuarial science, for sure.
Anthony–Antfrost, nodded.
Bad whooped. "He likes it!" He grabbed the newly-christened Antfrost around the shoulders in a crushing embrace. "We're buddies!"
Antfrost showed his appreciation by not ripping Bad's arms off.
Bad could hardly speak on account of his excitement. "We should have a buddy group name or something!"
Skeppy straightened. "Oh! Like our own faction?"
"Yeah!" Bad glanced at Antfrost. "We like chaos, we like fighting, we're…"
"Bad," said Skeppy, now cracking his knuckles.
Bad sounded pleased. "Yes!"
"No, I mean we're actually bad, Bad."
"But yes! It's perfect! We can be the…Badlands!"
Skeppy's eyes widened, then he nodded furiously. Behind him, the tower softly burned against the fading sky, Sapnap's lowly figure still simmering beneath it.
Antfrost almost smiled.
That sounds pretty cool. We're bad, we're wild, we're chaotic. We're friends. We're the Badlands.
Aaaaand, welcome back everyone! This is the last part of Book 1 - VAERYS and I hope you enjoy it!
I am reposting here the disclaimer I gave at the beginning of part 2:
"As before, I want to give a disclaimer that this story is based off of the Dream SMP and is not a direct novelization. VAERYS and I are aware that we have made a lot of changes to the original story. Along those same lines, the characters portrayed are our own versions of the DSMP characters, and are in no way supposed to represent the actual MCYTs behind them."
As always, thank you for the support!
God bless,
Unicadia and VAERYS