Nether Worry

Part 11

Pairing: Agent Washington/Tucker, Caboose/Church, Grif/Simmons

Description: In which the Reds and Blues come across a lonely Creative Mode dweller, Sarge makes about ten times more Iron Golems than are strictly necessary, and where Tucker learns that Wash is indeed not a replacement for Church and that may or may not be a bad thing after all.

A/N: In memory of Monty Oum, you amazing man who I never met in real life, but I sure wish I had. You're an astounding artist and you will NEVER be forgotten. This is also a present for Valentines Day, so y'all have something to enjoy on this heartfelt day!

"This place is amazing." North Dakota commented as he scoped out the surrounding islands of the Nether with his telescope. "I've never even seen any sort of structures like this… what do you think, Caboose?" He glanced up to look beside him, only to find the Blue Team's rookie long gone. "Caboose? Hey, where are you, buddy?"

The Creative Mode Dweller stood up, dusting himself off as he looked around. He and Caboose had been given the misfortune to spawn in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, far from the Nether Portal and the rest of the teams. He'd been able to spot South and Tex on the biggest island of the Nether, as well as Connie and Grif. And even more shocking, North had found a huge castle a few miles from he and Caboose's island. It would definitely be awhile before they would have access to the castle, but North could've sworn he'd seen Sarge and Wyoming inside of there. Just the prospect of adventuring in such a remote world had North eager to see more of what the Nether had to offer.

Caboose was, at least, excited, but not nearly as productive as North was trying to be. North had convinced Caboose to try mining up a bit of the netherrack to use as a bridge to the next island a little ways away, but so far, Caboose had been struggling to focus. North couldn't blame him, after all, he was having trouble focusing too in such a huge, unmapped place such as this. However, he knew they needed to get moving. He'd seen Connie and Grif running from some sort of soot colored Skeleton, which befuddled the oldest twin, having never seen such an oddly colored Skeleton. Personally, and unlike his younger twin sister, North wasn't exactly keen on meeting the wildlife of the Nether any time soon.

As luck would have it, no mobs of any sort had spawned yet on North and Caboose's little island, which was considered a blessing to North, who knew how difficult it could be to fight off enemies from such a small area. Unlike Carolina and Wash, North and South hadn't been born in Creative Mode. Yes, they'd been transferred fairly young to the lands of Creative Mode, but they both remembered their fair share of misfortune from the rest of the Minecraft world. They'd both been six years old upon entering Creative Mode, and already knew how to sword fight, quickly earning themselves a place in the lush lands of Creative Mode. They were both very proud of their place in Creative society.

North shook his thoughts away though, knowing how dangerous it was to daydream when in a dangerous place where Mobs could spawn at any moment. Walking around the island, he continued his search for Caboose. "Caboose? Hello… anyone there?"

Upon calling out, North heard a very muffled reply from some other island not too far off from where he was, but it was too far away to hear properly. "Dammit… where the heck did he go? There isn't even a lot room to run, much less hide!" The man was growing frustrated as he looked under the netherrack and around the island, unable to find his partner.

After another half hour, North gave up, convinced that Caboose had somehow over the course of North scoping out the Nether escaped the island and had run off to explore the rest of the world. The twin growled under his breath, but choked almost as his eyes met those of an odd creature. The Mob was the size of a normal sized human, making it a bit shorter than North, but it held with it a Golden Sword. The monster had one eye that looked exactly like a pig's, along with the same skin tone around the area, while the rest of it's face was that of a Zombie. The Mob was not alone, however, and several others were compiled on the island, surrounding North and keeping him from escaping.

"Uh… heya, fellas." North tried not to sound so nervous, but dammit all, he'd never seen Zombie-Pigman before! "Um… what brings you here?" The monsters only stared at North, making him swallow weakly. "… I'm going to die here." He whispered, eyes wide with terror as the monsters closed in on him.

"I knew 'em, ya know." Sarge said after three hours of straightforward silence with Wyoming, his own hand scratching at his scalp a little too aggressively. "Before he went 'n got 'mself dead. I knew 'em."

Sarge was referring to Florida, or Flowers as he knew him. Flowers had been… an oddity; someone Sarge considered an enemy most of the time. Before the Reds and Blues, and before Blood Gulch, all Sarge could remember was traveling a lot with little human interaction. He'd grown up that way, alone in the world of Minecraft because somebody didn't want him and decided 'Fuck it' and left him somewhere promising they'd be back. Then he'd met Uncle Boxer, a guy who always claimed to be his uncle and more or less raised him. Uncle Boxer… well, Sarge didn't like to talk about Uncle Boxer much. All anyone really knew was that the guy had done SOMETHING to Sarge as a kid and then had gotten killed. He used to wear blue apparently.

But back on the subject of Flowers. Sarge had met Flowers one day, a long time ago, before he'd found Blood Gulch. He'd gotten himself hurt real bad, was nearly dead when Flowers found him. In Minecraft, it's not all that unusual to kill off another Miner for their gear when they're damn near dead (Or perfectly fine), but Flowers… he'd saved Sarge, defended him through the rest of that night, swearing to keep him safe and get him home alive. Thing was, once Sarge was well again, he had no home to go back to. He'd never had a home really, no time for one, too much of his heart set on adventuring. Flowers though, he had just accepted it and offered for Sarge to travel with him. He'd accepted, begrudgingly, one part because Flowers seemed too nice, another part because Flowers wore a lot of blue.

Eventually, they found Blood Gulch and settled there. They took in strays, Sarge taking in Simmons and Grif when they showed up dripping with their own blood, Flowers one day carrying in a knocked out Tucker, and so on and so forth. One day, when the sun had been up high in the sky and the weather had been good, Flowers went into the ravine between the two bases. His team had warned him, claimed it was far too dangerous for a nice guy like him (Minecraft was no place for a nice guy), but Flowers, that damn bastard, he'd gone off and gotten killed down there. At least, he never came back up. They never found a body. Sarge had known him well, knew that Flowers talked about a man, before Sarge, a man named Wyoming who he'd had more than one tale about.

They'd been close, that much was painfully obvious, and for some reason, Sarge felt obliged to tell Wyoming he'd known Flowers. He'd heard them whispering, the Freelancers, about the classic team of Wyoming and Florida. Well, Florida sounded a lot like Flowers, and it wasn't long before Sarge knew, knew that it was Flowers all along. In the Nether, seemingly lost in some weird giant castle, Sarge felt it fitting to talk to Wyoming about the old Blue Team leader. After all, if Flowers's stories had been even the least bit true, that meant that he and Wyoming had been close, and not just the best friend kinda close either.

"Who in the bloody Hell are you talking about?" Wyoming asked, but part of him already knew, had anticipated this would come up at some point or another.

"Yer old buddy; Florida. 'R as I knew 'em, Captain Flowers. He was a… how do I put it? A piece of shit?" Sarge was, in all retrospect, trying to be nice (Keyword being trying), but it was hard for him. Unplanned programing against the color blue could do that to a man.

"Well, I won't deny he was a bit… flighty." Wyoming muttered back, leading Sarge down another long, almost taunting hallway. "But I do believe he was a kind man. Foolish, but kind."

"Yeah, you can say that again." Sarge agreed, remembering more than one incident caused by Flowers, usually because he felt sorry for a Mob while it tried to rip his bones out. "Crazy Blue bastard…"

"Did he, perhaps, ever mention… me?" Wyoming couldn't help but ask, a long history with Florida still somewhat fresh in his memory, never having been forgotten.

"Oh yeah! He mentioned ya like you were dead 'r somethin' similar." Sarge explained somewhat cheerfully, smiling more as he remembered his old companion. "Never could shut 'em up once he got goin' on 'bout ya, not to mention his adventurin'. Hell, he once tried to get me ta drink some 'a that damned tea. Swear to God it was poisoned…"

Wyoming actually laughed outright at this, trying to imagine Florida using those damned puppy-dog eyes on Sarge to convince him to drink tea. He remembered tea time with Florida, one of the few moments where the bastard could shut his mouth for more than five minutes. Those times had been peaceful, but now adays, will all the running around and adventures, Wyoming could hardly get in a cup of tea a day, much less savor it for very long. Part of him missed the way life used to be, before Washington went off and got himself damn near killed, back when everyone was more easy going and less focused on trying to battle monsters. Life had been good back then… but those days were long gone. The Freelancers had gotten an addiction to the thrill promised by limited-lives, and addiction is a hard habit to break.

"Seems you didn't trust my partner much. Not one bit!" Wyoming pointed out, finding it hard not to smile as he talked with Sarge. For some reason, he couldn't help feeling good again. The kind of good only Florida ever caused.

"How was I supposed ta!?" Sarge asked, animating his anger as he flailed his arms somewhat hysterically while speaking. "Man was as sketchy as an unfinished cave paintin'!"

Will all of their laughing and carrying on, they hardly noticed where they were going, before Sarge and Wyoming found themselves in a medium sized room, with only a Monster Spawner in the middle of the room. The two men went silent as soon as they entered, a sudden wave of uneasiness filling the air. It was eerily calm in the Nether Brick built room of the castle, and both Wyoming and Sarge could feel eyes watching them, waiting for movement, but when they searched for the owners of the eyes, all they could look to was that tiny, little, Monster Spawner. They swallowed nervous in unison, sharing a look before Sarge, the braver and more life-holding of the two, slowly crept towards the Spawner.

They were dead silent, neither making a sound nor speaking as Sarge came closer and closer to the Spawner, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he held his beloved Iron Sword close to his chest, ready to swing at the slightest hint of a spawn. Finally, Sarge could tiptoe no longer, inches away from the Monster Spawner with nowhere to run. He could actually run, but both he and Wyoming feared it would trigger a spawn. As seconds ticked by, the men only grew more frightful, until finally, Sarge could take no more, and slashed at the Monster Spawner with all his might. The sword made a loud 'Crack' as it hit the metal box, and panic-driven adrenaline drove Sarge to continuously hit the Spawner until he couldn't swing anymore.

The box was in pieces, completely wrecked beyond repair. Just as Wyoming and Sarge let out a sigh of relief, a trapdoor under the remains of the box opened, swallowing up the results of Sarge's handiwork. In it's place, a new, perfectly fine Monster Spawner took it's place; a big 'Fuck You' from the Nether. Sarge and Wyoming stared at it, both unable to speak, until an orange/red Blaze appeared from the box, staring at Sarge. No one moved, the Blaze and Sarge seemingly sharing a deep, Mob to Miner moment that was cinematic worthy. But of course, nature is nature and monsters are assholes, so a one minute time-skip led to Wyoming and Sarge screaming bloody murder while running from six to seven Blazes. Karma maybe played a role in this, but Wyoming and Sarge were too busy to dwell on the hypothesis.

"The fuck was that?" South asked, eyebrow raised as extremely loud and terrified screaming entered the air, sounding far away yet very distressed.

"Old men not understanding Mobs." Tex promised, unaffected by the screams for some reason, despite the obvious fear in them. "Come on, I think we're almost to the Nether Castle."

South paused, giving Tex a questioning stare. "Wait, what the fuck is a 'Nether Castle'?" She inquired, taking a moment to rest on a netherrack block.

Tex groaned, taking a seat adjacent from South's own. "Didn't you listen to a word I said last night? Whatever. Look, the Nether Castle is supposedly this huge fuck-off structure in the middle of the Nether that, I dunno, might have treasure in it. I'm a bit sketchy on the details. Point is, the Nether has some rare-ass shit and we're looking for it."

"Why are we even here anyhow?" South finally asked, her question pointed towards the top of the Nether caverns. "Are we just some kinda ass-wipes, swirling around in a poorly washed toilet overflowing with shit-water, or is there really a God, watching over all our asses and shit? Also, what are we even doing here? What's the damn point? Bragging rights?"

"Um… I guess?" Tex offered up, not knowing how exactly to respond to South's sudden outburst, much less her odd description of life.

"Who're we gonna fucking brag to anyhow? Ourselves? 'Guess what North' 'What little ass-wipe' 'I went to the fucking Nether' 'No way me too' 'I fucking know you stupid shit'! South continued, seemingly entering a conversation with her imaginary image of North, to which Tex used as evidence that the heat was getting to herself and probably South.

"Uh… maybe we should keep going, kid." Tex admitted, glancing every few seconds over her shoulder, towards where they'd been heading earlier. "Who knows what's trying to eat our asses out here."

"And another thing! The shit kinda Mobs are down here? First we saw those fucking orange, floating freeze-pop things, then the flying marshmallow shits with tentacles for legs, and then we met those pig-zombie cross-bred bastards with the butter swords! I swear to God, Jesus decided to just take a giant shit in the Nether and call it a child. Well FUCK the Nether!" South shouted, ignoring Tex completely.

Tex simply stared, unable to describe just what she was feeling towards South. ninety-nine percent of her was seconds away from chopping South's head off, while the other one percent almost wanted to kiss her. Almost. South looked a little young for her, or old, Tex wasn't really sure. As Tex silently wondered if it was socially acceptable to both marry and murder South Dakota, a loud boom erupted behind South, making the twin swing around like God had finally fallen from Heaven to deliver her a fist-bump. There was no fist-bump though, to everyone's disappointment, only the small, lazer red eyes of a massive sized Ghast, staring into South's very soul. The girl gulped, backing up a step.

"Um… yo." South managed, her voice losing it's usual flare and sass, revealing her slightly more nervous tendencies behind the wall of vulgar language she'd built up over the years. "How's it hanging, man?"

"South…" Tex said slowly, since the slightest of loud noises could trigger a fireball, creeping towards the younger twin, her hand outstretched to make up the distance. "Grab my hand and run. Now."

South couldn't move, the Ghast slowly opening it's mouth, ready to fire. Tex grabbed South in a blur, shoving her harshly out of the way of the Ghast, the fireball blasting like a firework upon Tex's back. The woman screamed, the burn intense and unyielding before she fell to her knees, back badly burned and smoking still. South didn't hesitate, scooping Tex into her arms (Tex was surprisingly much shorter and smaller than South) and running as far away from the Ghast as possible, hoping against hope that she could outrun the Mob. Just as South was getting some distance, the Ghast smacked down in front of her, a very rare thing for a Ghast to do, something that puzzled South (She'd had very little interaction with them thus far, but it was pretty obvious that they liked space between themselves and a target).

"Freckles! No! Bad boy! That is not good!" Caboose scolded, appearing from where he'd been holding onto the back of the Ghast's body, poking his head down from his pet's head to gaze down at South and Tex. "Oh my Gosh! It is Miss East and Tex! Hello Miss East and Tex!" He waved down at the two women.

"Caboose!?" South asked, absolutely amazed that the young man had found her. "The fuck are you doing here!? And why the Hell did you shoot Tex? Like, I know she's a bitch and all, but seriously. The fuck, man?"

"I did not do that! Freckles did it!" Caboose explained, referring to the giant beast of a Ghast he rode upon. "He is my friend, and I love him very much. Do you want to fly around the world with us?"

"Um… I'm good." South replied, adjusting her hold on Tex slightly. "Hey, wait! You got any healing potions? Your fucking pet burned Tex like a marshmallow… guess it wanted a friend. It has shitty taste."

"Oh no… I do not, Miss East…" Caboose sounded apologetic, drumming his fingers on his pet Ghast's head to a song stuck in his head, as if it would make him feel better. "I am very sorry. So is Freckles. He is very sorry too."

No matter how much South tried, part of her just couldn't stay angry with Caboose, though, her worries were still with Tex, who had passed out not long after the fireball exploded on her back. "Okay, look, I need you to take me to Doc then, okay? He brought a lot of potions with him! Can you do that, buddy? Can you fly us to Doc and help Tex?"

Caboose nodded, grinning with delight. "Yes! I can do that! Do not worry, Miss East. I will not let Freckles drop you, and I will be super helpful!"

South smiled a bit, relieved that Tex at least had a chance at survival. "Thanks, buddy. Hey, where's North by the way? Wasn't he paired with you before he left?"

"Um…" Caboose seemed to consider his reply as he helped South to climb on top of Freckles, helping get Tex's unconscious body settled on the Ghast. "I do not know where Mister West went. He was there, and then he was not. I was confused, but then I found Freckles, and he is now my friend!"

That worried South, but again, most of her concerns were with Tex at the moment for obvious reasons. "We'll need to find my dumbass brother later then. Fucking idiot, probably fell off a cliff-" She stopped, the idea of her twin falling into lava not exactly a great thought to dwell on. "… I think he'll be fine." She decided, swallowing around a lump in her throat. "Let's think positive here."

"That is a good idea." Caboose agreed, using two ropes to steer Freckles in the direction he believed Doc and York might be, giving Freckles a light pat on the head to get him hovering towards the island. "We will save Tex, Miss East. Do not be scared."

"I'm never scared." South lied, glaring at Caboose, though she held on for dear life around the Blue's torso, not wanting to slip off of the Ghast and fall into the lava lake below.

"Everyone is scared sometimes, Miss East." Caboose explained, giving South an almost sorry look, as if he was afraid that she didn't know this. "It is not bad to be afraid, because we have friends and friends make things a lot less scary, even scary ladies that are very strong. Friends can make those scary ladies nice. So you can be scared, Miss East, because I am your friend and I will try to not make you as scared when you should be happy."

South, after hearing Caboose's explanation, couldn't help but smile a little, sighing in both exasperation and acceptance as she relaxed around Caboose, enjoying in secret the physical contact the Blue brought. "I guess you're right, kid. You know, you're pretty smart for a dumbass. You're not like other assholes, who always have a bunch of bullshit reasons about crap. That's why I like you, Caboose. Either you don't give a shit, or you'll do it anyways."

Caboose just nodded, though it was obvious he hadn't understood half of the dialogue. "Yes, well, I do not know what that means but I am okay with that."

"Yeah… me too." South agreed, deciding to watch Tex for the rest of the flight, silently wondering if they could really save her.

A/N: Like I said, a lot of Nether adventuring this chapter, and the next should be the same, with maybe a scene from Blood Gulch or two to see how Tucker and Wash are fairing on their own. Please R&R, and have an awesome day! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Happy Valentines Day!

~Supercasey.