viewer smp character lore angst

Panic's Grand Finale

They were finishing up the construction of the barn. A few more light touches and some cobblestone was all they needed to be satisfied. They would move the farm animals to the spruce pens, and they did.

Masquerade gazed up at his creation and smiled. Panic walked up behind him. They glanced at each other, smiled, and started laughing and wooping in seemingly unimportant celebratory yells. They didn't have much, and they didn't need much to be happy. They were building an empire of their own, together. It's all they could ever dream of.

They made their way through the nether portals and back to the main land. Masquerade took care of his shop and Panic picked flowers the color of peace. Waffle was in the local spawn, hanging out with all of the regulars. It was peaceful. It was good. It was too good.

It was the last happy day.

Masquerade couldn't remember much, It happened in the flash of an eye. Waffle joked about demanding war. He thought he were joking, at least.

Then the first explosion started. TNT, planted underneath all of spawn. He didn't know what to think. Waffle laughed and howled at the destruction, but Masquerade was mortified. Their spawn- their creation- their community.
It wouldn't get worse. They would rebuild and keep moving on, right? They-Masquerade would help Panic chop trees, Jazz would pick flowers and he would water the plants in his shop. They would keep building their empire. Together. Right?

Before he knew it Masquerade had several stacks of TNT and fire in his hand.

A boom could be heard from far away.

His world was on fire, and the burning wouldn't stop.

The only thing Masquerade could do was hold their jaw open, agape. What would happen to him? How- Who was-

Another boom, closer now.

Masquerade could only form one coherent word in his head as he struggled to grasp what was happening.

Panic. Panic. Panic . Panic.

Masquerade ran to spawn. One breath and his lungs were filled with ash, but he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. His legs were looking for one person.
It felt like days in the smoke and fire, booms constantly defeaning his already ringing ears. He would collapse with the smoke any moment. And then he saw a head of dark, rich brown hair lying down.

He sprinted.

When he reached it, he could barely stand. He couldn't breath. It was okay, he only had to get panic through the nether-
There was no movement from the tore body that was attached to that head of hair.

Panic was laying down, sprawled out. The sound of any other explosion or crackling fire or laughter or scream was drowned out. Slowly, he kneeled next to the body that lay before him, blue cornflowers with ash covered tips blooming around him, and reached out a single, shaking hand.

——

Panic used to get bullied at the orphanage. A lot. It wasn't news that it wasn't just verbal, either. Masquerade knew first aid. His mother-

His mother? He had a mother? It seemed like so long ago-

-taught him how to clean and wrap wounds.

"ouch." Panic hissed, "Emmy- Emmy that stings- owww!" he struggled to pull his arm away since Masquerade had already had a firm grip on it in advance.
"If you close your eyes, it'll be over faster, okay? It just- it'll get infected-" masquerade struggled to speak as he was focusing entirely on making sure he was doing this properly.

Sun poured down from brightly colored leaves. One landed on Masquerade's shoulder, and he barely noticed. He spoke comforting words as he wrapped the bandage on the bleeding scratch.
Now he wishes they could stay like that forever. Both of them, immortalized in golden light. Warm, and okay. They were okay. They should have been okay- what happened? what happened- where is he? Where-

——

He didn't need to touch Panic to know that he was cold, but the touch of his ice cold skin nearly made Masquerade scream anyway. He bore through it, barley noticing the way he almost couldn't breath through his ash infested nose. He cradled Panic to his chest, the same way he would as they leaned against the park fence together as mere children, masquerade whispering reassurances over and over like a prayer to heal them.

They were no longer children, but still so, so small- so young. They could have been more. They should have been so much more.

Masquerade whispered comforting words to Panic, the same words that he spoke so many years ago, in an empire so corrupt but so far back that they knew close to nothing.

This time, Panic did not smile. Panic did not look up at Masquerade and joke about the bullying, and Masquerade did not tell him off.

Panic was dead.

"You'll be alright. It's me, it's Emmy. Your Emmy. I'm right here, they're gone. You'll be alright. We're always going to be okay."

The last word stung like a thousand knives digging into his skin. He struggled to speak a again, smoke filling his mouth with a nasty taste as an explosion sounded from far away.

"We're always going to be okay. We're always going to be okay. We're always going to be okay. Me and you-"

—

Masquerade broke down. With his heaving chest, with his blood covered, numb, shaky fingertips, with his breath infested with the smell of destruction and hearts breaking from far away, with his eyes- white and empty but could see all the colorful joys of his short cut life.

It was theirs. Panic and Mas, Mas and Panic.