MCYT RANDOMNESS 2

Abandoned? Pt 4

Tw: needles

Scar's PoV

It's been over 50 days.

I'm starving, exhausted, numb with pain and utterly hopeless. The Hermits aren't coming to save me. They never were, they never will. Every time I make the mistake of sleeping, I have nightmares of being killed, or I kill someone, or I'm surrounded by people shouting and hurting me, and wake more tired than when I started. There's no food, and nothing I plant grows in the frozen ground. I think I caught mild hypothermia at one point, but didn't die.

That's not how it works.

So I wander the world aimlessly, alone. I wonder whether Hermitcraft Season 10 started. Surely it has by now. They would've known something was wrong then, if they didn't already. But Cub must've known this whole time. And he hasn't helped.

A flash of light.

I stumble back as a group of masked figures appear, dressed in black and green. Armed.

'Who... who...' The words are harsh, my voice unused in so long.

'Come with us.'

One grabs me and my nightmares return. I don't know these people. I don't know where we're going. I'm not given time to ask, just pulled from the world to find even more masked players.

'He's hurt.' One realises, holding up my bleeding arm. Another tears off my cloak, my only warmth. 'What's your name? Hey, what's your name?' The room's blinding, I can't see properly. Someone keeps hold of my shirt, stopping me from moving. Someone else holds a light right in front of one eye, then the other, saying, 'They're changing colour, look. They were red, now they're not.' There's a yell to 'lift you leg! Lift it! Hey, lift it!', as another asks. 'That world had Watchers, right? Did you see them? What were they like what did they do? What was the statue?' My leg's forced up, one boot removed, then the other. 'Holy shit, that's a lot of blood.' Another mutters. 'He must've done this to himself.' Says another. Something's held to my arm, stinging. I can't see how many people there are, asking questions, touching me, hurting me, taking my stuff. I try to fight, but more and more arrive, their grip tightening.

'Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go...' I plead. 'Let me go...'

'Vexling.' One realises. 'Shit. Someone stop him doing magic. I think it's bedrock they can't faze through.' Bedrock. Dangerous. Poisonous to Vexlings. I'm dragged forwards again, struggling to free myself from all these people hurting me. Just like my nightmares. Except I knew the people there, the place, their intentions. I can't breathe. I want to scream, run and hide, and be back in Secret Life because then I knew what was happening, where I was. There are too many people and I don't know them, or what they want, or why they're here.

'Let me go- please- let me go...' Something's clamped to my leg. There are still so many people holding onto me, their hands tight around my arms, my shoulders, my shirt, as I keep struggling and protesting. 'Let me go... let me go, take me back. Let me go...' My chest burns with terror, I can't breathe, as I'm dragged into a tiny room with just a bed and a table of sharp instruments. I remember stories of conscious Vexlings being experimented on, struggling harder. Their grip tightens.

'It will be better for everyone if you stay calm and cooperate.' A player already in the room says. There's a needle in their hand

'No- no-' I'm forced onto the bed, hands tied behind me. 'Let me go. Take me back. Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me please...'

'We won't have to if you obey.'

'Let me go- just let me go...' I start sobbing. 'Let me go back.'

'You don't want to go back. You're safe here. We're here to help.' One of the players holds my head back, exposing my neck. I can't move. 'This will only sting for a second.'

'No- no- don't- let me go, let me go-' The needle touches my neck.

Panic takes over.

The player holding my head screams as I bite their hand, letting go. I faze free of the bed, shove the player with the needle, and run for my life.

'GET HIM!' Someone yells as I stumble into the hallway. It fills with people, there's a sudden force behind and I crash to the ground, pinned by someone snarling 'I've got him! He can't escape!'

'LET ME GO, LET ME GO, JUST PLEASE LET ME GO!' I scream, clawing for freedom. Tears run down my cheeks. Everything hurts. My heart hammers through my brain as it recalls nightmare after nightmare where this ends in being tortured or killed. 'PLEASE!'

'I told you to calm down.' The player with the needle speaks, furious. 'Now stop fighting.' They crouch next to me as I continue kicking and clawing for escape. 'We are here to help.'

'No- no you're not I want to go back I want to go back.' I repeat. 'Let me go, just let me go...'

'HEY!'

Another voice. One I recognise.

Martyn.

'What the fuck are you doing?! Get off him! Get away from him, all of you!'

'You know them?' The player with the needle questions.

'That's Scar! Life Series Scar! Let him go and stop this bulls***!'

The players back down, the bedrock around my ankle is removed and I'm left shaking on the ground. Martyn crouches next to me, holding out a hand.

'Here. The Hermits have been worried sick.' I take it and stand. I can't speak. My heart still races. The dull agony remains. All I want is to be alone, back in Secret Life, where everything made sense. 'I'm so sorry... I never thought they'd... Notch, are you... what am I talking about, of course you're not ok. Come on, there's a portal to Hermitcraft... ah, here we go...' Martyn, an arm still around my shoulder, leads me into a new room. I remember carrying his dead body over to the graveyard, an arrow through his skull. There's a portal ahead of us that Martyn helps me through, into another world.