Tainted and Warped

ONE

Tommy started his dad's computer up, the whirring sound that usually meant excitement for the boy spelling out dread. He tapped the desk impatiently, making a compulsive pattern with his fingers– first pointer, then pointer and middle, then pointer, middle, and ring, then all four, then the process backward.

Finally, the computer started and he hovered over the Minecraft logo. He swallowed and clicked, the system updating.

Ever since he got banned from Digitizer in March after stopping Entity303, his dad locked up the basement, forbidding anyone (but really mostly Tommy) from going down there without permission.

But not anymore. It was July 29th now– just two days after Tommy's 16th birthday– and his dad decided that he was responsible enough now to keep the basement open, only after giving him a long lecture about trust being a privilege.

Now, his dad was gone on another business trip, his mom was pulling long hours at the school prepping everything for the new year, and Jenny was out hanging out with her friends, as she was so often now. And so Tommy was left alone, like usual, breaking his dad's trust in him yet again.

Despite that, Minecraft loaded in and he signed into his account, inevitably clicking on the only server that mattered.

He took a deep breath as it loaded in. Everything would be fine, he was sure of it. He just had to make sure. He had to know his dreams of horrific monsters and painful deaths were just that– dreams. That he was just crazy and everything was fine.

The server loaded in. From an outside glance, everything looked normal. Tommy knew better than to expect that to be true from the inside. But that wasn't true this time! Everything was normal. He just had to check.

He rolled his chair over to the digitizer, blowing dust off the top and flicking switches just right. He wasn't going to mess up any settings. Not again.

He rolled back to the computer, his hand shaking over the startup switch.

I don't want to do this.

He flipped the switch.

Buzzing started and Tommy's breath hitched in his chest. The light hit him in the chest and he felt his head slam against the table (he didn't deserve a pillow) before everything doubled, then faded out.

The sun was bright in his face the next time he opened his eyes.

Gameknight999, the User-that-is-not-a-user, was back. He stood up, surveying the landscape. It all looked right.

That doesn't mean anything.

Huffing, he made his way over to his hidey-hole. It was morning so, realistically, he would have been fine going empty-handed to the village, but he didn't want to take any chances.

The hidey-hole was all set up the way it was supposed to be. All evidence pointed to nothing being wrong. He wished his body knew that, too. He took a deep, shaky breath before putting on the spare iron armor and collecting the items into his inventory: sword, bread, pickaxe, and torches.

He hated how constricting the armor felt. He couldn't move and he couldn't see. Some part of him missed the Icorium armor from his last adventure.

Don't think about that. It doesn't matter, it's over. No one even knows it happened. There was no point in wishing for modded armor. It wasn't worth it.

He shook himself off, sparing a glance over his shoulder. Nothing there, of course. He broke the dirt blocks, stepping out into the bright (safe) sun. He walked for a little bit, but soon became restless and broke into a swift jog.

Running feels better than it used to, he thought. He picked up running since the last time he was in Minecraft, just to have a hobby that wasn't playing video games or saving worlds no one knows about. And because I'm too restless to stay still.

In no time, he was in the strip of forest, then atop the hill overlooking the village. It looked normal– like it should. There were some guards on the walls, but only a few, and they were wearing light armor. The wind shifted, and he heard laughing and chatter from within the safe walls. Laughing and screaming could sound so similar.

He looked over his shoulder for about the twentieth time. Everything is fine, everything is normal, everything is peaceful now.

If he kept repeating that to himself, he would start to believe it.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for (bad news) meeting his friends again, and he took the plunge, running down the hill and waving.

In an instant, the walls were alive. Gameknight couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but it was probably spreading the news that the User-that-is-not-a-user was back. Or there's something behind me coming to kill us all.

He walked through the gates, and his highest hopes were confirmed. There was Digger, barely restraining his two (both alive) kids from tackling Gameknight. Hunter and Stitcher, grinning with their matching hair and their matching bows and their very not matching personalities. Herder, looking up at Gameknight with those eyes that idolized him. So much more than I deserve. And, of course, Crafter, beaming as he walked forward.

"It has been so long, Gameknight." The old man reached out for a hug. Gameknight obliged. "What brings you here?"

"Just visiting," he lied. Is everything okay? "I know it's been a while."

"Yeah, it has." Hunter scowled. He stuck his tongue out at her. She copied him right back.

"Well, that's certainly a better case than usual." Crafter spread his arms out, facing the community. "The User-that-is-not-a-user has returned!"

Everyone cheered.

Gameknight raised his sword to the sky, having successfully rallied the villagers to his cause. Herobrine was done for– he was going to make sure of it. No matter how afraid he was, he was going to fight against that dragon.

There was a tug on his sleeve. The moment disappeared.

"Gameknight?" Crafter asked, concern showing on his face.

"Ahhh... sorry, just tired." He forced a grin onto his face. Everything is okay. Herobrine is gone. "What did you say?"

Crafter just gestured to Gameknight's right. He turned just in time to see Herder before the boy barrelled into him, hugging him.

"Whoa, Herder, relax!" he laughed to cover up his fear. "What's up?"

"Do you wanna come look at the wolf pups? They were born just a few days ago."

"Yeah, of course!" he smiled. He could handle wolf pups. There was nothing about wolf pups that reminded him of letting the world get ripped apart and watching all my friends die.

He walked with Herder over to the hutches where the wolves lived. For some reason, the silence was awkward.

"How's school?" Gameknight asked, then paused. That was stupid. "Wait, do you do school?"

"Not really," Herder shrugged. "I mean, I know the basics of everything, but I don't need to go more in-depth. I have my animals."

"Of course," Gameknight laughed. Something is wrong. "Do you need help with anything?"

Herder thought for a while, swinging open the gate into the dim wolf hutch. "You can help feed the horses or the pigs."

The pig glared up at Gameknight, oinking angrily as it tugged Crafter off the edge. This time, Gameknight wasn't fast enough to catch him. The white eyes were all he saw as his friend fell to his death.

"I'll feed the horses."