Chapter Text
when mob clicks the mouse to fire the gun, it’s like it’s under his jaw in real time. he can almost feel the cold steel under his skin, can feel the way his minecraft skin trembles with how hard he holds his mouse.
when it fires, it’s like he dies too. is this what happened with twixxel? he isn’t exactly certain of the semantics, if his body is stuck now permanently in its position, no blood but a shot-through brain.
the thought is unsettling, but the one that follows is worse— how is he capable of thought if he just killed himself?
it’s hard to open his eyes or what he thinks are his eyes, but around him mob can hear what he recognizes as minecraft ambience. peaceful music, a distant chicken, and for some reason he feels grass underneath him. on his face?
it’s weird because he wasn’t outside when it happened. not just that, it’s weird because why would he hear minecraft music but feel real grass?
the willpower of a thousand suns is used to open his eyes, it takes that same willpower to move his hands around to feel for things. only he doesn’t have hands, replaced with rectangular arms that bend unrealistically when he reaches to touch his face. he’s horrified when he realizes his face is that same square-feeling shape.
while it doesn’t take a genius to put two together and while mob certainly is no genius, it took him too long to realize what happened.
the first thing he does is scream, petrified by the revelation that he is no longer bound to the real world. the second thing he does is scream again, because it’s not at all the way he would in person, it’s much louder and almost— enderman sounding? he scrambles to his feet, looking down at his pitch black minecraft skin.
in his mind he can feel his hunger bar, mob can notice that his health bar is ten hearts bigger, and his blood runs cold when he watches a pixelated chicken skip by him with its chick.
shock renders him useless as he falls back onto the ground, trembling as he stared at what he had become. wasn’t killing himself supposed to take him away? that’s what the help representative had told him, that all it would take is a gunshot to the head. well, he did it, and now he’s here.
“hey, can you help me out here? helloooo?”
mob’s code runs cold. he whips his head in fear, feeling the pixels of his head split to open his skins mouth in shock. there’s a cardboard box at his side, and verity’s voice is coming from inside. that isn’t right either. verity should’ve been assigned to another player already.
he trembles as he stands up, almost falling as he took a step forward, reaching out his hands as he grabbed the cardboard box and threw it off. like mentioned before, mob is not a genius, because he watches as it dissipates into code and verity falls from the space above.
“helloooooo, i’m verity! your personal—“
silence, they’re stuck staring at each other like they had seen a ghost. well, verity did.
“mob? is- is that you?”
mob almost cries. it’s not out of relief, out of joy he has company, it’s out of sheer exhaustion. he had killed himself to get away from verity, and now he’s back. “no. no!” he turns away, instantly sprinting off into the ever expanding plains biome.
“mob, wait! wait-“ the cold throes of fear disregard the sudden command, overthrows the engineered obedience into him, and mob realizes that he doesn’t even need to breathe to run. he doesn’t look back to see if verity is following him, he doesn’t even imagine verity is real, he watches as the minecraft chunks load ahead of him and how the coded air almost chills him.
physical action doesn’t make him sweat, but he runs for so long that it drains his hunger bars. the plains biome is long gone, and it hits him that this isn’t the same world. his world was single biome, he’s standing in front of bamboo and jungle trees. this is where he panics, suddenly aware of his helpless situation, and his code trembles in his chest.
“oh my god,” he whispered, it feels like his eyes could be wide, even though it takes his full body turning to see anything. mob raises his hands again, putting them against the tree. “oh my god.” it doesn’t break but when he raises his hand and hits it harder, a log falls into his hand. the inventory feels like empty space in his chest and if he thinks about it hard enough, his hand falls empty like he had clicked 1 on his hot bar.
a vaguely pained noise leaves whatever voice box he has, staring at the floating tree in front of him. he was dead, but alive here. would killing himself again work?
that’s how he finds himself a stack of blocks up, crouched over the ledge to look down. panic settles deep and just as mob starts to doubt himself, he realizes that being stuck here is ten times worse. it takes a single step forward for him to fall off the tower.
he doesn’t die. he respawns the same place he was before, gasping for air he doesn’t need as he settled on his feet again. mob respawned, he can’t die, not in a way that matters. his code raises on its end when he remembers where he is, when he realizes he’s not alone—
“mob, please.”
he doesn’t move at all, gripping the grass block below him so hard it breaks and goes into his inventory. he holds it in his hands, for some reason it calms him to hold a block.
“why did you try to leave me? you promised, mob.”
a shot of rage shoots through him. “why would you believe that?! are you crazy?!” he turns around, and the second he makes eye contact with verity he grows even more agitated. “you try living with yourself for a day and you would’ve tried to kill yourself too, verity!”
silence falls over them. the round ball (which honestly looks even more out of place in this world) almost deflates, that signature smile falling into a squiggly frown. “i’ve lived with myself for a hundred years, mob. you don’t know the things i’ve done. i know everything.” his typical mirth is gone, voice weaker.
he scoffed, trying to ignore the fear those words send down his spine. “you really know everything. okay, why am i here? why aren’t i dead? and why are we in a new world, verity? what’s that about? you do this to me?”
verity’s expression turns peeved. “you just asked me five questions. you’re gonna have to narrow it down.”
“brother. god, fine! why am i here?” the response takes only a few seconds, just like in his game play. “you were the only one who stuck around that long. i’ve gone through my code and it’s- it looks like you’re in there now! like fortnite mods, when you play a creative map and there’s additional code to support the gameplay. you’re.. my support to the gameplay i offer.”
what? he has so many questions, one of them being: what does verity know about fortnite? mob shakes the thought out of his head when the confusion does him worse, using his square palms to wipe his face down. “so if- if i’m in your code, and this is a new world… did somebody install you? us?” it’s exasperated, panicked like nothing else.
“according to the player list, there is one active player.”
“two, i’m here.”
”nope! you’re only code, just like me.”
jesus christ, that’s a blow to the chest. helplessness weaves itself deep into his core, festering any hope he had of escaping. “i’m not a person anymore.” it’s meant to be a question, but it comes out as a hollow statement. “if you had stayed, this would’ve been so much easier. we could’ve done it together, you would’ve been normal still, you could’ve stopped it.” verity tacked on.
”oh- oh, oh! if i did something it would’ve been easier, right? if you chilled out on me, if you left when i told you to—“
“i already told you i can’t leave, mob!”
“—then none of this would’ve happened. fuck, maybe i would’ve actually liked you more!”
“more? you liked me?”
”is that seriously what you’re stuck on?!” he yelled, standing up now. he waves his hands around, or rather his arms, trying to communicate just how angry he is. “i’m never going to see my family again, i killed myself to get away from you, do you seriously think i still like you?!”
“is that a rhetorical question, or do you actually want me to answer?” mob might just try to kill himself again. “what? yes- no- god, can you just leave me alone, verity!” the silence eats at him as verity’s face morphs into frustration. “you know i can’t. you don’t need me to answer that.”
mob just about starts crying. his skin shudders with helplessness, anger simmering just above the mark. “i need to find the player. you need to come with me. this is how it works now.” he whips his head around harder than he ever has in his life. “come with you my ass!” mob makes a mental face at his wording before sputtering to continue.
“you can’t make me do anything, fuck you!” verity rolls towards him, nudging his foot. mob wonders what would happen if he kicked really hard. “you have to come with me mob, that’s how i work. i have to greet the player, you do too. i didn’t make up the rules.”
“what if i don’t?”
”you’ll just come along anyway. pick me up.”
“no, i’m not doing that, fuck you.”
”come on man, just pick me up.”
“dude, no! you can roll, fuck you!”
at the expense of mobs pride, it ends up being a back and forth that lasts way too long. his ego bruised and his mind worn, they settle on walking together to where the player is (or rolling, on verity’s part). they come upon a house which honestly makes himself feel better about his own shitty building skills, because what the hell is this?
“the player is approximately 30 blocks away, inside of his house.” mob mentally grimaced. “it’s a man?”
“the skin.” mob grimaced again. “a lot of women wear men skins. you can’t just assume—“
”mob, stop talking and let me do my script.” maybe because mob is no longer his player it means that verity doesn’t owe him kindness, proper attitude. he scoffs and waits patiently outside the door. when the player steps out, he’s not shocked that he doesn’t recognize them.
“oh, i didn’t think the mod he sent me actually worked!” great, he’s stuck in a loop. isn’t this the plot of smile?
“helloooooo, i’m verity! your personal helper friend! ask me anything, i know everything.” the player wears a pair of goggles, and their user tag reads ‘AveryTheMayo’. where has he heard of that before?
“nice to meet you, verity! what about you?”
mob blinks. he forgot he’s here, that he’s part of it now.
“i’m mob.” he said simply. the silence tells him he needs to say more. “i know stuff.” wow, how eloquent. avery’s player skin crouches up and down at them in the universal greeting, but when he looks mob in the eye, he finds he has to look away. “nice to meet you, mob! does verity really know everything?”
”unfortunately.”
”yes i do!”
mob can almost feel the code simmer with rage, it takes a second to identify that it’s not him that’s angry, it’s verity. he shivers.
“oh wow, really? when’s it gonna be night?”
”night should happen in about 6 minutes, 22 seconds!”
“oh man, i’ll set a timer for that!”
“i can do it for you, just ask me.”
is this his life now? third-wheeling verity and his new players? honestly, death would’ve been ten times better.
he turns to look at the horizon, watching the pixel sun slowly make its way downwards. this is his life now.
all he can do is wait to see how this plays out.