Chapter Text
The Session has ended and Cleo has gone to sleep for a bit, leaving Martyn to do whatever he wants with his time.
He thinks it’s about time for some answers.
Whispering a message to Scar, Martyn proceeds to make his way to the nearest corner of the map. He thinks it’s the southernmost one? He specifically told Scar to head for the one to the right of the Pokéball, so hopefully that works.
It takes him about an hour and a half to walk there, which is when he pauses to take in his surroundings–some spruce forest and a hill obscuring him from prying eyes. It’s probably the best cover he’s going to get, and he won’t complain. It’s still nighttime(and will be for a few more hours) and Scar has a longer walk than he does, so he busies himself with making the area safer and killing any mobs that stray too close. He could always use the extra gunpowder, after all. Does Scar know about Them? Martyn would never have guessed, to be honest. Either he hides it incredibly well, or this is a recent development. Actually, maybe it’s both. He said he was ‘still stuck in Secret Life’, but Grian didn’t act as though he’d not seen the brunet in a year. None of them did; they acted like everything was normal–like he’d died and made it out like the rest of them. Martyn remembers having died in Limited Life. His time ran out, he felt the sweeping rush of icy cold as the air left his lungs, and he collapsed into the sea and black. Everyone died. Joel killed himself using Ender Pearls, Scott killed himself and since Pearl was Soulbound to him for Double Life, she died as well, albeit still claiming the win. Scott was killed by Grian using Admin commands, and Grian threw himself off of Monopoly Mountain. Scar…
He doesn’t remember how Scar died.
Martyn slows, beginning to rack his brain for the memory. It’s like his lack of memory around what happened to Grian at the end of Evo. He’s wondered about it for quite some time, but never found an answer that felt right. Scar killed Pearl, was informed of his win, and went to press the success button.
He doesn’t remember anything after that.
Did he just assume the button killed him? A thing Grian added for whoever won? Maybe. Probably. It sounds(sounded?) plausible enough, but not anymore. Not if Scar’s saying otherwise.
Speaking of, he hears approaching footsteps.
Scar has just crested the top of the hill, scanning around before picking his way down the slope towards Martyn. His eyes still hold that weird, subtle but unmistakable sort of glow, and being outside the reach of the torchlight makes it feel more prominent. It sets the Lifer on edge, it always has–even all the way back in Third Life where he assumed it was just how Red Life Scar was. “Hey.” He greets, joining Martyn in the middle of the lit up space. “You made it over alright? Teammates didn’t give you any trouble?” Martyn inquires, and Scar nods cheerfully. There’s a small, fresh cut along his cheek, and multiple holes in his jacket(although those may be older). “Yep! No trouble at all! And as for mobs, I made it in one piece.” The man chuckles, then straightens back up again to eye him with seriousness. “I’m…assuming this is about the, uh, the world-pausy thingy?” He asks, lowering his voice. This time, it’s Martyn’s turn to nod. “Alright.” Scar sits himself down on the ground, and after a moment, the blond slowly follows suit. Scar motions for the blond to start, so he does. “I wanna start with you pulling me back. How much of that did you see? How long were you watching before you came to stop me?” Martyn queries. What did you hear? Scar shrugs a little, letting his hands fall into his lap. “Not much, honestly. I saw you starting to walk towards the edge, and it…felt wrong to me, somehow. I couldn’t see your face really well, but…I don’t know. Anyway, once I realized what you were doing, I threw an Ender Pearl and managed to reach you in time.” He recounts, pausing to stifle a yawn near the end. Martyn nods sharply, then continues with his next question. “Alright. Now, can you tell me why you weren’t frozen like everyone else?”
Scar dips his head, moving to look at the ground for a moment. “I told you I was still in Secret Life, right? Yes, I did that. Okay. So I’m…this isn’t something I’ve had to explain to anyone before, honestly. Um…so I never left the World. Yeah, let’s start there. And I know I’m here now in front of you, all alive and capable of dying and all, but I’m not…entirely here. I’m kinda like a possessed puppet, actually. Some kinda ghosty thing. I’m fairly certain that’s the most likely explanation.” He replies, and Martyn ‘hm’s thoughtfully. “Does–how come Grian doesn’t seem upset about it? I’d have assumed he would be working tirelessly to fix that for you.” He wonders. As Admin of the Server, Grian has sole, unchallenged access to the Code, the system that keeps their World stable and prevents the people in it from dissolving and destroying themselves or glitching out. He can alter and rewrite it however he sees fit, and surely if Scar isn’t truly here, it’d show up and Grian could correct it. “No. I, um, I asked him already last Season. Not directly, but I got bit by a Vex and asked him to make sure it didn’t do anything to me–I was certain it wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. I used the opportunity to see if he found anything strange, but he didn’t give any indication that he saw something unusual. So, I…I don’t think he’d be able to help.” Scar admits sullenly, pulling the fleece-lined jacket a little closer around him. Why wouldn’t he tell him anyway, though? “But–surely he’d notice that you weren’t on Hermitcraft?” Martyn tries, then curses under his breath as Scar shakes his head. “It’s the same as when I’m here. Xisuma does these Coding checks every so often to ensure we’re all safe and stable, so when we all got moved over to Hermitcraft Season 10–and once we returned from Secret Life as well–I had one of those checks. He didn’t seem to notice anything wrong then, either.” Martyn doesn’t know Xisuma closely, but the Hermits’ stories and what he does know of the man confirms that he takes his duties as Admin seriously.
But still, why not just tell them anyway? Just in case there was SOMETHING to be done?
Unless there’s something keeping him from doing so.
Does he know about Them specifically? “Is it a glitch in the Coding of Secret Life itself? Scott was killed by an Admin command in Last Life…do you need something like that?” Martyn suggests. Scar stays silent for a moment, considering. “It wouldn’t help.” He states finally, yawning again. There’s dark bags under his eyes. This early in? Sure, they don’t sleep all that much, but they’re still getting about 5 or 6 hours(sometimes more, if they’re lucky) of sleep over the course of every 2 days on average. Scar looks like he’s gotten a solid 3 hours all week. “Scar–have you slept? Like, recently. You’re looking a little tired.” Martyn ventures, doing a quick glance around to make sure no mobs or people sneak up on them. While not by much, the sky has begun to lighten. If someone goes for an early-morning adventure and wanders a little too close without them noticing, then they’re screwed. Of course, not as screwed as they’d be if They decide to do something about this interaction. Martyn’s been telling himself that if They haven’t done anything yet, then They probably won’t. But They could be waiting until the Lifers finish. In which case, he’d better make the most of this. Scar freezes to do the same as Martyn and then looks down again. “Not much.” He admits quietly. “Wha–why?!” Martyn wonders. Better question, how have neither Bdubs or Scott managed to correct that already? “I’m not here, Martyn. To me, this isn’t real–not anymore, at least. And I don’t want to wake up.” Scar answers gravely, then sighs.
“When Secret Life ended and I realized I couldn’t leave, I spent the next several weeks thinking of any possible way to get out. I tried hitting all the buttons–the Fail and Re-Roll ones didn’t do anything, and hitting Succeed just gave me 5 more hearts and reassigned the ‘win Secret Life’ Task to me. I tried destroying all the beds, burying all the bodies to make them as dead as possible…nothing. But when I slept, I was back in Hermitcraft. Pearl congratulated me on my win, Xisuma made sure I had no Code carried over from the Season, and we carried on. They carried on. Every time I went to sleep, I woke up back in Secret Life. I didn’t understand what was going on, and since there wasn’t any indication that I wasn’t actually there, I didn’t have much faith that there was anything they could do.” Scar pauses to breathe, then keeps going. “Then the Shadow People started showing up. That was maybe…two months after my win? I didn’t pay close attention to the time. But I remember they appeared after I realized I couldn’t die. I tried everything–throwing myself from build height, attacking the Warden, drowning, burning, starvation–anything I could possibly think of, but whenever I lost my last heart, I blacked out and then woke up in front of the Secret Keeper again on one heart.” He chuckles wryly, lists each method off on his fingers, then drops his hands again with an audible thump. Martyn remains absolutely silent, shocked as he is curious. Underneath it all, he’s warring between afraid(a deep, old fear he recognizes and knows) and angry. What purpose does this serve Them? They enjoy negative emotions, but this could probably be considered legitimate torture.
Of course, it apparently gets worse.
“It’s so quiet there, Martyn. All of the animals are either dead or gone past the Border, and there’s been less and less mobs, even. The Warden stays, but he’s not around very often. Just me and the wind…and the Shadow People. Oh, the Shadow People. They look like you–like all the people from Secret Life. But…wrong. They’re completely black, like the Void, and you can’t see any details on them aside from their eyes, those are white. Just like everything else, they’re silent, too. They look exactly like you–same height, same gaze, same features–but they are nothing like you, either. They don’t move right, all staticky and a half-beat out of rhythm. They don’t try to communicate, only stare at me for hours and hours at a time. They have no personality, no personable quirks, like they’re puppets. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are, actually. They take turns now, but there’s always two or three within eyesight of me at any given moment. None of them have attacked me yet, but I can’t help but worry they will one day. If I anger the Whispers.” That would be Them, absolutely. They did something similar to Martyn in Last Life–made him think that Mumbo and Jimmy were still around when they were dead. There is a pain in seeing someone you know is gone and given the sudden realization that it’s not them standing in front of you now, but it must hurt so much more to see empty imitations of the people who have died–several of whom you personally killed–and then having to see the real versions when you sleep, knowing you won’t when you wake back up.
How is Scar still sane?
Is he?
“When I wake up, then I have to go back to that. I have to go back to the quiet, to the things that are…mocking my friends, where I’m all alone and I don’t know if I’m safe or not. At least here, I can pretend like I’m okay.” Scar finishes. His voice hadn’t gone above a murmur the entire time–aside from a few emotional wavers, and it makes the following silence unsettling. There isn’t even a breeze. “There has to be a way out of that. Surely there is.” Martyn states, either thinking aloud, consoling the distraught man, or breaking the silence. Scar must’ve absolutely hated the world pause. “Without an Admin, you can’t even get into Secret Life to mess with THAT Code, and Grian abandoned it already. I don’t think the Whispers would let him have that authority and access back.” Scar points out. He’s right; not a chance in hell. “So this only started happening after Secret Life, right? Okay. What do you know about these Whispers? Do they actually talk to you, or is it more like you’re overhearing something?” Martyn inquires. They don’t whisper to him, but maybe Scar just interprets it differently. “Not…yes? Sort of. It’s more like–like when we would get our Tasks. It’s like that, but I can understand what they want from me without the actual words. I think it’s called telem…pathity? Telemath–tepelathity…” Scar fumbles over the word, trying a few more times with little success before Martyn decides to help. “You mean telepathy? Yeah? Alright. So, I…I get something similar. A voice in my head, usually, and it basically just tells me what it wants. It sort of has a thing for rhyming, though. It’s–I was talking to Them just before you saved me, actually.” He explains, then watches the Lifer perk up instantly. “Ohhh! Like that time in Last Life? When you were running and yelling at someone? I was always so confused about that. If you were talking to your own Whispers–or are they the same, maybe?–then that makes so much more sense! Jimmy and Mumbo had absolutely no idea what I was talking about when I asked them about it.” He says, animatedly waving his hands as though he’d completely forgotten about his tiredness and explaining his plight. “You–you saw that?” Martyn replies, genuinely surprised. Scar nods. Considering it happened after Scar died, it isn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, but he never considered that anyone could have witnessed that interaction. “Then yeah, that was exactly what that was. I had no idea you knew–why’d you never ask me about it, then?” The green-eyed man shrugs. “This Series is always a little dysregulating. It does things to us…honestly, I assumed you were going insane. We all go a little bit crazy here.” He replies. That’s fair enough, he supposes. Almost half of the Winners(both him and Scar included) so far definitely have.
“Well, I won’t deny–I may be losing it, but I’m not at the ‘talking to imaginary friends’ level yet.” Martyn assures him(except he did just that when They messed with his head), then looks up at the sky again. The clouds are beginning to take on a pink hue. Sunrise should come within the hour, then. “Okay. I’m…I think that’s all the questions I can think of right now. Do you have any for me, or anything else you want to talk about?” He asks. Scar hesitates for a second, then shakes his head decisively. “Alright, then I think we should head back to our teams. Thank you for telling me all of this.” The brunet smiles softly, but doesn’t say anything else. They stand up, dust the dirt from their clothes, and head up the hill together. After about 20 minutes of walking and defending each other from monsters, it’s time for them to split up. Scar wishes him farewell, and Martyn watches him leave. A moment later, he’s struck with a decision.
“Scar,” He calls suddenly. The man pauses, looking back at him. His eyes still seem too bright, but that can’t be helped. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out, alright?” He promises. Scar still says nothing, only offers a wave before turning around and disappearing from sight behind a particularly thick tree. Martyn sighs heavily, then starts walking again. He can’t just leave Scar like that, no matter what happens, no matter what They may say about it. Scar never asked for any of this, and he can’t think of a particular reason They would do that to him…except for the fact They clearly don’t like Grian. However, Grian isn’t even aware of what’s happening to him. Should he tell him? But Grian doesn’t know about Them, either(he doesn’t think so, anyway). Is it worth bringing him into all of this? He probably won’t have a choice, not if it involves something with Code.
He needs to think this over some more.
By the time he makes it to a place he can see the Reject’s base, it’s still a little bit before the sun has risen, the clouds still maintaining a pinkish tint. That shouldn’t be right; he has a good sense of time and expected to arrive maybe 30 minutes after sunrise. Maybe he made it back faster than he expected. Cleo would probably be waking up around this time, so maybe he’ll catch her and they can talk about their plan for the next Session. It’ll help him plan a way to help Scar. A bolt of unease spikes in his gut, abrupt and unannounced.
This doesn’t feel right.
Furrowing his brows, Martyn starts scanning for an animal. He could be wrong, but considering it’s already happened once, he should have a valid reason to be worried it’ll happen again. Of course, in the early morning, finding animals is difficult, but it’s worth the venture just to be sure.
After about another hour, he doesn’t need a frozen animal as proof.
The sun hasn’t moved.
“Oh, shit.”