Stained Pearl. There's something knocking at your door, fanfiction.
Grox had left twenty-four minutes ago. Heād probably be gone for quite a while, as was routine for the formal wither skeleton. There were villagers who needed to be tormented and a player who needed to be entertained. The yellow smiling ball sat on an oak wood block in front of a large window. He watched the clouds, blocky, puffy things drifting lazily above. In the distance, he could hear cows, pigs, and sheep going about their meaningless lives. Verity chuckled to themselves at that, their jaw clenched in a painfully taut smile. Who were they to judge a supposed āmeaningless existenceā? Not being sentient seemed more and more like a blessing every decade.
Maybe it was envy talking.
Grox wouldnāt be back for a while, especially if he was āplayingā with the villagers. Why not use this time to go home for at least a few hours? He would know when Grox was making their way back home anyway. The more the thought persisted, the more Verity couldnāt get it out of his mind; now he needed to go back. He didnāt even have the luxury of lying to himself about the reason. He knew everything.
A blink; all it takes is a simple blink. Passing through this world, code like he has done a dozen times before. Then he was there again. In the facilityās hall, his bouncy-ball-like vessel left behind in favor of his more emaciated, elongated form. Truth be told, he couldnāt decide which form he liked best; each had its purpose. One was for introductions and disarming, while the latter hunted and satisfied that painful hunger. Of course, he could choose his more charming form, humanoid yet strong with subtle claws, but lately he hadnāt been in the headspace to do so.
Using their long limbs, they moved almost like a spider crawling on all fours. The long strides were among the very few sounds filling the space, the buzzing of unseen machinery one of them.
Ā He wanted to do something while he had the alone time.
As he moved to his desired spot, he took care not to let any of his limbs touch the brown splatter on the floor. He also took care not to look at it.Ā
He was in that room again, hisā¦homage to his former friendsā¦
Or were they more like his victims?
Verity responded to the sudden thought with a resounding āNO!ā The shout echoed off the wall of the facility. āThey were my friendsā¦they were mine.ā Who was he even justifying himself to? He was alone. What was the point, to fill the silence?
Truth be told, they were his victims. But only when they would try to leave him. Before that, they were friends.
All of them were, just like Mob had been. The only difference was that Mob had come back.
He stepped over the signs with practiced ease. His eyes fell on his name, ThatMob, now with an underscore and an X. Verity stared at the sign; he was never truly sure whether he shouldāve put that X there. The X was meant to mark players as his in the most efficient way possible, but he never got to do that to Mob; he never got to taste the Ender hybrid. When he devoured players, he gained their data. Once he sank his teeth into their wonderful, often colorful flesh, he could taste the difference in each one. Like others, but never the same. It was almost like some sort of forbidden signature; one you were never supposed to learn.
But he hadnāt gotten to do that with Mob. Mob wouldnāt give him the privilege.
The thought sent a pang to his chest; that was where a heart was supposed to be, yes? As he slipped his long, dim yellow fingers behind the sign, taking it off the wall, he thought about how he never got to taste the signature of Mob, the one who came back, the ONLY one who has ever come back to him. He stared hard at the wooden sign, its black, blocky letters staring right back. āWhat would you have tasted like, Mob?ā He walked back into the hallway with the sign in tow and looked to his right. A new room had been placed there. Instead of the iron-and-glass security doors common in the lab, a wooden oak door stood there; to say it looked out of place would be an understatement. So, unlike the others, which made sense. Mob had been so different from the rest. Because of this, Verity found it fitting to give Mob their own memorial, as opposed to the mass grave he kept.
He had to bend down quite a bit to fit inside the room. Once he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him. In space, it was a small attempt to recreate the home he had shared with Mob. The walls and ceiling were all oak. There was a mini version of that fireplace Mob had been so proud to build. It was nice to watch him do so, even with the small mishap that came along with it. But the most important thing to Verity was the sleeping corner, the one with a bed, a chest at the foot of it, and a crafting table on the right side. There was a jukebox three blocks to the left of the bed as well. He didnāt have the disc Mob had played. He couldnāt grab too much before he was transported again to a different world. There was only time to grab the one thing he wanted to take for his inventory.
Speaking ofā¦
The creak of its hinges joined the crackling fire as Verity reached inside, grabbing the shining Ender Pearl. Verity went to the bed, not to sit on it, but to sit beside it. He placed the sign on the red covers, gently. As if there were any risk of hurting it. With even more gentle caution. He cradled the Ender Pearl in his hands, its cool surface resting pleasantly in his palms. The light from the fire shone off the Ender Pearl, and Verity was mesmerized. As he stared at it, he began to reminisce.
His voice.
His building.
His sass.
How he snored in his sleep.
His tendency to get lost.
The way he would dance to his music.
His taste in music, and how he wanted to share it.
āI placed you next to twixxel, mob.ā His voice broke the peace, but he kept going. āI know you would have wanted that. Even if Iā¦donāt.ā He pulled Pearl close; his eyes fixed on the smear of blood. āIām sorry about the blood. I think it stained you. I-I tried to wipe it off, honest. But I didnāt want to risk scratching you.ā He wanted that smear to be the one and only blemish on his pearl. It was another reminder of the past; itād dropped in mobās blood, and Verity had been cradling mobās body, rocking back and forth, begging for him to just come back, reminding them of their promise. It had sat in that puddle for a few hours. āDo you want to hear that song again? I remember how much you liked it.ā He got no answer, of course, so he decided to take it upon himself to play it.
His jaw dropped, pouring song from his throat. As the familiar melody floated through the air, Verity fell into his memories again. He could almost see him, moving to the beat. Carefree, happy, Verityās. Then Twixxel came along. Could anyone fault him for getting rid of such an annoying threat? He was taking attention from Verity. Mobās attention. He had said it before. There was no need for other people. So, he did what he felt was best. Perhaps he shouldāve cleaned up the mess he made. But a part of him, one he wasnāt sure he completely understood, wanted Mob to see just how fragile and useless Twixxel truly was. To teach a lesson he wouldnāt forget anytime soon. But after that, he knew things could never be the same between them. Mob had come back from that little hut. He hadnāt even said anything. There was no anger on his face, or fear, for that matter. Just teary-eyed silence. That slept, tightly curled into a ball, on their bed. They didnāt look at him for the rest of the night, or most of the next day.
He knew he had hurt Mob in an irreversible way; he knew everything. But he knew how to lie to himself, too, telling himself that things would stabilize, that they would go back to normal, their normal. Then Mob decided to take their own life, choosing death over him.
Looking down at the pearl, Verity whispered, āDid you really hate me that much?ā He stared as if it could answer; he wished it could. āWas I that unbearable, hmm?ā His voice wavered. He held the precious gem at eye level; the more he stared, the more the ugly head of anger began to rear. āYou just HAD to invite Twixxel, didnāt you?! You HAD to find a way to get rid of ME! And when you learned it wasnāt possible, you just HAD to go and FUCKING SHOOT YOURSELF!ā He was clenching the pearl now, hoping to convey the anger. Betrayal and all-consuming sadness. āI was your best friend! You were supposed to be mine! Not anyone else's! You just had to keep your promise, but you didnāt, you BASTARD!ā Then, somehow through Verityās chaotic window of emotions, he heard a āscrrchā sound. It was noticeable enough to make the being pause and see through their haze. Their index finger. The claw had left a rough line on the Ender Pearl. Verity choked on a breath.
āNo. NO NO NO NO NO!ā He brought the gem closer to his face, breathing raggedly as he stared at the damage he had caused. A sob rose in his throat before he quickly swallowed it. āI'm sorry, Mob!ā He held the pearl to his chest, as if he could console it for the scratch. āI didnāt mean it! I didnāt mean it! I didnāt mean it! I didnāt mean it! I SWEAR I DIDNāT MEAN IT!ā Fat tears rolled down his face, droplets plopping onto the Ender pearl before rolling down either the floor or his skin. āI want to take it back! Please just let me take it back. Iāll be better! I can be better! I can-ā His cries echoed off the walls of the facility. Monstrous screeching, pleas for the impossible, and mocking hunger were his only companions until he had to return.
ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦ā¦
Grox was back. He was talking about something villager-related while Verity just stared ahead, answering occasional questions. Eyes tired, smile tight, teeth clenched. His mind replayed what he had done over and over, like a scratched disc. To think that even in death, he was still somehow hurting Mob. On top of that, it was getting closer to his feeding time; it wouldnāt be long before he had to warn the talkative being. Something inside him growled as the thought of crunching those bones between his molars arose. He was nearly salivating at the idea when Grox interrupted the fantasy. āAyo, Verity, I forgot to ask you something. Are green-eyed ender men a thing?ā
The question caught him so off guard he almost didnāt respond in time. āNo, it isnātā¦.ā
āHuh, I didnāt install anything. It seemed friendly too. It stays to the west of the village. I'm gonna go back and try and give it something. Maybe it'll trade me something. Or maybe I can tame it?ā
Verityās mind was running a mile a minute. He blurted out, āHey, I can come with you.ā He hopped off his seat, now in his more humanoid form, and stood in front of Grox. āIt's pretty boring by myself, and if this is something entirely new, then I'll be able to learn about it for the future!ā Verity added. āI can also help you if things go bad.ā His hands were clasped together, his teeth on full display as he nearly towered over the wither skeleton.
Grox, oblivious to the others' near-desperate begging, nodded. āA-ight, bet.ā
Inside, Verity was practically screaming; if Mob was in this world, even as a full-bred Ender man, he could have a chance to see them alive. And when he did, he would make sure theyād never leave him again.
Hello, this is just a little fanfic I made for funsies! I thought it would be good to stretch out the ole angst-writing muscles.










