#interloper au

“Heyy, Doc.” 

He grimaces - not only is this one of the aliens, but it’s one of the rogue aliens, one of those speakers that the other ones don’t like. This one he was specifically warned about, in fact. The others said it was dangerous, too chaotic, a firebrand, a rabble-rouser. Likes watching things go to hell, one of the aliens had told him. Good advice, but be careful.

It - maybe he, really - tilts his head to the side, clearly waiting for him to respond. He weighs his options and decides it’s probably not a good idea to ignore the alien.

“What do you want,” he says in a low tone, trying to keep his inflection even, less question and more statement. 

The alien’s smile widens, his eyes glinting gold. “Well,” he says, voice calm and surprisingly quiet, “I know you thought you could leave me behind. I’m not insulted, really, but I am surprised.” He pauses, cocks his head to the side. “It’s too quiet on this server, Doc. No new members immediately spicing things up like last season, a really slow start. You ought to fix that.”

He takes a second, pieces together what the alien’s saying. “You all aren’t supposed to intervene. I summoned you, I can-”

The alien laughs. “Can what, Doc? You know I don’t follow their rules. And I’m bored, really, waiting for something interesting to happen. You can’t stop me, I just thought it was better to be polite, give you a heads-up. I’ll see you around.”

The red-hoodie man slides off the side of the house and vanishes before he hits the ground. No footprints in the grass, no sign he was ever here at all - but Doc knows better than to assume the alien’s gone. Whatever he’s up to, he’s just getting started.

- - - - -

“Heard you were planning on doing some redstone this season?”

Grian blinks, looking back from the cave he’s finished lighting up and at the mysterious red-shirted man who’s just appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His voice is… familiar, like maybe they’ve met somewhere before.

“Do I know you?” he asks, cautiously raising his pickaxe in case he needs to use it as a makeshift weapon.

The man shrugs. “Perhaps. Doesn’t really matter that much. You know that zombie spawner you found?”

Grian blinks again. Okay, so this mysterious stranger’s been snooping around, that’s a bit ominous. Only a bit, though, and it sounds like he’s about to get some redstone advice, which would be nice. “Yeah?”

“Well, I heard a certain terraformer who doesn’t light up his builds so well has moved in right near you.” The mystery redstoner grins. “You know who I’m referring to, right?”

“Scar, yeah.” He hums thoughtfully. “Might be a bit mean to sic a horde of zombies on him so early-game, though…”

The man slips off the cave outcropping, hands in his pockets, and takes a step towards Grian, putting one hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, Grian, you really think he’s gonna notice a few extra zombies?”

...Scar totally won’t notice a few extra zombies. At least, not at first. It might be kinda fun to see how long it takes for his fellow hermit to notice. He smiles as well, almost widely enough to match the red-hoodied man across from him, mind already whirring with prank machinations.

“When the hordes come knocking at his door, he will,” Grian says, excited. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

Mystery guy takes his hand off his shoulder. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. See you around.”

He’s so caught up in plotting that he doesn’t notice the man vanishing without a trace, nor does he consider that he hadn’t really introduced himself to the guy who probably isn’t even on the whitelist at all.

- - - - -

Joe looks up from his build at an unfamiliar face - someone in a beaten-up red hoodie, patterned tattoos on their arms, a slowly-healing black eye and a wide, almost manic grin.

“Howdy,” he says. “Can I help you with anything?”

Red hoodie shrugs. “What’re you up to, out here at the mouth of the ocean?”

Joe rummages in his pockets and continues placing down the foundations of his work in progress. “Plannin’ out a build so I can impose tariffs for sea trade in and out of the bay.”

The stranger whistles softly. “Well. That’s better than what I was gonna suggest. Keep up the good work.” He gets up off the mast of the shipwreck to leave, elbows Joe gently in the side. “Though if you get bored, Doc and Bdubs have their mansion halves up there on the hill. Maybe leave ‘em some welcome gifts, y’know?”

Joe raises an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

Another shrug. “All I’m saying is, I heard Doc doesn’t like golden apples, and you should clearly give ‘em all to Bdubs. No way that could go wrong, huh?”

“Do I look like an Eris, like the type of person to start conflict between other people?”

The stranger’s up at the ocean’s edge now, standing on one railing of the ship. “I don’t know, Joe, are you?”

Before Joe can respond, they’ve kicked backwards off the railing and fallen into the ocean, vanishing without a splash or even the slightest ripple in the water.

That’s probably nothing to worry about.

- - - - -

“You keep getting the short end of the stick,” an unfamiliar voice says, snapping Mumbo out of his focused state, “don’t you?”

Mumbo blinks at the ragged-looking guy in front of him, currently sitting on the edge of a villager’s house and eating an apple. “I’m not sure what you mean by that?”

“Nothing much. Only you just do a lot of work, and people keep calling you a ‘spoon’ just because one in, say, ten of your redstone contraptions has a little glitch. I’d say that’s pretty unfair.”

He’s not really sure where this is coming from, or even who this guy is, but it’s not like he disagrees. It’s kind of annoying to get brushed off all the time - but hey, that’s just his lot, time to shrug it off.

“Iskall thought you were a new jungle mob,” he continues, taking another bite, “while you were out gathering basic resources. Gave him a bit of a shock, actually.”

“That’s a bit of a non sequitur,” Mumbo says, turning back to his work - or at least trying to. It’s not like he remembers what he was doing, seeing as he’s gotten completely thrown off track by whoever this is.

The ragged guy comes up behind him, slings an arm around his shoulder conspiratorially. “I think you should lean into it. The most seriously he’s taken you happens to be while you were perceived as cryptic and unhinged. Why not mess with him some more?”

“What are you suggesting?”

Arrhythmic tapping against his shoulder, and suddenly Mumbo has several ideas. A couple old, half-finished projects he always wanted to do. Something he can trick Iskall into doing really easily, no less. This and more flickers through the back of his mind, brief snippets of information that’s going to come together into something very interesting indeed.

“I don’t know,” the guy says, voice soft and even, “but I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with, Mumbo.”

The arm on his shoulder vanishes; he reaches up absently to stretch and looks behind him. No sign of the weird guy… but that was fine, really. He had a build to get to, and a plan to put in motion. He’d thank him later.

- - - - -

Bdubs is just going on another supply run when he stumbles over a log, nearly pitching face-first into the ground before being caught by some dude in a red sweatshirt. He doesn’t recognize them - must be one of the old returning hermits.

“Thanks!” he says brightly, dusting himself off. “Don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Bdubs.”

“Nice to meet you,” comes the response. No name offered in return, though, which is a little strange. Maybe they’re just in a hurry or something?

“Sorry to bother you,” he adds hastily. “I’m just passing through, not trying to trespass if this is your turf.”

The red-shirted dude grins in response, gold eyes glinting as he laughs. “Hey, that’s a coincidence, I’m just passing through as well, didn’t think I was gonna run into anyone else here. What’re you looking for?”

Bdubs taps his chin. “Honeybees, actually. Only it seems like someone’s gone and gathered most of ‘em up.”

“Huh…” He cocks his head to the side, looking very much like someone who wants to say something, but can’t. “Well, good luck. Be patient and you might end up with one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh - uh, nothing?” The dude’s eyes widen. He’s clearly been caught in a lie, as far as Bdubs is aware.

“Have you been squirelling them all away, is that it?”

“No, no!” His laugh is half nervous, half secretive. “Only I… heard that Doc’s got a pet one, named it BeeDoubleO. I - think it might be a gift for you, honestly? Dunno why else he’d name it that.”

“Oh, like a truce…” Bdubs nods. “I’ll take him up on that offer, I think. Thanks, stranger!”

“No problem. Good luck!”

- - - - -

The Cave of Contraptions is uncharacteristically silent when Zedaph walks in, save for an odd clunking noise coming from the jump-powered furnace. That’s not supposed to happen, he thinks, and then immediately realizes the clunking source is from someone kicking their legs against it.

And then he recognizes the person kicking his legs against it. Sure, he’s grown his hair out, some of his tattoos are hidden by the somewhat oversized hoodie he’s wearing, but he’d recognize that lopsided grin anywhere.

“Sarc? You’re not on the whitelist.”

“Nope.” His old friend shrugs, hopping down from the brick and onto the pressure plate (which clicks once, not enough to cook a piece of kelp). “I’m just… passing through.”

“You didn’t break anything, right? No messing with X’s command blocks?”

Sarc rolls his eyes. “No, no. Nothing of the sort. Really, I was just checking out the neighborhood. Didn’t realize I was on your property, or I wouldn’t have gotten caught by you - but, hey, you can keep a secret, right Zed?”

That tone of voice. Sarc’s eyes glint gold, and Zedaph crosses his arms, barring the door. “Alright, what’d you do?”

“Nothing.” Sarc shrugs. “Everyone’s really on edge this season, it seems. All at each other’s throats over nothing. If anything, I’m just here to let you know to watch your back.”

“Mmh.” There’s something off about his old friend’s tone, something that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s not enough to particularly unsettle him, though, because he’s honestly used to the way Sarc is by now. He decides to just leave it for the time being, and steps aside to let him out. “Well then, see you around.”

Sarc’s smile turns smug and toothy. “Will do.”

He leaves without saying anything else, and a brief gust of wind kicks up the sand dunes and obscures him from view. By the time it dies down, he’s gone.

- - - - -