Chapter Text
Scar walked along the worn down path from Trader Scar’s towards the Secret Keeper. It was a path he crossed every single day since he had won. Even after all this time, he was still getting his weekly task.
Win Secret Life.
It used to be funny to Scar, really, but he had lost his laughter long ago. He used to be sad, full of despair and hopelessness, but now? Now he didn’t feel much of anything aside from the bloodlust of being a red life. Even that was dying down, becoming background noise.
He decided to take a small detour instead of going straight for the Secret Keeper. A month into being stuck in this world, Scar had decided it was only right for him to make an official graveyard for his friends.
He entered the small cherry blossom grove, not letting himself look at Lizzie’s base and instead focusing on the gravestones in front of him.
He didn’t remember much about the people he played the games with anymore. He knew they were all friends, sure, but he didn’t remember how. Was he friends with Lizzie outside of the death games? He almost didn’t hope so.
He knew the deceased were off in their own servers, one of them he knew he came from. He knew a lot of the others came from that server, too. He didn’t remember what it was called. He just remembered the feeling of being around friends. Family.
He was starting to forget that, too.
Scar pulled out the fresh sunflowers from out of his pockets, laying one in front of each person's gravestone as he picked up old flowers to keep the place clean.
Lizzie. She fell into the void. Didn’t he steal her torches because of a task once?
Jimmy. He died because of the Warden. Were they friends? He remembered being in a mesa with him, but not the one in Secret Life.
Mumbo. Also died due to the Warden. He played with him on his other server, right?
Tango. Scar had pushed him off of the globe. It was funny, but he also felt bad. He could vaguely remember laughing with him, in the past.
Skizz. Joel had finished him off. He remembered being angry with the guy, as he got him down to red. He didn’t feel that anger towards him anymore.
Etho. Scar had killed him, as if he was a pathetic animal he needed to kill for food. He remembered having him as some sort of father figure, but he wasn’t sure.
Martyn. Grian had killed him, right? They weren’t close.
BigB. Scott and his dogs had killed him. He also wasn’t very close to him, but he remembered chasing him at some point during the game.
Cleo. Scar killed them. She was his mother figure, right?
Grian. Gem had killed him. Getting his body had been a pain. (He had a vague recollection of the desert and soft kisses when he thought of the guy, but he simply couldn’t place it)
Impulse. Another one of Scars kills. The guy had been slippery, in the end. Not slippery enough to win. (Although, winning would’ve been worse)
Bdubs. His brother(?). Scott had killed him.
Joel. He had been torn apart by Scotts wolves, and there wasn’t much left to bury. He remembered trying to sell him something once. Bones?
Scott. He had Gem kill him so she could have more hearts and maybe win. He didn’t like the man much, but outside of the games they were friends, possibly.
Gem. Scar had killed her. She had been ruthless, but he knew that in another world, they were close friends.
Pearl. Scar had also killed her. She was so close, but so far from winning. She was also a close friend, and a trusted ally in the game.
Scar.
Why did he make a grave for himself? He didn’t remember.
Scar placed the final sunflower in front of his own grave. He hadn’t bothered to clean up the dead flowers from his own grave. He wasn’t dead, there was no point.
He brushed off his pants and stepped back, making sure everyone got a flower. He nodded to himself and left the gravesite, humming a jingle in his head. Visiting their graves helped him keep what was left of his sanity. Whatever was left of it after being stuck here for just over a year. (He had given up hope for anyone coming for him a long time ago)
He slowly made his way to the Secret Keeper, the statue looming over him. He used to talk to the thing, but he hadn’t used his voice in months. He doubted that he could use it anymore, but he didn’t need it.
He approached the three buttons, observing all three of them. The buttons labeled ‘Success’ and ‘Fail’ had been destroyed in one of his rage fueled episodes, but the one labeled ‘Reroll’ was untouched.
He had been considering pressing the button for a while now, but he had stopped himself in fear of what his new task would be, if there was one at all.
He decided it didn’t matter anymore.
Scar stepped closer to the pedestal, taking the small task book out of his pocket as his other hand hovered over the button.
‘Win Secret Life’
Utter Bullshit.
Scar pressed the button, not knowing what to expect. Maybe nothing would happen, maybe he would get a new task. He didn’t know. He didn't know if he even cared. Why would he?
He decided to start caring when his task erased itself from the book. He looked at it, his eyes wide. He hastily flipped through the pages, but he knew the entire thing was blank. He had rerolled a task before, but he knew this wasn’t what would happen. You would get a new book instead of keeping the old one.
A new task started writing itself in the book.
‘Survive The Broken Script for 10 sessions.’
Scar blinked at the book, not knowing what he was exactly looking at. He looked over his shoulder, almost expecting someone to be watching him from behind.
“What?” Scar mumbled, his voice hoarse from almost a full year of no use. He flipped through the pages again, looking for more writing. What was ‘The Broken Script’? He knew the name, but he didn't remember what it was.
Not remembering anything was really starting to piss him off.
Was it some sort of mod? He knew they existed, but they were extremely expensive and usually were better in single player.
‘Any questions?’
The words appeared on the page, just under his new task.
“What.. The fuck..” Scar muttered, running a hand through his hair. (It was getting long again, so he made a mental note to cut it later.)
The words stared at him. ‘Any questions?’ Hell yeah he had questions.
“What's in it for me?” He said aloud, not knowing if the Secret Keeper could even hear him. That's what was controlling this, right? Who else could it be?
‘You'll get your memories back at the start of the session, and if you succeed you get to go home.’
Scar held his breath. He could go home? Get his memories?
“Sure. Sure, yeah.” He said, allowing himself to breathe again. His voice echoed through the empty world. Scar had gotten used to how eerie it could be here, but this was a new level of eerie.
‘Before We send you, We must tell you some rules.’
‘Your sessions will be recorded through your eyes. Your friends will be able to watch your experience no matter if you die or not. They will be able to see what you see, and hear what you hear.’
Scar furrowed his eyebrows, not sure how to feel about this. “So, I can talk to them, even if I die?”
‘Yes.’
Scar thought for a moment. 10 sessions.. If they were a week long, like how Secret Life was, he'd be back home in about 3 or 4 months. He nodded to himself. It was better than staying here forever.
“How long will the sessions be?”
‘Unclear. We will let the world do its thing, and We will decide that as we go.’
Scar growled to himself. Longer. Well, it'd be fine. He would have something new to do other than tending to his farm and keeping the remaining wolves alive.
“Wait- so the videos of the sessions will be several days long? Seems.. I dunno.. Excessive.” Scar mumbled to (mostly) himself.
‘The videos will be edited to show only the most important parts of each session. Your friends will get the recordings when your task is over.’
When his task was over. If he succeeded or failed, his friends would see it. Even without most of his memories, he knew he didn't want his friends to see him die. He knew they would much rather watch the clips with him at their side.
“Ok. Anything.. Anything else?”
‘You will have actual sanity in this world. To keep yourself sane, craft flower crowns, don't kill animals excessively, stay out of water, and keep your surroundings lit. Regular mobs won't spawn, but that doesn't mean there won't be something else hidden in the dark.’
Scar felt himself get tense. Sanity? He was pretty much already poor on sanity, but he would actually be able to do something about it there.
“What happens if I lose all of it?”
‘You obviously go insane. Hallucinations, voices, the works. You won't survive.’
‘You'll be able to see your sanity level through your communicator.’
Scar nodded to himself. At least he wouldn't be completely in the dark.
‘This world is dangerous. Nothing like anything you've ever experienced. We want you to be safe, even if you do not think so.’
“Safe? Is that why I'm still here or something?” Scar scoffed. Why would a stupid statue he's never seen before Secret Life care about him?
‘You've always been one of Our favorites.’
Well, he certainly didn't know how to react to that.
‘Are you ready to proceed?’
“What- already?” Scar asked, a bit startled. He was expecting, well, some sort of prep time? Not much to prepare, but still.
The words didn't change in his task book. He sighed, turning around and looking at the deserted world one last time.
Trader Scar's, the mounders, Joel's base. They had all become what he thought ‘home’ was. Now, they wouldn't be. He could go back to that crazy server full of laughter and family that he could hardly remember.
“You won't keep me there, right?”
‘No. It would just lead back to another situation like this. We would prefer to avoid that.’
Scar nodded.
“Alright. I'm good to go.”
The next thing he knew, he was falling. Scar's vision was gone, but he could see so much at the same time.
His memories.
Hermitcraft.
Destroying Doc's redstone with Grian on accident.
Jellie.
Boatem and the giant moon looming over them.
Building Scarland.
Meeting Grian in season 6 and playing tag.
His waxing service in season 8.
Playing MCC.
Visiting the Empires server and hanging out with Jimmy.
All of his chest monsters.
The diamond towers he made at the start of season 9 and the friendly competition that came with it.
His alter ego, HotGuy.
He missed it all so much more than he knew.
As he felt new ground materialize underneath him, he could only think one thing.
God, I hope my friends don't hate me .