Chapter Text
Three malicious laughs sang in the air, spreading every inch of the marketplace before any shopkeeper could recognize their eventual fate and hide every precious valuable set cautiously on their designated stands within the ‘safety’ of the tents. Jewlers and merchants alike whispered in the ears of the next that the meticulous Treasure Hunters were out, searching for any form of valuables left unaccounted for.
The Treasure Hunters, swift with their craft, wandered aimlessly across the gravel pathways of Merchant City, seeking no specific trinkets. Instead, they were simply searching for the thrill that came from the terror in the eyes of the masses whenever they’d run through.
The sun was high in the sky, likely to rise to its highest peak within the next three minutes, and Boosfer sprinted down a smaller alleyway, a shortcut to the richer district of the city. One that was unlikely to receive information about his appearance by the time he reaches it.
One shop in particular had items he was desperately in search of.
It was owned by two well-known birds. Parrot and Theo.
Their shop, self-owned and created from tons of petty theft—Boosfer knows thieves when he sees them—sat on the concreted part of town, barely visible due to the many layers of uncared for bushes and vines that stalked up its outer walls.
One of the main reasons Boosfer remembers its location so well is that it sat across from the shop none of the Treasure Hunters dare to approach or even entertain the concept of stealing from. It was a pact enforced swiftly by Kier after Dev had experienced a severe concussion one afternoon.
That day was accompanied by light rain drifting through the hour prior, leaving the comforting scent of petrichor fresh in the air. While the trio had known the earlier shower would lead to less shops being fully stocked or even open, that didn’t regard the fact that the ones that dared to be open were less cautious of their things, so they could simply steal any lesser items, later trading them for higher stock items.
With their plan in mind, they had separated into different parts of town. That day, only one shop had been open in the richer section, which happened to be one of the only buildings owned by a smaller trader and made from concrete. Boosfer, before that day, hadn’t remembered who the owner was, despite the hushed whispers of familiar names and abundant shock from pedestrians once the trader had moved into the city.
Dev recalled the story as clearly as he could after the concussion, but the details were heavily scrambled.
He had gone in through the dark wooden doors—ones incredibly well crafted—and walked in as if he was a normal customer, taking an elongated amount of time to take in his surroundings for anything valuable before waltzing up to the counter, proudly.
In front of the counter was a man with pale cool-toned skin and shortly cut dark brown hair that leaned towards a buzz cut; he wore a pink visor that muted out the bright blue of his eyes into a dark shade of indigo. To match his visor and eyes, was headphones neatly sat around in his neck with blue earcups and a pink headband, which also matched with the blue and pink jogger pants he wore—the colors separated in a triangle halfway down his legs by a large white stripe. Luckily, he didn’t decide to match his shirt to the rest of the outfit as well, likely because that would be an eyesore. Though, it’s possible that the dark purple skintight t-shirt counted as matching, considering it was the same shade as his eyes when covered by the visors. The last detail that stood out on the man was the incredibly fluffy tail, in the same color as his hair, swaying while he leaned over the counted, accompanied by the matching ears on his head.
Boosfer believes he is a Maine Coon.
And, for the record, Dev did not remember this in its entirety; Boosfer did.
What Boosfer could not recall was the man standing behind the counter, polishing a vase that was freshly unpacked from its shipment container. Unfortunately, Dev was unsure of any proper details on this man either, besides that he had dark brown hair, black “nerd” glasses—Dev’s words. Not his—a crown Wemmbu and Zam parade around, black overalls placed atop a dark purple t-shirt, fit with golden accents, and crow-like attributes.
The two were talking together about topics that Dev could care less about than pay attention to, as his attention was not only on scouting for riches to steal, but also for who the individuals running the shop even were.
He stated he had wondered up to introduce himself, under an alias in hopes the men wouldn’t recognize him and get to know the other’s names as well.
Unfortunately, one of the two, the one with the crow features, caught on quickly to Dev’s real identity and had immediately requested—demanded would be the appropriate term—that he left the shop.
Now, Dev being Dev, hadn’t been exactly pleased with leaving the shop empty handed. So, after ferocious attempts at getting the men’s names to no avail, and being so pestering that the man behind the counter had come to the front and used his taller stature to instill fear into Dev. And, fortunately, the ice dragon was aware of his limits and booked it. Of course, with quickly grabbing random objects that he scanned high prices on while running out.
Though the crow behind him, shockingly, hadn’t been very pleased with his actions, so he had chased Dev down. And when Boosfer means that he means Dev got outside and the man had instantly used his wings to his advantage to grab Dev and fly him in the air.
By the horns.
Don’t get Boosfer wrong, all three of them are used to getting scratched up or injured due to an upset seller getting their merchandise stolen. Nothing new.
But one thing that is known is to never grab a dragon by their horns, due to the often-permanent effects it’ll cause.
That is where Boosfer had felt a seething anger at the crow whose name wasn’t known at the time.
Kier and Boosfer were directly next to each other, sitting in their meetup spot in the alleyway between apartment buildings, specifically placed up the emergency exit stairs to the second-floor abandoned apartment, when they had heard the blood curdling scream that emerged from Dev. Both of their hearts thumping as they dropped any valuables they had snatched from the barren shops and sprinted toward where the sound originated from—Boosfer throwing an ender pearl, while Kier used his wings to fly above.
Boosfer arrived four seconds after Kier and had run into the following situation: Kier staring at the crow man in the middle of the street as Dev cowers on the ground behind him, holding his head in his hand while on his knees.
Kier was at the most aggressive state Boosfer had seen the man in years; he was practically fuming out of his ears as his wings spread as wide as they could to assert control over the situation—a natural reaction for a dragon, especially when the opponent is larger.
The other man was standing opposite, yelling at Kier about the item he had attempted to stole, scolding like he was a child, and going over every law known to man that covers the concept of theft being illegal.
Boosfer had approached Dev at the same time the other man—the cat—walked up and placed his hand on the shoulder of—
“Couriway, don’t attack them. We don’t have the resources for that.” The cat muttered in the ear of his friend, lightly adjusting Couriway’s shoulder to lean away from them.
Boosfer watched from the small gap below Kier’s wings while comforting Dev, silently asking what areas on the base of his horns needed tension applied to them.
Despite the cat forcing his acquaintance to back down from his aggression, Kier remained tense in his stance, refusing to remove his glare from them, so long they dare to attack while his guard his down—Boosfer doubted that would’ve happened. They didn’t seem like the type to play dirty in fights.
“Are you three those thieves that have been causing all the commotion around here? Your names spread like wildfire very often.” The man with his—really dumb—pink visors asked simply, gesturing calmly for Kier to lower his gufard.
Couriway mumbled into the cat’s ear. Words that Boosfer couldn’t hear, except for the very obviously announced name of “Treasure Hunters”.
“Kier,” Boosfer stood, still holding his hands on Dev’s head, “Can you bring Dev home? He’s hyperventilating.”
Kier had turned around to him, shocked, “But—what if… I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
“You can get Dev home safer than me, and I won’t be long. Just simple small talk.”
Fortunately, Kier had listened to his words and swiftly lifted the ice dragon into his hands in a bridal style carry—lightly flickering his wings before taking off with faint smells of rocket dust left in his wake.
Boosfer turned back to the two men once the duo was mostly out of sight, “Yeah, that is us. Why? A fan?” He started calmly shuffling through his bag to make sure his ender pearls were in close reach, keeping up a playful tone in case this cat is willing to use his claws.
The man gave a hearty, cheerful laugh that Boosfer didn’t suspect to possibly escape his mouth at the shitty gag thrown in the air, “No, only heard of you after moving in. Though, I do have an ask of yo—”
Couriway elbowed the cat, “Fein, man, are you really going to throw an important task at some random thief?”
Fein. That’s the guy’s name, albeit very stupid.
“Don’t worry, Couri.” Fein had responded simply, a soft smile on his face, before he turned back to Boosfer, “Would you and your friends be able to do a task for me?”
Well, Kier and Dev avoided the shop, Boosfer has gone there multiple times over for gigs and sometimes just to stop by and give a small greeting whenever he is around tormenting the town.
He’s learnt a lot about the two since then.
Couriway is the owner of the shop, while Fein co-owns since he is in town. They are both competitive people that participate in tournaments across the servers, and apparently Feinberg—his full name, as he learnt—is one of the top international speedrunners for the sport MCSR, which Boosfer should’ve known considering he has participated in events before and placed well.
Of course, that was before he created the treasure hunters. They don’t let him compete anymore; it is one of the only things he misses from creating his current reputation.
Couriway, upon Boosfer educating him on how pulling on dragon’s horns is dangerous, has offered to apologize to Dev, but the concept of getting yelled at by the two for going against the pact they had made lead to Boosfer declining the idea, stating he’d tell Dev himself since the ice dragon wouldn’t want to see him, which was true; Boosfer simply just gave a different reasoning to why.
Originally, Boosfer thought that since the two are traveling in for a local tournament, they would both end up leaving to return home. But it turns out Couriway planned to stay and live in the city, since it was close to the rural area he grew up in, but just more convenient for earning money. Fein, in contrast, would be staying for a month longer until he could lock in on a house back where the last tournament he attended was—constantly traveling finally catching up to him or whatever.
Boosfer personally thinks travel is the most sustainable way to live, in fact, him, Kier, and Dev need to move on from the city soon, since the merchants have been too careful with their expenses for easy captures.
Like how Parrot caught him in his attempts to grab a regeneration potion, and now he was being escorted by Theobaldbird, who Boosfer would prefer to not fight with—why is someone so good at TNT carting co-running such a peaceful looking shop?
“Seriously, how many times do we have to tell you to never come to our shop again?” Theo gave a last push, nearly sending Boosfer tumbling to the concrete.
“You can tell me a thousand times! I’m not listening.” Boosfer retorted, eyes rolling as he backed up slowly from the store, preparing to sprint to the shop across the road in case Theo takes out any rails; the avian already has his hand hovering over his bow, so the possibility isn’t too far out of reach.
“You really should! Because the next time to come back, I’ll chase you back to your base and blow it all up!” Theo seethed as he shut the door in Boosfer’s face.
“I’ll chase you back to your base.. Wah wah wah!!” Boosfer mocked, turning to approach Couriway’s shop—Couriway’s pottery, what an ass name. “We live in the mountains for fuck sakes. I know he won’t dare to chase into a domain he isn’t built for. Fuck ass parakeet.”
By now, it was noon, and Boosfer’s shadow laid directly below his feet. He would need to return to the meet-up spot in 5–10 minutes.
Knowing him, he’ll manage to be there five minutes too late, and then get lectured by Dev on how he can’t keep being late, should get a watch like them, blah, blah, blah… He literally is the one that is has been earning the most money in the past few months, and always has a reason for being late…
Anyway.
Boosfer opened the door with a soft smile—unnatural for him—etched onto his face. The wind chimes placed directly above the doors, as a substitute for a bell, ringed soft melodies through the air and caused Feinberg, who was adjusting pottery on the shelves, ears to twitch as he glanced in the entrance’s direction without shifting his head.
“Welcome.” He announced with tone of voice that mimicked a News Reporter's, simply lacking the over-the-top smile someone airing on television would have.
“Is Couriway working today?” Boosfer asked while approaching Fein, eyes scanning over the new pottery that was carefully displayed on the shelves. Though, a specific one, a light blue vase with a square shape. It was endorsed with mountains etched around each side to match the dragon placed right on the front. Each detail from the horns to the smallest spikes on the wings were perfectly designed, and Boosfer nearly wishes he brought cash with him to buy for Kier and Dev. They’d love it. “That’s a pretty design.”
“Thank you, I made the design. Well, recommended it. Couri refused to allow me to actually make it.”
“You? Benefiting this business in an artistic way? Aren’t you the one saying this is the least profitable type of business?” Boosfer teased, changing his attention from Fein’s organization to his satchel, pulling out a regeneration potion that he snuck off the shelves despite Theo’s “watchful” eye, placed restfully upon the vines of netherwart at the bottom of his bag—stealing has never been easier when it came to those birds.
Fein hovered over him as he shuffled through his bag, “That’s a lot of netherwart. Did you steal that from Clownpierce himself or what?”
Boosfer practically instantly shoved the regeneration pition back in his bag, sighing lightly, just to let out a half-hearted chuckle afterwards, “I wish. Think I’d lose my head if I’d try. Simply took it from under the bird’s beak.”
“Theo and Parrot? Think that’s the same as stealing from Clownpierce.”
“Parrot was busy shuffling upstairs, and Theo isn’t watchful enough to see me stealing it.” Boosfer laughed proudly as he followed Feinberg to the counter, “Did threaten carting me, though.”
“I’d keep totems on you. Heard the man is known for hunting down people he wants to challenge until the end of time.” Fein mentioned lowly, as if he was scared for Boosfer’s safety, but why would he need to be? Boosfer is too swift to be killed by anything. ‘Too slippery for death’—as he likes to joke.
“Heard it all from Wemmbu. Theo chased him and Eggchan out millions of blocks simply because he wanted to have a duel.”
“Who?”
This guy can’t be serious. He doesn’t know who Wemmbu is? Wemmbu has nearly a hundred wanted posters pasted over the city; he is a literal mass murderer and has ties with multiple other wanted people—Spoke, Flame, Mane, etc…
Eggchan is more reasonable, considering the angel chooses to keep to himself, and his more illegal activities are always deemed as Wemmbu's fault. So, he isn’t a popular face, but he still has a reputation as an author and journalist… Specially, in Merchant City.
“How do you know Parrot and not Wemmbu or Eggchan?”
“I know people I talk to.”
“There are wanted posters on like every surface with Wemmbu’s face.”
Boosfer does often wonder if his history with Wemmbu adds bias towards why he even knows the man, but at this stage of Wemmbu’s life, with all the Spider's crimes, anybody has had to at least hear of him once.
“Oh, the purple one? With the dozen eyes?”
“Yes. Wemmbu.” Boosfer seethed, antennas drooping and sparking electricity at the tip of them. Wemmbu didn’t deserve to have his name simplified down to ‘the purple one’; it was dehumanizing.
“Hit a nerve?” Fein responded slyly, malice dripping from his tongue as he spoke.
Boosfer only took a large, deep breath in response, “No—”
“Guessing you and him don’t like one another?”
He paused and bit his tongue, standing for moments longer than needed before letting the words fall from his mouth, “Yeah.”
Fein hummed, “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you two?”
The cat’s eyes were dawning upon Boosfer with quiet curiosity sizzling in his mind. At least, Boosfer presumed that was happening; he isn’t keen in the department of reading people.
Though, he has an amazing memory, and his own bile rising from the deepest parts of his throat, alongside the burning of his heart as it begun to speed up, was evident of that.
He could remember every detail of what happened between him and Wemmbu. Every sunken night, where he wished to fix their relationship but couldn’t bear to see what had happened to the spider. The day he travelled to the city held under Law’s control with Kier and Dev, suspecting a nonsensical announcement to spur from the leader’s voice and cause citizens to cheer for a law only the purest forms of idiocy can create. But that wasn’t what happened.
He was standing there that day. Hands cuffed behind his back with an orange jumpsuit contrasting his purple skin.
Each spider eye was on display to be seen, despite Wemmbu’s hatred for their existence, hence why he would usually wear his crown. But his crown was gone that day, and the gemstone burned into his forehead—neon green. Another stupid reminder of their history—was exposed to the world.
Boosfer remembered the speech Lettuce had given perfectly. Remembered the vile voice that announced Wemmbu’s execution.
He had been perched on one of the walls surrounding the castle, protecting it from aggressors like Wemmbu. Kier had been next to him, shock evident on his face, while Dev was flying above; Boosfer assumed his reaction was no different.
Never in his life had he felt as much fear as he felt that day.
Not only because Wemmbu was in custody of one of the most powerful leaders, but because he might die without gaining the opportunity to fix their relationship.
That wasn’t what Feinberg was asking, though. He didn’t care for an event after he and Wemmbu had “fallen out”.
“I…”
Boosfer realized it was simple answer. He didn’t want to tell Feinberg; he couldn’t even bear to think of their downfall.
All that came to mind was that he won’t be able to fix it.
“Hey,” Fein’s voice cut in, which was one of the indicators that Boosfer had begun to zone out—the sudden realization that he was hyperventilating counting as the second one, “Calm down. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I didn’t plan to…” The alien mumbled, knowing he was too quiet for Fein to hear him.
“I’ll just assume it was bad.”
And even if he wanted to deny Fein’s assumption, he didn’t. Kier and Dev were likely waiting for him; he needed to get back.
“Yeah, it was,” Boosfer sighed, “I need to get going now, though. My friends are waiting for me.”
“’K, see you later?”
“…Yeah. See you when I’m next in town.” Boosfer said, turning around and approaching the door faster and far tenser than he usually would.
“Bye, Boosfer.”
“See ya’, Fein.”
And he was gone as quickly as he stormed in, the same chimes as before singing in the air, leaving a trail to etch in the mind, like some cinematic scene that plays right before the climax of the movie.
He grabbed his antennae with a grip that anyone else would consider self-harm, but Boosfer would call the prevention of a murder. Nobody would like to experience what happens when his electrokinesis goes beyond his control.
Each spark that shocked his hands was another burn towards his instability hidden under a coy personality. He wishes he could simply teleport to Kier and Dev right now, avoid the embarrassment of wondering through the streets of Merchant City, looking like a broken man, but he doubted that his abilities would bring him to an area even remotely correct.
Plus, he couldn’t bring himself to be weak over something that he’d cried over a thousand times prior, especially not in front of the people that had to support him during every moment.
“Boosfer!”
…
He hadn’t even walked out of sight of Couriway’s shop. Though, of course, Parrot must yell out for him.
“Parrot.” Boosfer mumbled, turning only halfway, just enough to see the avian out of his peripheral vision. Said avian had a distasteful look on his face, perhaps even a small bit of anger, evident in the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“I know you stole my potions. Don’t think I wouldn’t recognize the regeneration potion taken right off the brewing stand!” Parrot didn’t approach Boosfer any farther, simply crossing his arms from seven feet away and staring. How ominous. Might as well be a monarch with a stance and stare like that.
“I’m not dumb enough to—” bzzt “—think you wouldn’t see a missing regen potion. They are expensivee!” Boosfer emphasized the last word with a flick to his antennas.
“Yes… Hence why I would be appreciative of you giving it back.” Parrot requested, steeping a foot forward.
Boosfer reacted with a step back, “Woah, six feet! Wouldn’t want to be infected with your disease!”
“Disease? I don’t have—”
“I mean… Wifies… Dean… What friend dies next? Theo? Shit, you might even be the reason Wemmbu is in jail!” Boosfer remarked with a joyous grin, pretending his own remark wasn’t digging into his own skin.
Parrot’s face darkened instantly. A form of terror only a destroyed man could create snaking onto his face.
Then, before Boosfer could react, the bird slipped his bow out of its secure place on its back—which isn’t even logical?! How did he do that!—and drew it back; the way he was drawing the bow would cause immense shoulder pain when he let go, but Boosfer didn’t get to warn him since the next few seconds were blurred out by rubble blasting in the air and a bang that echoed off of metal walls.
Theo.
Boosfer’s totem—
.
.
.
He doesn’t have a totem.
What popped? Why are there totem particles in the air when he doesn’t have one on hand?
Why isn’t he dead?
Behind him was the wall he was thrown into by Theo’s TNT cart. His back ached slightly from the distance, but it definitely wasn’t broken, considering a broken spine would kill you instantly. Though, his head was pounding horribly, and it stood out against the rest of his body as it was the only thing that hurt.
He opened his eyes slowly; everything was blurry for a few seconds before he focused on Parrot standing in the same spot as before—Theo now next to him.
Parrot had a insightful look now; he had lost the anger.
Theo? He was stunned. Like, jaw-dropping type of stunned.
Well, he isn’t dead than.
Probably not disfigured either.
But, fuck, must he admit the way his head pounds insistently with no sign of ceasing makes it feel like otherwise. Does he have a hole in his head? Maybe, if he reaches up and feels across his head he’ll find the cause.
His hand, covered in dirt, making him look washed out, reached towards where the pain resides—his forehead, oddly enough, being the only area hurting.
Upon placing the tips of his fingers on his headband, right where the purple gem lays under it, he felt burning, like the gem was overheating under the bandana and trying to burn through for fresh air.
Which it shouldn’t. It’s a gem. A gem etched into his forehead for the rest of eternity. Nothing more.
…There were times it was warmer, but never to the intensity of now.
When he reverted his attention to the birds, originally farther away, Parrot was closer. He was approaching slowly, like he was stalking prey.
Boosfer didn’t wait another second to stand up and pull his axe out, holding it in a defensive manner opposed to an aggressive one—he knew he wasn’t in a state to fight.
“Chill! I’m not going to attack you, man. I am just confused on how you’re even alive.” Parrot put his hands up in an act of innocence. But it meant nothing when innocence was a coy to earn greater power on a server like this, “You weren’t holding a totem, and that cart was a direct attack.”
“How do you know I wasn’t holding a totem? Maybe I was.”
Bzzt
“Bro, you obviously weren’t. I would’ve seen it.”
Bzzzt
“Well, maybe you need better eyes.”
Bzzzzt
“Dude, I could see your open palms from like a mile away.”
Bzzzzzzt
“My palms were actually facing away from you.”
Bzzzzzt bzzt
“Ok, they weren’t—”
Suddenly, Parrot let out a scream louder than any man should ever be capable of letting out, and Boosfer knew he needed to run. Quickly.