: excessive cursing, an axe, implied eye injury, brief mention of scars, mention of exile

if there's anything else, let me know!

===

, clawing his eye. Screaming and crying, he rolls around with tears still streaming down his face. He gasps on his breath, his lungs burning to live. The (phantom?) pain is suffocating, drowning him because fuck, Dream's still holding him down and he can't breathe. "Fuck," the blond chokes out, sobbing right after. "Dream, Dream — I get it! Stop, stop, stop, please I'm sorry I won't do it again sir I'm sorry I'm sorry —"

His head scrapes against something warm. Birds chirp distantly and oh, the prison also doesn't have that either. It's warm, more like a hug than the burning, constantly-consuming lava.

Pandora's Vault isn't warm. It's cold, obsidian walls immune to the lava next to it, freezing under the soles of his feet and shivering skin. It's exile tenfold.

This isn't Pandora's Vault.

With a bit more clarity, Tommy can see a glimpse of puffy Cumulus clouds above his head, partially blocking a bright Sun and its rays. The sky is vibrant, bright, real. Tommy can feel its comfort wrapping around him, something he hasn't felt in ages, something more comfortable than lava, and he sinks into it. His skin tingles with the warmth — not pale, cold nor bloody like a dead man, just scarred. He's laying down on something, and finds that it's concrete as his fingertips graze it. He -- he can't feel his right eye, but that's fine because. Because there's no blood, either.

"This isn't the afterlife, is it," Tommy whispers. The only response he gets is the squawking of birds. The blond groans.

Fuck. Shit. Okay. Okay! He can -- shit, he doesn't have anything, does he? Sam has it all. Fuck.

Okay, he just. He has to look around. See where he is, what he can use. Ask what server he's in, and maybe get some help? Either way, as much as he wants to lay down and forget reality exists forever, he has to get up. With that in mind, Tommy slowly sits up, unsure of what remaining wounds he has and unwilling to risk it. His muscles ache, and the blond hisses once or twice, but it's better than normal.

He's sitting, his legs flat against the ground and his arms holding himself up, when he finally manages to look around.

He's on a building. One with a flat.. roof? Is he on a roof? There's a door to his left with a sign on it, but he isn't quite sure what it reads. The letters are just. Lines? It's.. one of them is like a tower of blocks, the other just an upside-down T with an extra line, making it like an upside-down F instead. Phil had mentioned something about it; a different language, right?

Tommy snapped his fingers with a memory, faintly remembering when Phil had written the second letter (character?) in a different server. The man was writing because he couldn't speak the language himself. It's Japanese.

It's.. Japanese.

Oh, shit. It's Japanese. Tommy is fairly sure he doesn't know Japanese. Fuck.

He can also be sure that hey, this is definitely, one-hundred percent, not the Dream SMP anymore! But then this could also be a dangerous server, one that could be fucking deadly to him right now!

Changing his attention before the panic really settled in, Tommy finally decided to look himself over.

There's no blood. His scars are still there, marred, healed skin he doesn't want to see but has to. He's still wearing his trademark t-shirt and some beige shorts, along with worn shoes, socks, his tool belt -- just his normal attire. Flipping the pouches open, Tommy scanned through them, surprised to find some items in it. Some iron, his communicator (thank Prime), a flint and steel, seeds, golden apples, rotten flesh, torches -- wait. Golden apples?

Tommy grabbed one out, holding it in his palms and watching its golden exterior gleam in the light. He dangled it in the air, before daring to take a bite out of it. An overwhelmingly sweet taste filled his mouth, the juices of the fruit pouring in as a surge of energy and healing came right after.

Holy shit. These were the real deal.

He chomped down on the rest of the fruit, holding its core in his hands. His body felt pleasantly warm, tingling and energized, and any pain that would've come with standing up had ebbed away. Tommy sighed as he stood, putting the core back into his belt because who knows? In this world, he might be able to fucking grow golden apples or something.

Not now, though. He has to check the rest of his inventory, if it was even there.

Tommy flicked his wrist, eagerly watching as the hologram flickered to life. Alright; in this new server, at least he has this. Though some parts of the hologram were glitched -- like how there were outlying gray rectangles and missing textures -- the projection was mostly intact. And, even better, there were some items in it, those being more seeds, carrots, arrows, enchanting bottles, a water bucket, and half a stack of bread. Though most of it Tommy easily ignored, because what the fuck, why was the Axe of Peace here?!

Hastily, the teen taped the axe's icon, watching it slip out of the hologram and into his hands. He weighed the weapon in his hands, gripping the handle and carefully swinging it around. And it. It weighed the same, felt the same, swung the same. It looked the same, too. With a brief scan using his communicator, all of its enchantments were there -- Efficiency V, Mending, Sharpness V, and Unbreaking III.

This was fucking real.

Tommy snorted, chuckled, and then laughed, hysteria filling his mind. He quietened down when he realized that people could hear him, even on this abandoned building, but he didn't stop laughing until a few minutes later. Even then it took him a bit to stop giggling.

Out of all the things he somehow has, that included Techno's fucking axe.

Putting the axe back and waving his inventory away, Tommy smiled. If this is a dangerous server, he has a chance to survive. Speaking of which, he should get down and explore the area a bit. He needs a base, bandages, healing potions, armor, information -- all of it.

The blond opened the door to his left, running down the following stairs that seemed to go on for ages. It seemed abandoned, for no one bothered Tommy's loud footsteps, the place was grimy, and any rooms he managed to peek in were empty -- maybe this could be a base? It seemed like a good one. He could have a decoy base at the first floor and then have all the actual shit scattered in the higher floors. Then again, it'd be a pain to walk the staircase over and over, or climb the walls again just to get to one thing.

Opening the back-door to the outside, Tommy stepped out, moving to leave the alleyway he appeared in. He paused, blinked, and then muttered a "what the fuck" as he watched machines whisk by -- fortunately, no one seemed to hear. They moved like minecarts, yet there were no rails. Phil had talked about those before, from another server, right? Something about an automobile, whatever that is. Weren't those called cars?

Why was he in a place with cars? This server was fucking advanced with their tech.

The people, too. Some of them looked like hybrids as they passed the alleyway, and yeah, that's pretty natural in different servers, especially ones like Hypixel. But the other people.. they weren't even hybrids. One man was controlling origami cranes, another had a drill for an arm, and there was a woman over there whose head was a fucking ball of fire?

Tommy dug into his tool belt, plucking his communicator out. He tinkered with it for a bit, seeing that most of the controls were the same, and then immediately tried to see the player list.

Error Occured.

"What?" Tommy frowned, pressing the Tab button on the side again. The message popped up once more, red letters blaring at him. He huffed. Cars (?) kept running by in front of him, and when he observed more sharply, there seemed to be different faces in each automobile. So there were.. too many players? Was that even possible?

He tried the next command he could think of.

/msg Dream WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU PUT ME

...

Player Not Found.

"Oh," Tommy breathed, rereading the small statement. "Oh shit."

===

Tommy had been walking around this city for a while. Probably for the entire day, with the way that the sky glowed orange, dipping to a blue hue. No one paid him any mind, thank Prime, but he didn't really stand out compared to someone with a television head so that was a given.

He'd gathered a lot of info just walking around, honestly. People gossiped about heroes and villains, about someone named All Might and another named Endeavor. They talked about quirks, bragged about them even. It was how Tommy could connect "quirks" to the non-hybrid features people had. Those were apparently superpowers people had gained one day. And due to that, "heroes" and "villains" were created.

At a random cafe, he'd managed to get access to its free wifi outside the building. Using his communicator Tommy searched for even more information about this weird server. For one, he was in Musutafu, Japan, which fucking sucked because now he couldn't talk to anyone. No idea how he'd learn Japanese, anyway. One of, if not the most popular hero schools was called U.A., which had produced most of the top heroes like All Might. The hero in question looked too strained in his opinion, honestly. Who wouldn't from smiling that much, all while keeping crime down to its lowest?

Anyways, there was a Gen Ed. course in U.A. Although the next batch of entrance exams he could go into wouldn't come until next year because he has no idenitity as of now, hypothetically, if Tommy worked hard and fast enough, he could forge an identity, get enough money to live stably, and pay for the tuition fees. If Tubbo were here, it wouldn't be as hard -- he was always good at tech.

Running a hand down his face, Tommy shakes the thoughts of the SMP away. Survival first.

There wasn't a three-life system as far as he could tell. And people don't know about respawning. The teen didn't know if it even existed in this server. Was everyone just on one life? Did that mean that he was on one, too?

Tommy sighs. He plucks a piece of bread from his inventory, nibbling on it as he looks around. Here, the buildings all look the same, the only difference being that instead of more buildings on the right, there was a trash-filled beach. The place he'd spawned in was far, far behind him now -- he'd wandered too much to even get back, because the players in this server (?) didn't have a shred of creativity in them. Every house looked the same.

But the beach. Exile.

Tommy considers his options carefully.

If he takes refuge in a stranger's home, there's high risks yet a high reward. It means living with someone he can't predict, can't read, and don't truly know in trade for food, water, and shelter. It means listening to their rules and praying they're kind.

If he lives homeless on the beach, there's high risks yet a low reward. It means relearning street-smarts and playing dirty. It means trusting himself, and only himself to survive. It means being free.

(If he strays from the shore, wouldn't he be giving in to Dream?)

There was no damn way Tommy was going to ask for refuge in one of the houses.

Heading to the entrance of the beach (its name on the entrance sign is Takoba Municipal Beach Park) Tommy pulled his shoes and socks off. He stepped onto the sand, feeling the soft, granular material sift between his toes. It was perfectly warm, hugging his feet as the blond walked deeper, soon standing amongst piles of trash. Metals gleamed in the light, sharp edges and rusted curves highlighted. (Tubbo would love to tinker with the broken machines.) Tommy weaved through the junk with ease until he stood in front of the shore, his hands shaking and his heart thumping as he puts away the half-eaten remanins of his bread.

The wind ruffles his hair. Tommy closes his eyes and takes a breath, relishing in the fresh, salty air so different from the overwhelming city-smell or the charred walls of an obsidian prison. "This isn't fucking exile," he murmurs, "Nor is it Pogtopia. Or L'Manburg. I am free."

He huffed. "I'm a big fucking man, is what I am. I can live on this fucking shore. Dream's just a stupid, manipulative bastard. Wilbur, less so. I won't come back, because the revive book isn't real. I am free." To where the sea spray tickles his skin, Tommy stands and feels more free than he's ever been.

"FUCK YOU, GREEN BOY!"

===

two-in-one, because if you skipped most of the prologue/first chapter then you'll at least have something to read instead of wasting your time :D

edited 8/11/21