Chapter Text
Grian swooped down into the cave, extending his large parrot-esque wings. He glided to the stone floor, haphazardly pushing grimy flight goggles onto his forehead. Wincing at the sound of crunching gravel under his feet, Grian walked his daily routine around the cave, making sure everything was in working order. His sheep farm was working, Grumbot’s cogs and gears had all been properly oiled, everything seemed to be good and well. He frowned, ruffling his feathers. Nothing was ever perfectly fine in the Grian cave.
Crunch.
Startled, Grian whirled around. A piece of paper fluttered down from the rocky ceiling, bringing with it small pieces of gravel and rock. Frowning slightly, Grian cautiously picked up the paper and turned it over.
Hello, Grian. We’re watching you.
Grian inhaled sharply, panicked thoughts suddenly running through his brain. Watchers. He called out, but the only response he got was his own voice echoing throughout the cavern. Another fluttering of loose paper sounded, and one of Grian’s wing-like ears twitched as another sheet drifted to the ground. Hardly daring to breathe, Grian shifted his body to read the paper.
The other members of your group are in hiding, but you were not hard to find.
Grian frowned. He wasn’t a part of any group. “Who are you?” He yelled into the capacious gloom. Grian wasn’t quite sure what he expected from that, but it certainly wasn’t for Ren Dog, the King of Hermitcraft, to leap from a crack in the ceiling. The wolf hybrid activated his elytra, circling down to land in front of the winged man.
“Ren? What? This was you?” Grian shakily took a step back.
“That’s King Ren to you, peasant .” Ren spat out the last word like a curse. “I assume you know why I've come to you?”
“No, I–” Grian started. “I– I paid my taxes. I, um, I did a few quests. I’ve been a good citizen!”
King Ren laughed. “Is joining an underground resistance considered good citizen behavior these days?”
Grian just stared. “What? I haven’t joined any resistances. I made a group that is literally about being not a resistance. It’s called N.A.R–”
“Don’t try to make excuses and lies, I won’t fall for your fiction, Grian.” King Ren’s expression shifted to a scowl, highlighted by the sharp, gleaming edges of his diamond sunglasses. “Now. Do you want to tell me where Pearl, Gem, and Impulse are hiding, or am I going to have to take you prisoner?”
Grian fell silent. “I’ve… never worked with the soup group,” he said, voice shaky. Even to him, the lie sounded weak.
“Not willing to tell the truth just yet? Oh well, then. I’ll just have to arrest you. It’ll be more fun anyways.”
Grian narrowed his purple flashing eyes, raising his wings in a defensive position. “You and what army?”
King Ren raised his hand, obviously in some kind of signal. Sure enough, Cub, Cleo and Scar emerged from various shadows around the room, advancing towards the avian watcher in the center of the room. Grian spread his wings wide, attempting to shift into a full watcher.
Crack .
A flash of light radiated from the rocky floor, and a large crack began to open along one wall of the cave. It was lit with a flash of pink-purple, swirling colors forming a… Portal? Rift? Grian, however, was on the ground, still painfully an avian hybrid. Instead of shifting, his power had created this rift.
Cleo launched themself at Grian, managing to pin him to the floor. The avian shrieked as the zombie forcefully shoved his wings and arms to the ground. She was strong, especially considering their skin was mostly rotting flesh.
Red, yellow, blue and green feathers floated to the ground as Scar proceeded to sit on his legs, restricting all of Grian’s movement. He was dressed completely in his full HotGuy getup, custom elytra matching the orange-and-blue wings of his symbol. Scar leaned forward, showing Grian a glass bottle full of greenish liquid.
“Can you drink this for me, Gri?” He smiled innocently.
“That’s poison! Of course not!” Grian’s voice was half yell, half birdlike screech.
“Aww, it’s not poison. Just a sleeping potion. If you could drink it on your own, that would be great. We won’t hurt you, don’t worry.”
“No! Why would I voluntarily drink a sleeping potion?”
“Your choice, I guess.” Scar shrugged. “But now I have to force you to drink it.”
“Wait, no.” Grian frantically wracked his brain for a way out of this situation. “Um, take me to dinner first?”
Scar sighed, rolling his eyes. “Just drink the potion, Gri.” He pressed the cool glass to Grian’s lips, and proceeded to pour the liquid all over his face. Grian coughed and spluttered, and the small amounts of potion that made it through his mouth sank into his system. He felt his brain go fuzzy as Scar picked him up, cradling him in his arms. “G’night, pretty bird, I love you!” The last thing he remembered was the cool tingling feeling of Cub carefully removing his Watcher mask, and then everything went dark.