Chapter Text
The Amplified is a strange place. Unexplainable, really. Some may call it unstable. The one thing that remains a constant there is a warm temperature that hardly wavers into something unpleasant—at least, the part where BAT headquarters lies nestled in the side of a mountain. Leo enjoys the unpredictability of that part of the server. He also likes the warmth and permanent sunshine they get there.
He doesn't like admitting he's no longer used to biting winds, snow and frost. Not that he can't handle change, but there used to be a time where he was adept at change from one biome to the next. Now the freezing weather makes him cold to the very bone, the netherite he's wearing doing next to nothing to protect him from it.
He's not saying he's gotten weaker since. Even if the frost clings to his skin he won't complain about it, not beyond a few grumbled annoyances that are swallowed by his mask. He's not one to back down from a bit of snow.
It takes a good walk to get to the coordinates given to him. The trek through the layers of snow that reach all the way up to his knees is a tough one. He nearly gives up walking to grab ender pearls and make it a little easier and faster on himself, but he reminds himself to be content with pushing through. Resources are scarce, he can be satisfied with what he has. Ignoring how much Lettuce has stashed away, that is.
But he's fine. He can glare against the wind that brings tears to his eyes. He's kept warm by the anger in his chest. Leo has a lot to be angry about, which has turned his heart into a raging wildfire. Without it, he wouldn't still be fighting.
In the end, the snowstorm is what kept him in the dark. When it finally dies down a little, he's blessed to marvel at a magnificent mountain against a weak sun. He can tell it's manmade but that doesn't take away from how pretty the sight is compared to the desolate wastelands of snow that players would rather avoid than struggle through. He supposes that's why the mountain and surrounding area look entirely untouched by anyone but the builders of it.
Then he notices the small bunker built in the foot of the mountain. It's small, but fortified heavily, he can tell the closer he gets.
"Evil headquarters ahh, bro," he mumbles and shakes his head. Can he really be blamed for it? Lettuce and his Lawmen claimed to be the good guys, protecting the server from evil, but some of their bases and practices were questionable even to him.
"Prison? Or something?" He's talking to himself and he's fully aware, but so help him, he's standing in front of a bunker that doesn't have an obvious way into. He doubts he's supposed to break into it by force.
So, with a sigh and after clearing his throat, he looks up at the door which has to be at least three times his height. "Hello? Lettuce? You summoned me here, what's going on?"
He doesn't get a second to dwell on what this place might be. After his call, the mechanisms of the door power up and collapse sideways to allow him passage. He can only call it fancy, with the way the redstone is covered up to give him a path to walk over. The walls are made of deepslate to make the entrance look fortified, but on the inside there's a nice combination of decorated tuff, stone and copper bulbs.
Oh, who is he kidding? It looks made purely to be claustrophobic.
Behind him, the doors close automatically. He follows the path into the mountain. For how big the mountain is, the walk is unnecessarily long, ending in another redstone door he goes through. There, he's finally greeted by the man who started this all.
"Leo! There you are, I was wondering when you'd show up!" Lettuce exclaims, face pulled into a warm grin that Leo is wary of by nature.
The doors close again. When he turns to look at it, he notices the members of Law standing by either side; full netherite, invisibility, black shields with a painted sun on them. There's a set of them in each cardinal direction, all guarding a hallway or door of their own.
He meets Lettuce's gaze with a hard one of his own. "What's all this? New project?" A mountain like this could easily hide a weapon of mass destruction, maybe an arrow cannon rather than an orbital strike cannon, but he's always down for surprises. Or maybe this is Law's headquarters and they finally trust him enough to let him in on the big plans—he knows they have some.
Lettuce shrugs and looks around the room. The roof isn't as high as other, more well-decorated places are. Did he mention something about claustrophobia? The head of Law isn't as bothered by it. No, it seems he's perfectly fine here, which tells Leo it was a conscious choice.
"Old project, actually. Top secret too. I thought I'd finally let you in on this little secret of mine, seeing how much effort you've put into hunting down our target." He invites him over to the middle of the room where a large, round table awaits him. A cup sits on Leo's side of the table, a second one in Lettuce's own paw. "Tell me, how's that coming along? It's been a while since I've gotten an update from you."
Leo gingerly grabs his own cup. It's not a glass, which stops him from seeing the bottom of the liquid inside. Ceramic, so he can't tell the colour. When he sniffs it, he can't say if it's an actual fruity drink or something else.
Lettuce laughs. He glances up, and the man's grin is one of amusement and satisfaction. "I knew you would. You're so careful, aren't you?"
He straightens up, using his free hand to pull the mask from his face and let it hang around his neck. The air inside here is gross, as is every ounce of Overworld air, but he won't complain in front of Lettuce. He's got about five minutes to drink whatever he got him until he needs his filter again. Plenty of time to talk.
"I'm part of an assassin team, bro." He takes a sip, the drink tastes fine enough—if it were tampered with, the taste would be a lot stronger. This simply reminds him of chorus fruit, a nice little touch, probably done on purpose. He almost misses the end because of it. "If we're not careful, we're not cut out for this job."
"Fair enough." Lettuce drinks his own, then sets the cup down onto the table to walk around it towards Leo. "Then you'll have to be very observant too, right? Surely you know what this place is by now."
'By now' being the minutes he can count on one hand he's been inside here. But he's not wrong. "This …" he starts, following Lettuce's example by walking to the opposite side of the table—and he doesn't miss the twitch in the man's grin. The cup remains in his hand though, he's a little thirsty from his journey here. "… is a prison. Made for some very dangerous people, I presume."
With a nod, the other urges him to keep going. Leo can't help but wonder why this feels like another assessment of his skills, as if Lettuce needs any more after the first.
"Low ceiling, hard to pearl out. Eight guards at the exit with your strongest gear, more down the hallway. Built in a place no one ever thinks of going. Who are you keeping here?"
"Well," Lettuce sighs and looks away, a disappointment visible in his falling shoulders. "It was made for people like Wemmbu, Flame and Spoke. Y'know, the most dangerous people on this server? My vision was to keep them here, to stop them from ever hurting my beautiful server again."
He grimaces. "But Wemmbu got away, Flame has been on the run, and Spoke is slippery too," Leo finishes for him. He downs the rest of his drink to put the cup down and nod solemnly when Lettuce does too—he's more than a little relieved to let his mask sit back on his face comfortably.
"You can't keep someone like Spoke locked up though," Leo says and crosses his arms, standing his ground. He knows Lettuce would much rather imprison him for good, but he's chased after him enough to know this for a fact. No one can catch and keep him.
The subject makes him force out a breath. All the frustration comes bubbling back up. "I haven't had any updates for you because I've been hot on his tail. You made me leave your Lawmen to hunt him down alone, something they won't be able to do without my help, and I'm probably losing him again for a while. I'd like to know what this emergency was, Lettuce." If it weren't for this apparently important meeting, he'd be out there, chipping away at Spoke's dwindling sources. Maybe he'd even have his head freed from his shoulders already.
Lettuce considers his words at least. He hears him hum thoughtfully as he looks away to mull over the words for a moment. Leo stands up straighter. Finally someone cares enough to hear him out again. He's missed having competent players on his side. If Lettuce has some kind of plan or is at least down to support him with actual resources, he might be able to catch Spoke for real this time.
"Anyone can be caught. I've heard about the … expenses … of your hunt for Spoke." Lettuce's brows twitch into a slight frown. "You've lost a lot of good men by throwing them at your target with just the same results." He simply stands there, but Leo knows he could very well be glaring him down and spitting the words out if he had just a little less self control.
Leo himself didn't feel the need to filter himself. "Isn't that exactly what you have done, Lettuce? As the leader of Law, you sent a thousand men to their deaths knowing damn well they couldn't kill Flame and Wemmbu."
Lettuce's clawed paws curl into tight fists. That certainly got under his skin.
"Why do you think we're here?" he asks, clearly not expecting an answer. "I know how strong those two are. But I've driven them away enough to run the elections. Numbers aren't enough, I need something stronger. I need someone who can actually deal with them."
He stays where he is, now it's his turn to think. Of course the first thing he thinks of is an assassin or two, but he's been there, he is one. For a moment, all he remembers are the old days of BAT, when Parrot was still a part of it and they all worked together to figure out the identity of the Director. A bitter taste on his tongue makes him swallow. They had been on the other end of assassins—Itz, Cube, TruOriginal, the Director himself—and a twinge of guilt travels down his spine. But he shakes it off and catches Lettuce's eyes again, he's on the correct side of history as he always has been, right?
"Who are you thinking of?" It's the logical next question. He can think of a few players strong enough to take on those three, some of which might already be on the side of Law, others which he doesn't even want to name.
Leo's hand shakes a little when he finally relaxes enough to stop taking such a defensive stance. He doesn't want to look at it. He feels weird, why does he feel weird? The step he takes to the side proves not just his hand has an odd tingling to it.
He refuses to show his sudden weakness. Lettuce steps around the table again and Leo follows, jaw clenched shut as he gathers the evidence; keen eyes on him from all angles, limbs that are slower to follow his command, the shaking of his hands, the slight drowsiness in the back of his head he struggles to ignore. Surely Lettuce didn't actually poison him?
"I need someone who's strong, Leo. Someone capable, who doesn't hesitate to follow my every command, who doesn't hold back. Do you know someone who has all these qualities?"
They stop, and suddenly Lettuce is on the other end of the table and fully in between him and the exit.
He raises his chin to stare him down. There's an answer here that the Law's leader is waiting for, and his apparently tainted mind is struggling to come up with many answers. He has one, but he doesn't understand why he has to be fishing for it.
"Me?" he tries, and his answer is immediately rewarded by a grin that breaks up Lettuce's face and shows off his sharp teeth. Ah, he's right. Why doesn't that feel like a good thing?
"Exactly. You, Leo, have shown exceptional willingness to work along with the Law. Only, you lack one of these qualities." The air inside the base turns a little colder, but Leo isn't sure if he's imagining it or not. "If I told you to kneel, would you?"
He can't help the deep, confused frown that appears on his face. The answer is no, apparently, because he regards Lettuce with a calculating look. "Like, when you're king?"
Lettuce doesn't move a muscle. "Like, right now."
He opens his mouth to say something, but snaps it shut again. His body doesn't move. Kneeling isn't for him, never has been. If Lettuce were officially the king, things might be different, but they're still actively fighting to make that happen. As of right now, he's nothing but the leader of Law, something Leo isn't so sure he's willing to kneel for.
"That's what I thought." Disappointment is audible in the sigh Lettuce heaves when he lets his head hang. "Leo, our partnership is great and I really am thankful for the resources, information and manpower you've given me so far. But I still lack one thing. Just one thing!"
Leo has half the urge to stare at the cup he left like it'll give him the answers he needs, limbs weak and mind following close behind. If he didn't have the willpower that he does, he wouldn't be able to keep standing up straight like nothing's wrong at all. He breathes in deeply, but the air does nothing to clear his head.
"What?" he prompts, not happy about the fact that Lettuce is obviously stalling, waiting for the weakness to take effect. Like this, he can't imagine what his plan might be. If he wanted him dead, why have this conversation?
"You're not loyal." The expression isn't one of anger, not a glare. But something sits on Lettuce's mind that he's glad to finally let escape. "You're here because of your hatred for Spoke, but after that? You were friends with Parrot, you could easily switch sides once you're done with Spoke. I'm not saying you will, but you could. I don't know you well enough and I can't trust you enough to say there's no way you'd betray me like that. I need you to do exactly what I say when you're under my command, but you can't follow even a simple one. Can you reassure me you'll stay?"
A threat. Leo can't say he expected that one when he was summoned for this meeting.
He sets his jaw. "I don't just betray my partners, bro. We're in this for the good of the server, right? That's what Law and BAT are both about."
Lettuce blows out a deep breath and relaxes his paws. "We are, we are."
"So what exactly do you want from me here?" This guessing and all the back and forth is working on his nerves. He can be loyal, but Lettuce can't expect him to listen like a chained dog. Does he want him to train? Does he want him to do worse? Orbital strike cannon, arrow cannon, void traps, what else can he really do?
"I made this … program," the other starts. His paws rest on the table and he refuses to meet Leo's gaze, almost like there's a guilt he doesn't want him seeing. If that doesn't confirm an ulterior motive, the way all the guards seem to snap their attention to either him or Lettuce will.
Leo steps back from the table. His limbs complain, heavy and slow. He hates how he has to prompt him out loud to keep going.
"It was meant for Wemmbu at first. He was meant to become a soldier, I would make him listen and fight for me, it would both clean up a criminal and give me the upper hand. I had him locked up in prison when this place was being made but he had an ill-timed escape and slipped from my hands." Lettuce slams a fist into the table and Leo stares at it. "I would have settled for Flame or even Spoke if anyone competent could actually catch either of them!"
He's never going to admit how much that offended him. He'd blame it on the weakness he felt anyways. Competence isn't something he lacks, Spoke is simply too big of a nuisance to catch normally.
"So you want me to catch somebody else for you." In the back of his mind, he's fully aware he simply doesn't want to see what's obvious and right in front of him. Maybe if he denies it enough, plays it off like it's unrealistic and ridiculous, then Lettuce will see eye to eye.
"No, that's okay." That damn voice of his sounding so calm despite the situation they're in. Calculated, thought out, he's been planning this for a while. He sounds perfectly fine with what he's made here. "I think we've talked enough, Leo. It's about time you take our partnership a little more seriously."
Like he's muttered a code-word, all the guards spring to action. Leo notices several ticks too late, eyes still caught on Lettuce by the time pearls are thrown. He's clumsy in the way he reaches for his carts—they're not anywhere in reach, why did he put them away? At least a rail can be placed before the first guard crashes into him with their full weight.
All the air is knocked out from him. His feet slip, the guard almost manages to topple him over, but he hasn't lost his ways just yet. Despite the weakness gripping at his limbs, he shoves them away and slips back towards the rail. He dodges a punch, takes another one to the gut with nothing more than a groan and the slightest blur in his eyes. His bow appears in his hand and he smacks a soldier with it over the head before shooting an arrow.
Time slows down. Between the eight guards, the flaming arrow that arcs beautifully towards the rail and the cart that appears in his hand only because of sheer practice and muscle memory, he follows the chaos easily for someone drugged unknowingly. He'd be proud if he didn't have to focus all his energy on slipping through the guards and actually placing the cart.
He's body-blocked by one of them. The cart never finds the rail and the arrow hits the latter uselessly. There's no chance to even mourn it before a fist protected and hardened by a netherite gauntlet hits him in the jaw and sends him reeling back. He gasps for air, sight blurry for a solid few seconds. The distraction is enough for his feet to be kicked out from under him and for his bow to be torn from his hands violently enough to break it. His back hits the floor, this time he can't help the yell as pain blooms down his spine despite his armour.
A boot kicks him in the side. Someone grabs at his helmet to yank it from his head. He hardly gets the time to blink the blur away before a sword points straight at his throat. He hisses, teeth gritted underneath his mask where the guards can't see, though the death glare he sends up at them does more than enough to tell them how pissed he is. They stop their onslaught, thinking him defeated, or giving up.
But only a fool thinks a player like him would quit this easily.
With the flick of his wrist, he summons his sword into his hand and knocks it against the one threatening him in one smooth swoop, the ringing of netherite against netherite echoing through the room. He twists his feet between the soldier's legs and trips him up, rolling out of the way of the boot that tries to stomp down on him.
He's back onto his feet much slower than he'd like, as if his mind is going a few steps ahead and his body lags behind more and more. At least he can slash his sword against one of their shields and stab it in the weakness of another's armour with relative ease.
"He's slower than usual but do not underestimate him, men," Lettuce voice rings out and grates against his ears. Leo would glare at him if he could spare the attention. "Detain him already!"
He doesn't waste another second. The guards don't see his attacks coming, not the several swipes that do devastating damage before they can even react. They hit back, but it's damage that Leo can easily combat by ripping his mask down and taking a massive bite of a golden apple, the healing of it invigorating his body entirely. He almost feels as good as new, if he could ignore the weakness effect settling deeper and deeper into his muscles the more he moves. The golden apple boosts his speed for a sliver of a moment before he feels more tired than before, chest heaving to give him enough air to supply his muscles with.
Lettuce prepared his soldiers well, apparently. He doesn't see the hand coming from the side that yanks his gas mask from his face again, binds snapping as soon as he turns to them with a withering glare.
Well, great. Now he's got a time limit.
With more rage than before, he swings his sword over his head and swipes at another soldier. From the corner of his eye, he sees the mask being tossed into a corner. In front of him, a soldier gurgles out a scream at the gash in their throat. They back off only to be replaced by two others.
He's got his fair share of nicks and wounds too by now. Golden sweetness is all he tastes when he takes another apple, overwhelming and addicting at the same time, overpowered by the feeling of his wounds knitting shut again. The bruises formed by relentless attacks against his armour heal too, thank the void. Without these apples, he would've been downed in seconds.
Maybe he was too comfortable in himself. Maybe the mask being taken in an unfair advantage to the Law should've been a hint that they really wouldn't fight fair anymore.
He blinks and misses it. A lead wraps around his throat. Before he can raise his hands, wring out another attack, look behind him, hell, before he can even gasp in shock, the lead is yanked back. The rope tightens around his throat. He stumbles back, sword dropping uselessly to the floor. All the air is trapped within his lungs, he can't breathe, he coughs, chokes, his nails dig into the rope—
In a last-ditch effort, he scrambles for an enderpearl in his inventory. The only opening he sees is further away from his mask. He has to take it, he has nothing else.
The pearl breaks and he reappears on the side of the table, crashing into it and falling to his knees. But the lead doesn't snap. Pure fear settles deep into his guts at the realisation, well before the guard pulls at the rope again. It tightens, damn near crushes his windpipe, and he's dragged back, a choked wail wrung from his poor, abused lungs. Tears well up in his eyes unwillingly, he can't even see anymore, can't see the guards until another boot collides with his stomach and sends him rolling over.
They keep coming until they don't. The attacks let up at some point, maybe because he's not fighting anymore, or maybe Lettuce stops them. He's left wheezing for air, barely allowed to get any.
A shadow falls over him. His whole world twists when he moves his eyes to look at them, and even through the blur, the lights of the ceiling line out the shape of Lettuce easily. He should be confident, but the terror has a grip on him now and all he can do is wheeze out a plea for mercy. He needs to breathe.
"I will get my Lawdog, Leo. It's a shame I have to settle for you, but you'll do fine. Don't worry, the world will be proud of you."
He can't reply. His head falls back against the stone floor as his vision goes dark. The last thing he sees before he's out cold is the shape of Lettuce and the light reflecting off his sharp teeth as he grins.