Ink Stains (MCYT Oneshots)

[R] Escape: Success (Purpled & Dream)

(A/N: request as a pic. :3 enjoy!!)

"Hey, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Purpled automatically said, looking up from his holoscreen — that showed the current rankings of the current Bedwars Tournament — to meet the smiling face of a white mask.

"Sure, you're not," Mask Man said, clearly not meaning it at all. Purpled's hand itched for a sword, but instead, his kept his composure and turned away.

"Are you here to compete or are you a staff?" he asked instead.

"Just someone around," Mask Man replied mysteriously, which didn't give him much at all. "Should a kid like you be at such an event."

Purpled knew exactly what he was referring to.

Bedwars Tournaments were highly illegal due to the fact that killing was, while not encouraged, definitely allowed, and more often than not, the people who ended up here usually either had debts to pay, wanted to chase a thrill, or simply got caught up in the wrong kind of situation. Purpled was part of the former group.

"Should you be here?" he shot back, and Mask Man only laughed.

"Maybe," he hummed, and offered no more.

Purpled decided to ignore him, and check out how the match was going. It looked like the Ravagers were going to win against the Youngbloods, so if his next round went well, he'd be facing them.

He switched back to the page of the round statuses.

"Oh, hey, we're fighting against each other next round," Mask Man suddenly said casually. Purpled blinked, and glanced at the box below his team's, which was called Gamerz (with a Z, because he, Hannah and Walli all lost a bet to Eighty, who insisted on the Z). Sure enough, below it was the simple name of Manhunters.

He clicked on the box, and saw four names pop up. Dream, GeorgeNotFound, Sapnap, and BadBoyHalo.

"Which one is you, then?" Purpled asked, half-sarcastically. Mask Man snickered, and pointed to the first name.

"Dream, obviously," Mask Man, who he now knew to be called Dream, said in a tone so arrogant it almost made Purpled wince.

"Okay," Purpled shrugged. "Still gonna crush you, though."

Dream didn't respond as he walked away, but Purpled had a feeling he was smiling behind that mask of his. For some reason, that thought did not bother him as much as it should.

"Are you ready?" Hannah asked him.

"When am I not?" Purpled rolled his eyes, hefting his wooden sword onto his shoulder. They were waiting for the match to officially start, and for the gates to lower. For some reason, it was taking much longer than it usually would.

"You think something happened backstage?" Eighty questioned, coming up to them, with Walli following close behind. 'Backstage' was code for 'the room where the organisers sat, sipped their cold tea, and continued being bastards'.

"Probably," Purpled frowned. "Maybe there's just a delay, or something."

"If we get locked in here, I'm calling the cops and pretending to have been kidnapped," Walli muttered, frowning at the walls.

While Purpled knew the organisers probably wouldn't care to listen into their conversation, it still didn't stop the spike of anxiety that he felt.

All of a sudden, the gate started opening, without any prior warning. All of four of them tensed up, readying their swords...

...only to come face to face with the opposite team, with screaming and explosions coming from the stands.

"Hi, you're all like children, right?" one of them asked brightly. Purpled wanted to kill him immediately.

Eighty did not have as much restraint as him, because he just straight up chucked a sword at the guy, before quickly taking out another. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Rescuers, who else?" Purpled's eyes widened as Dream stepped forward, rope held in his arms. "There's a helicopter we can get you guys into, if you'd just follow us."

"This sounds like a kidnapping attempt," Hannah replied dryly, not moving from her place. "Full offence."

"It kind of is, though," another one of them, one with clout goggles on his head, stage-whispered to another with a bandana, who smacked him.

"Shut the fuck up, you're so annoying," the bandana man whispered back, though it was more fond than annoyed.

Dream cleared his throat. "Ignoring my friends, we'd make sure you'd be able to contact whoever you wanted. And if that's not enough incentive..."

He took out a picture from his pocket, a picture of a brown-haired boy, that looked like it had been taken recently. Purpled's breath hitched.

"Ranboo?" Purpled whispered.

Purpled didn't need to look over at the others to know what they were thinking. He didn't talk about Ranboo much, but it was mostly because he'd probably start to tear up at the mention of his dead brother.

Or was it not-dead now?

Dream hummed. "Ranboo's back at our base, if you'd want to see him. And of course, the rest of you are always welcomed."

Purpled shared a look with the others.

Before long, he was lifting himself up the last steps of the drop-down ladder, grunting as he pushed himself onto the helicopter, and collapsed next to Eighty.

And as the helicopter flew away, Purpled glanced at the arena of the Bedwars Tournament once more, possibly for the last time.

"So!" BadBoyHalo clapped his hands, ending the silence. "Who wants to play Monopoly?"