Word Count : 1492

Requested By : dragonesmaster

Hermits (Major) : TinFoilChef,

Hermits (Minor) : XisumaVoid,

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A recognizable face shows themself to TFC after all the other Hermits have left the seventh server. The two have a very passive aggressive talk with each other in a struggle of reflection.

=

TFC hummed quietly to himself as he stood in the now empty shopping district that used to be full of players.

Bringing his hand up, Tin summoned the Admin control panel that had been given to him by Xisuma so he could make some last minute corrections.

The silence was nice for now. A small break from the chaotic world that was his dysfunctional family before he had to plunge back in.

Staring at the panel that was in front of him, TFC checked to make sure that there was a proper wall around the server, as well as saving different codes and files that would protect their world incase they ever wanted- or needed- to return.

The Admin panel hummed in the elder's hand.

With a deep calming breath to himself, TFC exhaled slowly- as if physically resetting himself for the new server.

"Well I never thought I'd feel your presence since the fall of the Aether, old friend." TFC exclaimed to the no longer empty server, still facing dead ahead and without breaking eye contact with the Admin panel.

A grouchy huff was offered in return behind Tin's back. "We are hardly friends, anymore, old man."

Lowering his hand, the Admin panel disappeared and TFC let out a deeper laugh. One that was full of dead expressions. "Still with the name calling? I thought you were over childish games, Generik."

A loud snarl suddenly erupted from behind TFC and the sound of a weapon being released from its holster reached his ears.

With a calm, fluid motion, TFC turned ninety degrees to his right, held his right hand up and out in an open palm and held fast. He felt an all too familiar surge of power rush through him as a loud clang rung out seconds later.

Glancing with his eyes to his right and up, he could see the dark netherite spear his old friend had sent his way to execute him.

TFC sighed tiredly. "Old cheap, dirty moves, Gen. Attacking an unarmed, elderly man is a dishonorable thing to do."

With another snarl, TFC's old friend tore off the light purple mask that had hidden his face for so long. In the mask's place was the battered and hate fueled face of a friend that Tin no longer recognized. A face that had only been swallowed whole by hatred and anger.

Generik B's venge-filled eyes glared at TFC's albino cursed ones. "You've lost the right to speak that name."

"And you've lost your way," Tin countered, lowering his hand and letting the netherite spear drop with a thunk in the cement blocks below it. Now he fully turned to the now purple robed and winged figure. "What happened to my friend?"

"We aren't friends anymore, old man," Generik hissed, summoning a sword in place of the spear.

TFC clenched both hands into fists. "What is it that the others call you now? The Grand Watcher?"

The Watcher spread out his wings and lunged for the warrior, swinging down with one large motion.

Sliding one foot back, TFC brought both hands up and summoned a pickaxe in one of them.

The Watcher's weapon was caught under one of the pickaxe's arches.

Lightning suddenly filled the sky and a large light filled blast knocked the two opponents away from each other.

Tin grunted but did not fall down. Sucking in a deep breath, the elder readjusted his stance and brought the pickaxe up in a defensive manner.

Generik had not fallen either.

The Grand Watcher spun his sword around in his hand. "You've gotten slow in your old age." He taunted.

"I'm still faster then you," Tin retorted back.

This time, the two lunged for each other simultaneously.

Their row caused the sky to thunder and shake. The very loose dirt on the cement roads that had been placed down in the shopping district jumped and bounced about as each thunderous strike and parry shook the whole of the server.

TFC would duck and strike to disarm. Every now and then going to possibly knock the other unconscious.

Generik would strike and strike and strike again without a second thought. He would strike to kill.

TFC let out a yell when the sword went across his arm.

Glaring hard at his assaulter, Tin recounted his options before revealing his own pair of graying wings.

His eyes went completely white at the action, shining away any bit shadowy doubt that TFC might have had.

The sight of the now white eyed man caused Generik to hesitate.

That single moment allowed TFC to take off into the air and create space between them.

Letting out a twisted- and yet disappointed laugh- the Grand Watcher followed into the air. "You coward! Fleeing like a dog with your tail between your legs!" He taunted, mercilessly.

The two continued to chase and swing at each other. Lightning would lick at their heels and wings, as if to edge the fight on even more so.

Tin grunted as Generik rammed into him, causing his flying form to become messed up.

Generik took the sight of error and ran.

Jetting down on his lower opponent, Generik raised his netherite sword and swung down. His form was like a bullet as it streaked across the sky.

Tin let out a cry of pain as he plummeted down to the ground below with a fresh new wound at his side.

The warrior- being unable to slow his fall- hit the ground hard. Dust went up into the air and went everywhere.

Generik slowly descended down until his feet once again touched the ground. His sword was clutched tightly in his hand as the intoxicating feeling of disgusting pride filled his chest.

TFC was laying half alive in a crater that had formed when he hit the ground. Blood caked against his forehead and matted down his hair. The elder was weakly trying to push himself back up again.

Generik laughed coldly at his attempt. "I've surpassed you in every way possible, old man. How could you have ever hoped to defeat me?"

TFC growled as he slowly climbed to his knees, wheezing and coughing due to the dust that he had inhaled.

"You give Watcher's a bad name." Tin grouched. His white, empty eyes glared at the supposed victor.

Gen made no reply as he raised his sword to swing down and finish his opponent off for good.

A twisted, crazed grin spread across Generik's face. "Have fun with your god." He hissed, before swiping down at his opponent.

TFC braced for the strike, shutting his eyes. But he never felt it come.

"What..."

Reopening his eyes, TFC first looked at his hand for an explanation. His body was glitching out. Fading would have been a better word for it.

Exhaling the breath of air he had no idea he had been holding, Tin rose to his feet again.

Generik looked even more angered, but above all he looked so confused. Hurt almost. "What the hell is this trick."

TFC wrapped one arm around his midsection so that his hand would touch the wound that had brought him down. He grunted and breathed heavily. "Its called having an Admin, Gen. A good one too."

Generik yelled in frustration. He brought his sword up and swung at TFC again and again. He watched with intense rage as the weapon all but phase through the oldest hermit.

"NO!" Gen screamed.

Tin bowed his head, licking his bloodied lips. "I'm sorry, Generik. I wish things were different."

And with that, TFC was pulled from the server.

=

Trekking along the new server's wide and vast plains, TFC readjusted the grip on the iron axe that was in his hand.

Two brand new Hermits, a new server, and iron tools. Just how he always remembered when the Hermits had just gotten together.

Tin marched along the edge of a Birchwood forest. His destination was far, but that didn't bother him. The journey allowed him to think.

Suddenly ceasing his walking, TFC took his free hand and dug into his hoodie, grasping into a hidden pocket that was on the inside of it.

Now within his hand was a very old photo.

The picture contained two young. Both of them dressed in shining god armor.

One of the young men was in fact, TFC himself. The other young man was his old friend who he hadn't seen the same since the fall of the Aether.

Gazing at the image, TFC let out an exhausted sounding sigh before turning his head up and towards the blue clouded sky.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen."

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Fin

*Headcanon lore drop intensifies*