-Tommy's POV-

"Jesus mother of hell's holy fuckwads, what the fuck just happened- and where the fuck is Tubbo, the clingy guy was just there!" I wondered aloud, curiously annoyed as I looked around, before screaming as I saw my reflection. I was fucken- I was a brunette! Like, Wilbur style brunette. And the rest of me looked like if Sam had a really awesome robot arm and eye. Wait, my scream though... It sounded manlier. Not like my scream before wasn't perfectly manly, but this one was like- deep, deep as fuck. Not to mention, very gruff. "What tha fuckkkk-" I tested. Yeah, it was definitely not my voice. It was like Fundy's but better, firstly, and second, it was- well, I already said manly, but just very masculine in general. Almost disturbingly so. Was this how Eret or Corpse felt when they talked? Damnnnnn, it felt good.

Wait, how would pog sound? Or cuss words other than fuck? Ooh, the possibilities, they were endless- I had to find out where I was first, though... Shit, what if it was one of those PG-13 places? Noooooooooooooooo, that would fucking suck- Wait, where even was I? Like, in whatever server this was. I could see a wooden mansion around me, but that was it... No, scratch that, I could see out the whole side of it- Okay, make that half of a probably griefed mansion. Either way, it wasn't something you'd see too often on the Dream SMP. The only people who would build such pog champ things are Eret, FoolishG, and Dream. Ugh, Dream... The green teletubby was such a pain in the ass, honestly.

But anyways, back to the more pressing matters of- wait a minute, who was that guy that looked grumpy living right across from me? Was that my version of Technoblade? Was he good at fighting? Could I kill him? Oooh, I wanted to kill him. Wait, no I didn't, that wasn't me- it seemed that whoever the guy I was inhabiting was, they didn't like their neighbor. The guy, whoever they were, looked over at me, and stuck out their tongue, and I had the strong urge to flip them the middle finger. So, of course, I did. They didn't seem to like that much, but just walked inside what I guessed was their house- which looked exactly like mine- ours. Asshole had probably copied whatever whoever I was had done. Ugh, I haven't even been here five minutes and my apparent neighbor makes me wanna commit more than one degree of murderrrrr-

Hmm, maybe murder wouldn't hurt. It was Minecraft, after all, and that dick probably would have purposely killed me if it was hardcore. And so I looked through my chests, which took me ages to find in the first place, finding loads of shit. Like, good shit. As in full enchants and everything. Jesus fuck. They even had, like, five elytra, though I didn't try one on. It's not like I knew how to fly with it. Finding a maxed out diamond axe, my eyes sparkled. I'd get to use this beaut without having it stolen... Yeah, that would feel good. But also kind of wrong. Larceny is much better. I also found some gapples, and shrugged, taking some. They were good to have, so why not? Then, I walked straight over to the other guy's house base thingy as sneakily as I could when I was eight feet tall. My guy was massive. Wilbur would cower if he were here. As soon as I made it to my— his?— neighbor's side, I went for it. The guy wasn't even armed, and quickly enough, dead. His player head dropped into my inventory, and the message "BdoubleO100 died fighting Docm77" appeared in chat. I'm guessing I was the Docm77 guy. Weird name, but I guess it works. And they use mods here. That's good to know.

Looking over at a big, cyan bed, I saw the assumed Bdouble-whatever respawn, sitting up, and looking around in confusion, before spotting me. His expression turned gaunt, and he backed away. Poor fuck didn't have any gear, so I could just keep doing this. Shrugging, I walked over, picked him up by his shirt collar, and swung. I occasionally hit my hand because I couldn't see too well through all the blood, but the guy was definitely dead again, so I didn't care. The same message appeared in chat as he respawned, almost immediately scrambling towards his chests for literally anything. I didn't even hesitate, aiming, throwing, and hitting him square in the chest. He wasn't making it hard, that's for sure. As he respawned again with the same death message, he simply sat there, glaring at me. "You're a real mean dude, you know that?" He commented sniffily, his voice of an accent I couldn't quite place my finger on. I hated it anyways.

"You're a bitch too, but it seems nobody has bothered saying so in fear of ruining that perfect stick up the ass attitude of yours." Not seeming to expect that, he continued to glare at me in my eight foot tall glamour, crossing his arms huffily. Too boring. I sliced at him again, hacking his head off with a dead set frown in place. I could feel my pupils dilate. That one felt good, but I didn't want to let him catch me smiling. Respawning for the fourth time, his whole outfit changed, and he shrugged, before evidently realizing something was wrong. "What the fuck- Who are you, and do you approve of arson? Child murder too, perhaps?" What the- that was not what I expected. Honestly though, the questions sounded like things that Techno would ask... "It's me, dipshit. TommyInnit." He squinted at me, and only now did I realize how big the original guy's eyes were. "Nahhhhh, Tommy's a blonde British child who's canonically my brother, according to chat, and you're some weird, off-sale version of Sam."

Not gonna lie, the child part had me annoyed, but for some reason, I didn't get that mad. "You're legit a pig who farmed a million potatoes to win against a squid, and then joined the Dream SMP just for the angst, so shush." "BRUHHHHHHH IT WAS FOR THE CLOUT-" "YOU'VE GOT ENOUGH CLOUT, OH MY FUCKING-" From behind apparently Technoblade, a British sounding voice spoke up, causing us both to jump, and stare at the new person, almost in synchrony. "What's going on here?" The voice came from a figure who looked oddly like a strider. Me and Techno— in whoever it was' body— looked between each other, before staring back at the strider person. "Nothing." "Conversational murder." "Tommy no-" "TOMMY YES-"

The strider person stared between us, blinking. "Did you just call Doc 'Tommy', Bdubs? Is that, like, an inside joke that's supposed to mean something?" Techno didn't seem to know that he was Bdubs, so I answered for him, elbowing him in the arm afterwards. "We're using code names. He's Techno, and I'm Tommy, and there's a totally legit reason for it." The strider person raises an eyebrow, but gestures for me to continue. Quick, uhhhh, think of something, uhhhhhhhhhhhh- MURDER, perfect- I sliced at the guy, catching them in the arm, and gestured for Techno to go and grab a weapon of his own. The strider person stumbled back, taking out a clearly maxed netherite sword, and a shield.

They tried swiping at me with said sword, but Techno leapt into battle in his host's body at that moment, taking the hit on a shield of his own, and slicing at the person from all angles, dealing some nasty hits where they couldn't block. They staggered back more, attempting to blink back the rivers of blood that was pouring from some pretty messy wounds on their face. They then blindly stabbed at Techno, coughing slightly. Techno ripped the sword and shield from the person's hands, barely even scratched, and slicing them up. He was hacking the limbs off, like I had done to his host before, but tears were threatening to fall. He shrugged, pushing said tears back. "That was fun." The strider guy didn't seem to think so, but he was dead. "XisumaVoid died fighting BdoubleO100". Okay, so that was Keralis... and Techno was Bdouble— whatever. Okay. Good to know... "Why're you putting his stuff in a chest?" He had started to do so, for whatever reason. He shrugged. "Felt like it. I killed him with an iron sword while he was maxed out. I don't think I need to loot him." I shrugged. Guess so. But I took his gapples anyway. I only needed five to complete my stack. "Wanna leave?" I asked it, and he nodded. "Sure. Just give me a minute to get some armor. I'll need it in case we decide to murder any other orphans along the way." "How do you know he's an orph—" "Shhh."