#i just couldn't stop thinking about the parallels between what martyn was trying to do and That Scene in double life

[greiiliss]

Cleo's running from the infected, scrambling up the mountainous mesa. Except, no, they're up there too, she realizes, shielding the sun out of her eyes as she makes out a few shadowed figures at the top. So she turns tail and starts half-running, half-sliding down the sandy slope.

"Over here!" Martyn hisses, gesturing towards her and ducking into a random cave.

If she weren't in such a pressing situation, she might've actually considered it. Might've followed Martyn to whatever trap he was trying to lead her to, stepped out of the way at the last second, and mocked him relentlessly when it failed. If she wasn't running for her life, she could've taken a second to smile at the indignant squawks he'd make while she laughed.

But she is running for her life, and Martyn's red, and she knows all too well that he's not particularly trustworthy even when he's not, so she doesn't even need to think twice as she starts digging into her pockets. "No, thank you, I'm going this way!" she shouts, chucking an ender pearl as far in the opposite direction as she can.

...

Martyn hears Cleo teleport away, and the zombified yellows and reds chase after her. He huffs in frustration. This is, what, the fourth time he's tried to do this stupid task? And it still hasn't worked!

It brings back memories, though, he thinks, giving each other advice and running from enemies. There's even a couple wardens running around somewhere, just like old times! He smiles a bit, remembering how many fishing rods it took to kill just the one. How many would they need this time?

And then the smile falls from his face as he remembers something else, something less pleasant. Feeling his own hand shoving at his back, the hard yank on his heart as the invisible string around it was pulled down, down, down, and then splat! Every bone in his body breaking and every nerve on fire as he hit ground that he didn't actually hit. He'd respawned in his own bleeding heart, panting and pained and apologetic. Fall damage isn't the most pleasant way to go, and he would know, he's died in a lot of different ways now.

He spots where the zombies are searching for Cleo after having (comically) lost her yet again, and then glances back at the mostly-covered-up pit behind him. He puts his pick back into his inventory and picks up his task book. He heads out of the cave, wondering if maybe he should go to the Secret Keeper and re-roll. For no reason in particular, of course, he just wants to be able to actually get something done this session, that's all!

He falls a bit as he goes down the mountain, barely avoiding losing a precious half a heart, and the heart in his chest skips a beat. The phrase "bad at maths" swirls around his head, and he winces.

Sometimes it's better for a trap to fail.