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Zedaph was not a good person. He knew this, and he was okay with this. It was like his mama goat would’ve always said, there were two categories for everything. Things that were, and things that weren’t. Everything was good, or not good. Everything was a sheep, or not a sheep. Everything was either something, or it wasn’t. Everything was part of the game, or it wasn’t. But, well, that was where his hypothetical mama goat’s advice started to fall apart.
Zed half-remembered the half-place he was half-born in. It wasn’t real, but it wasn’t not real. Wasn’t in the game, but wasn’t not in the game. It was a lovely mish-mash, where the thoughts and unformed ideas came from and went to. Ever wondered what you came into a room for? The thought probably went there. Zed spent his time in fuzzy half-existence, swimming in the primordial soup that made up between the is and isn’t. And then, one day, he got pulled out.
“Hello citizen!”
Zed swayed in place as he got used to gravity. “... Hello?” His voice mimicked the person in front of him. His appearance did too, if a bit to the left. Darker clothes, brighter hair, no mask, purple eyes. And suddenly he was as he had always been, because he was always meant to be this. Oh. This was his Player.
He had heard of Players before, everyone had. Things in the game- not just in the game, but able to change it. And not randomly, like some mobs, stealing blocks or causing craters. But intentionally, wholly, because the universe loved them. And he was created in the image of someone better, someone loved, but there could only be something that was, and something that wasn’t.
“You can call me Worm Man!” The Player crowed confidently. “I’m the bravest and strongest superhero on any server.”
“I’m Zed,” He smiled back. Worm Man was good, so Zed could not be.
Zed did not enjoy his soup once he was given a taste of the outside. Maybe it was selfish, but what else was he created to be? The universe cradled you, for a moment, allowed you to imagine you were love. It was addicting. The soft fuzzy feeling of having a place in the world, being held, being told you were the day, and the night, and everything that was. And Zed was not a good person, was not made to save others.
The person that became Evil Xisuma but was always Evil Xisuma was kind. In their mushy almost-existence, the thing that would become Zed and the thing that would become Evil Xisuma were more often tangled than not. Messy ideas of what-ifs that made up what was not a person, but not not a person. And then they met their Player. They changed, in that they became what they always were and also just formed into. Evil Xisuma’s Player was creative, kind, silly, someone with friends. Zed had never met them, but they were the original, the better version of everything Evil Xisuma wasn’t. Evil Xisuma became destructive, and rude, and someone Zed hadn’t seen before.
Zed didn’t want to become that, but there was no other space for him.
Zed spent his time watching Worm Man, or being Worm Man, or being nothing, or knowing things that he did but didn’t do. Connection to a Player was special, wonderful, something to be grateful for. The opportunity to be more, to be solid, to be allowed to be loved by something loved by the universe. He was- jealous, was the word. An ugly emotion, bubbling and dark and something evil, something someone like Worm Man would not feel. The worst part was he knew he deserved it, this nothing and no one place between. He wanted to tear things apart, to press his fingers into the cracks that showed in a person and pry them away from themself, to play with the things that made someone tick. He wanted to be mean, and improper, and evil. Something that a good person would never feel. Zed wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t a person, wasn’t not one. It was unfair, that he got this opportunity to be, only to be something so flawed.
He wanted to be like his Player. Someone good, someone real, someone who was loved, and someone who was love. It was unfair, unfair that Worm man got to be real and Zed didn’t, unfair that he was good and Zed wasn’t, unfair that he was allowed to be the original, unfair unfair unfair. Zed hated unfair. He hated that he hated it. Why was Worm Man so much better than him? Why did the universe love Worm Man and not him?
He played with the empty glass bottle in his hands, tapping his nails in a rhythmic plinking. He knew things. He wasn’t sure how he knew them, only that Worm Man must not, so Zed did. Worm Man must’ve not known how potions worked, not wanted to know, not felt the tugging need to investigate and figure out and rebuild. He did. He didn’t know how curiosity could be evil- but he was, so it must’ve been. No good person was going to do this.
He needed Worm Man’s place. A weakness potion, poison, wither, whatever was needed to make him still, silent. So Zed could take him into the nothing but not not nothing. So he could leave him in it, among the swimming plans for bases and future dreams and passing ideas. So he could take his place. It wouldn’t be hard. Zedaph was evil, created to be. Ugly mean upsetting feelings stirring in his guts, needing to be let out, to become real in a way he couldn’t while Worm Man was out there. Equivalent exchange.
He knew where Worm Man was. He always did, a tugging at his sternum that led him to the better, led him to what he was made to oppose. He would become real. He would be cradled, and allowed to play, and allowed to be. Zedaph would be loved, if he had to force it.