Tango had eventually managed to get back on his feet and stagger down the tunnel after his encounter with the massive monster, albeit with difficulty. He refused to sit around and let permadeath sink its teeth into him, however, so he kept on going, kept on fighting. He had to get out of here, there was no other option worth considering.

So he slogged on, through increasingly steep tunnels - but steep was good, steep would get him to the surface faster, even if it made his legs burn and his breathing ache. He had to be getting close, though. He'd been travelling too long by this point to be too far from the surface. He just needed to keep moving.

Without his comm, of course, he had no idea what his health bar looked like, which meant that every pop of lava, every little stumble, every groan of a zombie, set Tango's heart thudding in his chest with sheer terror. Tango hated staring his mortality in the face even on a good day, and today (or had it been more than a day by now?) was decidedly not a good day.

The tunnel, eventually, opened up again, into a cave, this one full of dripstone. Tango's eyes flitted around it, nervously, searching for monsters. He was keeping such a vigilant eye out for more beasts, in fact, that he didn't notice the ground under his own two feet until one erupted in pain, like he'd stepped in lava but his foot was intangible and also full of lava.

Tango screamed and staggered back, falling backwards as he clutched at the injured foot. He sat there for a moment, gasping for air through the shock, then gingerly shifted to assess the damage, causing another wave of throbbing pain to echo up his leg. The damage, he assessed, was pretty bad: he'd stepped on a dripstone stalactite with no armour, of course it was bad.

He tried to pull off his boot, but found that that agitated the wound. Reluctantly, he took his sword (broken from how many mobs he'd had to fight to get here) and started to cut his boot away from his leg, and pulled it off. He then took off his sock, and tied it around the injury, to apply pressure and stem the blood flow. The throbbing went away after a couple minutes. The issue was, of course, that now he was missing a boot. 

He stood up, gingerly, after another couple minutes, bracing himself on the wall of the tunnel, before limping out into the cave, this time watching his step. He was able to cross safely this time, without further incident, although he collapsed once he got to the other side. He took a moment to breathe, then heaved himself up, putting all his weight on the wall of the new tunnel as he kept walking.

After a while, though, the wall suddenly vanished, and Tango was left staring down into a massive pit. After looking at it for a moment, he realised he was able to recognise the wreckage at the bottom - his rocket. He'd come full circle, but the surface was still tantalisingly out of reach.

That was, until he looked up. Only a few blocks above him - so close that he could punch his way up and he probably wouldn't destroy his knuckles - was an abandoned mineshaft, and just on the other side, he could see daylight filtering in from a side exit to the cave. A small smile crept across Tango's face, as hope rekindled itself in his chest. 

He was saved.

———

Zed: We're on our way.

Zed: Hang on just a little longer, ok?

Message failed to send. Player 'Tango' not found.

———

It was night. If Impulse was being honest, the night sky almost looked odd without the moon drowning it in light. The three hermits had stopped flying ages back, to conserve their elytra durability for bringing Tango home (because they would bring him home, there was no other option), and were coming up on the coordinates HOLSTEN had given them.

Impulse rubbed at his eye, and suppressed a yawn. HOLSTEN had been right about one thing: Impulse was incredibly sleep-deprived. Between the whole Mooners business, then preparations for launch in Scar's rocket, then worry about Tango, Impulse had gotten practically no sleep whatsoever.

He was still fit for the mission, though! He wasn't quite as delirious as he had been when he built that vex-damned phantom sanctuary. He would just lose more sleep, anyway, if he wasn't part of the rescue party. HOLSTEN had no idea what he was talking about. Impulse wasn't gonna hold back the expedition, he was going to-

The screech of phantoms cut off Impulse's train of thought. He turned, alarmed, an action mimicked by Zed and X, as they swooped down towards him. With his dulled reflexes, he couldn't get out of the way in time. They dug their claws into him, in a way that a traitorous part of his mind whispered was just a hug, and he staggered backwards, reeling.

Zed and X made quick work of the phantoms, although they did manage to get a couple more hits in on him, including a nasty gash on his forehead. Zed was talking to him. He knew this, but he couldn't parse the words. Impulse laughed deliriously. Everything felt weird, almost floaty. Darkness crept into his vision, and he let it happen.

Zed let out a desperate cry as Impulse's eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp in his arms, before poofing into a respawn.