Review Response:

idontwritetoomuch: *Crickets chirping* You can probably see that I took your advice. . . hehe. . . (still glad you're still into this though)

Aaauuggghhhh, I'm really sorry for how long it took for me to get out this chapter. Honestly, I kinda got. . . sidetracked by other stuff *cough cough* animatinginBlender3D *cough cough* (Also, I was sorta dealing with other issues. . . eeee)

Yeah. . . well, we'll see where we go from here. . .

Also, this is a bit of a sorta-depressed chapter, especially towards the end, for a Christmas Eve (EST) present. Hahaha. . . yeah

Well, enjoy

WARNING! Mentions of a lost limb and a prosthetic. Reader discretion advised.

"Well. That went well."

Jesse gave Lukas a deadpan look, unimpressed. He groaned, resting his head against the bars that separated him from his friends. Lukas was, understandably, concerned, but Petra had her face in a stony glare, never moving once as soon as she settled in her position.

Though Jesse was far from intimidated, it was admittedly a little. . . disturbing to see her like this.

"That's a great way of putting it," Jesse retorted, craning his neck to peer at his blond friend-

Friend? Acquaintance?

Jesse didn't know what to call Lukas anymore. On the one hand, they've been through too much together - from running from the Bureau in the End to facing Herobrine and scaling the high mountains in which Sky City resided - to be considered mere acquaintances.

And yet. . . Jesse just didn't feel the closeness as with a friend. This must be a transitioning period of time, he mused to himself. The time where someone - anyone, really - was no longer just a random bystander, and yet still not a close confidant.

In these times, everything was changing; Jesse felt as though his old life was nothing but a distant memory now. Nothing was as certain as they had been back then.

Except one, of which Jesse had realized a long time ago: Lukas was no longer his rival.

Not anymore.

Jesse shook all of these thoughts out of his mind as Lukas spoke up again. "Ya think?" the leather-wearing blond sarcastically shot back, scowling. He uncrossed his arms and began waving them around in exaggeration. "Asking to come into this city to seek help for you, only to have the so-called Founder throw you behind bars!"

Jesse tilted his head, one thing in mind that stuck out above the rest. "You were trying to - to help me?"

Lukas paused, turning to Jesse. His scowl eased into a look of embarrassment. He scratched his head slightly. "Well. . . yes?"

A rush of warmth surged into Jesse's chest, surprising him. When he was younger, he always looked out for himself, was always the lone wolf. He had to be; if he wasn't, then he would've died a long time ago. He learned to shut out others; ultimately, they were his problems. Not anyone else's.

He didn't need anyone. And - if he was honest - deep down, he thought they didn't need him.

Maybe he needed them more than he thought.

And that scared him more than anything else.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Petra finally, finally spoke, but her voice, contrary to the usual anger, was actually devoid of any emotion. The sheer lack of anger was what sent chills down Jesse's back, though he knew it wasn't chills from fright.

Jesse stared evenly at the redhead, deciding to play it her way. "About this?" He waved around his newly-attached metal limb while trying to subtly eye her carefully, gauge her reaction.

A flash of anger crossed her face, but she breathed in deeply. Jesse frowned, puzzled. Normally, the Petra he knew would be screaming, ranting and raging at him. She was always a tempest, a force to be reckoned with, even more so when she was angry.

So why was she holding back?

The answer popped into his mind before he could even form the question: Because she isn't the Petra you know anymore.

This new revelation turned Jesse's head towards Petra, taking in her visage while replaying memories of her before he disappeared and her after.

She was noticeably calmer in her fighting, less willing to go all-out on an enemy. Looking at her now, he couldn't help but see she seemed more. . . tired, as if a weight had been placed on her shoulders that she hadn't had before. Where the all-for-yourself mercenary had been was a reluctant hero.

At least to Jesse's eyes.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she asked again, this time more softly.

Jesse sighed, suddenly feeling tired. He lowered his metal limb and peered up at his friend, seeing her in three different lights all at once: the reluctant hero, the mercenary, and the loyal friend.

He dimly noted Lukas standing to the side, looking a little more than uncomfortable.

"I didn't think it was necessary to know," Jesse finally answered. He lifted his gaze to see Petra's face, startlingly twisted into a visage of anger.

Ah, there's the Petra I know.

"It didn't matter?" she repeated, sounding incredulous. She uncrossed her arms. "Losing an arm is a big deal!" She began pacing.

Jesse turned to look at Lukas, who was wearing an expression that was a cross between concern and fear of Petra. Jesse kept his gaze as neutral as he could muster as he listened to Petra's rant. When she was really angry, she became animated, throwing her hands which way, most of which were threatening gestures such as jabbing fingers; such was the case now.

" 'It didn't matter'. If I believe that, then Withers have tentacles!"

"I said it wasn't necessary to know, not that it didn't matter," Jesse corrected the girl. He refrained from adding, Though it really doesn't, lest he get a faceful of a raging Petra. To him, though, it really didn't, as long as everyone else was safe.

Petra seemed to deflate at that. She took a deep breath as she settled herself next to a post. "Okay. Okay. Fine, then. How?"

Jesse paused, debating mentally. On the one hand, he could tell them. Get it over with, as they say. Rip the bandage off. But then. . . they would worry about him, and incessantly so. Personally, he would rather them not. After all, all that was really, truly important was that they were safe. He saw no point in them worrying over someone who was already broken.

On the other hand, if he kept his secrets, he knew that Petra would continue to pester him, persevering until he gave them an answer. And not a vague one either. A full explanation for an answer. Lukas may respect his space (though he wasn't too certain about that; he hardly knows the blond, after all), but not Petra. Never Petra.

And that was the one thing he simultaneously loved and hated about her.

Finally, he sighed, deciding to choose the former option. "Fine. I guess I should start at the very beginning, huh?"

Petra actually perked up at that. Her eyes flashed with surprise. "Wait, really?"

Jesse nodded. Finally, finally, Petra moved, crouching down in front of him, the cage bars still separating them. Lukas' eyes also widened in surprise, but he made to sit on the ground too.

Once they were comfortably seated, Jesse began: "I think you remembered what happened, what with the EnderCon Bombings and all that."

"The one you faked your death in?" Petra deadpanned. "Yeah, kinda hard to forget."

Jesse gave her his own deadpan stare. "Do you want me to talk or not?"

"Go on," Lukas said, almost hurriedly, before Petra could snark back.

Jesse leaned forward, breathing out softly. Thinking. Remembering. Remembering the screams and the explosions. Remembering Herobrine. Most of all, remembering the one thing, that one revelation, that changed his life. . . forever. "But there was something that - that I didn't know I had back then. Something that I didn't know that I was."

"Have fun, Formido."

Jesse couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he could do was stare, horrified, as the bomb, dispatched from the Bureau of Quarantine, dropped like a stone, faster and faster, towards him. His stomach suddenly lurched, possibly from the terror of staring into the face of Death.

As the bomb was mere seconds away from his face, the pull in his stomach suddenly yanked, and he was in a dark void, the imprinted image of Herobrine's eyes in his mind the only thing that was alight.

As Jesse recovered his breath, he wondered if he was dead. It was certainly dark enough to be the Void of Death or - or something.

The musing of where exactly people went when they died flitted in his mind for the briefest of moments, but he pushed it out.

And yet he was recovering his breath and feeling his shoes crunch against something solid and looking down to see sand-colored stone. Certainly, if he were dead, then he wouldn't be able to breathe, much less feel and see, right? So he must not be dead -

Whoa, whoa, whoa. He mentally backtracked, frowning. Sand-colored stone? In a void? Something wasn't right.

A chill went down his spine. Wait. . . there's absolutely no way that he's where he thinks he is. It shouldn't be possible. After all, there was no way to get there except by portal.

Jesse kept his head down, trying to tell himself all these things, trying to deny himself what he knows to be true. The sand-colored stone, the void. . . it's all painting a picture that Jesse finds too abstract, even repulsive, to be true.

But he knew that he would eventually have to look up, eventually confirm where he was. If it was true, then he needed, with the utmost urgency, to get out as fast as possible.

But if it wasn't?

Well, Jesse didn't know if he should be relieved that he wasn't in. . . the other option or frantic that there might be no way out.

So, he craned his neck up -

And was met with a tall obsidian pillar right in front of him.

His lungs contracted, his chest tightening. No. Oh, no.

He was in the End.

"Wait wait wait," Lukas interrupted, making a time-out gesture. He gave Jesse an incredulous look. "You teleported to the End?"

Impatient to get on with his story, Jesse snapped back, "No, I teleported to the Beginning."

Petra cracked a small smile at Jesse's snark, much to the young Ender's relief. Then she seemed to sober up. "What happened next?"

Jesse leaned back, thinking to himself again. Trying to remember. Ah, there we go. "Then I got abducted by an Enderman."

The familiar fwoop! of an Enderman reached Jesse's ears, and he sensed a presence behind him. Immediately, Jesse stiffened, straightening, and kept his eyes forward, remembering the one rule of mob-hunting: Never look an enderman in the eye.

Another fwoop, and Jesse found himself staring at the rod-like legs of the black creature. On impulse, even with his brain screaming at him to resist (for it would end up killing him), he looked up, straight into the Enderman's eyes.

As soon as he locked eyes, he immediately averted his eyes, silently cursing himself for doing such a stupid thing. He braced himself and waited for the Enderman to start pummeling him.

. . .

. . .

Nothing?

Jesse cracked open an eye, peering at the tall monster. The Enderman peered back at him, something akin to. . . amusement? crossing its eyes.

Was it even possible for mobs to feel amusement?

That was the last thought that crossed Jesse's mind before the Enderman abruptly grabbed him into a bear hug before teleporting away.

"Wait, so. . ." Lukas frowned, puzzling Jesse's account out in his head. "You looked an Enderman in the eye. . . and you didn't get attacked?"

Jesse exhaled, nodding. "That's correct."

Petra interjected, frowning. "But that's impossible. Enderman don't make exceptions for anyone. In fact, I didn't think they even know what exceptions even means."

"No," Jesse corrected. "They don't make exceptions for humans."

Petra and Lukas stared at him, the former with an uneasy glint in her eyes and the latter with a blank expression.

"Come again?" the blond asked.

Jesse sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm half-Ender, remember?"

"You are?" they both simultaneously shouted.

Jesse gave them both a weary look. "I told you guys before."

"When?" Lukas demanded.

"When we were running from the Bureau in the End."

Lukas had a puzzled expression for a moment. "I don't remember."

Jesse shrugged. "Well, now you know."

The trio sat in silence for quite a while, the redhead and the blond absorbing this new information.

Jesse was the first to break the silence. "Well, there is. . . more to it than that."

After the still-unfamiliar feeling of his stomach lurching, this time with the Enderman teleporting, Jesse felt a jolt shoot up the Enderman's legs as it landed on something solid. A split-second later, Jesse was sprawled face-down on a quartz floor -

Quartz?

Jesse slowly climbed back to his feet, glancing around the building. The palace (he thought it was a palace, based on the design) was made into a cylindrical design of quartz and glowing purple stone with a dome made of purple and black glass.

If he wasn't so terrified, he would've found the sight awe-inspiring, even beautiful.

"Jesse."

Jesse whirled around, immediately assuming a defensive stance. Out from the shadows of a tunnel that was across from him, a figure stepped into the light. He wore a chestplate outlined in gold veins with a purple gem imbedded in the center. His entire outfit scheme was black and dark gray with purple veins arranged in a uniform pattern.

Tucked under his right arm was a helmet; a black helmet whose visor was outlined with purple and crowned with gold thorns. His face was generally like an Enderman's, except for the mop of hair the color of Jesse's own hair resting on his head.

Jesse blinked at the stranger. "Who are you?"

The stranger's eyes flashed with sad amusement. "I am Enderus, King of the End."

Jesse felt his eyes widen in surprise. Of course, he's heard of Enderus, but he's always dismissed the legends as a myth.

Of course, the Legend of Herobrine was supposed to be a myth, and yet. . .

Jesse shoved down the tide of heartbreak that surged in his heart, trying to school his face into an emotionless mask. Don't cry.

If you cry, you're weak.

Enderus sighed, regarding Jesse with a deep sadness and regret that seemed inappropriate to the latter. Why would he be sad or regretful? Why was he looking at Jesse as if the teen was lost and - somehow - it was all his fault?

"You look so much like your mother," he murmured, his eyes clouding with deep emotions.

Jesse's back went as straight as a rod when he heard those words. He looked at Enderus. "You - you knew my mother?" he whispered, almost unbelieving. Before Enderus can respond, a million thoughts passed through his head in a split-second, piecing together a picture and connecting some dots that Jesse was beginning to see as logical yet wildly impossible.

Jesse didn't want to believe what Enderus' strange comment implied for the both of them. But he had to know.

He had to.

"Did - Do you know me?"

Enderus looked at him, and Jesse saw deep sadness and - Jesse peered closer - was that pride? in his gaze. "You were only a baby," the king sighed. "But from that moment, I swore to watch over you from afar, to watch and protect even if I couldn't be there for you."

Jesse's breath caught in his throat. "You mean -"

"Yes." Enderus opened his arms. "Welcome home, son."

"Wait wait WAIT!" Lukas gaped at Jesse, sputtering a bit. "You're Enderus' SON?"

Jesse shrugged. "It appears so."

"How can you act so casual about it?" Lukas was practically foaming at the mouth and tearing his hair. "You're Enderus' son!"

"So. . . ?"

"Enderus! The mythical, all-powerful warlord deity! Enderus!" Lukas finally exhaled. "I honestly can't see him being a dad."

Jesse shrugged again. "He's not so bad. He taught me how to spar. And we did some building competitions. It was fun."

Lukas' eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets.

"I think you need to stop," Petra chided Jesse, although her own mouth twitched. "You're blowing Lukas' mind."

"Oh, very well," Jesse conceded.

"But what does this have to do with your prosthetic limb?" Petra interjected, frowning.

Jesse pinned her with a serious stare. "Everything."

Enderus frowned as he examined Jesse's right arm. "Did Herobrine do that to you?" he asked.

Jesse nodded, swallowing as the pain of the infection made his arm throb. "I probably shouldn't've come," he confessed. "Otherwise, I might get all of you infected."

Enderus blinked in surprise, looking at Jesse. "What makes you think that?"

Caught off-guard, Jesse stammered, "Wouldn't the Wither infect you guys?"

Enderus frowned again, looking down at Jesse's arm with a pensive expression. Jesse's heart sank. After finally finding the one parent that's been inexplicably absent since the day he was born, Jesse's own father was going to cast him out, similar to how the townsfolk had cast him out since he associated himself with Axel and Olivia.

That's when the most unexpected answer Jesse could've ever expected was given: "No."

"What?" Jesse gaped at the king.

Enderus leaned away, turning to face his son. "Ender DNA contains some type of protein or something - I'm not really good with biology - that can fight off Wither. In full-blooded Enders, it can immediately decimate any trace of it in our systems. For Ender-Human hybrids, however, the Ender blood is normally dormant. If there was a specific type of danger posed to the Ender-Hybrid, such as the manifestation of Wither or falling debris that cannot be avoided, then the dormant powers -"

"Become active," Jesse finished.

Enderus nodded. "Exactly. When it comes to Wither, the part that has been infected is completely contained in that area within an Ender-Human hybrid. Which means, for you -" He nodded towards Jesse's arm. "- it won't spread past your arm." He frowned thoughtfully. "Although, your arm healed a lot faster than regular Ender-Human hybrids - weren't you a Warlord too?"

Jesse gaped at Enderus, speechless, and nodded.

"Ah. That explains why - the enhanced health. Unfortunately -" Enderus frowned, sending anxious butterflies flitting in Jesse's stomach. "- this means that your arm will die. It has already died."

"What?" Jesse gasped.

Enderus sent him an apologetic glance. "I'm afraid that, since the Wither is confined to your arm, it will ravage it since it's concentrated in that area."

Jesse couldn't breathe; his mind was sent into a flurry of possible pathways of the implications of Enderus' diagnosis. "What does this mean?"

Enderus sighed, almost mournfully, which did nothing to alleviate Jesse's rising anxiety. "It means that we'll have to remove it."

Jesse's head abruptly spun with shock. Never, not in a million years, did he think that he had an injury that was deemed severe enough to remove one of his limbs. Truth be told, he has had quite a few close calls with some. . . other people.

Great, Jesse quipped to himself. I get pummeled by a bunch of Master Warlords at one time, and it doesn't kill me. But I get one teeny sickness, and suddenly I have to have my arm cut off?

Really, Jesse was the tiniest bit aware that his sarcasm was a defense mechanism to downplay the pure fear he felt at having his arm removed. But, being the master of fear (his own name meant it, after all), he refused to succumb to mind-numbing panic.

"When?" Jesse asked through a deceptive mask of calm.

Enderus peered at him, looking almost. . . worried. "Sometime soon. It's not like it'll kill you, but the arm is definitely useless now."

Possibly sensing his anxiety, Enderus hurriedly reassured him, "You don't have to have it taken off, but it may be for the best. It's completely dead." He lowered his eyes to the ground, and Jesse could sense some deeper meaning as Enderus added, "You can't revive what's good and truly dead."

Jesse breathed in. Breathed out. Thinking. Weighing his choices. Should he go through with this?

On the one hand, he didn't want to deal with the phantom pains that might haunt him for the rest of his life. He also couldn't imagine having to relearn how to use his arm again (his prosthetic arm, of course); he feels helpless just thinking about it.

On the other hand, he gets what Enderus was saying: when it comes to a fight, then he'll be merely half-decent at fighting, considering he uses both hands for wielding weapons and using his powers. Wouldn't this pro alone outweigh the cons?

Jesse glanced up at him, hardening his resolve. "We'll do it."

Petra and Lukas were silent as Jesse recounted these events to them. They stewed in their own thoughts, a somber air surrounding them. Jesse kept silent, watching and waiting for them to come out of their thoughts first before speaking to them.

Finally, Petra was the first to break the silence. "That's why," she whispered, her voice full of wonder. "When the Founder asked you if you had Wither, that's why you said 'I did,' not 'I do.' " She was looking at him with an enlightened expression.

Jesse nodded. "That's correct."

Lukas leaned backwards, looking at Jesse appraisingly. "So why can't Enderus use Ender blood as a cure?"

Jesse frowned, racking his brain for an answer. "I asked him once, myself," he admitted quietly. "But the thing is -" Jesse exhaled. "- that's a feature that's purely Enderman. If you were to inject it in someone, their own DNA will be altered to become more Enderman-like. And separating the proteins from the blood will cause them to die, for some unknown reason." Jesse shrugged. "I'm no expert in the biology field."

"But wouldn't being turned into an Enderman be a better fate than - than being turned into one of those things - those Withereds?" Petra protested.

Jesse rubbed his eye. He was suddenly thankful for thinking of this himself and asking Enderus. "I don't know. But Enderus explains that there must be a balance; there's a reason why there aren't many Ender-Human mixes nowadays. If we go around creating them on a whim, then there's a chance that the entire human race won't survive in the future.

"We must find a cure that's a true cure, not something that's better than nothing."

"But sometimes that's the only other option we have," Lukas retorted.

"True," Jesse acknowledged. "But if there was a chance to make everything go back the way it's supposed to - for all Withereds to become human - then we must take it. Sometimes the best option is to settle for better than nothing. But if there can be a choice that's greater than that, then it's worth a shot."

Lukas and Petra were silent. "I see," Lukas finally muttered, and Jesse could tell by his tone that Lukas truly did understand.

"What - exactly - happened after the surgery?" Petra inquired.

Jesse cocked his head, mentally skimming through the somewhat-painful therapy lessons and the combat training that went along with said therapy. "I underwent therapy for using my new prosthetic, as well as combat training," he answered. "About a month before you guys came here, I was given new armor and a new name."

Jesse slunk back into the palace, his body hot and sweaty from the exhaustive combat and therapy lessons he had to endure for that day. To his surprise, his father met him as he was coming in.

"Jesse, I have a gift to give you."

Jesse, intrigued, followed Enderus into the throne room. There, Enderus turned and gestured to an armor stand that was next to the throne.

"You have progressed so far in your training, beyond the level of progression even my best offspring show." Jesse couldn't help but blink in surprise. He really progressed that far? Still, he listened to Enderus.

"To this end, I have decided that you are my new protector of the End Palace. I had the best armorer make this new armor for you." Enderus gestured towards the armor stand. Though he had no visible mouth, Jesse could tell his father was smiling. "I'm proud of you, son."

Enderus stepped aside to reveal the new armor. Jesse blinked at it, taken off-guard.

The chestplate was exactly like a Master Warlord's design, except the color was, instead of a standard blue or red, an Enderman-pink color. His helmet was a dark gray with gold veins outlining the visor and a mouthpiece. Compared to the rest of his outfit, his boots were a pair of generic, dark-gray metal boots, but Jesse was most drawn to the chestplate.

A swell of affection surged in his chest, but he fought it down in the hopes of seeming professional in front of his father's guards. "I find them outstanding," he told Enderus. He nodded towards his father. "Thank you, father."

Enderus probably understood that Jesse was just being formal for the appearance because he nodded stiffly in return, though Jesse sensed he was smiling too. "It is the least I can do."

Jesse tried on the armor. Though it was stiff, Jesse knew it just needed to be broken in for it to become more comfortable. An Enderknight guard approached Jesse, a sword in hand. Jesse noted that the blade was made of pure obsidian with purple runes and a purple gem imbedded in its silver hilt.

"This is mine?" he asked in surprise. At a nod from Enderus, he picked it up and tested its weight, swinging it.

Once he was done and sheathed it, Jesse turned, bowing to his father. "You are very gracious," he said emphatically.

Enderus nodded. "Now, all we need is a codename for you."

Unease stirred in the pit of his stomach, although Jesse tried his best to hide it. "Pardon?"

"Well, it won't do us any good if our enemies knew your real name," Enderus reasoned. "I allow you to pick your own name."

Jesse kept silent. He hasn't had a good experience with other names, not since -

Don't.

But this was a chance; a chance to restart. A chance to redeem himself. Perhaps he was more feared because of his former name, which literally meant "Fear". Maybe this entire mess came about because he was trying to live up to that name.

Now he knew better.

Maybe, if he picked a good name and tried to live up to it - maybe he would be a better person.

Maybe, even with that little voice nagging at him, trying to beat him down, telling him that a new name can't change what a coward and murderer he'd become, as well as how much of a failure he's been and how naive he would be to think that merely changing his name can fix him.

Maybe.

Jesse looked up at Enderus. "Vindex," he stated. It wasn't just a name - it was a commitment to himself to be better. "My codename is Vindex."

Silence permeated the air as Jesse wrapped up his story.

"And so," Jesse concluded, "I became a sort-of guide to people who were seeking refuge from the Wither Sickness in the Overworld, guiding them safely through without being attacked by Immanis. I also served as a - a mediator of sorts, since I technically had one foot in each world."

Petra's expression was blank. Lukas, however, was nodding as if he understood. Perhaps he did.

"Then -" Jesse exhaled through his mouth. "- I heard that Soren was coming. And the rest, well. . ." He shrugged. "You guys know the rest."

Pensive silence ensued, each to their own thoughts. Jesse let it all sink in, but only now was he truly coming to grips with the implications of his own story. Even with five months to grasp this, it hasn't really sunk in until he told his story to his friends.

He was an Ender-Human hybrid, perhaps the only one of this generation. He had the power to save the world from the Wither Sickness, thanks to his newfound immunity to it. He could've done something earlier, saved a lot of people.

Instead, he ran and hid from them all. He ran from his responsibility. He ran from his friends, and for what? For his own selfishness on wanting to stay away from the world. He was a monster with blood on his hands, and because he was selfish enough to try and start a new life, more blood got onto his hands.

He thought he was becoming a better person. Instead, he was just as cowardly and just as guilty of murder as ever.

Nothing was said, not even when Petra and Lukas left, a long time ago. They had just stood and left. And good riddance, they probably thought. They could probably see how selfish and cowardly he'd been, running from everything. They probably didn't want him.

And he couldn't blame them.

A/N Told ya it would be slightly depressing.

Honestly, I was kinda trying to close a couple loopholes (since my brain tends to point out loopholes in stories and I try to fix it as much as possible), and the last couple bits were writing for the sake of writing, so I apologize if they didn't make sense.

Ah well! At least you got to know what exactly was going on with Jesse in the five-month hiatus of his appearance (consider it my present to you, fellow readers)!

RQTC: Would you find it okay if I had an author-character conversation in the Author's Note? If so, which character?

MERRY CHRISTMAS (or insert whatever holiday you celebrate) AND HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!