Herobrine was gone.

Markus Persson leaned back in his seat, one hand dragged down his face as he stared at the screen in front of him. A contact had informed him of a dark-net auction that had taken place a few days prior, in which one user sold an AI that he claimed was as reminiscent of a real person as it was possible for a program to be. At the same time, all information he was receiving from Herobrine's server had fallen silent.

A gnawing unease had been eating away at him for days, but now he was certain of what was going on.

He had asked some of his more trusted friends to help him search - primarily, Jeb. A few others that knew of Herobrine's existence. Though he worked, almost feverishly, a little voice in the back of his continued to tell him that it was hopeless. He's gone.

He refused to give up. Not yet.

His eyes strayed over to the "Steve death counter" in this corner of the screen. As always, it rested on 0. His second Steve was unreachable as well, but Notch doubted he was in as bad a situation as the first. With any luck, he was simply trapped in his server.

He rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand again. It was late. He'd been at the office for hours longer than normal, searching for his missing project. Was he even still out there? What if he had been deleted? Damaged beyond repair?

...he would keep searching, for now.


Steve was gone.

Herobrine lay limp on his side in his small, dim prison, unblinking eyes following a drop of blood as it slid down his wrist and joined the rest on the hard floor. He couldn't move if he'd wanted to, his body damaged almost too much for him to stand. The pain did the rest. His captors had hurt him, seemingly just to see if it was possible for him to be hurt.

As they had learned, it was.

He clung to his memories of Steve, trying to block out the pain with reminders of better days. A small voice told him that he deserved it, that this was simply punishment for all that he had done, but no the rest of him argued. This was too much. A step too far for punishment.

He wished he could have done something more. His captor's actions had given him little assurance that his word would be made good on, it wouldn't surprise him in the least if he somehow found that his friend had been auctioned off in much the same manner as he had. The thought bothered him more than his physical discomfort. He had gone through this before, or, at least, something similar. Steve would be broken within days of such treatment.

Maybe hours.

All he could do was hope, but even that seemed too difficult to manage. Hope was nearly impossible to find in this dark, damp cell, coated with his own blood, senses overwhelmed by the coppery scent. Would he bleed out? He didn't think so. He hadn't the last time. He wanted to hope, he truly did.

He just didn't know how.


Notch was gone.

He had to be, Steve reasoned as he sat in his infinite prison, arms tucked around his knees as he hugged them to his chest. He wouldn't abandon them to suffer this, would he? At least, he wouldn't leave Herobrine. He hadn't last time.

He only had the faintest memories of his creator, of a man with a kind face and warm eyes. Since then, Herobrine had been his only companion. At least, only one the same as him. Joe was a welcome guest, but he wasn't quite the same.

The miner gazed up at the infinite nothingness, almost wishing his captor would come back. The endless darkness seemed to grow heavier and heavier as time went on, weighing on his already heavy heart. He hated this sense of helplessness. He was utterly powerless to affect his own situation - much less Herobrine's. Where was he now? He didn't know, and probably never would.

Loosening his hold on his knees, Steve sank down onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut against the inky blackness. A dull pang of hunger kept his attention even as he wished he could sleep, the numb comfort of unconsciousness hanging just outside his reach. Would his captor feed him? Probably not.

Rolling onto his side, he tried to focus on something else - the surface that he lay on. It felt like nothing, no texture, no temperature, only solidity. A weird feeling, to be sure. Better than stone, at least. Better than cold.

He longed for someone to come and save him, but his only savior was already long gone.