Chapter 10

The two captives were led through another maze of dark, dingy corridors by the silent creatures called Endermen. Steve found himself wondering about them in spite of himself; Alastor hadn't said much about them and brushed the matter off as if it wasn't the least bit important. He seemed to view them as his servants, nothing more. Where did they come from? Why were they under the rule of such a horrible man? Steve almost wished he had asked, but he had a feeling he wouldn't have gotten much of an answer.

The group turned right and descended one spiral flight of stairs after another. With each step the temperature slightly dropped, and a thin film of fog gradually thickened in the area until one could hardly see a foot in front of his own face. Steve exhaled and watched the frozen trail of his breath swirl in the air. A secure knot had formed in the pit of his stomach, but not because he was anxious or anything; he could feel the antidote wearing off. His body temperature should have dropped with the atmosphere, but instead it was steadily rising. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. What am I gonna do? he thought. Of all the times for something like that to wear off. He took a few deep breaths and willed himself to calm down. Panicking would only make things worse. Don't think about it. Just don't think about it.

As they reached the bottom of the last flight, they could see that the wide tunnel in front of them was made from the same black rock that made up the portal's frame. They walked along this tunnel, feeling along the wall to guide them; there was no light.

The leading Enderman stopped. Steve couldn't see and bumped into it, causing it to emit a surprised grunt. Had they reached their destination?

The Endermen put their long arms around the captives, and Steve felt the sickening, familiar feeling of being teleported. They appeared to be in a small room, although it was difficult to judge in the darkness. Before he had a chance to say anything, the Endermen teleported out of the room without so much as a second glance. He sighed and ran his fingers along all four walls, looking for an exit. No such luck; they were trapped.

DC whimpered. "I don't like this. Are you here, Steve?"

"Yeah. Can't see anything in this cursed place, though."

"How are we going to get out of here? What are we going to do?"

Steve fought off the oncoming dizziness and sat down against a wall. He stared into the pitch black space, unable to come up with an answer besides, "I don't know."

"I was wrong," murmured the creeper.

"Wrong for coming to me? Of course not."

"No, I mean… my theory was wrong. I thought we hostiles never had an aura; I thought we were merely led by instinct. And to think that they were being brainwashed by that man the entire time. I'm so confused."

"You're not the only one," admitted Steve. "I can't believe those zombies and skeletons were actually living, breathing people at one time - in Minecraftia! Do you really think they're still alive, living in some sky dimension like Alastor said?"

"It's possible. I don't see why he would lie about such a thing."

"Man…" Steve lay his head against the wall and closed his eyes, imagining what a sky dimension would look like.

Something groaned. His eyes popped open.

"…Was that you, Steve?"

He sat up. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Then what made that… oh, dear. Don't move."

"What? Why?"

"There's something sitting next to you."

"Wha-" He looked to his left and saw nothing. He looked to his right, and his eyes suddenly adjusted to the darkness. Indeed there was something next to him - something dressed in bloodstained rags.

It couldn't be… a human?

The gaunt figure was curled up in the corner. Its clothes hung over its malnourished body like a thin, tattered blanket. Its eyes were closed, and its chest would convulse every couple of seconds as it gasped for breath. It appeared to be asleep. As Steve took a closer look, he was the one to gasp. Apart from its skeletal frame and lighter skin, it looked exactly like him. Same tousled brown hair, same eye shape, same nose, same mouth, same everything. Who was this? "Um… excuse me?" he asked.

The figure stirred in his sleep. Steve timidly reached out and tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me?" he asked again. "Are you okay?"

His eyes partially opened, and Steve backed away at the sight. Two white, bloodshot orbs rolled around in their red-rimmed sockets aimlessly, without focusing on anything in particular. He was blind.

Another soft groan escaped the man's lips as he became fully conscious. He squirmed, and winced. "Wh-who…?" he muttered.

Steve relaxed, seeing that the stranger wasn't a threat. "My name is Steve," he said. "I was brought here with my friend, DC; he's a creeper."

"DC? Impossible. DC is…" He shuddered. "My poor, poor friend. I'm so sorry…"

He knew DC? Wait… A speculation formed in Steve's brain. Perhaps this was the man that Alastor had spoken of so severely? "Could you tell me your name?" he asked.

He coughed, sending crimson beads of blood sputtering from his mouth. "At one point, I was referred to as Herobrine. But that doesn't matter now. Nothing matters anymore. I'm doomed. I'm a doomed man. And I brought it all on myself. You." He reached out with a shaking arm and groped around for Steve's shoulder, grasping it lightly. "I don't know you. I can't even see you; my old friend, Alastor (since you're here, I assumed you've met him already) - he blinded me, with the coals from a magma pool. I deserve it, though. I deserve everything that has happened to me, and more. But all of those people - thousands, even millions - didn't deserve their fate. They were innocent.

"Did he tell you? Did he speak of that horrendous calamity? Of course he did. I know he did. It's just like him; he makes for a wonderful storyteller. Did he mention me? Did he speak of my cowardice? That's right; I'm a coward. All murderers are. But I'm the worst. Millions dead, even more taken up from the earth (into the sky! Can you believe it?), and all because I was afraid of my own demise. Yes. I was afraid to die. I still am. I mean, what happens to you then? Where do you go? What do you do? Do you merely vanish from the face of the earth, never to be spoken of again? Isn't that an honest fear to have? Maybe so. Nevertheless, it is no excuse for what I have done.

"I lost my mind back there - my sanity. I'm a murderer, but also a thief. But what I stole was more precious than diamonds or gold; I stole lives. And now, my friend has become the spitting image of my character. I've done him wrong, immensely so. He lost his mind as well. He had drained me out of anger, yes, but what he didn't tell you was that he brought me back… slightly. Enough so I could live but not fight back as he tortured me, physically and mentally. He keeps me alive in here for his amusement. He has a lot of anger and frustration - even rage - inside of him, and so he lets it out on me. After all, it was I who caused him such pain. Now the tables have turned, and he is beginning to get the revenge he sought after so fervently. If only there was a way I could redeem myself. If only I could reconcile this feud between us and restore peace to the world. If only…" He whimpered as emotion caught up with his voice. "If only I had just died in the first place. None of this would have happened.

"You wouldn't be here, either, if I had just accepted my fate. I don't know why you were still in the Overworld when my friend discovered you, but I can imagine… Notch must have something planned for you. I know he must. What that is, I do not know. All I can say is that I am sorry… deeply sorry. You don't have to forgive me. You don't even have to believe me. Just don't feel sorry for me; that I cannot allow."

This sent him into a nasty coughing fit, leaving Steve to shortly mull over his short speech.

So this was Herobrine! Steve could hardly believe this was the very man who practically destroyed the world for his own purposes; he looked so battered and weak. It was difficult to imagine a time he held any sort of power when he appeared to be on the brink of death.

For some reason, he didn't feel angry at the man. He should have been, but he wasn't. He didn't pity him either; his actions easily deserved some form of punishment. Still, he seemed to be truly remorseful. Either that, or he was putting on a very convincing act… not that he had any reason to.

More importantly, all three of them were trapped in a dark, cold cell with no doors, no windows, and no visible escape. Alastor had something in store for the captives, and by looking at what was left of Herobrine, Steve estimated it wasn't going to be enjoyable. They needed to get out of here, and fast.

But how?

Steve stood up and walked along the walls of the cell, feeling his hands along the rough stone, daring not to miss an inch. There had to be a way out. A crevice, a weak spot, a small hole he could enlarge. Anything!

Frustration kicked in when he found nothing on his first try. This motivated him to go around a second time, sometimes stopping to apply a good amount of pressure on a certain block in hopes of it giving out. He grit his teeth, uttered a low growl in the back of his throat, and went around again, and again, and again. Pushing the blocks turned into punching the blocks, ignoring the sharp pain when his knuckles connected to the stone - it only increased the fury. He punched, kicked, and pounded the stubborn walls, slamming his body against them, crumpling his shoulder and knocking the air out of his lungs. The walls - they were taunting him. He could hear their laughs, daring him to come at them. He roared like a lion and continued to propel himself at the walls, determined not to let them humiliate him in front of the other prisoners.

DC shivered in the safety of the corner, horror-stricken at Steve's sudden change of behavior. Was this normal for humans? He watched him howl in rage and launch a string of curses at the walls. Wait. The walls? He was talking to the walls. Something was wrong. "S-Steve?" he stammered quietly. "Perhaps you should lie down for a bit. I… I don't think you'll be able to get out that way…"

Steve snarled and whirled his head around. DC flinched at the sight of his wild, twitching eyes. There was a significant amount of foam dribbling from the corners of his mouth as well. What was wrong with him?

Then he remembered that Steve had said something about the antidote only being a temporary cure. Of course, at the time he hadn't thought anything of it, being too complacent from the overwhelming relief. Now, he felt that such complacency had been a big mistake on his part.

"Steve," he pleaded, "you must rest! The poison, remember? It's affecting you again. Please, sit down. No good can come from what you're do-"

"SHUT UP!" barked Steve. Bits of foam sprayed from his mouth as he shouted. "You're just trying to fool me into giving up. I know your little tricks - you're working with them! All of you!" He staggered towards the trembling creeper. "I'm too smart to fall for your deceptions - I know what you're up to. Every. Single. One. Of. You. C'mon, I can take you. Let's see what you're made of."

"Steve-"

Steve growled, but it quickly turned into a groan. "I don't feel so…"

DC squealed as two blocks high of pure muscle fell forward and crushed him. The human was unconscious.

He wriggled out from under him and nervously tapped the body with his foot. "Steve? Steve! Oh, dear. Ohhhhh, dear, this isn't good."

He quickly became silent as he heard approaching footsteps from outside the cell. An Enderman, accompanied by an ever-smirking Alastor, teleported into the room in an explosion of purple dust. "Hello again. Have you all had a chance to introduce yourselves? What happened here?" he asked, noticing the sight of the unconscious Steve.

DC took a cautious step backwards, deciding it would be best to stay quiet.

"Cat got your tongue, eh? Well, no matter; I can guess for myself. Anyway, I'm going to need to borrow your friend for a few moments, okay?"

DC bravely placed himself between the madman and Steve, despite the urge to pass out from fright. "W-why? What are you going to do to him?"

"Awww, you're worried about him! Fear not, little creeper, for I merely wish to converse with him. Perhaps I can uncover the mystery behind his appearance in the Overworld; it's an issue that's been pestering me ever since I saw him. As for you, I'll leave you in the company of Herobrine for now. Try not to catch that nasty cough of his." He cackled at his own joke, while Herobrine raised his head at the sound of his name.

"Alastor," he croaked. Nobody heard him.

Laughing gleefully, Alastor snapped his fingers. The Enderman gently nudged a glaring DC aside and picked up the limp body of Steve in its long, elastic arms. The contact awakened Steve, who immediately began to scream bloody murder and bash the poor creature with his fists before falling unconscious again.

Alastor shook his head. "Strange friend you have there." With a wave of his hand, they were all gone, Steve included.

DC was left to stare at the pool of foam that had fallen from his companion's mouth.