AN: Looking back on my previous chapters, I realized I had left out an item from Cobb's Inventory: the Crafting Table! Thankfully, none of you noticed anything.

Again, nobody got last week's puzzle right. Most of you guys said there would be no eggs in the basket. How many eggs can you put in an empty basket? One. Because after that one egg is in the basket, it's no longer an empty basket. But that's fine. I don't mind hoarding all these delicious Victory Cookies for myself.

*NOM* *NOM* MWA HA HA! *NOM* *NO-CHOKE*

*COUGH* *COUGH*

...they still taste good.

Puzzle: A plane full of passengers crashes on the border of Canada and the U.S. Where are the survivors buried?

Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, Emerald Armor would be a thing.

Chapter 15

Conflict

[Cobb]

I stood by the door to our hideaway. The hole in the wall seemed perfect for one of my oak doors to fit and it gave the enclosed space a residential vibe.

Not that Floyd cared. He was working at the crafting table with some sticks and string.

"Now if I put this here then maybe I can…Ugh! Wrong." He withdrew a newly crafted item that looked like a fishing rod before tossing it to the side. "Cobb can you lend me a stick?"

"I don't know. Think I can do that right?" I responded as I picked up the [FISHING ROD] and placed it in my Inventory.

"Alright fine. Be an asshole." Floyd dismissed coldly as he crafted some wooden planks into sticks and resumed his work.

I folded my arms and looked at the ceiling. Things were getting worse and worse between me and Floyd. With all the dangerous Mobs running around we really couldn't afford to be fighting each other. But at the same time I felt my anger was warranted. Floyd wanted to do everything himself. Fighting, cooking, crafting. It felt like he didn't rely on me.

And I wanted to be relied on. To prove my own usefulness.

To not be looked on as a burden.

…Although if Carys busted through the door right now, I'd probably let Floyd take care of her whilst hiding in the corner.

Cuz that woman is crazy.

And coming from a guy who constantly imagines the voices of his internal organs to fill the emptiness caused by a brief stay in a fathomless oblivion…

That means something.

"Finally!" Floyd cheered as he withdrew the item he was trying to craft: a new bow. His old bow, which he got from me, was so damaged it could snap with the smallest of 'twangs.' Even though we were both arrowless, it was a good idea to make a new one.

Not that I would tell him that, though.

Because guess who gets the new bow.

Floyd.

And guess who gets the old bow.

If you guessed not me, then you win a free cookie!

Congrats!

"Alright, I'm set. Let's find a way out of this place." Floyd stated as he packed his furnace and crafting table away. I broke my torch off the wall and knocked down my door. Then Floyd sealed the entrance with dirt. We couldn't leave a trail for Carys after all.

"Which way do we go?" I asked. The tunnel we were in had two paths: one going one way and the other going the opposite way. But after that, there were series of turns and drops and higher levels. Picking the right way seemed impossible.

"I…don't know." Floyd replied hesitantly as he looked back and forth between the two paths. "Which way did we come from?"

"I don't remember either." I lied easily. I remembered that the burned wooden support beams was where the spiders had chased us from. It was nice having landmarks for guides.

But I didn't feel like sharing that with Floyd. After all, he didn't share the bows with me. I even would've been fine with the weakened bow. Instead he had to keep them both for himself.

His reasoning was something along the lines of, 'What's the point? You don't have arrows to shoot.' But it may as well have been, 'Cobb, there's no way I'm entrusting you with a bow when you're so incompetent on a regular basis. You'll shoot your eye out kid!'

Anyway, Floyd would have to figure out which way we'd go. And when he screws up in picking a direction, I'll swoop in and lead us out of here. That'll teach him how competent I am!

Floyd snapped his fingers "Oh, now I remember! We were running from the spiders and burned them by some wooden beams." He pointed towards the charred beams I was remembering moments ago. "So that's where we came from. Maybe we can leave the same way we came."

So much for that. I thought dejectedly as Floyd led us past the burned support beams. I had my wooden sword drawn in case more Cave Spiders showed up.

This sword won't last much longer. I contemplated as I examined the dents and scratches in the wooden material. What I wouldn't give for an iron sword...or edible food.

"…it's kind of weird, right?"

"Huh?" I asked perplexed as I caught the end of Floyd's question.

Floyd sighed. "Quit spacing out Cobb. I said, isn't it weird how, even with the support beams burned down, nothing is collapsing?" He pointed up to where the beams connected with the tunnel's ceiling.

"Sure I guess." I shrugged. If the Crapshack was any indication, architectural stability wasn't exactly my strong point. And after seeing trees hover in midair for so long, I assumed Minecraftia was very finicky about following the laws of gravity.

"The only purpose these beams serve is to give these tunnels the illusion of being mine shafts. Like for aesthetics." Floyd surmised as we took a right turn and glanced at more wooden support structures.

"So…someone made these to be artsy?" I asked half interested.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Floyd conceded. "As to why someone felt the need to be 'artsy' beneath Mt. Mur, I have no idea."

"Yeah…wait. What made you think these tunnels look like mine shafts?" I asked with a raised brow.

"Well what would you say they look like?" He inquired with arms folded.

"…mine shafts." I mumbled.

"Exactly. It's that same normal sense we both feel." Floyd contemplated as he ran a hand through his sky-blue locks. "Maybe whoever built this was following those same senses."

"Building based off normal sense? Then my normal sense of architecture is messed up. I couldn't even build a simple house." All I was getting from Floyd's theory was that Crafters could use their normal sense as a reference for architecture. Although, considering how we used normal sense to determine how to cook iron, it could probably be used as a reference for other types of knowledge or even skills.

The only problem with that was I had no idea how to cook iron. That was all Floyd. Did that mean our normal senses differed for specific information?

Brain: UGH! TOO MUCH THINKING! I'M GETTING A MIGRAINE HEADACHE!

Heart: Migraine Headache?

Brain: Yeah, see, normally people get migraines or headaches—

Heart: They're the same thing.

Brain: —but Cobb is thinking so much, that I'm getting a Migraine Headache. A Migrache, if you will.

Heart: I won't.

Brain: Whatever. Cobb, don't think too much on it. Normal Sense is a weird topic.

Heart: Yeah, instead think about how you're going to reconcile with Floyd.

I'll reconcile with him after he apologizes for not trusting me…and gives me free steak.

Stomach: He's not the only one at fault. You didn't do a good job of explaining why you were upset by his lack of trust. I'm sure to him, your grumpy attitude is unjustified.

Unjustified? I thought it was obvious! And you're taking Heart's side?

Brain: He's taking the side that gets him food quicker.

Stomach: …that is true.

But—

Brain: Just apologize and move on. We have bigger things to worry about than your petty squabbles.

I can't believe this. My own organs are telling me I'm wrong.

Brain: Hey, we're just your subconscious. You're the one telling yourself you're wrong.

Liver: That is some seriously deep mind fucking.

Brain: Liver…don't ever say that again. Or talk to me. In fact, just shut up forever.

I sighed as I returned my attention to my surroundings. Every step we took seemed to take us nowhere. Whoever made the wooden structures obviously liked using the same material and the same exact design. You'd think they'd add a little creativity or deviation when making them.

Occasionally we would spot some rails or a wooden floor instead of a stone one, but for the most part the mine shaft we were traveling in was dull, dull, dull.

And there were multiple directions we could go. We would take a right, then a left, then a left, then a left…and be back in the same spot we started. But then we would go right, right, left, left, and still end up nowhere. It was almost like we were trapped in an underground grid of perpetual boredom.

"Are we even going the right way?" I asked as we took what seemed like the umpteenth right. Floyd didn't reply and kept his eyes forward: A sure sign we were lost.

"We could try mining up to get out of this mine shaft." I suggested as I took a bite out of some rotten flesh.

Ugh.

"No, I want to know who made this mine shaft." Floyd replied, again, keeping his eyes forward. "If we keep looking around, we're bound to find some indication."

"…Okay, that's an idea…but maybe we should get to the surface where we know where we're going rather than meander around mysterious tunnels with no idea what we're doing." Admittedly, I was curious about the mine shaft and who built it. However, wandering around dark boring places with terrible food outweighed all other reasons for staying underground.

"If you need food to keep going, I can give you some—"

"It's not about the food." I interrupted. "You don't know what you're looking for. You're just stubbornly—"

"I'm looking for anything I can use. Ores, supplies,…a less obnoxious ally." He mumbled the last part, but I caught it.

"I'm not being obnoxious!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing down the tunnels.

"And I'm not being stubborn. Oh, and shout a bit louder next time. I think some Mobs in the area may not have heard you." He stated smugly.

I clenched my fists in frustration as we rounded another corner. Floyd was starting to get on my nerves and it was becoming obvious that neither one of us was willing to forgive the other without an apology.

…Maybe my consciousness is right.

Brain: Of course I am.

Heart: He means all of us are right.

Arguing with Floyd isn't gonna get us out of here any faster. In fact, it could make collaboration impossible.

Stomach: That's what we've been saying this whole time!

Maybe if I apologize now, I'll be able to explain to Floyd later why it was such an issue.

Lungs: *Sigh*

You make a fantastic point Lungs. Alright, I'll apologize right now.

I opened my mouth to ready my apology speech when I stopped to notice what Floyd was doing. He was mining a material from the wall with his iron pick. A material that looked remarkably like iron ore.

"Oh good. You found some iron ore." I began to start a conversation that would eventually lead into my apology. Floyd nodded as he placed his furnace and deposited the three chunks of iron ore he mined. "So, what are you gonna make?"

Floyd set up his crafting table and withdrew both a stick and a flint from his Inventory, but didn't reply to my inquiry.

"Ha. Now who's spacing out?" I joked in an attempt to shrug off him ignoring me. It didn't work very well if my angered eye twitching was any indication.

Once the iron was done cooking, he quickly snatched it and crafted it into a sword and a flint and steel. He gave the iron blade a few test swings and I marveled at the sharp edges and shine of the sword…

Before I was overcome by outrage! "Hey! What happened to sharing things fifty-fifty?"

"Oh, that deal only applies to allies." Floyd elaborated with a sneer. "Not whining, ungrateful, assholes."

"…that's—"

"Besides, it's better that I have the better sword since you…" he gestured to my entire being before trailing off.

Ouch.

"Y'know what? I can't believe it." I announced to no one in particular. Floyd shot me a confused glance as he deposited his flint and steel into his belt.

Brain: Um…Cobb?

"I literally cannot believe it."

Heart: Don't say it. Be the bigger person.

I ignored my conscious as I struggled on with my rant. "I can't believe that for one second, I thought I was the wrong one."

Floyd narrowed his eyes at my words as he gripped his iron sword more tightly.

Stomach: Seriously Cobb. Let it go.

"And to think I was stupid enough to even consider apologizing to you. After all those things you said…" I chuckled humorlessly as I cradled my forehead with the heels of my hands.

Lungs: *Sigh* *Sigh*

"Especially since you're the one at fault. Because you couldn't just trust me!" I shouted as I bundled a fistful of my brown colored hair.

"Shut up Cobb." Floyd stated in an emotionless tone as he grasped his blade with both hands. Part of me was terrified if he would attack if the argument escalated any further, but the rest of me was too frustrated to care. If he attacks, then I can finally prove I can handle myself without his constant support!

"Don't deny it! You don't trust me. You don't even want to share items anymore!" My voice continued to rise in volume and bounced off the tunnel walls. The echoes made it seem like ten Cobbs were confronting Floyd at once.

"You don't know what you're talking about." His voice shook as he tried to reign in his anger. "I offered you food, but you just spat in my face."

"That's because I don't want your pity food! I can handle myself!" Ten Cobbs had their voices converge upon an irritated blue-nette.

Floyd opened his mouth to respond, but any reply he was about to make was drowned out by the unmistakable sound of a gurgling stomach emanating from me. Hearing that sound, Floyd's eyes lit up in malice, an emotion I wasn't aware he was capable of.

He smirked to himself as he rummaged through his backpack. "Oh man. All this arguing is making me hungry. I better pull out my good friend Mr. T-bone for ideas on where to find food."

No.

He wouldn't.

From his backpack he withdrew one of the succulent steaks he offered to me before. The aroma of meat wafting through the confined air of the tunnel was intoxicating to me in my famished state. My mouth was already watering as I gazed upon it.

"What's that Mr. T-bone?" He asked as he held up the steak to his ear as if it was whispering something to him. "You know a great place to get food? Delicious meats you say?"

That bastard. I couldn't believe Floyd would do something like this. He always seemed so serious and somber. Yet there he was pretending to listen to a steak as if it was a real person. Just to taunt me.

"What's that?" He leaned closer to the steak. "You're the source of such a delicious and nourishing meal? And you want me to eat you so that you can fill the hunger plaguing my body?"

"Stop it." I stated in a toneless voice.

"Well, gee Mr. T-bone. I couldn't imagine anyone turning down such a generous donation. Especially being hungry and all."

"Okay, Floyd it's not funny anymore!" I pleaded as I took a step towards him. He simply took a step back.

"So I will graciously enjoy this meal. Thank you for your noble sacrifice Mr. T-bone." Floyd bowed to his steak before lifting it to his mouth.

"Don't you eat that in front of me!" I shouted as I took another couple steps forward. Floyd responded by shoving me back with the broad side of his iron blade. This caused me to fall flat on my back.

I could only watch in despair as Floyd devoured Mr. T-bo—I mean, the steak—right in front of me. And he looked like he enjoyed every second of it. He even licked his lips in a self-satisfied smile.

Stomach: That's it. Nobody enjoys food in front of me and gets away with it.

"Oh man, that was delicious!" Floyd adopted a cheerful expression as he rubbed his belly in appreciation. But then his face shifted to one of deep consideration. "But I'm still hungry. I wish there was another meat buddy who could direct me to some…" He stopped as he held a hand up to his ear. "Actually, I think I hear something coming from my good pal, Mr. Mignon."

At that, he pulled out the second and last steak from his Inventory and held it up to his ear.

No! Not again!

"Yes Mr. Mignon. I agree that if Cobb apologized he too could enjoy—GAH!"

I interrupted Floyd as I tackled him to the ground, knocking Mr. Mignon from his grasp. "Not today!" I shouted as I scrambled to my feet, scooped up the steak, and bolted down one of the tunnels.

"Give me my steak back!" Floyd yelled as he sprinted to catch up. My hunger was too low to run for long, but if I stopped to eat the steak, then Floyd would catch up anyway.

"You forced my hand Floyd!" I shouted as I took a sharp turn down another tunnel. I needed a place where I could eat Mr. Mign—the steak!—in peace.

"Well I'm about to force my hand into a fist to punch you in the face!" Floyd bellowed as he rounded the corner and dove for my legs. The sudden extra weight threw my balance off and sent me tumbling to the ground, the steak slipping from my fingers and hitting the floor with an audible 'splat'.

Floyd pressed his advantage as he crawled forward and pressed his knee against my back, effectively pinning me to the ground. He then raised his right fist to deliver a solid blow, but before he could hit me, I reached behind me with both hands and grasped his sweater by the turtleneck. With all my strength, I flipped him over my head where he landed hard on his back, driving the wind out of him.

Now it was my turn to press the advantage. I righted myself and brought my leather clad boot up to stomp on Floyd's chest. As I brought it down, he rolled to the side just barely dodging it and aimed a low sweep towards my legs. Yet again I was sent tumbling to the ground, but the force Floyd put into his sweep made it harder for him to get up to counterattack.

I dove towards him with an enraged shout and we rolled and grappled along the tunnel floor. Every so often, one of us would land a punch on the other before spitting out angered curses.

We were so angry that we didn't even consider each other's health.

We could've killed each other.

After several more tumbles, I managed to pin Floyd with his back to the ground. My knees were keeping his arms restrained and his legs were in no position to injure me. I raised my fist to deliver one last blow, but Floyd began shouting something desperately. My ears were ringing with anger or from all the punches I took, but eventually I was able to filter in what he was trying to tell me.

"~~~~per!"

Fist still raised, I took my eyes off of Floyd to notice that we had rolled right up to the edge of some enormous ravine. We were so caught up with our fight that we never noticed.

"~~eeper!" Floyd's voice was getting clearer.

If we took one more tumble we both would've fallen down. Fortunately, we stopped right on the edge.

Then a new sound hit my ears. A sound that was separate from Floyd, yet oh so familiar.

I usually equated it with bad times.

"Creeper, Cobb! Creeper!" Floyd's voice got through to my brain just as the fatal hissing of a Creeper concluded its vocal timer from beside me.

Crap.

I rolled off the side of the ravine along with Floyd just a split second before the explosion went off. Since I was standing above Floyd, I took most of the damage and force as I was knocked down to the bottom of the ravine. Floyd fared slightly better as he landed on one of the rocky ledges that littered the narrow walls of the gulley.

As I plummeted to the bottom of the ravine, with what little quick thinking I had left I took out my water bucket and set the water down below me a second before impact. The resulting gush of water was just enough to cushion my fall, sparing me from experiencing what zero hearts felt like.

I floundered around before scooping up the water source into my bucket. I checked my health and reluctantly swallowed some rotten flesh to replenish it.

It was miserable. Everything was miserable. I was miserable.

And I didn't know what to do next.

"Cobb!" Floyd shouted from above me. I jerked my head up to scan for him. A blue dot of hair along the canyon wall was all I could see of him. But I didn't really feel like seeing him.

"Cobb! You okay!?" He called down. Once again I was consumed by anger. Anger for his pity, anger for his lack of faith, anger that he wasn't even thinking about the fight we just had. He was just worried about me. And that was what made me the angriest.

Only that anger was directed at me.

I was angry that I had almost gotten us killed and I started a fight over a fucking piece of meat. I was angry that I couldn't speak my apology to Floyd. I was angry that we were as far away from friends as humanly possible.

"Cobb, I'm sorry! Place some water and I'll jump down!" He called again in a desperate attempt to ask for forgiveness.

And now I was angry that he felt the need to apologize when really I had been the one in the wrong.

I couldn't stand it.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't look Floyd in the eye, I was so ashamed.

So I did what I always did when faced with an obstacle I couldn't handle.

I ran.

"Cobb! Wait! Please, I didn't mean to hurt you!" He shouted frantically, but I was already tuning him out. I ran into the nearest passage with tears streaming down my cheeks.

Floyd was right all along. I wasn't capable. I wasn't trustworthy. I was just a burden to be carried. I had screwed up enough and I didn't want to face Floyd for forgiveness or an apology or anything.

The first to break up the alliance was me.

Inventory (Cobb): 1 Wooden Shovel, 1 Wooden Pickaxe {Weak}, 1 Wooden Hoe, 1 Wooden Sword {Weak}, 1 Wooden Axe, 1 Flint and Steel, 1 Fishing Rod, 47 Cobblestone, 12 Flint, 5 Coal, 23 Torches, 1 Chest, 1 Stick, 31 Oak Wood Planks, 2 Wooden Pressure Plates, 1 Trapdoor, 1 Stone Slab, 3 Oak Doors, 1 Wooden Button, 1 Clock, 35 Dirt, 1 Sign, 1 Lead, 1 Saddle, 1 Water Bucket, 12 String, 1 Bone, 1 Bowl, 1 Leather Boots, 4 Spider Eyes, 1 Crafting Table, 3 Rotten Flesh, 1 Emerald

AN: Big arguments can start out little.

This chapter was more drama than humor. And it was short. For that I apologize. Although with a title like 'Conflict' can you really blame it?

Also Midterms are a pain.