AN: Alright. Another Chapter. This one marks the start of the Noman Arc, retelling what our favorite nobody is doing while Cobb is off in Daymonte.

For some reason, a lot of people were wondering what happened to Noman to get him in his situation. I'm not sure why. I mean, we leave him for a few chapters, come back, and he's imprisoned as a slave mining cobblestone.

Seems pretty normal to me.

...

Alright, I did that cliffhanger on purpose. But, I mean, if I had shown Noman's adventures instead of Cobb's at first, and then cut to Cobb in the End with Lenzington, it would be the same reaction.

Hopefully, this chapter will clear things up.

Also, congrats to Void of Shining Darkness for answering last week's riddle correctly. The answer: Dan! It'll...make more sense if you read last week's puzzle.

Puzzle: There is a word and six letters it contains. Take one away and twelve is what remains. What word is it?

Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd add obsidian picks.

Beta: Void of Shining Darkness

Chapter 43

Yesterday

[Noman]

"Oof!"

A sharp kick to the back sent me staggering into a large cell with several dozen other Crafters. By the time I turned around, the cell was already sealed by the taskmaster, smirking cruelly.

"Good work today. Keep it up, and I might be persuaded to double your wages!" He guffawed loudly as he left the room we were imprisoned in.

"How can he double our wages?" I questioned aloud. "Aren't we prisoners? What wages would we get?"

"He was being a prick, idiot!" One of my fellow prisoners clarified bitterly. "No matter how many times you multiply by, zero is still zero."

"Oh…no need to curse." I commented sadly as I sat on the stone floor. The cell had no chairs, beds, or objects to sit on after all. "Are they at least coming back with food or water?"

"Sheesh. You're pretty slow on the uptake newbie."

I sighed dejectedly. "I don't even know what I did wrong to get thrown in here. It all happened so fast…I just wish I had someone to tell it to."

At my words, all the other cellmates scooted further away from me, their eyes determinedly fixed on anything but me.

I blinked before letting out a louder sigh. "Yep. Reeeeeally wish someone could lend me an ear and listen to my story."

The cellmates scooted further away, continuing to ignore me.

"Just so I could get it off my chest. Maybe help figure out what I did wrong to get thrown in here. Possibly clear up any confusion…"

Silence.

I frowned as my eyes darted over every single person. Not one of them was paying me any mind.

"Come on. Please?" I begged aloud, hoping for one of them to reconsider. "If nothing else, just to help the new guy?"

That was enough to get a response. One of the cellmates sighed wearily before turning to face me. "Eh, what the hell. Not like I got anything better to do…" He spoke to himself before making a waving gesture with his hand. "Let's hear it."

I graced his willingness to listen with a small smile before clearing my throat.

"Well…it all started yesterday…"

[Yesterday]

A tumultuous storm was drenching everything in water. From the flat landscape of the plains to the horse I rode upon, all the way down to the waterlogged clothes I wore.

I had no idea how far the Kingdom of Dover Plains was, nor did I spot any suitable cover for—

[Present]

"Why weren't you naked?"

"Uh—excuse me?" The cellmate had interrupted my story with the most absurd question.

"You heard me. Why were you riding around in rain-soaked clothes when you could have been naked, letting the cool rain cascade down your skin?"

"Well…I…does that really matter for the story?"

"It's what I would've done." The cellmate nodded to himself as if it were completely natural to ride around naked. "I mean, animals are naked all the time. And they don't mind the rain. Only weighs down their fur."

"Well, I wasn't naked. I was fully clothed." I clarified with embarrassment. "Anyway, back to the story. I was riding around—"

"Is it because you don't know how to don the birthday suit?" Another cellmate had entered the conversation, intrigued by where it was going.

"Wha…birthday—what are you talking about?"

"It's really simple." He closed his eyes and stood up straight. "You just imagine your attire leaving you and…" As if by magic, his shirt and pants began to fade, revealing—

"Wait, wait, no, no, no!" I waved my arms frantically and screwed my eyes shut. "I appreciate the lesson, but…but…please, no nudity!"

The cellmate opened his eyes, returning his attire to its proper state.

Another cellmate snapped his fingers. "I got it. Noman probably didn't want his junk sitting on the horse's back."

"Ahhh."

"That makes sense."

"Gotta respect the animal after all."

I opened and closed my mouth, struggling for the kind of response such a situation demanded, but found none. So I just shook my head and returned to the story. With three new cellmates listening to it.

[Yesterday]

So, as I was saying, I was riding around on my horse, soaked to the bone, desperately searching for some kind of refuge from the rain.

The dark storm clouds blocked out the sun, covering the plains in a cold darkness, momentarily illuminated by the lighting that flashed across the sky. The wind was howling. The mood was grey and dismal. My horse was protesting with every spur—

[Present]

"What was the horse's name?" A cellmate raised their hand questioningly.

"I…didn't name it." I shrugged before trying to steer back to the story.

"What? You gotta name a horse!" The cellmate looked outraged, as if I had performed some inhumane act or something. "Otherwise, you won't have a connection with it."

"Yeah." Another cellmate chimed in. "And if you don't make a connection with the horse, the audience won't feel as invested with the character. It'd just become another mindless animal!"

I raised a brow at the rationality behind their argument. "Well, I—"

"The man's right. You gotta name the horse." Another cellmate joined the group listening to my story. More like criticizing really.

Were they some kind of back-story critics or something? What was with all the interruptions?

"Ooh ooh!" One of them raised their hands excitedly. "Can the horse's name be Sha-Neigh-Neigh? Y'know, since it's a horse. And horses go neigh for hay."

I sweat-dropped awkwardly. "I don't—"

"One could say horses go neigh for hay all day."

"Right, right. I hear what you say." One of the cellmates caught on. "Horses say neigh when hay is in their way."

"Horses are positively gay for that hay. They can't say 'yay' or 'hooray,' but they can sure say neigh. So it's fitting to call him or her Sha-Neigh-Neigh. Especially since it's a male and female name."

"Fine! The horse can be named Sha-Neigh-Neigh!" I conceded just to stop the rhyming. "Now, can I please continue my story? Please?"

The cellmates all nodded in acceptance as they sat cross-legged in a semi-circle around me. With that decided, I got back to my story.

[Yesterday]

So um…Sha-Neigh-Neigh and I were traveling across the plains in the middle of a storm.

"There has to be a shelter somewhere…" I spoke to myself as I rode my horse over a small hill. However, the other side had a far steeper decline, leading to a small valley. At the center of which, a sizable tavern stood.

Looks like luck hasn't given up on me yet! I thought happily as I spurred my horse towards the tavern. It was made out of planks and logs, a detail that seemed off since trees generally didn't grow along plains. Just tall grass and flowers.

So where did the lumber come from?

I read one of the signs near the front. "The Val-Piege Tavern. Hmmm…"

I wasn't quite sure how to pronounce it, but finding a tavern during a thunderstorm was good. I could rest, order some food, and maybe even ask about local happenings. Knowing the current events of Dover Plains would definitely come in handy.

So with a deciding nod, I dismounted Sha-Neigh-Neigh, hoping the horse wouldn't wander off and opened the front door.

The door led to a large room with tables, chairs, and a bar displaying a multitude of brightly colored potions. From the walls hung pictures and item frames holding swords and axes. And over in the corner was a jukebox and a set of armor held up by an armor stand. There were some stairs leading to the next floor and some other rooms that must've been for the kitchen or additional tables.

"Hello?" I called out tentatively as I walked over to the bar. I didn't see anyone, so I was worried the tavern had been abandoned. "Anyone here? It's raining quite fiercely out there, so I was hoping I could stay the night."

I heard a sudden bump, followed by a small 'ow' before someone emerged from the bar. An elderly woman with grey hair and wrinkles. "Why hello there, deary." The woman greeted with a faint lisp.

I immediately relaxed at the sight of someone. "Hello. I'm sorry to bother you—"

"Oh, no bother at all, deary." She dismissed kindly. "You're here for a room, yes?"

I smiled, grateful that she was saving me the trouble of explaining myself. Then again, my soaked clothes were probably a clear indication that I needed shelter. "Yes. How much for one night?" I was already reaching at my belt for some emeralds.

The woman, however, turned away the emeralds. "No, no, deary. There's no need for any of that." She reached below the counter and pulled up a bowl of piping hot rabbit stew along with a bottle of blue-gray liquid. "I can see that you're soaked to the bone. Why don't you warm up by the fireplace in the next room. Get some food in your stomach."

"But...I have the emeralds. And I can't just accept your hospitality without…" I trailed off as the old woman pushed the emeralds back towards my belt.

She smiled kindly at me. "You shouldn't turn down a gift, deary." She offered a small wink before guiding me towards the other room.

I kept trying to offer her some emeralds. Surely someone as kind as herself deserved it. But she just kept waving off the offer until she seated me in front of a brick fireplace. She struggled with the flint and steel before eventually lighting a fire on a strange reddish block. Then she turned to leave, offering to tie my horse to a post so it wouldn't wander off.

Alone before the fire, I carefully sipped at the rabbit stew. Combined with the warming fire, the rain's chill was dispelled, warming me up both from the inside and the outside.

Just as I was about to take a swig of the drink the old lady gave me, I paused to admire the fireplace. Whatever the woman had done had made the fire burn without end. Usually fires burned until the block they were burning upon had burned away. There must've been a trick to it.

[Present]

"This story is boring."

"It's not meant to be entertaining." I protested.

"Y'know what this story needs?" One of the cellmates snapped his fingers in realization. "Pointless sword fights."

"Between who? The story only has three characters so far!" These guys were interrupting my story at every turn. How was I supposed to figure out what I did wrong if they kept adding their own things?

"There should be a sword fight and it should be between Sha-Neigh-Neigh and the old crone!"

"HA! I'd pay money to see that!" Another cellmate chimed in.

Then it devolved into a bout of random suggestions to spice up the story, causing more cellmates to join in.

"Love Triangles! There needs to be more Love Triangles!"

"Explosions and motor cycles! And hot women!"

"More philosophical discussions about the evolution of the criminal mind!"

"Pancakes!"

Everyone seemed to have an opinion on my story, each wanting to shout it over the other yelling. It got to the point that some of the Crafters guarding our cell had to intervene. As the arguments continued, I sighed in resignation before continuing the story in my head.

[Yesterday]

After finishing my meal and accidentally throwing both the empty bowl and untouched drink in the fire, I wiped my hands and returned to the bar. The old lady still hadn't returned yet.

I took out my map to study my location and frowned questioningly. The taciturn Spark had told me that maps showed an overhead view of the landscape as well as a small blip representing the map holder. Additionally, if a map was copied and given to another Crafter, both Crafters would have white blips on their respective maps representing one another.

I didn't quite understand how the magic maps worked when all they were made of were papers and a compass, but I didn't bother to question it. Not when the maps worked so well at reading the landscape.

Looking at the map, I saw the circular outline of Ringwood's walls, the farmland sprinkled with houses and surrounded by a thin wall that must have been Dover Plains, and the flat plains and meadows in between.

However, the tavern, representing my present location, wasn't on the map. There was no brown blot on the map where my white blip was. According to the map, I was still in the middle of the plains.

So the tavern didn't show up on the map. It would explain why the tavern was completely empty.

Despite all the chairs and seats, it looked like the tavern didn't see a lot of visitors. I felt bad for the kind old lady, living out in the middle of nowhere. Being a polite host to the few guests that graced her tavern. She probably wasn't doing too well on emeralds, which made me feel even more guilty about reserving a room without paying her.

Thinking better of it, I decided to slip some emeralds behind the bar counter. She'd undoubtedly find them later, after I was long gone, and have no choice but to accept the kind donation.

Smiling at my generosity, I leaned back by a table and glanced idly around, waiting for the woman to return and lead me to a room to rest in.

As I waited, the room began to feel eerily creepy. It wasn't just because I was alone.

It was because…because I felt like I was being watched.

I was certain I was the only person in the room. Yet I felt some kind of strange presence, hinting at some clandestine observer. A feeling I had picked up on after traveling with an invisible Spark for those few days.

The swords strung up on the wall glinted in the torchlight, making me think they were moving when they were as still as I remembered.

I wondered where the woman got such pristine swords. Perhaps a passing adventurer that made a donation? Same with the armor.

Come to think of it…How was the woman paying for food and supplies?

Did she scavenge amongst the meadows or else recycle where she could? Thinking that made me regret tossing the bowl and drink she gave me into the fire.

Before my thoughts could weigh me down anymore, the old lady returned. As soon as she saw me sitting in the chair, she jumped in surprise. "Oh! Are…are you feeling better now, deary?" She inquired with a strained calm I couldn't understand.

"I am, thanks to you." I replied easily. "I was just wondering which room I should head to. I didn't know if someone else was reserving or…" I trailed off, trying to sound polite. After all, it would be rude to point out her lack of guests.

"No, no!" She clarified a little too loudly. "Any room is fine. Any one you like, but…ah…you must be thirsty from your journey across the plains. I was hoping the drink I gave you would rehydrate you."

"Oh, that?" I rubbed my head sheepishly. "I'm terribly sorry. I accidentally tossed it in the fire with my empty bowl. I forgot to drink it if you'd believe—"

"Not a problem." She interrupted as she sped over to the bar and fixed up another gray-blue bottle. "Here. Drink up."

I raised an eyebrow curiously. "Maybe later. I don't really drink alcohol or…whatever alcohol is."

"It's not a Thick Potion. Or a Mundane Potion." She urged, leaning the bottle forward in an attempt to have me grab it. "It's just a refreshing drink. Nothing of concern."

I blinked and eyed the glass bottle carefully before accepting. "Well, if you insist, I suppose it would be rude to turn it down." I swirled the bottle's contents before taking a sip.

Then I nearly gagged. It was sweet, but also had a weird meaty aftertaste to it.

However, it would have been rude to throw the drink away. What with the old woman looking eagerly between me and the drink. So I screwed my eyes shot and finished the whole thing.

I coughed a bit and wiped my mouth. "That was…a very strong drink." I tried to compliment. "What do you call it?"

"A Slowness Potion."

My eyes widened in shock, watching the old woman smile. But it wasn't a kind smile anymore. It was a devious smile.

I would have staggered back in shock, except for how sluggish my body felt. Like I was weighed down by anchors.

Suddenly, the tavern erupted into a flurry of movement as several Crafters burst from hiding spots behind armor stands or from the upper floor before converging on me.

I was so confused and sluggish that I barely had time to react before I felt something splash into my back. The next thing I knew, my legs couldn't even support my weight.

Whatever they threw had sapped my strength!

"Wait! What's going on!?" I questioned urgently. However, the Crafters merely ignored me as they stripped my belt of all its items. "What did I do!?"

Was this because I tossed that bowl into the fire? I didn't think it mattered that much! If I had known it was a punishable offense…

"Quite a lot of emeralds. And an enchanted diamond sword." One of the Crafters whistled appreciatively as he tried to pocket it. However, the old lady slapped his hand. "Yeow!"

"No keeping the goods! Not before I check and divvy them up!" She barked, voice devoid of kindness or lisp. "Now check his backpack too!"

What? NO!

I tried to protest, but my voice was muffled by the hardwood floor as I was roughly rolled over. The Crafters began emptying my backpack with little care, taking out my steaks, my enchanted golden apples, and my…

"Nice chestplate." The old lady commented as she turned it over in her hands. "Diamond. And probably enchanted too. Why weren't you wearing it?"

My eyes widened in horror. They had taken the Severe Shield. "Be careful with that!" I shouted, muffled by the floor. I desperately tried to move, but could only tilt my head slightly. "You have no idea how dangerous that is!"

In response, one of the Crafters ground my head into the floor with his boot. "Watch your tongue, slave! Nobody speaks to Nana Widow like that!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the old lady, Nana Widow, pass the invincible artifact to some Crafters, who then proceeded to take the artifact upstairs. Along with the rest of my gear. They had cleaned my Inventory out. Completely.

"Take him to the cobblestone mines." Nana Widow spoke coldly as she turned to address the others. "As for the rest of you, clean this place up so it looks better than when he arrived! There can't be any signs of a struggle."

"No! Please!" I pleaded as I was hauled to my feet, still completely paralyzed. I'd need some milk to break whatever potion effects I was under. "I need that armor to save Minecraftia!"

But for some reason, that didn't convince them. They continued to haul me over to a trap door in the floor. Why couldn't they understand that I was a hero of Minecraftia? Surely whatever misdeed I committed could be overlooked in favor of my ongoing service to the world.

"If this is about the bowl, I left some emeralds behind the counter! Please!"

"Ugh, somebody shut him up!" Nana Widow shouted from out of sight. The next thing I knew, I felt a sharp blow to the head.

Then darkness.

[Present]

That was all I remembered. I woke up in some mines, they gave me a pick, and put me to work along with a bunch of other Crafters.

"Whatever crime I committed, hopefully it'll be resolved soon. I'm sure this is just some big misunderstanding."

I addressed my cellmates, now properly calmed down, hoping they could offer some comforting words.

Instead, they just laughed.

"What?" I asked confused. "What's so funny? Am I missing something obvious?"

One of the cellmates wiped a tear from his eye before the amusement fell from his face. "Oh boy, you're serious?" He glanced around before addressing me. "Look, kid. If you're waiting for them to let you out, you're going to be waiting a very long time."

My blood froze at those words. "What…what do you mean?"

Another cellmate interjected. "He means, you're not getting out of here. None of us are." He gestured to his fellow cellmates. "You think we're some kind of common criminals? Thugs and whatnot? We were forced here."

I looked searchingly around the cell for anyone to refute his claim, but found none. "But…but they can't just keep us here when we didn't do anything wrong."

"Open your eyes, Newb!" One of them shouted harshly. "What about this place seems fair to you? Don't you get it?

"We were all just Crafters walking around the plains, minding our own business. We figure to stay at a tavern for the night, relax with some food…maybe a drink, offered to us by a sweet old lady…and that's where we went wrong.

"It's a con. They drug Crafters with a slowness potion and then finish with a weakness potion to paralyze us. Then, when we're at their mercy, they rob us for all we got!"

I shook my head in horror. "No…no, that can't be true!"

"Next thing we know, we wake up in these cobblestone mines. At the mercy of those slave drivers under Nana Widow." The cellmate spat out the name. "I hear she sells this cobblestone to construction projects all over Minecraftia. That's what our blood and sweat goes into!"

The mood had instantly dropped a few hundred degrees. All the cellmates lowered themselves to the ground, scrunched up in hopelessness.

"Some of us have been here for years." One of the cellmates spoke sadly. "All our friends…our families…we could be dead for all they know."

"That's…" I couldn't even voice my horror. Then my face darkened. "The Endward Cult is behind this, aren't they?"

One of the cellmates chuckled humorlessly. "Could be. Though I doubt it. This kind of commercial exploitation is just the work of some horrible motherfuckers."

I covered my ears at his curse, but was otherwise shocked at that information. I thought that the Endward Cult was the ultimate evil. But apparently there were others just as evil. What kind of person would willingly imprison innocent Crafters, steal all of their possessions, and work them as slaves?

And they had my Severe Shield! Plus, Notch's mission book and the artifact list! If they read that…they would understand the true power of the chestplate!

I couldn't let that happen!

"Well, then let's get out of here!" I shouted to all the cellmates. The Crafters guarding the cell just guffawed at my outburst. "They don't have the right to keep you from your families!"

The cellmates spared a grim glance before returning to their hopeless staring at the ground.

"It's not that easy." What I assumed was the head cellmate clarified, tilting his head to the cell bars. "Those are made of solid iron. And they're strict about sneaking in tools. They found one guy with a stone pick concealed in his ass. They cut his food and nearly starved him to death. Plus, he couldn't go to the bathroom for a week."

"Another punishment?"

"No. He physically couldn't go to the bathroom. He had a stone pick shoved up his colon."

"Oh…" I looked around. "Um…where's the bathroom anyway."

The head cellmate gestured to a stained bucket in the corner of the cell.

I blinked at the bucket before forcing my attention back to the head cellmate. "Even if it's iron, surely you could break it if you all worked together."

He shook his head. "Iron doesn't break easily. Without the proper tools…" He trailed off, not wanting to depress the other cellmates.

I frowned determinedly. "Fine. If you won't help me get out, I'll help you get out." Then I marched to the cell bars and gripped them, testing their strength. They were fairly thick. And they weren't budging an inch either.

But I wouldn't know how durable they were unless I tested it with force. I reared back a tightly clenched fist, glancing to the other cellmates, before launching it at the bars.

*CRICK*

"…ow!" I hissed in pain as I clenched my hand. I think I broke something with that hit. "OW!"

The watching guards chuckled at my attempt before walking over to the bars. "Pretty amusing new-guy. I think I saw the bar bend a little." He was being caustically sarcastic. "Maybe you should try again."

My eyes narrowed. "Maybe I WILL!" I swung my other fist at the bars, hoping to do more damage.

But not to myself! "Agh!" I hissed in pain as my knuckles throbbed in pain. The bars remained as unyielding as ever. My soft marshmallow-like flesh wasn't tough enough to put a dent in them.

At my recent failure, the watching guards jeered amusedly. "Maybe you should try, again! I'm sure you'll get it this time!"

I ignored their laughter as I tried kicking the bars, only to lose my balance and fall onto the floor. The head cellmate tried to help me up. "Just give it a rest, Nowhere. Just like your name, you're getting nowhere."

I gave him a grateful expression before turning away his help, opting to pick myself up, by myself. "Sorry, but I don't quit easily."

I looked around the cell for something I could use. Some weakness. Something I was missing.

"Even if you break the bars, what are you going to do about the guards?" The head cellmate shook his head sadly. "Face it. There's nothing you can do, Nowhere."

My eye lit up at something and I hurried over to one side of the cell. "My name is Noman. And there's definitely something I can do."

I picked up the bucket the cellmates had been using as a toilet. It smelled worse than horrible, but I fought through the stench. The bucket felt like it was made of iron. Just like the cell bars.

With the utmost revulsion, I fit my fist into the bucket, wielding it like a boxing glove and walked over to the same cell bars. The guards erupted into even more laughter at the ridiculous sight of me wielding the bucket, but I ignored them as I began to pummel the bars.

The impact hurt less than when I was using my bare fists, and each punch was punctuated by the clang of metal upon metal.

However, I noticed the cell bars beginning to creak, if only slightly.

Come on! I mentally urged as I kept pummeling the bars. Some cracks were starting to form.

The head cellmate was the first to notice my progress. His eyebrows raising in a combination of dawning realization and surprise. Followed by a few of the other cell mates, nudging each other and pointing to where I was working.

It's…working…

After a particularly infuriating bout of laughter, the guards began to notice the damage I was doing to the bars. I could tell by the amusement draining from their faces and their fallen smiles.

Was I a terrible person for finding satisfaction in that?

"Hey. That's enough." One of the guards tried to stop me, raising his voice a bit. "This is just getting pathetic."

Wrong. I was making a dent in the bars.

"I said that's enough! What are you stupid or something!?" While the guard tried to talk me down, the other one was at the cell door, arming himself with swords and calling for backup in entering the cell.

By then, the bars were nearly broken. Just a little more time…

The other cellmates had gotten between the cell door and me, making it harder for the guards to stop my efforts.

"Get out of the way!" One of them barked, pushing aside some cellmates. "Move!"

Almost…

*CREAK*

With a final punch, the bars were destroyed, opening up a one block wide opening in the supposedly-indestructible bars.

"Yes!" I cheered at my accomplishment before getting tackled to the ground. The guards were all over me, pressing me roughly into the floor.

"We warned you, slave!" One of them growled, taking out an iron blade. "You just haaad to take it a step too far."

He poised his blade above my arm, intending to strike. The other cellmates were in similar states, the more violent ones detained by guards.

"You new guys are all the same! So unwilling to accept the way things are!" He smiled cruelly. "It's time you learned…your…place?"

He trailed off as an unusual sound assaulted our ears. Indescribable, a series of sounds that vaguely followed some rhythm.

"Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na dah-da-dah-da-dah dah-dah bah-da-dah-dah."

I raised an eyebrow from my position. Is that supposed to be…theme music?

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na bah-ba-bah-ba-bah BADUM!" At those words, a Crafter fell through the ceiling, landing on his face with his legs suspended in the air. A moment later and his legs fell to the floor.

An appearance like that had the attention of everyone. The guards. The cellmates. And myself. We all just stared flatly at the man lying flat on the floor.

Suddenly, he lifted his head up and looked around the room. His eyes lit upon spotting us in the cell. "Yes! I did it! That Infiltration Badge is as good as mine!" He jotted something down in a notebook at his belt, oblivious to the mood of the room.

"The fuck…?" One of the guards questioned. I tried to block out the profanities, but it was difficult when said guard was pinning my arms to my sides.

The man that had fallen into the room had partially slicked-back blond hair which was kept unkempt at the front. He had wide light-blue eyes and an innocent expression. He wore a lavender and white two-toned snow-coat along with a pair of black shorts. He had brown and white sneakers and white socks with a red stripe pulled up his legs too high. His belt and backpack were a light blue like his eyes and he was clad in iron armor.

And his name was MarbleFinder.

"Alright!" He fist pumped the air before glancing at another book. "Now I can focus on the…Prison-Break Badge!" He turned around to face us. "So, you've got the prison." He pointed to the guards. "And I got the breaking." He pointed to himself before then pointing to the hole in the ceiling. "Let's make this happen."

The guards blinked in bewilderment and I felt the same as them.

Just…who was this man?

Inventory (Noman): {Empty}

[EXP: 0]

AN: Alright. Sorry this Chapter is a bit later. But in my defense, I had a very, very good reason for procrastinating.

I was playing Uncharted 4.

It's mostly climbing. Though Chapter 11 was the coolest, funnest, most Indiana-Jones-est chapter yet. You know the one I'm talking about.

Unless, of course, you don't have a PS4...or a computer/laptop...which would be weird considering how any of you can read this without some form of internet access-

I'm rambling!

Anyway, back to this chapter. I debated how to have Noman retell his story to the viewers and ultimately decided retelling it to his fellow cellmates was the best way. Allowing for some comedy with his own peanut gallery.

Nana Widow...what a two-faced B-word.

And you'll see more of MarbleFinder next chapter.

No Omake this week. Though somebody suggested I do one of Fifty Shades of Chicken. And while I admit that that would be freaking hilarious...it would probably be hard to write for. I'll think it over.

See you all next week! Stay hydrated.