Endless

Chapter Four: Out of Mind

It had been early in the morning when Steve received the news.

Alex had shown up at his door, a solemn expression on her freckled face. In her hands was a pickaxe with a diamond head, the tool caked with dried blood. She held it out towards him, a pitying look in her eyes. Steve didn't need to hear the words spoken aloud, as her expression said enough; Herobrine was dead.

He numbly took the pickaxe from her. It was heavy, and it felt unnatural in his hands given its history. Steve wasn't even sure if he wanted it. For a second, he contemplated handing it back to her, but he refrained. Alex most likely didn't want it any more than he did. It had, after all, been used to end the lives of many.

"What of the body?" He questioned after staring quietly at the tool-turned-weapon, making the ginger woman shift in place uncomfortably before she was able to formulate a reply.

"We've... we buried it already. Somewhere it won't be found. I would have gotten you, Steve, but it-it was bad. I didn't want you to see that," Alex explained, her green eyes haunted with the unpleasant image. Steve could understand why she didn't fetch him for the burial, then. Notch's hammer left devastating blows, and he could only imagine the state the corpse was in.

"I see. Thank you for...bringing me this," Steve said, his voice not betraying his growing inner turmoil. Alex nodded sadly. "You know it's not a problem. Figured you might want something of his to remember him by. I know it's not exactly the most, um...pleasant item to have, but all his other things are gone."

Alex then put her hands on Steve's shoulders. "I have to go now, okay? If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me. You know where I live." She pulled Steve in for a long hug, before she left to go wherever she had needed to go in such a hurry.

Steve had spent those next few hours cleaning the blood from the pickaxe, and constructing a wooden case for it made out of dark oak wood- Herobrine's personal favorite. After the tool no longer looked like it was ripped straight out of a murder scene (which it most definitely was), Steve laid it inside the case and latched it shut. He ended up putting it under his bed, wanting to keep it out of sight.

He never opened it again.

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That face.

Herobrine couldn't tear his eyes away, the sight of it making him freeze up completely. The man's face, currently contorted in panic, was eerily similar to his own; right down to the facial structure. If not for the lack of facial hair on the younger man's face, he would be nearly identical to Herobrine.

What was perhaps even more striking than the man's similar face were his eyes. Much like his own, they were unique, indicating the man most definitely wasn't human. The irises were a vibrant purple, and inside them were concentric rings of a dark violet. They were very reminiscent of the portals Herobrine would see scattered throughout the Nether.

More importantly, they were familiar.

The fist beating roughly into his forearm made him realize he was still strangling him. Murderous intent completely forgotten, Herobrine dropped the man.

Steve's legs nearly buckled under his weight. He leaned back against the wall, supporting himself so that he wouldn't hit the floor. Heart thudding, he gasped for air, refilling his lungs with the oxygen they had been deprived of. His hands hovered over his sore neck, prodding the areas it had been squeezed. Steve winced when his fingers gingerly made contact; there would most certainly be bruises later.