Protectors Are For Weaklings (Completed)

Phase

I wake to the sound of guards jingling their keys, and then the sound of them unlocking the iron door rather noisily. Ever heard of flicking a lever softly?

The player with the red bandana steps in, a red cape flowing out behind him. Red capes around here usually means he/she is not to be messed with, as Markus likes to keep ranks old-school.

"Get up," one of them says. I look up just as he kicks me, knocking my left knee at an awkward angle. I take a small breath, then holding it. I've accumulated a collection of small injuries with my time here so far, and this one was the worst yet. Before he has the chance of kicking it again, I stand up, wobbling just a little.

He nods at me before leading me out the door, a look of contempt written on his work, slack face. I wonder just how long he's been working here, knowing every prisoner before they met their end. Must be very depressing, honestly.

Markus looks up at me as I enter his office. He's wearing a greyish white overcoat with glimmering square golden buttons. Short, light brown hair sticks out from under his black top-hat. He blinks slowly as if he has all of the time in the world to look at my mangled leg, narrowing his eyes at the guard who brought me in.

"What happens to him, happens to you," Markus says before laughing and breaking the guard's leg as well in a quick, fluid motion. "Fernando, you are dismissed."

I stare at Fernando as he leaves, stumbling over his own two feet, my purple piercing eyes not overlooking any small detail. Yet Fernando never screams, never protests. That's corruption. I don't care what the Nether Markus does to me, as I'm his prisoner, and, well, I always have had a respect for other's people's plans. Fernando was just doing his job, keeping the prisoners disciplined. Markus looks at me again after the door clicks shut.

"I know that you're wondering why I do what I do. All of it is to make sure that Herobrine at least doesn't blow up the whole place if he does come for you." If? How about when?

Markus paused for a moment, and I am reminded that he can read my thoughts, as Herobrine can. He is probably deciding whether that thought of mine is an act of complete arrogance, or truth. When he lifts up his hand, it completely takes me off-guard.

Two swirls of compact light form on his left hand, and on my now throbbing injury. I don't feel him prodding around in my thoughts anymore. In two split seconds, or perhaps two elongated hours, I stumble in the sudden more fierce pain in my leg. Just as it started it ended, Markus taking a sharp breath in.

There is no longer any pain, and I'm going to remind Markus that I am the prisoner, thus shouldn't be helped. Grimacing, I lift my leg up and kick it as hard as I can at Markus's face.

- - -

I can't remember much after that. All I felt afterwards was a punch next to my right eye, and yes, I can still feel it.

He is here, with me, back in the dreary cell. I'm not even sure why I was brought to Markus's office in the first place. Maybe it was for a show of power. Maybe he was just lonely. I smile at the thought of that.

By the way, that he is the guy with the weird pointy wolf ears.

He glances at me when I move my head slightly, in hope to clear the dull, numb consuming pain. I try to sit up, only to find a slim hand stopping me. "Aye, Markus did quite a number on you, but from what I saw, you might have done worse. Best not to move much, though."

Ignoring his advice, I shuffle in a sitting position, before the pain evolves from a dull, annoying throb to a sharp thrust. I bite down on my tongue again, trying to stop a cry of pain from getting out. The first piece of a good conversation Herobrine ever had with me starting with a simple sentence like this: Never show weakness.

"Markus never told me your name," he says, and quickly frowns. It was the type of frown you make when you want to do a face palm, but you're not completely sure whether that would be professional or not. "But I suppose I haven't shared mine, either. It's Ethan."

A perfect name for a villain's minion, I think, intensely glowering at Ethan. As if sensing my thoughts, he smiles before standing up from his former crouching position.

"I'd better get going, then," he says after I don't say anything for a while. "I'm not even technically supposed to be here..."

"Wait," I suddenly say before Ethan completely disappears behind the iron door. "I know you are the person who gave Herobrine that note."

I can see Ethan's outer confidence fade and flicker. "So I may have. Or I may have not. It depends on what you make of that note, anyway."

What the heck does that mean?

- - -

Blood. There's blood everywhere.

What do you mean, Phase? Everything's all right.

But... I can sense it.

I wake the third time that day. Something feels off. In fact, everything feels off.

Maybe it has something to do with because I'm somehow at a different place... A completely different place. I'm overlooking a balcony, and two kids are chasing each other around a statue, with not a care in the world. Those two kids are the younger versions of Markus and Herobrine.

The "image" changes to a set of three blades, each a little bit different in size and colour. Each set out to kill a number of different people.

Then... Then I see a present Herobrine, talking with who looks like Seto, and another unknown sorceress. Why can't you just bring it all together, Phase? Your friend is now dealing with the devil.

I don't feel the need to reply to that demon of mine.

Next, I've seemed to have woken up, but I know the difference. There she is. Raven. She was the closest ally to the old Enderdragon before... Well, before it managed to finally die.

Raven walks over, her black hair the only thing darkest enough to not be seen. Now I know that this is only just a dream. I hear one last thing before completely losing conscious again - He won't be saved in the end.

- - -

I find why I must have sensed blood in my sleep. Ethan is back, and it's so easy to smell a hybrid's blood. Or at least I think that's what it was.

- - -

Man, I am slipping from my 1500 days with this book.

I'm sorry if I disappointed any of you with that note from yesterday saying that I am making art for this book :c So I made up for it by writing in the bus and at both of the libraries...