Herobrine's point of view-

I had been working nonstop since I returned home from Alduin's office. Every time I went to write, my fist trembled, all drawings of plans and all writing coming out near illegible. I was running out of ideas, not that I had any good ones to begin with. I noticed that I was becoming more fatigued, more disoriented with what I was doing these past few days and the time. I kept forgetting to feed Armen or to take my medication. No matter. Armen can take care of himself and I can go without those drugs...I pray so.

"Your experiment has really caught my utmost interest!" I spun around to find the source of the voice, finding that I was all alone, isolated. It sounded like he was speaking directly behind me.

I shook my head as I turned back to my work, laying out the rods and metal to begin constructing my new invention. It is just my imagination remembering our conversation, just haunting memories. My eyes lifted and gazed to the side at D9ak8 in his suspended state, still in the process of healing after attacking those students.

"Are you sure that it is no longer your intention?"

Perhaps just handing him over to Alduin will be better than this. I am all out of ideas. Nothing I make is good enough! Not even...not even him. My fists tightened with my burning skin dripping sweat. No. I will not give up! I will not accept failure! I continued working, my body screaming for rest, for food. Mentally, I was screaming as well. Exhausted, lost, confused. I didn't want to do it anymore. The numbness set in. I sat there as I started, losing all interest in continuing on until I fell asleep.

"You don't want to feel a thing, do you, but suicide doesn't fit you?"

Upon awakening, I immediately proceeded with my work. My stomach growled, howling at me to give it nourishment but ignored it's pleading. I need to work. I need to work! I need to work!
A pressure rose in my stomach until it reached into my esophagus, burning it's walls. My eyes snapped fully open as I realized what was going to happen, panic releasing into my system. I had to push myself out of chair and rush to the waste disposal as my stomach clenched, pushing up nothing but acid with the absence of food in my system. The sounds from the monitors grew silent, all I could hear was my own choking, gasping, and wheezing.
Afterwards, I collapsed for a moment or two, standing back up after a possible minute or longer passed on trembling legs.

"Dad..."

No. My head snapped to the side, seeing a figure standing there, staring. Staring. My son; body covered in blood, pool of dark crimson covering the floor. The floor. Those eyes. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood!

"Don't play innocent with me."

I snapped, dropping to my knees once more as I lifted my hands to grab the sides of my head as I screamed.
...

Armen's point of view-

School was canceled the next day, the hallway too damaged for some kids to get to their locker, that and a flooding panic from students that the same fiasco that happened the other day would occur once again. Why the police had not come back with child services to take me away was beyond me. Throughout the morning I did my usual routine, eat, get dressed, brush my teeth. It all felt so boring, so lonely without Drake. When was he going to wake up?
Occasionally I could hear dad screaming down in obvious anger, followed by sound of objects clashing onto the ground as he threw a fit. The whole situation was putting stress on the both of us, him fearing for his own life while I feared for Drake.
Everyday that began to pass was a constant battle with anxiety and fear, anticipating for Drake to recover, for Grayson to come back, for dad to scream in the prison cell of a basement, for the police to finally come to take the both of us. Nearly a week passed by, all of the kids at school having heard about what happened to the kids that Drake assaulted. I heard more murmurs, and whispers of my name than I ever had. More glares, more gazes of pure terror. I can not say that it was uncomfortable nor depressing, it was the usual for me, but every time I walked the halls I could not help but to remember the few hours that Drake and I had spent with each other that day, teaching him, laughing...then the chaos that I had not seen coming.
I should have known that Drake would do something like that. After all, he is part Enderman with the sole purpose of seeking my protection. With the aggression he expressed that day around the other students, I should have known that he would be willing to go that far, but I blinded myself in my own naive faith in him, because I loved him. He is my big brother after all, who little brothers always look up to as if they have no flaws. That's the way brothers are, right?
As I slept, surely tossing and turning, my surreal nightmares came into play, well, not a nightmare, but for some odd reason, I felt saddened and scared. As usual, they were blurred with voices too distant to make out. The colors were the easiest to comprehend; teal, dark blue, grey, brown like brunette hair, pale like skin, and an arched image of white like it came from that of a smile. It was only in the last second of my sleep did I finally realize the face staring back at me, looking down into my eyes with a bright smile.
I jolted upwards in my bed, immediately greeted by the morning with a throbbing headache. After sitting there for a few minutes, I slowly stood up and walked out into the dining room, a pulsating pressure against my forehead. Then I heard my dad scream. I jumped to rush to the door, but froze. This was usually these past few days.
After a few moments of silence, I could hear a repetitive banging coming from the basement like a hammer slamming down on metal, after a moment of silence, that was followed by the sound of a drill. It only made the throbbing headache worsen.
My eyes watered, my brain feeling as if it were being crushed by my own skull. Ringing began in my ears, sounding like voices.

I need my pills...

I knocked on the door and waited but the drill must have been too loud for him to hear. My head was in too much pain to even roll my eyes. A thought suddenly struck me; the medicine cabinet. What if there is something in there? At that point in time I did not care if I was caught.
I made my way upstairs and went to my dad's drawer where I saw him take out that key the other week.
I removed the small silver key from the drawer, proceeding to head into the bathroom and over to the sink. I looked into the mirror briefly, my hair unkempt with bags beneath my red eyes, cheeks stained in tear trails, but I did not care. With my vision out of focus, it took a few attempts before I was even able to get the key into its slot, finally able to get the cabinet open once I got it.
I looked through for any blue pills, my vision clearing enough so I could make out the labels. As my eyes read them, they grew with shock. I knew better. I read medical books a few months ago for a CTE medical class.

These aren't stomach pills. These are neuroleptic drugs...

Those types of drugs were usually for people with mental illness, such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.
I grew increasingly uneasy, staring at the bottle for longer than I should have. I felt like throwing up. Finally I closed the cabinet, needed to take in deep breaths of air to calm myself down. Why did that leave me so shaken?
After finding nothing to help me, I locked it up once more, put the key away, then went back downstairs, nearly tripping if not for the guard rail.
Once the drilling and the hammer sounds had ceased, I tried knocking on the door once more, this time reviving a proper response.

"You can come down!" Something did not feel right. His voice was too high pitched. A shiver ran down my back.

After clearing my throat and pushing down my nerves, I twisted the door handle to crack the door open, allowing the neon green light to flood into my eyes. I flinched and squinted, my eyes already burning from the headache. I gagged, noticing that the room smelt like bleach and a tad bit like vomit. I would not be surprised if dad was throwing up from the stress and anxiety.
I heard mumbling as I took a few steps down, my eyes resting on my father sitting at his desk before moving over to Drake, still floating in his chamber with eyelids resting over his eyes in his suspicion. It has been a week, so why can't he wake up yet?
My eyes grew when I looked at the floor, covered in paper ranging from newspapers to blueprints covered in scribbled ilke scraped ideas. It was not just by his desk, but covered every inch of metal that made up the floor.

"Uh...dad?"

"It's no good...what use will this serve?!"

I flinched when my dad tossed something across the room, narrowly avoiding me by two feet or so. I watched as it slammed into the metal wall, falling to clatter against the iron floor. My eyes examined the object, finding that it was a sword with thermal tubes instead of a sharp blade, like the kind you find in an old microwave. Like a sword meant to be set on fire by the flick of a trigger on the handle.
I flinched when he turned to me, a wide cheek to cheek grin plastered on his face like a mask, laughing an anxious laugh, slowly calming as he stared at me. The slim pupils in his eyes shook, his breathing heavy as his body trembled. His almost green skin was secreting sweat, breathing through his mouth. Not only did he look crazy, but he looked ill. Deathly ill.

"Armen! Good morning! Let me guess, you need another pill?"

Yes, but have you taken yours?

I nodded, not feeling well enough to even open my mouth. I walked closer to his desk as he got up and swiftly went to a cabinet, opening it up to pull out a pull bottle that I was now sure was labeled with his own name. Knowing at least a part of my father's secret left me on edge, especially around him.
He handed me one of the blue pills which I forced down my throat, not wanting to go upstairs to get a dink in order to wash it down. If I did then he probably would not let me back down here a second time.

"So..." I said with my eyes scanning the floor once more. "What's the purpose of laying all on this paper on the floor?"

His face flushed of most of his "joyous" expression, turning to one of realization or perhaps of thought, making him appear more sickly. I knew that he was working himself to the point of being ill, losing sleep and appetite, and to my most dire concern, not taking his medicine. He has been working down here almost nonstop since he was hit with the threat of the death penalty, ignoring his needs.
His silver eyes averted to the floor, scratching the back of his neck.

There was hesitation in his words. "Well...I've taken precaution for when the excitement is released again since,as you recall, he...gets the place rather messy when he is let out."

I chuckled, but instantly began regret it as the pain in my head spiked. It would take a few minutes for the pill to take effect. Once again my eyes met with Drake in his testing chamber, pressure rising in my gut.

"Dad...it's been a week. Is he...okay?" My voice shook.

Yet again, a moment of hesitation. "Actually, Armen, he is healing faster than I thought he would." He walked around me, slugging to his desk. "His body was tearing itself apart from the inside out. It's a miracle that he is even healing at all."

He fell back into his chair, leaning over the desk as he picked up a pencil and began writing. I was curious what he was working on, but I did not want to ask, knowing that he is easily agitated when he is tired. Well, easily agitated in general. My eyes looked to the floor, examining the papers scattered about, some of the newspapers with the headline or a quick section about what happened at the school, some about the rage against my father and Drake, claiming that they were devil's against God.
I picked up one of the blueprints, looking past the thick scribbling that attempted to cross out the detailed drawing of what resembled a sword. It must have been the sword that nearly hit me earlier. I recognized the design from when I was snooping around a week ago. I tried my best to take in the details and read whatever side notes I could.

"Fiery sword: Prototype 2-

Issue in need of resolve: Takes too long to heat up."

This idea interested me, mainly because it was so...simple compared to other works by my dad. Was he he running out of ideas? That seems unlikely for my dad. Come to think of it, he should have all of these inventions made and sold already. After all, he is probably the smartest person alive. What is holding him back from getting this work finished and getting the lawsuits dropped? I looked back up to Herobrine, who wrote rather slow compared to other times I have seen him writing. An idea sprung into my head out of the blue.

My voice was shaking, nervous to give him my thoughts. "Say dad, uh, this sword seems cool! Uh... I think I have an idea on how this can work!"

He did not say anything in response, grunting as if ignoring my presence. I growled at that fact, but I was used to being treated this way. Instead of dropping it, I decided to throw my idea out there rather he was listening or not.

"This 'fiery sword' thing can have flammable gasses in the hilt, released and ignited when you pull the trigger. The blade of course will need to covered in something flammable or something like that in order for the flame to not get out of control!"

His head lifted and hand that previously continuously moved had now fallen still. He gazed at me out of the corner of his glossy eyes, an unsettling stare. Then, he stood and approached me at a fast pace, causing me to step back with a heart pounding in fear. Before I knew it, he was lifting me up in his arms, laughing into my ear as he swayed me from side to side.

"Armen, boy, you are a genius!" He set me down, my feet stumbling before I gained proper footing once more. "Why didn't I think of that?!"

A smile came to my face, glad to see him happy. It was nice to feel the uneasiness dissipate for the brief time being. He snatched the blueprint from my hand and scampered to his desk, writing furiously as if his illness and drowsiness had fled from his body. Even so, I grew more concerned over his wellbeing, especially after finding what was in the medicine cabinet.

A lump formed in my throats that I struggled to swallow. "Dad, um...are you okay? You don't look too good."

This time he spoke without hesitation, speaking rabidly. "You know, the usual. A bit feverish today but I haven't eaten for a few days. I don't remember for how long." This was proceeded with laughter.

After a minute or two, he slammed his pencil back onto the desk, turning to me with a wide grin that showed almost all of his pearly white teeth. He laughed, more in joy than anxiety this time around, tossing his lab coat onto the hanger, the grabbing the sword on the ground and slipping a small vial of purple liquid into his pocket.

"I should be back in a few hours. I should ask you for assistance more often!"

I was flooded with premature joy. "Really?!"

His smile turned over as he stared blankly ahead of himself. A few seconds passed, staring off as if lost in thought. I could see the sweat dripping from his skin. Was he well enough to go into town?

He shook his head. "No...that would not be a good idea. Forget that I mentioned it." I'll admit, it was disappointing to hear his retraction of the suggestion.

As he proceeded to walk up the squeaking steps. I thought about how I would be left alone, then a another thought hit me. "Dad, can I call Grayson to come watch me? Please?"

He stopped in his tracks, giving a shrug after a brief moment of consideration. "Very well. You remember what I told you to do if something goes wrong with the experiment or he needs to be released, right?"

I told him that I did. He had showed me over the week, the one true time we spent with each other over the past week while he immersed himself into his work. He smiled and chuckled in a way that seemed nervous, that glint of uneasiness in the silver hue of his eyes. He told me to go up the stairs and leave the basement, not trusting me down there by myself. I complied and followed him upstairs, but not before giving Drake one last glance.
...

Grayson's point of view-

*ring, ring*

I groaned as the phone rung, awakening me from my sleep. Immediately I was filled with annoyance, my eyelids heavy. Crust resting on the corners of my eyes, an uncomfortable feeling across my cheek. I wiped it away, I found that it was dried saliva, bringing warmth to my cheeks.

*ring, ring*

Once again I groaned as I sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes, yawning and yanking the sheets off from my body. I forgot that I fell asleep in my clothes. After tossing my legs over the mattress, I stood to let my legs pop and stretch my arms over my head, listening to them pop as well. I was usually a morning person but with today as an exemption as I was up late last night working on the reason I had returned to this town in the first place. I know the killer is still here... I just need to find them. Perhaps I'm just dwelling. I know that I am.
Finally I walked over to a desk on the south wall where I had my jacket tossed over the back of a swivel chair. Inside of the right pocket the screen of my phone glowed as it continued to ring, hoping that it was not waking the people staying in the rooms beside my own. I reached into the pocket and pulled it out, the caller ID coming back as unknown. With hesitation, I answered, hoping that it was not some telemarketer.

"Hello?" This better be important.

The deep voice on the other end of the line spoke. "Ah, Grayson Crown, correct?"

My eyes grew when I realized who it was. Herobrine Jackson. He sounded a bit different than I remembered, his voice higher. Was he sick? I do not know why hearing his voice left me now fully awake, ready to listen to anything he had to say. I suppose that it is because his family intrigued me so much, what with Armen obviously being a slightly troubled child in a sense and Herobrine able to create a fricken living being with pure science alone!
Even so, I did not trust him. His sons on the other hand, well Armen since I have not had the pleasure of aquatinting with his brother, I do feel sorry for and care about.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, this is Grayson. It's nice to hear your voice again Mr.Jackson."

He proceeded to tell me that he wanted me to go watch over Armen while he was away to talk with the mayor about his current legal issue. My gaze moved up above the desk where pictures and sticky notes hung up on the walls, red string connecting to any person or information that linked to another. It was a tactic we used in the police force to find suspects in crime, mainly in murder investigations. One person on that board was the silver eyed genius himself.

"Yeah, of course! I'll go watch over him for a bit. Do you know how long you'll be gone so I can rearrange my schedule? Not that it's a problem!"

As he continued to speak, sounding as if he were struggling to speak clearly, my eyes scanned across my work on the wall, moving around a few things that were inconsistent.

"He can't be a suspect. His file started that he moved here last year." I removed a man's picture. Yes, I have been doing some snooping on the citizens of Ruby Shire. I admit that I am...a bit obsessed with this after all I suppose...

"Great." I continued. "I'll be there in a few minutes or so. See you later." After that, I hung up, grabbing my jacket, slipping my arms into the sleeves then placing my phone back into my pocket.

I didn't do much,not even eating breakfast, only brushing my hair, my teeth, and cleaning my face. I figured that I might as well just eat when I arrive at Armen and Herobrine's home, thinking it nice to go and buy groceries for them. After all, when I was there a week ago there was not much food around the house.
Why I was doing all of these things for a family I have only spoken to once was beyond me, even if I found the family interesting. Perhaps, in a way, they remind me of myself; thought of as outcasts.
...

I walked out of the grocery store, two plastic bags in my hands filled with food. As I walked up to my car, I set one bag onto the ground while I pulled my keys out from my pocket with my now free hand.
Once I pulled the keys out and unlocked the door, my blood pressure spiked, ears and the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Even after all of this time, I still recognize that voice.

"Grayson Crown?"

I tried to ignore him. I opened up the door and tossed I the two grocery bags, slamming the door shut, but as I began to walk to the other side of my rusted car, a felt a hand tug on my shoulder. I spun around with my arm swatting his arm away, receiving a laugh from my old friend.

"Crown! It is you! What brings you back to Ruby shire?"

I glared at him, not being able to resist taking in the details about him to see how much he had changed over the years. He did not look much different, pale skinned, lavender hair, a few scars here and there with a bruise on his face. He wore a purple scarf around his neck, along with his black police uniform and a penguin hat that made him appear childish. His hair was longer, covering more skin with assistance of his scarf. In fact, with his gloves as well, only the skin on his face showed.
His smile grew, as he snickered. I remembered back when we were best friends, inseparable until a few months before the disappearance of my family. Around that period of time, he grew more distant, forgetful. I remembered how panicked I was about his mental wellbeing. He grew cold towards others, including myself.

He continued. "I didn't think you would ever come back after what happened. You do know that there are still...some people here who want you arrested for it." His mismatched eyes, one being blue and the other orange, were almost dead inside, almost as if he had no thoughts of his own.

"Luke...Still having those mental issues? Surprised you even remember my name."

He growled, brows lowering with annoyance. "I've solved my issues; come to terms with my...dilemma. Have you? Is that why you're here, to clear your name? Grayson..."

I snapped. "Shut up! You're the one who suggested that I be investigated as a suspect! You don't get a d***b say in anything!"

I had to bit my lip as my eyes welled with tears. He is no friend of mine. He made that clear long ago. His head tilted forward, causing an ominous shadow over his eyes. We fell into silence before he giggled.

"You're clever, intelligent. Yet, you've been losing focus on the true enemy here."

"What do you-?"

He began to cough with violence. When he pulled his hand away, tears streamed from his eyes with red stained lips. He gasped to catch his breath, his pale face now pink from lack of oxygen. I could not keep myself from gasping in shock at the blood on his pale lips and glove. He never used to do that before I left. Why should I care? He grabbed his head with a hiss.
I jumped as his handheld receiver going off on his belt, calling a code word for a domestic dispute to the west of town. He grabbed it with his left hand so his blood did not get onto the device as pushed the button on the side, confirming that he was going to respond to the case, along with another officer who decided that he would act as Luke's backup. The officer wiped the red from his lips and tears from his eyes, that dead gaze looking back to me.

"Sorry to cut our conversation short, Grayson." His soft smile unsettled me. "I hope to see you around soon."

He turned and sprinted off, heading to his police car. I watch as he got in and turned on the red and blue lights, starting up the vehicle before speeding off into the direction of the scene. I stared until the vehicle had vanished from sight and the sirens became a mere echo in my ears.