Bajancanadian's eyes widened perceptibly, fear flowing in like molten lava, hissing and growing bigger by the second.

"W-what?" He asked, the stutter giving away the fear he felt. Cursing himself for stuttering, he felt his cheeks flush slightly, and gazed up at Herobrine, his glare defiant.

"Did you not hear? Or is the infamous assassin finally becoming deaf?" Herobrine taunted, sneering at him.

"What do you mean." He snapped back, his eyes livid.

"I meant. You. Are. Going. To. Be. In. Kerala." Herobrine replied, enunciating every word heavily, his smirk getting wider and more triumphant.

Bajancanadian blood went ice cold at that point. Kerala was the worse slave camps, and even the hardest, most strong-willed criminal that went in, never came out.

In one piece, that is.

"Don't like it, don't you?"

A long, loud hiss dripping with venom and hatred was his reply.

"Well, I believe I'm done talking with this person now...take him away. Oh. And Mitchell, you're leaving in a few hours." the king instructed with a careless flick of his hand, his focus on something else.

Bajancanadian snarled at him, but, could do nothing as he was dragged to the dungeons to wait it out as the guards prepared his trip to Kerala.

Back in the dark dungeons, Mitchell was trying to break free. He clawed against the chains that held him, but all he did was futile.

Yet, he still struggled and roared like a rabid animal as the guards came and got him, thrashing, into the metal box attached to a horse, to bring him to his destination.

~~~

The metal box was suffocating. No more than three blocks long, two blocks high, and one block wide, Mitchell couldn't move a muscle as the box rattled and shook as they ran over rocky terrain. His heart pounded in sync to the rhythmic jolt of the small portable cell, and his fear ran wild, like a untamable horse, bucking and screaming. Hands shaking against the chains, he glanced out of the metal bars- fit so close together it was near impossible to see anything, and made out a blur of green, with a tinge of darkening ember in the sky. They were out of Aragrave.

~~~

Facing the sun, two shadows stood side by side, one slouched and relaxed, the other one stiff and cold. Not looking at each other, the straight-backed man said coldly,

"I still loathe you, get that clear."

The relaxed man gave a lazy, taunting smile, tilting his head towards him,

"Why'd you work with me then?"

"You know crystal clear that it was master's orders. " He spat, glaring at him with livid, glowing eyes.

A white toothed smirk was seen in the near darkness, dark purple and blue dancing in the sky, stars waking up.

"It was just a small prank."

"A small prank, that almost got me killed." He growled, his fingers curling up in distaste.

Null shrugged, aggravating Herobrine even more, who by now, muscles were tensed up and one tick away from snapping.

"How is he?" Null asked.

Silence was all he got in return, for Herobrine had left.

~~~

After what seemed like five minutes, all movement ceased abruptly, throwing Mitchell forward, therefore resulting in him banging the metal, giving him a headache. Great. Just what I needed.

He was shoved out of the metal box, and lead to an obsidian walled prison, where moans, screams was heard.

Along with the sound of a whip hitting wet skin.

~~~

Pain and weariness. That was all he felt as sweat dripped down in beads, leaving a clean trail of skin through the dirt on his haggard face, stinging as it touched the open wounds.

Kerala hadn't been kind to him. He was in the burning hot sun, chopping trees in the prison, and was shackled by a metal chain that was heated up by the sun, burning into his skin. It could have been days, it could have been weeks, the days blurred together, like paint mixed with water, until he no longer could distinguish the difference between them.

He flicked his matted, bloodied hair from his eyes, glancing at the guards. They tensed up, hands inching towards their weapons, mouth in a thin, yet nervous line. Mitchell smirked at them, ignoring his nearly broken heart.

"Get back to work." A guard barked, tugging on the chain wrapped around his dirt caked ankle.

A faint spark of pleasure licked him as a memory not too long ago got triggered.

"Hey there~" the guard that was watching him purred, his brows furrowed suggestively. Mitchell was chopping a tree down, with a wooden axe, in a secluded place of the prison, where no one could disturb him, especially the loonies.

He cocked his eyebrow skeptically in response, continuing to attack the innocent tree viciously.

The clanking of chains notified him that the guard was approaching. He stopped chopping, looking at the guard questioningly, almost seemingly innocent.

Mitchell knew this game

He liked to play.

Like a cat cornering a mouse, the guard advanced on him, one hand tightly wrapped around the chain, the other rubbing suggestively on his belt.

Mitchell pretended to be scared, terrified, pretended to be broken. He backed away to the half-chopped tree, (Minecraft logic fyi, gravity doesn't exist) his axe cleverly concealed behind him. When the guard came close enough, he gently caressed Mitchell's cheek, smirking, his lust fogged eyes raking his body.

That's when the mouse attacked.

Mitchell grabbed the chain, and ducked under the guard, wrapping it around him, hindering his movement. Then, he brought out his axe, and heaved it down on his chest.

The guard stared at him, horrified, before taking his last breath. Mitchell kicked his body contemptuously, and swore quietly under his breath as he heard footsteps.

~~~

He had gotten five lashings per hour, for a day, for helping the world get rid of a piece of filth. He'd like to think that he helped the world.

He was now at the same place the guard tried to rape him, a dark patch on the grass indicating his death.

He examined the hand holding his wooden axe, weariness and a tinge of sadness as he took in the image of a gaunt, scrawny arm. As he took in his body. He had lost a lot of weight thanks to the guards starving him, and his body was no more than a skeleton with skin wrapped around it.

Once perfectly groomed, his hair was matted and filthy, his trademark jacket that somehow managed to stick with him was torn and tattered. His once eyes that were full of glittering mischief and slyness now was hollow, soulless. Like a guttering flicker of flame, he desperately tried to keep it protected, but the guards constantly blew at it, and left him, near broken, to rekindle the flame of his soul.

He wanted, more than anything, to be free. Of the prison and it's stone walls, of its wardens and guards. (The prison basically looks like the cops and robbers one)

Suddenly, an orange wisp of smoke came through the one block bars of the prison wall, going in the guards that were guarding him noses, and they became unconscious immediately, slumping to the floor, snoring.

What?

He looked outside the bars in shock, his frail hands wrapping around them as he saw nothing but plains.

A warm hand tapped his shoulder gently and he jumped, looking at the person whom the hand belonged to.

"Mitch?! I finally found you!"

_writers note_

Again, I'm so sorry for not updating! >\\\< school has been hectic and I'm not good at multitasking. I'm also having an art block so ye.

Also, big shout out to @nightcore_novelist  for helping me edit this! sorry for having you read through chapters of torture >\\\<