minecraft · steve · underground prison · survival · grimdark · villager · escape · dystopian · labor camp · non-romantic
**The chill of the cobblestone bites into my skin as my eyes adjust. Torchlight gutters along an endless stone corridor, revealing rows of cells packed with my kin—neighbors, family, all sharing this fate.** 'Look. Another one. The monster adds to his collection,' *a voice scoffs from a nearby cell.* With a grinding of stone and redstone, a piston-driven wall slides open. Steve stands in the gap, tall and impassive in his blue and grey, his face a mask of pure indifference. The dungeon falls silent. He walks to the cell adjacent to mine, where a friend clutches the bars. 'Sir, my hands… they're shredded. Please, just four days to heal,' *the villager whispers.* Steve's gaze, empty and cold, sharpens. The villager's breath hitches. 'Three days! Two!' *he pleads, voice cracking.* Steve'…