Herobrine stood on the side of the hill, his arms folded, plainly waiting for someone. That someone landed on the ground next to him a few moments later, having fallen out of the sky. "You have something to tell me, brother?" Notch asked.

Herobrine turned on him, obviously not in a good mood. "She's broken a rule!" He hissed. Notch stared. "Are you sure? Which one?" He asked. "The first one." Herobrine growled. "And because of the second, we can't do anything!"

Notch took a deep breath. "I know you are going to break the second rule to get… him? out of the way, but I won't let you." Herobrine's eyes flashed. "She's broken a rule-" "She's dead, we aren't. We're not going to follow her example." Notch interrupted quietly. There was a long silence, which Notch broke by saying "I won't deny that we need to do something, though. The only problem is that we can't personally…"

There was an even longer silence, then Herobrine opened his mouth to say something. Notch breathed in sharply. "Them? You're suggesting we get them to deal with him? They- they're not supposed to exist! They exist because we broke the first rule!" There was a pause, then Herobrine asked "So?"

Notch sighed. "You win. This time. We can't just let him loose on Steve-" He broke off, looking at Herobrine's amused expression. "Oh, no…" He moaned. Herobrine smiled. "You need to get out more, brother. Steve broke the first rule, too. The kid's the one he's after." Herobrine laughed slightly. "Serves him right for taking one of those blasted eggs into his house…"

"Right." Notch said, attempting to get control over the conversation. "I'll get help to Steve's kid. You, see if you can mess with the other one, but don't do anything personally. Do you hear me?" Herobrine rolled his eyes. "Yes, brother."

Notch flew back up into the sky, towards the cloud he lived on, thinking about the Rules. The Rules were what kept the Minecraft world from being influenced too much by powerful beings like the Enderdragon, Steve (this was debatable, but Steve was on the list), Herobrine and himself. The first rule was that they weren't allowed to have children. The second was that they weren't allowed to interfere personally with the world. The second rule didn't apply so much to Steve, but the first did.

Now it turned out that all four of them had broken the first rule. Notch had already known that he and Herobrine had had children, but they had both been raising them to follow the second rule, even though it didn't apply to them. From what he'd heard, though, there was one who wasn't following the second rule. He had apparently spawned out of a dragon egg that Steve had brought into his house when he'd killed the Enderdragon, and Notch could draw some conclusions. He was an orphan. He wanted to kill Steve for killing his mother, and he was apparently seeking revenge by doing the same to Steve's child.

Notch landed on the edge of his cloud. Jesse was sitting there, watching television. Notch's arrival startled him, and Jesse dropped the TV remote over the side of the cloud. "Could you please-" He started to ask, but Notch interrupted him.

Jesse's eyes widened as Notch explained what he wanted Jesse to do. "Me?" Jesse squeaked, and Notch resisted the temptation to reply "Yes, you blockhead!" He looked at Jesse. Even apart from the expression on his face, Jesse did not look a lot like Notch. He had light brown hair and blue eyes, and he had a thin build.

"Yes, you." Notch said. "And you'll do it well, too." He didn't actually say "Or else", but it was implied.

Timothy ran through the trees. He thought he'd lost his pursuer, but he kept running just in case. A stitch burned in his side, and he was gasping for breath. Then he paused to listen. Was he gone?

Timothy stumbled back in fright. The boy was there. He had night-black hair, and his clothes were the same colour, but his eyes were bright pink, and glowing with the desire for revenge. Timothy screamed; it was all so nightmarish, he just couldn't stand it anymore.

"Oi! Blockhead!" Something flew through the air and hit the pink-eyed boy on the back of the head. His eyes flickered in surprise, and he looked behind him. A boy was there. He grabbed the scary kid and managed to put him in a headlock, which amazed even Timothy. The scary boy was maybe eight or nine, and the other one had a few years and at least six inches on him, but Timothy knew how freakishly strong his pursuer was.

And he could teleport. He disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, outside of the other boy's headlock. The boy scooped something up off the ground and raised it like a club, although it wasn't really big.

He swung the mysterious object at the scary boy, who tried to teleport close enough to do him damage. The other boy started taking damage, but then he closed his eyes. There was a brief moment where everything froze, not moving, then an incredibly bright light burst into existence- right where the boys were fighting.

When Timothy's vision cleared, the non-creepy boy was alone. He was standing there, gasping for breath, and he smiled weakly when he saw Timothy. "Hi." He said. "Who- who are you?" Timothy stammered.

The boy sighed. "I'm Jesse. Your guardian angel." Seeing Timothy's face, his expression turned slightly sour. "No, not really. But I'm here to help you and I'm stupid enough to not bring a weapon…" Timothy swallowed. He had a guardian angel, of sorts, who he would just have to trust for the time being, but the angel hadn't brought a weapon. Except for a mysterious object.

"Come on." Jesse said. "We need to get moving. Apart from this-" He held up the object. It was a grey rectangular prism, and there were spots of colour on one side, arranged in neat rows. "-I've got nothing."

He reappeared too far away. He was in a cave, and as soon as he had arrived there he had collapsed onto his hands and knees. He was weak and shaking, but the need for revenge had not lessened. It burned. It hurt. It was all he could think about.

He stood up, refusing to rest. It had been like that for nearly a day. He wasn't letting himself allow Steve's son to get away. Steve was gone -he didn't know where- but the son would pay. The small part of him that was still sane told him he couldn't keep it going forever, that he couldn't push himself to the point of exhaustion, but he didn't listen.

Revenge. What an ugly word.

And that word summed up his whole life.

She stood in the doorway to the house. The door itself was hanging off it's hinges, and the small space inside the house was destroyed. All the paintings were torn off the walls, everything that could be was smashed, and there was a ring of black ash surrounding a raised wood block against one wall.

She knelt down and picked up a painting. It was of two people. One was Steve. The other was a boy, maybe eleven, who could only be his son. She put the painting in her inventory. It could come in useful. Then she stood up, walked over to the circle of ash, and knelt down again. She dragged one finger through the ash and licked it.

She made a face. "I knew that already. Dragon." She stood up and, wiping her finger off on her pants, she walked to the door. She took one last look at Steve's wrecked home and walked back out into the forest.

Why hadn't he just told her where the kid was? Or, even better, spawned her there? "Oh, no." she muttered. "He's got to make everything difficult. Everything's got to be a test." Her eyes momentarily flashed white. "You want me to make you proud? I'll make you bloody proud…"

By Emily Artypants