He screamed as he sprinted through the snowy forest. No, screamed was not the real word. He screeched and whooped and laughed with mad joy. Snow fell down on him in hard layers. He grinned in an irrational elation, for he, Deadlox, was free. He was cold and hungry, but free.

The forgetting began. It was merely Minecraftian for him to force terrible memories away. Deadlox had no past. The past was dead to him. It was becoming a light-gray shadow within him. But the merest shadow has its own cunning tricks.

Deadlox's appearance was like that of a homeless 'crafter's. His pants were ripped at the knees. His white lab coat had reddish-pink stains. Deadlox's white T-shirt was also bloodstained, but the memories accompanying them were lost. His brown hair was matted, dirty, and raggedy. And deep within Deadlox's amber-brown eyes was a maddened glint.

"Hello?" a worker spoke into the microphone on his headset. "Is anybody there?" He paused before continuing. "Did Barold break your house?"

Little did the worker know that Deadlox was long gone. He frowned, then began running down the catwalk. There was another Gathering! The worker, Tobuscus (or Toby), saw a Minecraftian in the execution room. The poor 'crafter was sealed in, and water filled the room. Toby detested the way the prisoners were treated like livestock. Slaughtered at will, and killed with the push of a button!

Aviator had to admit that he had gotten desensitized to the killing. He watched the 'crafter desperately cover his mouth. No longer did he turn away. Years later, bubbles burst out of the victim. She swallowed water of unknown integrity, and went limp. After she was declared dead, Aviator flipped a switch, and water filtered out of the room. Orbs, green and yellow, floated around the room. A half-dozen workers battled for the XP. They kicked and punched and cussed violently. Aviator merely stared, noticing Deadlox wasn't there.

"Hey, Aviator." Toby tapped the watchful executioner. "Did ya know the co-manager's gone?"

"Yeah, I did." Aviator simply replied, still watching the big brawl.

"I was gonna tell him about the new demands for pre-enchanted stuff." Toby gazed at another Minecraftian, who was being torn apart by swordsmen. He turned away. "Eww, that doesn't look good."

Aviator saw the same scene. The dying Minecraftian's leg was almost severed from him. Blood marked the floor, staking new territories. The workers, armed with wooden swords, kept slashing, more and more ferociously, until the Minecraftian's eyes faded. Declared dead, XP was harvested from the remains.

Toby moaned, "I think I'm gonna…"

Aviator edged away. "Not on me, man!"

"Aviator, come to my office. " The leader of the Factory's voice boomed. Aviator ran off, leaving Toby near the control panel. Toby, so sick of the XP Factory, glanced at the "Emergency Only" button. His hand twitched, almost hitting it. Perhaps… He thought slyly.

Deadlox didn't know how long he had been traveling. The snowfall turned to hail, pelting him mercilessly. Like when he was working in the…

He shook his head, deleting the treacherous thought. Deadlox, afraid of the forgotten, threw away his lab coat. He walked further ahead, even though he couldn't feel his hands, even though he was not the most mentally stable 'crafter.

The frost cut through Deadlox, and he regretted burying the lab coat. The cold penetrated his thin shirt easily. The next thing he knew, Deadlox was laying in the snow, hidden from view. His view darted around the forest, taking in the dark brown spruce trees, the white, glittering snow, and a frozen pond, gleaming with blinding light. Deadlox was very still, as if dead. But in his mind, he was going through the nightmarish XP Factory. From the start to his point in time, he remembered everything in fine detail.

The monsters approached further, gaining ground. He was trapped within his own cell. With a mere iron pickaxe to defend himself, Deadlox swung at a zombie with a shovel. The pickaxe gleamed as it bit into the zombie's head. He retrieved the shovel, and dispatched a skeleton with haste. His levels were going up. Five… Nine… Twenty…

After the last mob was killed, Deadlox looked up weakly at shadowed 'crafters. Blood stained his pickaxe and him. It was splattered on his clothes and hair, but not as much. The strangers dragged him toward the Gathering. Deadlox had struggled, vainly driving his pickaxe between iron bars. But they were strong, and hadn't fought recently. He was weak and weary from the battle. They pulled him into the center of the Factory.

Concerned faces looked down at him with sympathy. Deadlox just barely heard the announcer boom his name. He snapped upward as he was teleported into a room. Four pistons retracted, showing four gleaming dispensers. Four gleaming dispensers filled with four stacks of arrows. Four stacks of arrows waiting patiently to kill.

Deadlox quickly broke the dispensers with his trusty pickaxe. Stacks of arrows fell to the floor, now useless. With lightning speed, he hurled his pickaxe at a worker. Collecting his pickaxe from the defeated worker, Deadlox kicked another employee trying to subdue him. Eventually, many workers and employees piled onto Deadlox. His pickaxe was thrown out of his reach. In desperation, he stabbed many employees with the fallen arrows.

Then, a voice boomed loudly, and the fight was over. Deadlox limped over to his pickaxe, and picked it up. His clothes were dotted with blood. More blood trickled from his mouth. Deadlox looked up at the reproachful workers. Everything faded into a strange blackness…