Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Of all the days he had to run into his least favorite super-powered maniac, it just had to be a day where he hadn't had a single wink of sleep.

Dream easily leaps into the air, dodging a fatal swing of a gleaming netherite sword, before pulling out his own axe, tip sharpened and giving a menacing shine in the afternoon sun. The words Nightmare were engraved into the handle, sitting beside enchantments that hint of the weapon’s true role.

He raises it beside his head as he lands down onto his opponent.

The Blade.

His incredible act, however, is quickly parried by the piglin brute, and he acrobatically flips away, landing on the roof of a nearby car, flipped over with its windows shattered, the glass littered on the street that was their battlefield. He feels a slight annoyance at the fact that said enemy doesn’t seem even out of breath. He narrows his eyes, even knowing that with his full face mask, there's no way the villain could possibly see it.

Then, however, there’s always that feeling that The Blade could read minds.

The villain smirks with his signature smug look, twirling his sword in his hand as Dream smoothly recovered.

Well, if that was how they were going to play, he couldn’t look bothered either. So he cocks his head invitingly, before raising the axe once more.

“Tired?” XD, his hero persona, teases with a dangerous gleaming smile as he leaps toward Blade, doing a strike that was quickly blocked before giving an experimental sweep at his legs. The Blade doesn't rise to the bait, only dodging fluidly and attempting a slice of his own, of which was quickly blocked by Nightmare. He brandishes his axe, twirling it around and hooking it onto the sword, pushing it aside and lunging forward with a kick. 

“Not even close.” Blade responded, smirking as he dodged, then sliced at Dream, of which was narrowly avoided, twirling away, their blades moving in dancing arcs around each other, movements quick and precise.

Onlookers and viewers have described their battles as a deadly dance, with neither normally able to defeat the other. They were completely equally matched in their skill sets. Which was why the debate of who was better was so heated. After all, both had only managed to defeat the other only once.

For Dream, it was when they’d first met.

For Blade, it had been at their second encounter, when Dream had just been tag teamed by the Syndicate’s other two leaders, Siren and The Angel only a few minutes before, and had been both exhausted and injured by the time Blade was on the scene.

The point was, both those times had kind of been unfair, because the first time they’d met, neither of them knew each other’s full skillset.

Blade’s instance was unfair for obvious reasons.

Fortunately, he had wanted a fair victory over Dream, letting him go after roughing him up, mainly because he wanted to pull a Siren and be full on dramatic as he, and he quotes, ‘stands over his body and unmasks him for the world to see.’ Which, in all the six years of them constantly battling every week, still hadn't happened. To be fair to the supervillain however, Dream also has still not managed to arrest The Blade either.

Above, he could faintly hear the swooping of wingbeats and the clash of weapons. An occasional burst of brilliant fire. It was obvious as to who it was.

Sapnap, known as Phoenix to the public, was the Angel’s nemesis, as they were both #2 in the ranks; Sapnap in the hero, Angel in the villain. It was also because Sap was the only one with wings, making him the only one who could fairly fight Angel, and resulted in some pretty epic air fights.

Dream parried a thrust and swiped at Blade, who dodged and used the handle of his netherite sword to shove him onto the asphalt. Dream grunted as he was thrown to the ground.

“I think I’m havin’ fun. You?” Dream rolled out of the way and stood as Blade launched himself at him once more, and he took that opportunity to land a rather large cut on Blade’s abdomen. 

He didn’t even flinch as blood welled from the wound.

Some might say The Blade was immortal, that he felt no pain. Dream said that was bullshit; The Blade was definitely human. Well, as human as he could be, being a piglin hybrid. After all, although he was extremely good at hiding it, he did wince at the wound, and after all, Dream had managed to beat him before.

The Blade recovered quickly (damn superpowers) and dove straight at him. Dream sliced at him, but the sudden burst of speed had caused him to miss and for the villain to land a sizeable slice down his midsection, causing him to stumble with an offended hiss. 

“And here I thought you were good at fightin’!” The Blade shot at him, and they locked into combat once more, Dream prioritizing defense over attack, the sting of his new wound causing it difficult to move at the rate he preferred, and well, the supervillain's narcissistic 'humor' was beginning to annoy him. Sometimes, he found them somewhat funny, but today? He just wasn't in the mood.

If there were three words to describe Blade, they would be egotistical, impulsive, and deadly.

A rather terrible mix, if he did say so himself.

“I’m not in the mood." Dream said honestly, lunging forward a step to feint a stab before jabbing to the right. Blade dodges, not falling for it. "I’m actually supposed to be sleeping right now, but HC decided that I won't get any today. Full time. I know, terrible.”

He hooked his axe onto the villain's sword, and with one practiced twist and pull, he yanked the sword out of Blade's hands. Unfortunately, at the same time, the supervillain pulled back as well, sending both of their weapons spinning onto the concrete as they engaged in hand to hand combat instead. 

“What a shame, interruptin’ your sleep schedule. Gettin’ sick of me?”

“Definitely. Now, if you could just hand yourself in, you'd do me a real favor and stop interrupting my sleep schedule for another attempt at a politician's life or something."

“It's great that my amazin' personality bothers you all the time and all, but I think the real question is why you’re sleepin’ at two in the afternoon.” Blade looked at him, and he had that reminiscent feeling of being pried apart as he was examined by those cold, red eyes that instilled fear wherever seen.

“I’m late for lunch, actually, so would you be so kind as to let me arrest you?” Dream shot back in a rather annoyed tone, backing off carefully and assessing his situation.

“How about no.” Blade replied almost immediately. “I think, XD, that you’ll have to postpone that. Permanently.”

Dream stared.

“Wow. I'm so scared." He deadpanned. "Whatever do you mean, oh scary villain?”

Blade narrowed his eyes, obviously annoyed, although both he wasn't showing it on his face. “There is a living question that walks in the minds of almost everyone in this city. One I do intend to answer.” The villain's eyes glinted.

“Who is the hero known as XD?”

                                                                                                               — — —

Earlier in the day
April 14, 20XX

Dream opened his eyes blearily as he registered the beep beep beep of his alarm clock. He felt around for the snooze button, slamming it down when he did find it. He groaned as he practically rolled out of bed. In his defense, he was tired from last night’s patrol and got less than an hour of sleep.

After he’d showered and finished his morning routine, he went down the unnecessarily fancy stairs that led to the second floor. He was greeted with a pillow to the face, which he caught with a hand, blinking with sleepiness.

“Drista?” Dream asked in a tired tone, “What are you doing?”

Dream and his little sister, Drista, lived in a rather big-

Well, you could call it a mansion, because it was a rather large house. Hey, it wasn’t his fault that the Hero Corporation, or HC for short, paid way too much for being a top hero.

Then again, he was risking his life every time he went out there to fight some new serial murderer with superpowers.

So. Yeah.

The point was, he could retire at that very moment (if he could, because he couldn't, it was literally not allowed) and still have enough money left that he would be able to continue living this lifestyle until he died. And still pay for Drista’s living as well. 

His house looked a bit like a Victorian mansion, with a huge garden, multiple balconies, about twenty rooms the size of penthouses, grand windows, and four garages. And his house was one the more modest ones on his street, located only a few blocks away from the city’s center.

Nestled in between towering skyscrapers and looming corporate buildings was Hero Central. It stood out from the other buildings easily. Everyone knew what it was. It seemed like multiple towers from afar, with each of those buildings holding the HC logo, each also dedicated to different heroes and facilities, with the largest and center tower being the main, with all the towers somehow connected to the others. He had to spend four hours memorizing the layout of all those towers-because it was required-when he first rose up to rank 1. That was with the photographic memory, due to the sheer amount of blueprints and manuals he'd had to read. Why? Hell if he knew.

His oh so dear little sister finally came into view, lounging on one of the couches facing a large tv mounted on the wall, the screen flashing videos of heroes from one of the city's larger news networks. She was holding a pastry roll from Niki’s Bakery, half eaten.

“What does it look like I’m doing, idiot?” Drista replied, not looking away from the screen. Dream sighed and shook his head, desperately wishing for caffeine.

“Tell me when it’s Hero News. I’m getting coffee.”

                                                                                                                 — — — 

When Dream eventually got back - on Drista’s insistence that she was going to see him on tv and make fun of him - The news anchor was already broadcasting their hero centered segment. He slipped onto the top of the sofa, above his sister, and they poked each other absent-mindedly as they watched.

“In other related news, the hero XD was seen apprehending an new vigilante late last night, before having a quick clash with the #5 villain, Thunder, emerging victorious and forcing the villain to escape. We urge viewers a-”

“BORING!” Drista said to the TV, turning down the volume and huffing with exaggerated annoyance. “They never show your fights with The Blade these days. Is it so hard that I want to see my brother get owned by a villain every once in a while?”

“Well, you’ll be in luck. I’m supposed to have a quick afternoon patrol today, because Syndicate members were spotted in West End earlier this morning.” Dream replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Oh, you know they were probably just sending you on some wild goose chase.”

Drista huffed dramatically, rising, before walking past Dream.

“I’m getting more donuts.”

Chapter Text

Dream thanked his driver as he got out of the car, fishing out his normal worker’s pass.

As he walked towards Hero Central, the sounds of the bustling city filled his ears, honking cars and the murmurs of the people around him, all living their own lives in their own worlds, before he stopped briefly to look at the Ranking Boards.

In the center of every district of the city - East End didn't have one, it kept getting stolen - were displayed the current rankings of all the active top heroes and villains, while the version located online held the ranking of every active hero and villain. A ‘careful’ point system decided who was in which place. In truth, it was completely regulated by HC, meaning that they could pretty much put anyone anywhere they liked.

And they liked Dream as #1.

Mainly, probably, due to the clout of having a full, non-powered hero as their golden boy,  because he apprehended villains and vigilantes on a daily basis, and that he was highly approachable and well-liked by the public, and therefore made a lot of money with merch. As soon as he had that thought, he spotted his name, XD, in shining golden letters at the top of the board, along with his points and rank- 864 and 1 respectively. Underneath him was Phoenix written out in silver, with the point number 704 and 2 as his rank. Below him was 404, George. His other best friend. The name was written in gleaming bronze, sitting beside the numbers 597 and 3.

The point distance between George and the 4th hero was more than 200 points. It was absolutely comical, and the three had teased Sam, Warden-his hero name-and #4 hero, about it multiple times.

Beside the board of meticulously painted white wood and gold plated on the sides, was another, almost identical one. Except it was made of a darker blackish wood, with silver plating. The villain’s board, with all the names written in a contrasting white.

At the top, with a rather horrifying 1106 points, was The Blade. Mainly because his kill count was well into the hundreds. That was only the confirmed kills. Below were the other two thirds of the city’s most feared villains, Angel and Siren. Their points were 1043 and 992 respectively.

After Dream got over the board, he went through the sliding doors leading to the main tower.

Inside looked like a palace entry of gold, with a front desk seemingly made of diamonds and people in suits bustling from place to place. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, glittering crystals falling and hanging like rain in the middle of the lobby, with couches surrounding it. Dream needed only flash his ID card at the front desk lady before she smiled and nodded before turning away again. He was a frequent enough face. Actually, so frequent sometimes when he’d lose his ID card somehow - ahem, Drista, ahem - she’d let him in anyway. Against protocol, but it was greatly appreciated.

When he finally got into the elevator, he pressed down on the gem of a bracelet on his right wrist, feeling the weight of his weapons and, well, you could call it a costume, but he liked to think of it more like a uniform of sorts, morph onto his body, exchanged with his civilian clothes.

He had a green hoodie-like outer armor (It was made of netherite strands and enchanted, his whole outfit was, minus the mask) with his brand smile on it, hood not completely covering his head and instead hanging low like, exposing his neck and the black turtleneck under armor as well. His pants were simple black reinforced leggings, which gave it an appearance of jeans and allowed him the wide range of movement he needed to stay alive in his line of work. It also had shoes made for running and traction, complete with retractable spikes and insulating, with hidden slots for a backup knife as well.

His mask, with his signature smile, came with a gas mask and voice changer. His personal request. It was made of a combination of glass, porcelain, welding, and magic. Which meant it was a one way glass of sorts, but with a durability more than titanium and the looks of porcelain, being able to be pushed up to reveal his mouth, as well as a few tufts of his hair (which he dyed brown unless he was going out in public as a civilian, of which then he’d wash the temporary dye out to reveal dirty blonde). Basically, it made him seem more human and thus more approachable, especially for children.

Nowadays, though, it didn’t really matter because everyone knew that neon green with a smile mask meant the #1 hero.

He, after skillfully navigating through the quieter halls of the towers in order to make his way over to one of the specialized towers, stepped out of an elevator and was greeted by George in his 404 outfit, and Sapnap in his Phoenix one.

404 had a look of comfy, with a reinforced blue T-shirt and white long sleeved undershirt with the white collar popped out overtop. He also wore flexible jeans with simple black shoes. The mask was clout goggles with a domino mask underneath, because he liked to push them up constantly. Overtop his clothes were plates of blue edged netherite armor, mainly because George didn’t favor close-range combat.

He wore a bow and quiver on his back, as long-range was his go-to. He usually did citizen duty, and had the nemesis Siren, who, in Dream’s opinion, was the absolute worst at pvp.

Phoenix, on the other hand, enjoyed a look of an assassin of sorts, with a white overshirt with a fire emblem on it, with a black long sleeve underneath, as well as armored pants and shoes made for hard landings and rough takeoffs. He wore a white bandana which kept his hair out of his face during flight, and a mask made to look like his wings.

Paired with his real, fiery wings, he looked like flame reincarnated. That was fitting, because everything on him was fire-proof. He couldn’t burn his clothes every time he used his powers.

Speaking of George and Sapnap, the latter was chasing George, yelling and holding up a metal spoon.

Children. Dream’s best friends were children.

“Come HERE George! Face justice!!” George leapt over the couch as Sapnap followed after him.

“No! You’re gonna kill me!” George spotted Dream standing bewildered by the elevator doors and hid behind him, using him as a human shield. “Yes! Protect me, XD, protect me! Sapnap’s gone feral!”

“You ate my pancakes! Now I have no breakfast! And it’s YOUR fault!” Sapnap stopped chasing George, but glared at him from his spot behind Dream.

“I didn’t know they were yours!”

“They were at my seat!”

“YOUR seat didn’t have your name on it, how was I supposed to know?”

“I sit there EVERY TIME!”

“When was the last time we sat down to eat!?”

“Yesterday and THIS MORNING!”

“I could of SWORN-”

“GUYS! Quit it, shut up, come on.”

His friends stopped yelling and both turned to look at him.

"You shut up, XD. Why should I?” They both said at the same time, somehow retaining eye contact with each other. Even though they acted angry, there was humor in their eyes. Dream just shook his head, a smile on his lips.

“Sapnap, please stop chasing George around with a spoon. And George, stop teasing Sapnap, because I don’t want to deal with a fire at five o’clock in the morning.” Both of them opened their mouths to say something else, perhaps argue again, but at that moment their comms opened. Sam’s voice spilled into their ears.

“We need you at Courian Avenue right now.” Sam’s voice was carefully professional, but to a critical eye like Dream's revealed his underlying worry. “The Syndicate’s been spotted at the HC building there.”

The three sobered up immediately, and Dream’s smile dropped from his lips. Dream pulled down his mask.

“On our way.”

                                                                                                               — — —

“Who is the hero known as XD?”

“A full human, with no abilities, somehow finds his way to the top of leaderboards in a matter of weeks? That was hard to believe.”

“And how did that turn out for you?” Dream responds, reminiscing about their first encounter.

You see, unlike what everyone, including Sap and Gogy, thought, Dream did indeed have powers. And he did mean powers, plural.

His first ability was luck. Just luck.

It only had a sure chance of activating when he was in immediate mortal danger, and nothing else. It also wasn’t something that just happened. His power would give him an opportunity to save his life, and he’d have to recognize it and act on it.

The second ability was healing. He could heal any physical wound, other than death. On other people.

That’s right.

He can’t heal himself.

“I wouldn’t suggest mockin' me. As I was sayin,’ I intend to answer the question everyone wants to hear. And then end it.”

A plan presented itself into his mind. The harming potion he kept up his sleeve; it was only a millisecond's reach away, and there was no way he could win in a hand to hand combat situation with The Blade, not with the piglin's ability giving him an advantage.

“You'll be disappointed, then.”

Dream pulled out the potion and dove at the villain, shoving him to the side and smashing the potion onto both of them.

The effect was instantaneous.

Harsh, quick pain shot through him from the right side of his chest, the point which got the most of the potion. He sucked in a breath as he shook himself.

After he’d got over the initial pain, however, he realized that while it did hurt for him, it wasn’t nearly as much as The Blade had to be feeling, because there he was, slumped against a wall two feet away from him, breathing heavily and clutching his own chest and shoulder, wincing. Dream spotted his axe laying on the floor not a few feet away and sprinted over to it, scooping it up.

He found the strength in himself to get up and tackle The Blade against the bricks.

He raised the hilt of his axe, and brought it down on The Blade.

There was a flash of light from the corner of his vision.

Chapter Text

Before he had the chance to react, a beam of energy caught him on his right side where he’d been hit by the potion, and he was blasted into a solid brick wall twenty feet away.

He choked out a bit of red as a wave of pain hit him like a semi-truck. He was on the sidewalk in a second, gasping as he shook from the pain and grit his teeth, and found it in himself to look at the point where he was hit.

There was a hole in his side.

He was missing part of his body, burned away by the blast.

The horror he felt wasn’t like anything else. It couldn’t be described. He shook with horror, not pain, eyes close to tears, heart pounding in his head. Dream force-calmed himself, gathering up his emotions and shoving it all down until he felt nothing anymore. Not even pain, although that was probably due to shock and adrenaline, vision swirling a bit until he blinked it all furiously away.  

From his position, he could see the battle. Or rather, standstill, because no one was moving. Then, he looked up in the direction from where he was hit, and he realized who shot at him.

The Angel of Death. In all his glory.

His outfit consisted of a green and white striped bucket hat with a veil, hiding half of his face, a forest green robe with a brown sash around his waist and brown pants with a gold design at the bottom, falling into green combat boots with a black tip and gold heels. His crow-like wings were spread behind him, paused with apparent shock and confusion.

And then a blur of red and orange slams into Angel with enough force to topple a car. It’s Sapnap. Before he knows it, the two are grappling in the sky again. 

Sapnap’s wings had the look of living fire. The beautiful mix of reds, oranges and yellows while he moved gave it a look of candlelight in the darkness, as if they were glowing. He realized just then that it wasn’t a trick of the light; Sapnap’s wings were glowing, alit with flame fueled by anger as he had seen multiple times before. The avian is yelling something, but is too far up in the sky for Dream to hear it, Sapnap having apparently turned off, lost, or broken his comms (an admittedly common occurrence for all three).

Where's George?

He spotted the flash of blue arrows then as well as Siren, atop a building beside where Angel and Phoenix were duking it out. Siren wore a large, regal black coat with gold detailings, with slightly baggy dark pants which were tucked into heavy, black army boots, with a belt across his waist holding a netherite katana. He wore fingerless black gloves with a gold-edged dark blindfold to hide his identity.

Honestly, the only Syndicate leader who had more regality and a flair for dramatic more than Siren was The Blade.

George, with the practiced efficiency as their team's marksman, managed to land a few arrows on Siren, who cursed and stumbled away.

404’s ability was that he could make anyone fall asleep while touching them, walk through dreams by touching them while dreaming, and that he was immune to other mental powers, which meant that he was the perfect rival for Siren, who had a voice manipulation ability.

Basically, if he asked you to find the nearest cliff and jump off it, and if you didn’t have strong mental strength (which was most people, it was hard to train) you wouldn’t be able to refuse. But, their powers canceled each other out. Which meant they were usually physically fighting each other instead. George turned and locked eyes with Dream, and he grimaced and, with a look of worry, broke eye contact and touched his earpiece.

“XD? Do you copy? What’s your status?”

“W-well, I can’t exactly move. But don’t come help me.” 

“What? Why?” George’s voice was loud with incredulousness and wavering slightly. “If you're trying to be an idiot again, I swear-”

“Phoenix is going to kill himself if you don’t help him.”

“What?” His teammate spluttered, but Dream cut him off.

“Angel shot the beam. Apparently it's his new power or something. If you don’t get over there right now, I’m worried that Phoenix'll get shot. At that close range, he could die. I mean, I got shot at least a few hundred feet away, and look at me.”

George looked conflicted, but then sighed shakily, sucked in a breath, and dropped his shoulders.

“Right. Copy that, and you'd better be okay after this.”

Sorry, George. Because he was definitely not okay. Blood was quickly pooling out of his gaping wound, and his sight was beginning to wobble and spin once more. Of course, it didn't help that he'd been hurt already when he’d thrown the harming-

Potion.

Dream widened his eyes and, forcing himself through the pain, pulled out every single Regeneration and Health potion he had. The splash potions were applied directly onto the wound, while he pushed up his mask and drank all the bottled ones. He even drank the strength and speed potions as well. He felt the effects quickly, because all the aches in his body, the sharp pain in his back, all disappeared after the fifth potion.

The rest of his wounds sustained with his exchange with The Blade healed over, but the one currently endangering his life hadn't changed at all, so he kept going, until all he had left were empty glass bottles.  

I'm risking overdose. Actually, no, I'm triggering overdose voluntarily. To save my life.

This may be the stupidest idea I've had yet, and yet it looks like I'm still going to die.

He suddenly remembered the experimental potion Sam had given him.

“Please don’t use this unless you’re in a dire emergency, okay? HC didn’t want me spending any more time on it, and they wanted me to hand them out to all the heroes. But it could be dangerous, so…” Sam’s voice portrayed his anxiety as he trailed off.

Dream looked at him, confused.

“Ok, but what does it do?”

“Magic Resistance. But I haven’t tested it yet, and I’m not sure if it’ll even work, or if the strength of it will kill you, or if it’ll make you immune to any other potion, or-”

“Relax, Sam, I promise. I shouldn’t have to use it, anyway, so don’t worry too much about it, okay? I don’t want you to overexert yourself. Go take a break or something.”

Sam sighed, brows furrowed. “Just be careful.”

“You know me. I will.”

Dream pulled it out quickly. The dark purple solution inside gave him a new sense of uncertainty, but this could be his only chance. Either he dies from the wound, or he dies from the potion.

Or he could be saved. 

Don't you just love gambling with your life?

He gulped it down quickly. It tasted of charred campfire wood and he could feel the undissolved lumps of nether wart and the sandy texture of glowstone, but it wasn’t the worst potion he’d tasted.

Then, he felt a numbing, tingling sensation in the area of the blast. Dream glanced down with apprehension, and then glee.

He watched as the wound knit itself back together in a matter of seconds, flesh healing and creating at a rapid pace until, while the skin was pale, sore, and with the blood soaked area around it, still looked like it was injured, but it didn’t hurt.

There was no more blood.

He shakily leaned on the wall and got to his feet, checking his surroundings. The Blade and Siren were no where to be found, which was slightly concerning, and Angel was getting double teamed by both Sapnap and George.

Phoenix had managed to force Angel lower from his position in the sky, where from a rooftop, George was sniping him with arrows.

Dream took a cautious, slow step, testing his weight on a leg before moving, walking faster and faster, until he was running in the direction of the fight. He hadn’t been noticed by anyone, because the news crews wouldn’t come onto the scene until after the villains were defeated, or more reinforcements would arrive, and his team was busy with Angel.

He saw all three of them as he leapt onto the fire escape and got onto the rooftop, Sapnap and George included, as he neared, the former having landed and was exchanging strikes with The Angel, with George providing backup.

Angel’s hands brighten with white light and Dream's heart tightened with fear when he saw who he was aiming for.

Sapnap.

Dream leapt and crashed into the avian as the beam of energy shot past them.

He saw the utter delight in Sapnap's eyes as he said, “XD! You’re okay?”

Dream opened his mouth to reply, perhaps give a teasing comment, but then he heard George’s alarmed shout of, “Look out!”

They both rolled out of the way as Angel’s sword landed where Sapnap’s left wing had been only moments before. Dream whipped around and struck Angel’s calf, before ducking underneath a retaliating swing.

Dream knew with absolute certainty experiencing some sort of high from the amount of potions he'd consumed earlier, and that he was going to come crashing down later, and that it was very lucky for him to have a higher tolerance for magic than the average person, otherwise he'd almost definitely be dead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the streak of a projectile shooting towards him. He instinctively sidestepped, and the fired arrow just barely missed him, skidding past and embedding itself into a concrete wall.

He turned around and was greeted by Blade in all his egotistical glory, who was also injured, but not nearly as bad as Dream. Another dodged arrow and he knew who had finally decided to show himself.

Siren.

All three of the heroes stood with their backs towards each other, all facing their rivals.

It looked like they were cornered, but Angel was heavily injured, and had to be exhausted. Siren, while being the least hurt of the three, was the worst fighter. It looked like Blade would have to almost single-handedly fight all three of them, which was not favorable, even for the skilled veteran.

The odds weren't favorable for either party.

“Surrender quietly and I will consider not hurting you.”

Everyone turned their heads: the heroes in relief, the villains in apprehension. The odds had tipped, in their favor.

The Warden was on the scene.

Chapter Text

Warden wore a green gas mask and golden armor, along with a matching Loyalty I enchanted trident, wearing an axe on his back and a sharp gold crown. Embedded in it was a singular ruby in the center, which gave him an imposing air of confidence and power. Dream read the flitting grimace and the furrow of his eyebrows when Sam spotted him, probably due to the back of his form still dripping red as netherite fabric didn't absorb liquids the same way other fabrics did due to its magical properties.

Dream took the chance while everyone was distracted to stab at Blade. Reacting a little too late, he managed to give the villain a new wound, and send both of them battling each other once more on the roof, causing everyone else to fight as well. This time, though, the heroes were at the advantage as Warden immediately jumped into the fray, and before long, the villains were forced to retreat.

Sprinting with his newfound amount of adrenaline and speed, he managed to catch up to Angel and practiced muscle memory quickly had him pull out a power suppressor cuff and slam it on the other's wrist, having to hang onto his wrist while doing so. Dream was lifted into the air above an alleyway as the villain hissed in anger and threw Dream off of him, cutting his hood a tad with his sword but not managing to hit him. He grasped the side of the rooftop as he fell the short distance and got back onto the top easily.

Sam had already gone after the other two ground-bound Syndicate members, his figure quickly diminishing in the distance. Both George and Sapnap had, for the same idiotic reason, stayed behind, having a silent conversation between them.

 George looked adamant, narrowing his eyes. I’m taking him back.

 Sapnap glared back. No, I am.

Huffing in annoyance, George tilted his head in the direction Sam had disappeared. You should go help Sam.

 Sapnap fluttered his wings, raising them, a lower toned chirp emanating from his throat. I’ll be faster.

 George frowned, putting a hand on the hilt of his own sword, usually going unused, before moving his gaze over to Sapnap's. You’d be better in a fight.

“Oh, stop staring at each other already. Both of you just go help Warden.” Dream said with an exasperated tone, shoving both of them gently together.

“What?”

“But you-” They both protested together, looking at him up and down, Sapnap settling for a skeptical look and George for an annoyed yet worried one.

“I’ll be fine. If I can battle The Blade, I can find my way to a building I’ve been to a million times by myself.” Both of his friends didn’t move, looking at each other with looks that said 'are you serious?'

“GOOO!!” Dream nudged them a little, a bit harder.

Eventually after a moment Sapnap finally conceded, shaking his head. "Whatever, man."

Picking up George, who protested with a “Hey!” they flew off in the direction of where Sam had run.

                                                                                                               — — —

Dream used the hero entrance, an open window needing a hero ID, key, and passcode on the fiftieth floor, hidden behind an air vent on a neighboring building, and made his way over to the private medical floor without much trouble. Actually, the only time someone saw him was a hero trainee, because he often used the private, quietest hallways to move around - being the #1 hero meant not a lot of privacy, and he preferred not getting gawked at wherever he went on a daily basis - and her eyes had only widened in surprise, maybe horror, and with a small gasp stood quietly off to the side.

Dream didn’t pay her much mind, however, because the potion effects were already wearing off. By the time he’d found his way over to the medical bay, a heavy blanket of exhaustion had already began settle on each and every inch of his skin, and a dulled but noticeable ache had emerged from where he'd previously been missing a section of his torso. 

Ponk took a sharp inhale of breath when he spotted Dream and rushed over to help him over to a bed. Dream sat at the edge of the closest one.

Ponk's palms began to glow a warm golden color, reminiscent of the colors of autumnal leaves, and a warm shot of content and happiness shot through him as the odd patch of skin and few bruises he'd obtained the way over smoothed over into healthy skin.

“Thanks, Ponk. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Dream smiled, conveying his genuine appreciation.

Ponk’s healing ability was a lot more efficient and less energy consuming than his own; he could heal himself and didn’t get waves of exhaustion afterwards if it wasn't a large wound. Dream's ability differed in that it was a lot more potent and seemingly versatile, as well as held the added bonus of making sure Dream himself wouldn't die from healing someone, something Ponk actively had to worry about.

“The only reason I’m still here is because you’d all die of your own stupidity if I wasn’t.” Ponk shot a small smile back at him, shaking his head as he turned around to wash his hands.

Dream looked down at his healed over injury and groaned with a realization. “I need a new suit again.”

“You could ask Sam when he gets back.” Ponk looked amused at Dream’s misfortune, offering a fleeting smirk, busying around the room to both put away and take out supplies.

“Does he have another backup for me?” Dream had gone through a few suits this past month alone with the increasing amount of villain activity.

“He's been working on a few upgrades for you all.” The doctor nodded, slowing his movement a little with a slight frown, hand coming up to his head for a minute before shaking himself and continuing to move. 

“You mean for Sapnap, George and me?” Ponk didn’t answer. Dream looked at him, worried.

Ponk was exhausted.

He could see it in the slump of his shoulders, the pace of which he breathed, his slightly quivering hands.

“You know, you should really rest.” He commented with bit of a frown.

Ponk waved away his concerns with his free hand, the other supporting his head. He was clearly experiencing some drawback of his power, which Dream understood wholeheartedly. “Can’t. Have to prepare for Phoenix and 404, maybe Warden.”

Dream’s brows knit together in worry, not that anyone could see. When Ponk called them by their hero names, he meant their potential injuries, a habit of his he'd realized a bit after getting to know the doctor a bit more. 

“You can prepare by taking a break. You can't use your power if you're exhausted, can you?” Ponk opened his mouth, probably to argue that point, but Dream cut him off.

“Come on. Please?”

Ponk bit his lip, thinking. Dream stayed silent as well, unmoving. Then, he finally relented, moving to sit in one of the visitor chairs beside the closest bed. Dream remembered where he kept food for overnight stayers, and got up to fetch him two granola bars and a bottle of water.

Half an hour ran by.

As Ponk ate with an absent-minded look, Dream paced the room, not being able to sit still for very long. He looked over at Ponk, and saw that his eyes had become slightly glassy, a sign that he was in deep thought. Dream decided not to disturb him and moved to leave, but then Ponk spoke up.

“You’re a pretty good person, XD.” Ponk told him, head turned to look at Dream, which was returned with a turn of his head and a tilt of confusion. A new torrent of thoughts rushed into his head at the abrupt comment, as well as tons of memories.

“...Thanks?” 

“You think about other people, you know? How they think, what they must think, what they’re going to do. It's just something I've noticed." Ponk looked up at him, raising a brow for a second. "You base your actions off of others. As a hero, it keeps you alive. As a person? It makes you someone who’s genuinely just… kind. Not for popularity, money, or fame. At least, it doesn't seem like it. It's like it's just because that’s... who you are. Prime.”

His friend laughs a little. "You're really confusing, XD."

Okay, so what was he supposed to answer to that?

A crash and a swear echoed into the medical bay and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the disturbance.

Sam, Sapnap, and George all entered, with Sapnap leaning on George for support. Dream saw the bleeding gash on his left leg, and the bright red that streaked down unevenly on ruffled feathers, and rushed to help them, holding up the avian on the other side.

“You’re so heavy, Sap.” George told him, grunting, and yet smiling. Dream could tell he was trying to lighten the mood by teasing Sapnap again. "I thought you had hollow bones, why are you so heavy?"

“Maybe you’re just weak, ever think of that? I mean, XD's doing fine.” Sapnap replied, shaking his head in a faux disapproving gesture which was cut short with a flash of pain.

“That’s not fair!” George grumbled as he and Dream helped Sapnap sit down on a bed.

"Life's not fair, bucko."

"Who even says that?!"

Dream chuckled at their antics, and they both quickly turned to stare at him.

“It's not funny!” They both said together, and then turned to look at each other as Dream burst into laughter. Ponk and Sam, the former of whom finishing healing Sapnap, both followed suit.                                                                                              

It turned out that Sapnap had been forced to hurt himself by Siren after landing another vicious cut on Angel’s wing, and the heroes had nearly caught up to them before Siren had told Phoenix to stab himself in the leg and wing before jumping off the nearest ledge, which, he nearly did, if hadn’t been for Sam and George who worked together to stop him.

"You're an idiot. Like, how do you even get mind controlled?"

Sapnap stuck his tongue out childishly in response to George. "Fuck you, bro."

                                                                                                           — — —

Another few hours passed. 

Dream pushed open the metal door to Sam's workshop, sliding his hero ID back into one of his many pockets as he stepped inside and was greeted with a familiar organized chaos befitting that of his friend's mentor's crazy scientist nature.

Inside was an organized mess. Beakers filled with liquids, sparking technology, and hero suits were all on display. He spotted Sam in his costume, crown taken off and put to the side, and trident hung on the wall a few feet away. As he entered, he realized what Sam was working on; his suit, but an upgraded version, with dark green armor pieces like George, but fitted around the hologram, Sam managed to make it look less like armor and more like decoration, with a diagram of a new axe as well.

Sam turned as he walked in, “Hey, XD. I was just going to go find you. I’ve got a new suit for you to try, since your last one…” Sam looked at the hole in his hoodie and undershirt.

“Is wrecked, burned, and soaked with blood.”

“Yeah. Average Monday, am I right?” Sam waved him over, and he went, intrigued.

“It has a renewed Protection II enchantment, and obviously the netherite plates are flame resistant. They should also allow most weapons to just rebound off instead of hurting you. There’s more, but we’ll be sitting here for days if I explain it all, so here’s a manual.” Sam pushed in his hands a thick booklet. He also gave him a new gold bracelet with a green gem in the middle, vines of metal twisting around with diamond leaves and eventually showcasing a singular emerald in the center.

“It's got all the same features as usual. Press the green gem for suit up, etcetera.” Sam stopped with a sudden thought, which made him seem put out. “But that’ll have to be tested when you get back in two weeks.”

Dream looked up from inspecting the beautiful piece of jewelry. “Get back?”

“You haven’t heard? The higher ups want it to seem like The Syndicate put you out of condition to work for a while to manipulate public perception and so we could possibly catch them off guard next time they show up. ”

“There’s no way they just let me have a break.” 

Sam smirked deviously, casually shrugging with a twitch of his lips. “ Sapnap, George, and I did a little persuasion, a little exaggeration, but most of it was still their idea. We wanted to surprise you after your brush with death and all.”

Dream smiled brighter than he had in a while. Drista had told him earlier in the week that she’d be at home for the rest of the month due to an issue at her workplace. He had offered to get her a job at HC, but she refused, saying that it was bad to have them fund their whole lifestyle.

As if they didn’t. He thinks Drista just didn’t want to get everything so easily, to be more independent, which he could understand. 

When he finally found Sapnap and George talking together on their private floor, he didn’t hesitate in pulling them both in for a hug. They were a little taken off guard, but relaxed a second later, hugging him back.

“You’re welcome.” George said at the same time as Sapnap said, “Wish it was me.”

Dream gave him a quizzical look with the mask, and he laughed. “I'm getting all your duties while you're gone, and George," The avian shot the man in question a glance, "is going to help me."

Dream sympathetically patted his shoulder. “Good luck with that. And I don't mean George.”

He turned to walk away as Sapnap stared and George squawked indignantly. 

“What do you mean?” They both called to him.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He answered over his shoulder, chuckling quietly to himself.

He returned home happier than he’d been in a long time.

Chapter Text

Dream found it refreshing, getting to wake up at 9:00 instead of 4:30.

He knew Drista also had a pretty crap sleeping schedule, but he couldn’t say anything about that.

Getting dressed into a simple white collared shirt and along with dark pants, he jumped on the handles over the spiral staircase, landing on the lower floor with practiced ease.

He noticed Drista wasn’t anywhere in the room, so he pulled out some ingredients from the fridge.

Half an hour later, the intoxicating smell of fried egg and sausages wafted throughout the whole floor. Drista came into the room, yawning and then looked at Dream in surprise.

“I thought you had a day shift today?” Drista asked him, sitting down as Dream served her a steaming plate consisting of a fried, sunny side up egg, two pork sausages, two slices of toast; one avocado, the other butter, a freshly baked lemon poppy seed muffin, and a yogurt fruit bowl.

She blinked, bewildered by the food as Dream served himself his share and placed the pots in the dishwasher.

“I forgot to tell you; I’m on a two-week vacation.” Dream pulled out utensils from the cabinet and set the table. Drista looked at him in shock.

“You got a break? Is it because you almost died?” Drista then stopped. “No, that’s happened a lot of times before. How’d you manage to get it?”

“A surprise from Phoenix, 404 and Warden. They managed to convince them. It looks bad for the villains, anyway. And after we injured them that bad, even though the live cameras only caught the last bit, HC needs to keep their reputation intact. Everyone wins. Other than the villains, but..”

Drista perked up at that. “Who cares about the villains? Let’s go have fun today!” She looked genuinely excited.

“Of course! We can leave after breakfast.”

                                                                                                                   — — —

Drista and Dream walked in the busy streets of the inner city. Dream wore the same outfit, but had sleeked his blonde hair back neatly and thrown a black, gold buttoned jacket over the white collared shirt. A diamond earring hung closely to his ear, swinging as he walked. His hero bracelet was fastened securely around his wrist, hidden underneath the sleeve of the jacket.

Drista wore ripped jeans and a white top, a clean white jacket on top to complete the look. Her jewelry consisted of a silver emerald necklace, with an earring matching Dream on the opposite ear, her hair braided neatly and hanging low to her waist. Walking together, they looked like they were from the local rich old money families. Which they kinda were.

As they walked through the streets, they laughed and bickered carefreely, teasing and mocking each other playfully.

If they’d worn these clothes anywhere else that wasn't West End, they would’ve been stared at, and in East End’s case, robbed.

They didn’t exactly have a plan, but Drista had apparently decided that they’d visit Niki’s bakery first and foremost, and Dream went along.

A bell dinged quietly as they entered the cozy bakery, the smell of freshly baked pastries on display made both of them smile in delight.

Comfy chairs and dining tables gave a sense of home and safety, soft glowing lights hanging from the ceiling. There was no one else in the cafe, as it was just after morning rush hour and mostly everyone was at either work or school.

Drista walked ahead of him and waved to the cashier. “Hey Jack! Where’s Niki?”

‘Jack’s’ eyes had a warm glance of recognition as he replied, “Hi, Drista! Niki’s in the back right now. Do you want anything?”

Drista replied, “Yeah. My usual. And a latte.”

Jack seemed to finally notice Dream standing, interested, behind Drista, and asked, “And who’s that?” gesturing to him in what was well hidden slight-apprehension?- and curiosity.

Drista didn’t even turn, and only replied, “My idiot brother. Don’t bother about him.” Dream jammed her not so subtly with his elbow, and she yelped, swatting him away, glowering playfully at him.

He smiled and turned to the cashier. “My name’s Dream.”

Jack gave him a once over and was then given a singular nod. “I’ll fetch Niki and get your drinks.” He then stopped. “Not in that order.”

Drista snorted. “Jack, you’re an idiot.”

A short while later, Jack had come back with Drista’s ‘usual’ (which turned out to just be hot chocolate) and Dream’s latte. They were just leaving before a woman with pink hair pulled up in a bun wearing casual clothes and most noticeably, a white apron covered in flour, walked out of the back of the small cafe.

The woman’s eyes brightened when she saw Drista. “Hey! Leaving so soon?” She teased. “And who’s that?”

Drista laughed. Dream found that he loved the sound of her joy.

“You know I come every day, Niki. All by myself.” She emphasized the last word. “Was feeling lonely, and decided to drag my brother along. This is Dream, by the way.”

Niki turned her attention to him, and said, “Drista’s brother? How come I never knew you existed?”

Drista jumped in. “I told Jack. He just has an unfortunate case of dementia.”

“HEY!” Jack called from the counter, making his way over.

Niki smiled again, this time rather forebodingly. “I’d better go set him straight. It was nice to meet you!” She directed the first half of her sentence to Drista, and the second to Dream, before turning as saying to Jack menacingly-

“Did you forget to tell me something, Jack?” She said in a fake sweet tone.

He stopped. Jack’s face morphed into one that spoke of true terror. “Uhhh….”

Dream cluelessly let Drista pull him out of the shop. “Sh-shouldn’t we…”

She grinned. “Nah. Niki’s overprotective, like a mother hen. He’s just being interrogated on everything he knows about you, which isn’t a whole lot, ‘cause he’s boring I don’t like talking to him much. Niki kinda sounds like the someone next to me, too, honest-” Dream punched her lightly on the shoulder and she gasped in fake surprise.

“Oh, the horror! My brother has punched me! How will I ever physically recover from this?”

Dream just sighed and moved on, muttering, “Why did I sign myself up for this?”

Drista giggled as a response.

                                                                                                                  — — —

After that particular incident, the siblings continued in the streets, until they were in the outer side of downtown, checking out the new and different shops, buildings, and statues there.

One of them, actually, was a statue commemorating the Hero Corporation. You know what it was? Him. And his team in statue form.

Drista wouldn’t stop making fun of him as soon as they saw it.

Discreetly, of course, so that no one from the huge crowd around them discovered his alter-ego.

Nope. That was a lie. She wasn't even the slightest bit discreet, which pretty much summed up her personality anyways.

He, George, and Sapnap had, indeed, all had a good laugh when they first saw the construction plans. And, whenever they patrolled in this area-which was often- they would never get over it. He had to admit, though, the way the statue was sculpted made for some pretty cool parkour opportunities. Some of which he used to confuse Siren that one time.

Around the oversized lawn ornament were dozens of shops, a bank, restaurants, and more. Drista wanted to explore every last one.

So, they spent another four hours wandering around, looking at displays of intricately designed glassware, beautifully frosted cakes, tourist magnets, and flowing pastel dresses, all of which Drista loved.

She raced from shop to shop like a six year old in a candy store, dragging Dream behind her.

Like right now.

“Dream! Dream, Dream, look at this~” Dream turned his head and followed her finger and her gaze to a wonderful blue dress, the end fading to an icy white. It looked like a shimmering, frozen waterfall, and saw how it would go greatly with her hair and complexion.

“It’s really pretty.” He offered. Truthfully, he was clueless in this aspect. Normally, he let Drista do all the dressing up, and went along with whatever she said looked good on him. In return, he’d do the whole socializing, talking thing at social events.

“I’m getting it.” She said confidently.

And so that was another bag Dream carried in one of his hands, adding to the already extensive, variating pile. The worst part was that Drista could just use her power and save him all the trouble.

Correction: Use one of her powers, plural.

As in four and growing.

One of Drista’s powers was the ability to put anything away into a sort of inventory. They predicted it to be limited, but hadn’t found said limit yet, as she used this power very sparingly.

She also had something he liked to call analysis.

Anything she ever learns, her power stores and provides when she needs it. How does it work? They had no idea.

It was just as mysterious as Dream’s Luck.

The third was mind reading, and being an empath. She could feel emotions and the immediate thoughts of someone she was seeing at that moment, though it was strangely only limited to one person at a time.

The last was an empowerer. It slowly increased the strength of her existing abilities, and eventually gave her new ones. It could also strengthen others, if she was touching them.

Put in the simplest way possible, her abilities made her more than just a little bit powerful, and Dream would be lying if he said he hadn’t been at least a little jealous when they'd been kids. Naturally, he'd got over it though, when it was clear having that much power meant needing a lot of self control not to use them for dumb things.

Among other things.

                                                                                                            — — —

He and Drista sat on the grass of an empty park. The trees’ leaves shimmered as a dusk breeze swept through.

They had wanted some privacy for the end of their day together, so here they were. The city park had a perfect view of the sunset from a small hill in an open grass field, dotted with tall apple trees brimming with the red fruit, and they both each absent-mindedly ate said apples as they watched the sky slowly darken. 

It was after they had an ‘argument’ over who was faster when Drista added, “Bet you couldn’t catch me if we played tag.” She smirked mischievously, before suddenly running off.

“Oh, it’s on!” He called to her, leaping up and chasing her down. He did eventually catch her, and did not let her forget about it on the way back to their spot.

“What were you saying earlier?” He teased, and she swatted him on the arm.

“Oh, shut up. It’s not my fault I-”

She cut off abruptly and looked around, alarmed in her expression. Her eyes went to a group of three people far in the distance.

The one that caught his eye was the one closest, a man with curly brown hair and round glasses. He nudged the man beside him teasingly, clearly his sibling.

The twin of the first had a neat bun of straight brown hair and smaller, squared glasses. He shook his head at his twin in a bored manner and said something to the third man, before turning to a book in his hand. The last man was the shortest, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and a face which looked…

Oddly familiar. Even though he couldn't fully see his features quite clearly, with the distance he was at. Perhaps he'd met the man at a charity gala before.

A glint in the setting sun caught his eye. A metal-something was wrapped around the last man’s arm. Probably a bracelet of some sort, or a jeweled one that glittered. He looked back at Drista, who turned to him and smiled brightly once more.

“Never mind. I thought I heard something from a mind nearby, but it’s probably just my nerves.” She suddenly moved to jab him in the arm, and he let her, Drista racing off.

“See ya, sucker!”

“No way!”

They ended the day together, sitting back on the same hill. Any thought about the group of people from before didn’t cross Dream’s mind. They leaned against each other, watching the sunset and beautiful display of reds, oranges and yellows that were spread across the sky.

Alone, with just Drista. 

Happy.

Dream wished this could be his life forever.

Chapter Text

The next day went as normal as the straight definition of the word. He woke up, did his morning routine, ate breakfast, bought some groceries, hung around in a park.

The day after that was about the same. And the day after that.

Drista was either at work now, or hanging out with friends for most of the day. She was also quite happy that he was at home for now.

Not for his company, no. No way. Not because he wasn’t endangering his life every day, either.

No. It was because of his cooking. Which was great, according to her. In fact, she came home for lunch and dinner (especially dinner) regardless of whether her friends had offered to have it at their house.

He had no way of knowing whether his cooking was actually that great or if she was just used to his style and the taste of it.

A habit.

One thing you can never get rid of easily is habits.

For him, it was heroing. He’d grown up with it. So much so that he was restless if he didn’t burn some energy every day. It was especially bad late at night, where he’d usually be running on rooftops, leaping on crooks and beating up criminals. Instead, he’s pacing his room, desperately trying to fill the free time he now has a plentiful amount of. He was incredibly jittery.

Dream eventually decided to go outside, where he’d take a few laps around West End.

                                                                               — — — 

It’s a half moon night, the sky and the ground below it partially lit up well, the city usually a bustling source of sound.

Usually.

Dream deliberately takes the quieter paths, wanting to mimic what he usually hears on patrols from the rooftops. Even so, it’s incredibly quiet, the only noise being his own footsteps and the breaths he takes in.

It’s so quiet.

His footsteps echo on the pristinely kept streets of West End, himself taking deep breaths. There’s not a sound in the air, not even an owl hoot or a scurry in the alleys from a cat likely taking a midnight stroll, safety in this side of the city guaranteed. He looks up at the moon, wondering why it’s so unusually silent tonight, as if all the action is somewhere else. Quietly, unnoticeable, a ping a bit more like a subtle buzz sounds in the very back of his mind.

He suddenly splashes into a puddle.

Dream looks down, wondering how wet his shoes now are.

But it’s not water.

It’s blood.

Red, dark, fresh blood.

His heart leaps, and subconsciously, he tenses up. Years of hero training rushes to him. His eyes cautiously follow the alarmingly thick trail of red to a slumped figure in the dark alley only a few steps away.

Oh, fuck.

Dream’s eyes widen and the next breath he takes in is shaky. He cautiously approaches the body. He gasps in shock when he sees who it is.

The Blade. His nemesis. Untouchable, undefeatable, perpetually unharmed by everyone.

Everyone, but the hero, XD.

And yet The Blade is there, lying in a pool of his own blood instead of others, chest unmoving. His usually pristine outfit is soaked through in the red, unforgiving eyes shut.

This is not definitely not Dream’s doing.

Red cape, the white fur lined on top now matching the colored thread below. Kingly undershirt, and dress pants. Wet and soaked with the blood that covers the ground of the semi-dark alley, only lit by the moon. The golden crown was lying an inch away from The Blade’s head, splattered with drying red.

Walk away, he tells himself. Turn around, and pretend you saw nothing. It won’t be your fault if he dies.

When he dies. He knows that.

If he walks away right now, The Blade will die. No more deaths caused by this man’s hand. No destruction from plans formed in this man’s head. One more monster, gone from the world.

But if he lets him die, he’ll be a monster too (But aren't you already-). Dream also knows that he would never forgive himself.

Somehow, Dream finds himself knelt beside the body, feeling for a heartbeat. Faint, but there. He sees the wound that had caused this dilemma inside of him. An ugly gash, long and deep, stretching from the mid-chest to the right hip, dark and black, like some potion had caused this horrifying wound. A tipped weapon? But even so, how could they have caught The Blade unawares? Dream had only managed that twice, in the hundreds of battles he’s ever fought with this man.

He makes his decision. One that might result in his early demise. But Dream can’t just leave. Can’t just leave someone to die. The Blade has family, too. Friends. Fuck, The Syndicate would go crazy if The Blade died. More civilian deaths.

He bit his lip and pushed his hands onto the bleeding gash before he could have more second thoughts.

Dream activated his power.

Bright, green light shone from his fingertips, and the flesh began to close by itself at rapid pace, healing until it was nothing more than a scar, and then even that disappeared, leaving no trace of the potentially life-ending injury.

Why, oh why, did his power have to be so. Damn. Flashy. It was practically him waving a glowing, neon green flag that screamed all his secrets into the universe for all to hear.

He stopped the transition of his energy when darkness began to creep up at the edges of his vision, and collapsed against the wall beside, panting heavily. A harsh headache suddenly hit him in the skull, and he winced. This was the bad part of his power. The stupid side effects.

Dream shook himself quickly. He couldn’t stay here. When Blade eventually woke up, he was dead. Certain death awaited him if he spent time here a second longer.

Dream got up slowly, eyeing The Blade warily for any signs of potential awakening. When he found none, he didn’t relax and instead moved to leave, hopefully as quickly as possible.

The Blade’s red eyes shot open.

Before Dream could even react, he was thrown head first into the brick wall, which did absolutely nothing to help his growing headache.

Furious, fear-inspiring blood red eyes examined him quickly. The Blade held him by the throat, strangling him enough for Dream to know that in just a few minutes or so, he'd probably black out. That is, if he didn't die first. 

“Where am I?” The Blade demanded, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Who are you?”

Now, Dream was a full masked hero. Which meant he had to find other ways of communicating his emotions without saying anything. Body language was another thing he’d managed to control perfectly, with his emotions in tow. It made him a great liar, because most people looked at the body to portray emotions, knowing that it usually betrays the mind.

Not Dream.

He pulled the underlying fear up to the surface, letting it flash into his eyes and movement, and spill into his voice as he replied, “W-West End. F-Fifth Avenue, Forty-second Street.”

The Blade eyes widened, the information running through. Blade looked at the bloodied alley floor and the long cut in his outfit, and Dream could see the pieces fitting together in his enemy’s mind.

“You.” The Blade turned to him quickly once more. “Did you..”

Dream saw the opportunity before Blade even finished his sentence. Right now, getting out of this alley alive was the priority, dignity be damned.

“Yeah.” He blurted quickly. “I–I mean-I’m the one who healed you.” Blade looked at him, pulling him apart with his eyes alone, before his grip on Dream’s neck loosened, if only slightly.

“Do you have healing powers?” The Blade asked gruffly. The hand not at Dream’s throat felt for the weapon usually attached at Blade’s hip, and when he didn’t find it, grimaced with dissatisfaction.

I’m getting out of here alive. Whatever it takes for The Blade to not kill me.

“Yes. I-I do.” Dream gave an impression of trying to distance himself from the man in front of him as much as possible.

“C-Can you please let me go?” He asked in a small voice.

Blade dropped him rather unceremoniously, letting Dream almost fall and have to lean against the wall for support. The head-splitting ache came in full force, and he winced, shutting his eyes for as long as he dared, being a helpless civilian in the presence of a villain completely prepared to commit first degree murder.

When he lifted his head, Blade was putting his crown back over the long, braided pink hair and picked up his netherite sword which was near the edge of the alley, underneath a dumpster.

“You didn’t answer my second question.” Blade commented, clearly now expecting an answer.

“Dream. I-I mean, my name is Dream.” He put his right hand up to his head, half supporting it, leaning completely against the wall he was just slammed into. The Blade just made a ‘hmmn’ noise and then, holding his sword, scaled the wall, landing on the roof above the alley.

The footsteps of The Blade faded out into the night.

It took two seconds for him to comprehend what just happened.

First: I’ve told a supervillain that I have healing powers and my name.

Second: I have just saved said supervillain’s life and all I get for it is a slam into a brick wall and bloody jeans? And a headache? Is this how supervillains thank people?

The next time he’s fighting Blade, he’s stabbing him. As painfully as possible.

He groans, somehow eventually finding his way back home. Drista is probably sleeping right now, or on her phone, or something like that. After changing out of his clothes and shoving them in the laundry, he collapses into his unnecessarily large bed and passes out almost immediately.

The sound of rain echoes from outside.

                                                                                                         — — —

The next day passes like a haze. He can’t stop thinking about last night. Mainly because his headache has only dulled in the slightest amount possible.

Damn villains.

And so, it’s two days after his run in with the #1 villain, someone he’s very recently found out to be a jerk. Not that he didn't already know that, however.

He’s in the main kitchen, looking for some breakfast ingredients. He’d checked; Drista was still completely passed out in her room. Serves her right for sleeping at two am.

“Maybe waffles today.” He says to himself, humming. He opens a cabinet, getting the waffle mix and a bowl. He turns to get the waffle maker when a familiar voice sounds behind him.

“Nice house. Looks like mine.” Dream whipped his head around in alarm.

There was The Blade, leaning against a wall casually, semi-hidden in the shadows. His costume was completely mended, with no trace of the slash that had gotten Dream to use his power on a supervillain.

“It’s kinda sad you live here with only one other person.”

Dream looked at Blade, attempting to pull some sort of fear into his eyes, but it was a lot more difficult than last time. Instead, it’s easier to force resignation into his movements. He sighs and says, “Blade. Looking a lot better than last time.”

Blade smirks. “I guess I have you to thank for that.” Dream let the thought of ‘why did I do that again?’ to echo in his eyes, fitting the personality he’s trying to write.

“Why are you here?” If he’s going to interact with this guy, it will be as little time as possible.The Blade raised an eyebrow. The royal cape swished as he stepped out from the shadows.

“I came to…. apologize. As cringe as that sounds.”

Dream was dumbfounded. Apologize? Villain? Those two things did not go together.

Dream signaled for him to continue.

Blade gave a sigh, stepping closer to Dream. He resisted the urge to back away. “You saved my life, and I just interrogated you and then left. Not exactly very pog, even if I did just almost.....die.”

Dream crossed his arms. “Getting slammed into a wall wasn’t very nice either. In fact, just being near you is almost dying.”

The Blade snorted. “Sure. You speak the truth there.”

“I also came to discuss the favor.”

As soon as those words pierced through his brain, another wave of serious regret rolled over him.

He’d forgotten about the stupid favor.

When you did something for The Syndicate, they owed you a favor which you could cash in for any one thing you wanted them to do.

Anything.

Dream just didn’t want to associate with any supervillains. Especially as a civilian. God, The Blade was in his house. The Blade was in the same house as Drista.

What had he been thinking when he’d saved a supervillain?

“I-I don’t want a favor.”

Blade looked at him like he was crazy. “What?”

“I-I was pretty clear. Do you want me to repeat myself?”

Blade continued to stare at him.

“What do you mean, I don’t want a favor? Do you even know what that is? What that’s worth?”

“Yeah. My answer is: I don’t want it.”

Blade gave him an annoyed look. “You know, I'm perfectly fine with lettin' you do your own thing, man, but that’s not how we work. What if you change your mind? We need to close any loose ends.”

Dream felt as annoyed as Blade looked at that moment. “I won't change my mind, and you can do me a favor and get the fuck out of my house.” He said in a suggesting tone, glaring.

Blade examined him a moment longer before he seemed to just give up. “You know what, you do you.” The Blade tossed him a black burner phone. “There’s a number when you want to call it in.”

The Blade swept out of the room, the regal cape trailing behind as he leapt onto the railing of the balcony and disappeared from sight. Dream furrowed his eyebrows, turning over the phone in his hand. He sighed. He’d need a secret pocket to keep this in.

Wasn’t there a tailor's room somewhere?

Chapter Text

The end of the first week of his refreshing-turned-not-so-much break came and flew by. He’d spent another two days out with Drista, one for hiking, and another walking around downtown and checking out all the buildings and restaurants and special events, all activities they usually didn't have time to do together, which was why even though he didn't particularly enjoy shopping like his sister, Dream had really enjoyed everything.

Four days flew by, and came the day he almost died.

That in itself wasn't exactly a rarity. It was a common occurrence when you’re the #1 hero with a bloodthirsty nemesis and supervillain team with, combined, a kill count almost in the thousands, all trying to kill you on a daily basis.

His job is the best, isn’t it.

Drista had left to hang out with one of her friends after dinner, with his two friends as well. He didn’t quite catch their names, because she was complaining that she was going to be late, but he managed to hear a ‘Tommy’ of some sort. Though she also insisted that he was not her friend, and was quite frankly, very annoying. She had also told him that she’d be back in the morning.

The clock hung on the kitchen wall showed that the hour was 1 am. Dream was just pacing back and forth in the living room, burning energy caused by his restlessness, when his balcony door was kicked open with a sudden bang. Whipping his head around in surprise, tensing in preparation for incoming danger, he was thereby greeted with a very, very unwelcome sight.

Siren. 

The rank #3 supervillain of the city stood in the now open doorway to his balcony, the glass door swinging backwards with a quiet screech. He wore an annoyed scowl on his face, black and gold trench coat fluttering in the light breeze. In his arms was a figure with large, curled black wings. The Angel of Death. 

With a rather large puncture wound on his left wing.

The Blade was getting a blade stabbed in his chest if he was just going to give his address out to all his supervillain buddies if they needed a free heal. Some of his annoyance must have shown in his face because Siren narrowed his eyes and said, “You’re going to help him. No exceptions.”

“I just got over that headache from Blade’s injury, and now I’m going to get another one? This time with no choice in the matter. No way.” He asserted, stepping backwards a tad, wary.

Siren just plopped Angel down on Dream’s couch and turned to face him, hissing with a threatening tone, “Either you’ll help or I'll make you.”

Dream didn’t actually have any time to react, because as soon as his indecision made him stay put, Siren used his power, opening his mouth and singing an alluring command.

“Come over here and use your power to fully heal Angel. Don’t stop until you’re done.”

When Dream heard those words, he panicked and his eyes widened with fear. 

Don’t stop.

His body moved without him telling it to as a thought struck him deep enough to send chills down his spine. 

What if I kill myself?

He’d been affected by Siren before. The difference was, as XD, he was usually asked to kill himself. Something that was easier to resist against, because no one, other than someone suicidal, wants to die. But he wasn’t completely against helping Angel. It was just the way it was presented that made him ticked off. Unfortunately, however, if he can’t fight against one part of the command, he can’t fight the other.

He watched in growing horror as he knelt in front of Angel and his hands glowed with a bright green. From the corner of his vision, he could see Siren’s noticeable surprise and shock as he quietly sucked in a breath.

It’s after he’s fully healed the wound that darkness begins to creep up at the edges of his eyes, and the transfer of energy doesn’t stop, and his fears comes true.

Not like this, is his initial thought. If he dies because Siren of all people, Dream is truly the biggest idiot to have ever walked this earth.

All because he just couldn’t walk away from a dying supervillain. Who has tried to kill him multiple times.

Who, if the roles were reversed and Dream was XD, wouldn’t hesitate to mock him and then leave him to die with absolutely zero remorse.

He was such an idiot.

And so, he has all these thoughts as he watches, helplessly, as his vision begins to darken, coming inward.

It’s when his eyesight is completely black that Dream desperately tries to pull his power back to him, yanking it like a physical rope, using his own weight to force it back. He pulls harshly, yanking back with hard force.

No. No, no, no. 

Dream feels for the tendril of his ability, and wraps his hand around it, before a sudden, forceful pull back. He collapses with relief when the feeling of loss stops abruptly.

His vision clears just enough to see him hit the floor.

                                                                                                              — — —

“How is it that I leave you for ten minutes, and you somehow manage to knock our healer out onto the floor!?”

“It wasn't my fault!” Dream recognized both voices.

Yes, Siren. It was your fault. And Blade shared his skepticism.

“Who else? Are you tellin’ me it Angel? Or that he knocked himself out?”

“I don’t know!”

A sigh from The Blade.  “You’re an actual idiot. Incompetence at its worst.”

“Am not!”

“Then try explainin’ to me why I walked in here and our healer was on the floor!”

“I told you, I don’t-”

“It was totally your fault, Siren.” Dream opened his eyes after his words, finding Blade and Siren, as he’d thought, still in his living room. He was sitting in one of the two armchairs facing perpendicular to the couch where Angel still lay, unconscious. Both The Blade and Siren were staring at him, the first with an interested, yet irritated look, the second with confusion.

Thereby solidifying the opinion that Siren was his least favorite villain, and an idiot.

“How?” Siren asked, annoyed. That really got on his nerves. If anyone deserved to be annoyed, it was Dream! He’d literally almost died today. As a civilian! Something he never thought would ever happen.

“You gave me an unspecified demand.” As both villains remained with a rather dumbfounded look, he continued. "You told me to fully heal him and to not stop until I’m done.” 

The Blade caught on rather quickly. Siren did not. What an idiot.

And to think he’d almost died because of his idiocy.

Dream turned to Siren.“You forced me to heal every wound he had . Every scratch and bruise and maybe even scar–god, I might’ve even given him adrenaline because he was knocked out!”

Siren held an alarmed expression, which only served to annoy him mo. “I….I didn’t mean…”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant! All that matters is that you broke into my house and then proceeded to almost kill me!”

Blade snorted from his place in the room. “What a nerd.”

Dream turned his deadly glowering gaze onto him. 

“And don’t get me started with YOU! YOU gave my address to more supervillains like you were advertising that I’m a healer! We’re not going to even talk about the fact that you owe me! After this, you should probably owe me another one of your STUPID, FUCKING, FAVORS!!”

The Blade blinked at him, seemingly unfazed. “Heh?”

Dream huffed in annoyance. 

“I’m done. I’m done. I’m done.” He repeated to himself.  “Just pick up Angel and get out of here before I wake up.”

The terrible side effects of his ‘amazing’ ability were beginning to creep in, and he could already feel himself beginning to slip away. Try as he might to fight it, it was not long before he was asleep.

                                                                                                                — — —

“WHAT THE FUCK!” A scream jolted Dream awake. Almost immediately, a headache wormed its way through, and he grimaced from the annoying sensation. He blinked and opened his eyes, spotting Drista with a horrified expression, staring at the-

Blood soaked couch.

Dream was already over the edge of his patience, so that didn’t even faze him. He just groaned, saying, “They could’ve at least cleaned it up.”

Drista stared at him. “Dream, have you gone crazy? Do I need to call a therapist?”

Dream just shut his eyes again.  “Maybe. Just… go to bed. I’ll explain.. tomorrow morning.”

Drista blinked. “Okay then. But you better keep your word.”

Well, there went Dream’s only two day streak of keeping anything from Drista.

It was hard to keep secrets from someone who lived in the same house as you.

The next day went by without any major things occurring. He explained the previous days’ events (cutting out the gruesome parts, like the wounds themselves) and Drista was basically okay with it. She freaked out that The Blade had managed to get injured, though. Same as him. Like brother, like sister, Dream guessed.

Drista was at ‘work’ later that night. Dream, however, knew much better.

She was sneaking out to do whatever she did late at night.

Dream had caught her several times not in her room at midnight, and then the next morning pretended like nothing happened. He had a slight suspicion, but tried not to worry about it too much. He wouldn’t know what to do if his sister was a vigilante. 

(If what happened to him happened to her-)

But he knew his sister well. Better than anyone else. Because he had raised her, for goodness’ sake.

It was also trivially easy to figure out which vigilante she was, too.

There would always be that worried feeling every time for him when he saw Puppeteer and Theseus on tv. For Drista, feigned inattention.

Note to self: Teach Drista how to lie better. He’s pretty sure that even without knowing she snuck out at night, he would’ve figured out something was off just how she reacted when Puppeteer was mentioned anywhere.

Then, however, one night, all his fears were confirmed. Even more than before.

“Drista?” He walked into her room to see one of the windows opened, the silk curtains fluttering in the wind. Darkness hugged the corners of the large room, with the only light coming from the moonlight outside as well as the dim lamplight on her desk. Papers and textbooks were sprawled all across the floor, some with his sister's messy scrawl, some typed out essays, and others with both colored and not graphs. He looked around her room, spotting a box shoved seemingly hurriedly into the bottom of the bed. He hesitates for a minute before kneeling under and pulling it out into view.

Inside was unmistakably vigilante gear. He identified one of them as a comms, and another as… pepper spray of some sort? Numerous throwing daggers, although most in the box were broken or stained, and there was plenty of empty space inside the box.

Oh, Drista. You could’ve just told me. I would’ve helped you wholeheartedly.  Just please, don’t die. 

(Please don't trust-)

He closed the box and pushed it back into the same spot as before, making sure to cover his tracks with a quick glance around the room before closing the door.

My sister is a vigilante. 

Why did the universe hate him?

Chapter Text

The scene in front of him was both familiar and not.

Vaguely, his subconscious knew that this was a dream, but the forefront of his mind completely believed it to be well and truly real.

Despite the fact that this had been a recurring dream-or rather, memory- ever since it had happened.

                                                                                 — — —

Dream is five, nearly six, when he gets a sister.

Then, he felt only resentment for his new sibling, especially after he learned from his father that it was very likely that she would surpass him power-wise, because of many different reasons and factors that he couldn’t comprehend at the time.

Back then, being able to access your ability, and for it to be powerful, was cool, simply put.

As the eldest-and only- son of his parents, he was the sole heir to the name and fortune of Hunter, an old family with old money.

Growing up, his mother had always been distant, but he hadn’t minded. Though his father was busy, and had little time for Dream, he was well cared for and looked after, and loved deeply by his parents.

His father, at the very least, did.

This family was happy. His young mind had the thought that the already fragile love he received could be taken in favor of his sister. Or that the fortune would go to her, instead, because she could be more powerful.

Simpler times.

Then, when he laid eyes on her the first time, despite the resentment and fear her very existence had brang about inside of him:

Dream knew.

He would give his life for the beautiful, bubbly, innocent infant that giggled in his father’s arms.

Dream is seven when his world shifts and changes; for the worse.

It was a calm before the storm.

At first, there was simply more disagreement between his two parents over petty things.

The arguments then morphed to yelling matches between the two for more serious matters, such as money and responsibilities that his mother didn’t fulfill.

Suddenly, there was a violent strike of lightning.

Instead of his busy father taking care of him and his sister, Drista, his barely appearing mother would, as his father traveled the world to settle relations and such for the family business.

At first, he was ecstatic. Finally, he would meet the woman whom he should know well, but instead knew nothing about.

That feeling was short lived, to say the least, as his mother slowly turned from neglectful to abusive over the years.

Not to him; for some odd reason.

No, his mother blamed Drista for his father’s sudden distance and all the other problems in her life.

He would frequently arrive home from school to find his mother nowhere to be found, and his sister not fed the whole day. It was now his job to raise Drista, because of his mother’s continued absence.

It started to take a toll on someone so young.

Dream grew to hate his mother.

Dream is fourteen, nearly fifteen, when it all finally comes crashing down.

At this point, he’s used to coming home, only to find his mother either yelling or sometimes punching his sister. But when it eventually escalated (like it always does) he couldn’t anymore. He found himself stepping in for Drista everyday.

Dream was the one who raised her, more than either of his parents did.

He helped with her homework, taught her how to ride a bike, comforted her on bad days, and cleaned her wounds. Their relationship wasn’t quite father and daughter, but not sister and brother at the same time.

It’s these things that cause their brittle family to, finally, collapse.

It begins as always: Dream protecting his sister like a parent, or sibling, should.

“USELESS BRAT!” Dream jolted as the insult rebounded across the house, shutting the door as quietly as possible. When another yell echoes again, he drops his backpack smoothly and without hesitation, having already pinpointed where the two are.

He falls into a sadly familiar pace, running throughout the house with ease, not slipping once. 

Dream arrives at the doorway to see his mother (in only blood) holding an empty champagne bottle, furiously waving it at a wide-eyed Drista two steps away. 

Drista spots him almost immediately, and she bites her lip, expression begging. Their mother doesn’t notice, continuing her angry, but not in the slightest bit truthful, rant aimed at Dream’s sister, one they’ve both heard enough times to predict every word.

When Dream sees the bottle dangerously close to Drista’s face, he takes action, striding over and planting himself in between the two, standing protectively in front of Drista.

“Don’t touch her.” He hissed. His mother only sneered at him in annoyance.

“Get out of my way, boy.”

Her words were slightly slurred, and there was a stagger in her movements as she attempted to shove him out of the way. He remained firm, just barely managing to keep his lip from curling in disgust and instead redirected that emotion into his eyes, of which narrowed. 

“ You are going to leave.” He replied, pushing an unforgiving tone and look into his body language on habit.

His mother only stared at him for another few moments before she brought the bottle down on the arm-his arm-shielding Drista.

He couldn’t have stopped the hiss and the small whimper that escaped him from the impact, and heard his sister scream with not pain, but fear.

He whipped his head around ferociously, and if a look could kill, his mother would’ve dropped dead where she stood, expression blank.

“ Get out .” 

She makes an ugly expression on her face, the face that was once beautiful and lovely, but now riddles and wrinkles and a look of hate forever plastered on her face. She stays put. “Stupid boy.”

He grits his teeth in both anger and well-concealed pain. “I haven’t been a boy since I was seven. Leave. And don’t you dare come back.”

This time, his mother actually complies, clumsily making her way out the door with a muttered, “Ungrateful boy. Stupid fu-” Dream didn’t bother trying to hear the rest as she moved out of earshot.

Drista was by his side in a second, worry flooding her gaze. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, and she nods, silent. He gives her a smile, and she hesitantly returns it.

“Is she coming back? I don’t want her to come back.” 

“No. She’s not. Let’s go clean up, alright?”

He helps bandage the small cuts on the side of her face, and she gently pulls out the glass shards embedded in his arm, Dream all the while trying not to react, or Drista might panic.

By the next week, his parents were divorced.

His father helped, in the little ways he could, but it would never be enough for either of them. He sent money, and tied connections. Wrote their mother out of his will, gave his children everything except himself.

The one thing they truly wanted.

Eventually, by the time Dream had gotten a degree in alchemy at the finest university there was at sixteen and taken over the family business, their father had died of a terminal illness and mother long since disappeared off the face of the earth.

Both losses hadn’t hurt Drista or Dream as much as they should have.

They moved in with their neighbor, Mrs. Heatherworth, a kind old lady who owned three cats and adopted one child who came to visit on weekends, so Dream didn’t have to worry about food and paying excessive attention to things related to such.

It also left Dream time to build back up their family’s reputation and money.

But there was one person that he knew he’d give it all away for.

The reason he was a hero in the first place.

                                                                                 — — —

Dream’s eyes blinked open as a crash echoed through his house, followed by a muffled swear very clearly belonging to the only other person who lived here: Drista.

Brain still muddled from the nightmare (which he didn't remember) Dream simply closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

He jolted awake a few hours later, the new information registering, sitting up quickly, only to find that he’s lying on his back, covered in fluffy sheets of cotton and goose down belonging to his bed.

Oh shit, he groaned suddenly, the weight of what he had done two nights rushing back to him as a piercing stab made him wince and shut his eyes tightly again. 

I yelled at villains after saving one against my will.

Now I have to deal with side effects for another two days.

Yippee. So fun!

His utter exasperation at the situation made itself apparent on his face as he threw open the blankets and swung his body over the side, landing with two solid feet on the floor as easily as someone flicking a finger.

He found himself traveling downstairs to see Drista look up from her phone, sitting on one of the chairs placed near the island in the kitchen.

The main change, he noticed, was that the couch previously laden with blood (and cleaned by Drista, for some reason) was now gone.

“Oh! You’re awake already.” She commented, surprise lacing her tone.

“Yeah. I am. Uh, what about the couch?” He asked rather bluntly, striding over to where his sister was. She hopped off her chair, stowing away her phone.

She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I got rid of it for you. Thank me.”

“Oh.” Was the sound that came out of him instead, moving to sit down.

Then the second half of the sentence registered in his tired, headache-addled brain and he stopped right in his tracks.

“Wait-”

She laughed at the utterly stunned expression that had made itself prominent on his face, smiling and shaking her head while Dream raised an eyebrow.

“You heard right. There’s no way I’m eating food on a couch that once had villain blood on it. We don’t need your hero buddies to come busting down the door looking for evidence to arrest us both.”

“And as payment for cleaning up that stupid thing, we’re gonna go couch shopping!” She exclaimed dramatically, practically leaping out of the room, and bounce in each of her steps. 

Dream just stared at the spot she disappeared, before accepting that his sister was just really enthusiastic about shopping.

Specifically with him.

That’s the tale of how he somehow ended up here, lounging on one of the display couches, having to get up every five minutes to offer his not-very-helpful opinion on the furniture choices placed rather confusingly around the huge store.

Seriously, how did anyone navigate this place?

He blinked, nearly stumbling over a hidden rug underneath one of the king-sized beds, as he followed Drista’s insistence that ‘this would be the one.’ 

To give some context, she’s said that every time for the last three hours.

He eventually did find himself standing bewildered-like in front of a huge, six-piece modular sofa coloured a deep eclipse-blue, which was organized in a U shape.

The middle sections had underneath which could be pulled out, creating a sofa bed, complete with automatic, voice-operated adjustments for all the pieces.

“I-” 

“It’s so cool, right?” She gave him her signature ‘please can I have it I want it’ look and he shook his head in disbelief.

“Whatever you want.” He commented in a placating tone, and she had a little victorious smile come over her face.

He pulled out his platinum card at the register-because the sofa was almost five thousand dollars- and, courtesy of these employees working in a furniture store located in the richest part of West End, (where the rich kids loved to flaunt their money and status in front of anyone and everyone they possibly could) didn’t even react in the slightest.  

They had someone else take the large furniture box to their address and got into their car.

Both Dream and his sister sat in the large backspace, a slidable soundproof wall separating them and their driver, a northern Westerner with three kids and a no-funny-business wife, which led their marriage dynamic to be the exact opposite. 

Drista sipped from a can of Diet Coke while she sat cross-legged across from him.

“Alert, Alert. This is an emergency alert. Villains spotted in the Central West End area. All citizens, if you are located in the area, please-”

Dream purposefully cut out the rest of the announcement, looking over to the driver, who slid the panel and informed them that they would be taking an alternate route, which Dream agreed to.

In his head, he sort of wished for a glimpse of the conflict, because he was already subconsciously buzzing with excitement, which did not go unnoticed by Drista, who gave him an unimpressed stare.

“You’ve only got two more days ‘til you go back to work, if you could cease your incredible weirdness.”

Dream snorted at that statement, and a smug smile made its way onto Drista’s face.

“Whatever you say, dear sister.” He replied in a teasing tone, and she swatted at him with her free hand.

A distant crash in the distance made both their heads turn rapidly. Dream spotted a stream of fire blown into the sky, and even from within the car, he heard slices of what sounded like metal, but was actually netherite, crashing against each other.

Paired with a quiet, but nonetheless heard, horribly chilling laugh belonging to one of the villains, he could see why hero-villain fights were something to be feared by regular citizens.

But him? He craved them.

Their driver expressed his concerns, and Dream directed him to the silent, inner streets where Dream often enjoyed a stroll.

However, he’d avoided the particular area on his late night walks where he’d found The Blade ever since the incident had occurred.

About ten minutes after, they’d already arrived back at Dream and Drista’s mansion, where they (who was he kidding, Dream) thanked the driver before he drove off.

A long while later, Dream opens one of his bedroom windows for a bit of fresh air, and then gets out of the shower and is changed into comfortable clothes, almost ready to attempt to sleep. 

The fight from before was already clear out of his mind.

Two more days and I’m back to being a hero. Back to normalcy, thankfully.

I wonder how Sap and Gogs are doing without me. Have they met The Diamond Board yet? Sapnap would definitely hate them, and probably George as well.

A crash jolts him out of his thoughts. 

He almost immediately decides to investigate, walking into his bedroom to see The Blade, covered in blood that, by the sheer quantity, could not possibly be only his, standing quite menacingly in front of the open window, the curtains flapping gently in the rolling waves of wind.

The Blade looks up at him with a (suspiciously fake) surprised expression, but it smooths over almost immediately.

“Am I seriously in your house? Bruhh.”

Oh my gosh, not again.  

Chapter Text

Dream stares at the bloodied, and quite frankly, if he was going to be an honest, terrifying villain (for the persona he was playing at the moment) in a deadpan expression.

“Seriously? I told you to leave like, just two days ago and now you’re back? Again?” Everything, from his body language to his tone to the way he’s looking at The Blade portrays his annoyance at the situation.

“Dunno what you’re talking about. I just went through the window of some random guy’s house. I guess the universe just hates you.” The Blade commented in his monotone voice.

Oh, that it does.

Dream just simply huffs and strides past Blade, shutting the window smoothly and redrawing the slightly tinted green silk curtains.

After he’d done so, he turns and says, “Why do so much blood on you, anyway? And please, avoid getting it on my carpets.” The Blade just smirked, examining the room with a glance before walking towards the ajar door.

The swish of the royal cape disappeared into the hallway, and Dream cursed, quickly following, despite some other, small part of him just wanting to collapse into bed right then and there and pass out.

But it wouldn’t exactly be responsible if he just let a villain covered in blood just roam around his house without some sort of supervision.

However useless it may seem.

When he had finally arrived at the living room connected to his living quarters, The Blade was just leaning against the kitchen counter, inspecting an unidentifiable piece of technology that was tucked away as Dream arrived.

“So why are you here again? You can’t expect me to believe villains just break into random people’s houses as a hobby.” 

The Blade simply raised one eyebrow. 

“Are you serious?” Dream crossed his arms.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Who knows. Not you, that’s for sure.”

Dream just keeps up the ‘I’m a civilian who is mildly terrified of you and thus will not question anything you say too deeply’ facade and simply nods slightly, albeit reluctantly.

“So you’re just going to hang around here like a lost bird or something?” Dream finds himself snarking back.

“Definitely not a bird. Angel’s the real bird, if you can’t tell by the wings or the bird-like attitude or…. Basically anythin’ he does, really. You know, he hovers like a bird parent, an’ chirps, an’-” The Blade cuts off when he spots Dream’s face, snorting.

“Why are you here?” Dream repeats.

“Careful there, you might end up soundin’ like a broken record.” 

Now, normally, Dream is perfectly equipped to handle a snarky Blade at eleven o’clock in the evening. It’s earlier than usual, even.

But Dream is still dealing with the terrible things that come with having his terrible healing powers, and thus is not exactly in the mood, no matter how long of a nap he took.

“I’m suddenly very tempted to try and kick you out again. Eager , even.” 

The Blade cocked his head, still wearing a smirk that was somehow villainous and playful at the same time. 

Dream subtly noticed the way Blade’s shoulder’s were a bit too tense to be relaxed, or the underlying, prickling feeling that crawled down his spine when those blood-red eyes examined him a bit too intensely to be a subconscious reflex.

His instincts, trained since- forever , told him that there was something wrong . 

“I can see why you might feel like that.” Blade kept his gaze trained on Dream, and he fought the urge to look away.

“But I guess you want the answer to your question. Why am I here?”

The Blade began walking, throwing an arm out in an explicatory manner as he spoke.

“When I met you, I truly wondered, as every great Greek philosopher has, about many things often gone unnoticed by the common eye. One of these,” Blade paused and turned his head to face Dream, “Was you. Why, would someone with more than enough, save a villain? The obvious answer is greed; you wanted a favor. But that seemed not to be the case. So my question remains the same: Why?”

Well, at least that overly dramatic monologue cleared up a few things for Dream. 

Now, he understood. 

He also now was getting backlash from The Blade’s rapidly changing mood.

Or he’d faked the playful nature before. 

The Blade had either- A, discovered the fact that he worked at HC from his file, something easily dealt with, or B, was simply extremely confused as to why Dream decided to save him in the first place.

Dream has asked himself that exact question too many times to count.

Or maybe both. That was probable.

“Then, I did a little research, and you would not believe what I found. Well, actually, maybe you would.” Dream jolted when The Blade’s eyes found him, a horribly intense gaze that dug at him after that rather foreboding statement.

“So now, my question is no longer just why , but also who . Who are you ? A spy? Rookie hero in disguise? ‘Cause if so, you are terrible at your job. Not XD, that’s for sure. At least that guy’s actually good at bein’ a hero, however annoyin’ that is.” 

Dream did not miss the way The Blade’s right hand came to rest on his (for now) sheathed sword.

Yep. The Blade definitely found out about his ‘job’.

He sort of wanted to laugh at the irony of Blade’s last statement. 

But if there’s one thing Dream is good at, it’s lying his way out of almost any ‘tough’ situation.

This is one of the times where he’s grateful for his fucked-up childhood and constantly life-threatening job.

“Ok..uh… First, can you promise not to like, stab me while I’m explaining?” He starts, widening his eyes slightly with a pleading look, forcibly shoving ‘I’m pathetically normal please don’t murder’ into his appearance.

The Blade responds by crossing his arms. “No guarantees.”

Well, he’ll take what he can get.

“I’m guessing you know what my… job is?” He asks slowly, eyes fixed on The Blade, who only gives one slight nod.

“Well, I’ll say that’s just a normal desk job, not anything to do with-”

“Heroes?” The Blade finishes, skepticism laced in his tone. “Just working there makes you associated with heroes. ” The last word was spat out in hidden clenched teeth, showing his unconcealed hatred for such.

“I just do files. And plan meets and public appearances. That's it. I swear.” He follows with, pulling up and shoving sincerity, determination, and fear all at once into his body language.

While in reality, everything that has come out of Dream’s mouth so far has been–not exactly truthful, but not a complete lie.

He does, in fact, do desk work. It’s cheaper for HC overall to use heroes as desk workers too, because they just add it to the overall salary of one person, and can get away with paying less.

Conveniently, it also provides a cover story to explain what your job is, where the money comes from, and why you’re always entering the Hero Central.

There was also normal, every day workers mixed in there too, and not even the heroes themselves knew all of the undercovers. 

Except Dream, of course.

The Blade graces him with the very sophisticated answer of “Hmm.” 

Dream huffed. “If you don’t like my answers, don’t ask the question.”

“It just doesn’t seem right to me. Gut feelin,’ ya know?”

“You’re basically saying that you’re basing the truth off of a hunch. Not exactly something you should rely on.”

“Then why would you help me, if not for a favor or the heroes? Seems a bit counter-intuitive, if you ask me.”

“Has it occurred to you that I might’ve just saved you because simple human decency demanded it? I’m a civilian, if you’ve forgotten, and I’m not like you villains who can just walk away from someone dying. If I can help someone, I will.”

There was a slightly awkward silence before The Blade spoke.

“That did not in fact occur to me. Mainly because it just sounds too cringe to be an actual, factual, tangible thing.”

Dream looked at him with exasperation. “You can’t just deflect my perfectly reasonable argument with ‘it’s cringe’!”

“I just did.”

The Blade turned away dramatically once more, moving to the same balcony he used the first time he’d come to this house.

Dream severely hoped that this would be the last time that a similar event would happen.

Something told him that it wasn’t.

And his inside pettiness wouldn’t let Blade have the last word.

“You also can’t just walk away when you’re losing an argument either!”

Dream swears he heard a quiet, virtually undetectable chuckle.

Does being a villain cause you to have very sudden mood changes equivalent to that of a teenager?

Dream would truly love to know the answer.

                                                                                 — — —

The next day–his last break day, as bittersweet as it was, went as normal as possible. 

Nothing out of the ordinary, no life-threatening situations having occurred. The last simple, calm, relaxing day for a long time.

Just kidding!

Dream was on another one of his late night walks. This time, unlike the hopefully once-in-a-lifetime incident with The Blade, he was on the opposite side of the city, hanging a bit closer to downtown then last time.

The hope was that the villains would avoid tracking him down for a one-on-one conversation if he was closer to downtown, which was perpetually filled to the brim with people of all different backgrounds, including hybrids, humans, and powered variations of the such.

And, it very clear– and, both sadly and surprisingly, very quickly–became apparent that Dream had hoped wrong. 

The closer you got to the city’s core, the louder it tended to be. However, silence in West End was generally common at night, after all, this was where all the homes of the wealthy and powerful resided, and they often complained about these kinds of little things.

Very annoying to answer to, Dream can say from first hand experience.

Nowadays, he hands those jobs down to the rank 20’s and below to deal with. 

Occasionally, there are sounds of animals and people that will wander by, with the faraway call of a car, but that was it.

This was an empty pedestrian plaza, the wide expanse of decorated concrete laid across the floor preceding the buildings that stood on top of it.

Dream was lost in his head, enjoying his last free night for a long time(because, let's face it, he was pretty sure The Board would hate giving him any more break time for the next long while) when the distinctive pak pak of a gun cut through the air as easily as Nightmare would flesh.

Quickly, memories of the last encounter and what it resulted in made him look around for any sign of The Blade.

Then, a few moments later, the crash of destroyed glass made him jolt as a figure flew through a nearby window of a corporate building, clearly thrown by someone with increased strength, and hit the opposite street’s structure with a muffled thump, the brick cracking with the force of the impact.

He stood horrified at the unmoving man, trickles of blood like rivers on a map running down one side of his head.

Was he dead? 

Another, louder bang made his muscles tighten, his body half expecting something to be thrown into him.

When nothing did, Dream’s eyes flit over to the source of the commotion, and a stream of bright fire caught his eye immediately.

Was this a hero-villain fight? Was Sapnap here?

And if so….

Which villain was here?

Alert with this new thought, Dream’s left hand hovered over his right wrist  with the bracelet and the gem in the center, despite knowing that it would probably be useless.

A deafening crack and bang followed as two more figures crashed through the wall next to the broken window, battling fiercely and without thought.

The huge, identifying dark wings on the person closest to him made Dream suck in a breath.

Then, for a moment, The Angel saw him, their eyes meeting.

Recognition flashed through The Angel’s half-veiled face for just a moment before swirls of brightly colored flame burst forward from the other man’s arms, forcing them to break eye contact.

The Angel rose into the sky, diving and twirling to just barely dodge the shots of fire that flew away from them.

The other man, Dream swiftly noticed, was not in fact Sapnap. His clothes resembled that of a night guard, with the dark-blue colored uniform unsimilar to that of Sapnap’s hero appearance, with no white bandana or wing mask.

Instead, the man was also dark haired, but was brown-eyed, not the grayish midnight-blue that was Sapnap’s eyes.

This man hadn’t seemed to notice Dream, but that was forgivable, seeing as he was, at the moment, fighting one of the most fearsome and the previous ranked #1 villain, before The Blade had come into the scene.

Angel dodged another blast of fire and shot at his opponent with speed only someone with wings could achieve, tucking his wings into a dive.

He slammed into the fire-wielder, shoving him into the ground as the apparent security guard’s face twisted into a look of both fear and dangerous determination.

Dream missed the glint of crimson red in his eyes.

Out of seemingly nowhere, the man pulled out a pistol and fired it messily, giving Angel enough time to roll neatly out of the way.

The metal on The Angel’s wrist made Dream step back once. 

That was the cuff Dream had put on him. An inhibitor. 

The Angel didn’t have his powers. That’s why this A tier elemental wasn’t already dead.

Oh, fuck.

Dream’s eyes widened as The Angel took his bow from his back, nocked a glistening, sharp-edged arrow, drew back, and fired.

It hit the flame elemental on his firing arm, and he swore, fumbling the pistol before managing to switch it to the opposite hand.

Another burst of flame. Angel twisting away just a moment before it would’ve hit, much more out of instinct than the others, wings flared up as his back faced his opponent for just a few seconds.

More than enough time for action.

Dream quickly noticed their positions. The Angel wouldn’t be able to dodge another burst of flame–

Or another bullet.

The pistol was raised in the firing position, aimed for The Angel’s back, and it would end up in the middle of his chest.

If Dream didn’t do anything now:

The Angel would die.

His heroic instincts lept into action, unlocking his legs from beneath him as Dream leapt in the direction of the bullet on a wild estimate.

Then, a small sort of ping in the back of his mind made his worry collapse and his mind to clear.

Dream’s eyes had to be glowing a bright green, the same color as when he’d healed The Blade.

Because his Luck had been activated.

Of course, that brought the knowledge of the fact that he was, in fact, in immediate mortal danger, and that he could die at that very moment.

His eyes were instantly alert, and it was quickly noticed that time had seemed to slow to a crawl. The bullet lay unmoving, hung in the air with an invisible chain, and so was the gunman, eyes frozen in a semblance of fear and triumph.

His own body lay frozen not unlike the bullet, frozen in invisible ice. It was strange; he was human, not a hybrid like the slight majority of the city, and flying was only achievable through a plane or getting picked up by an avian, most likely Sapnap.

He also noticed immediately after that if he didn’t do anything now, his chest would be the shield for The Angel, and that was preferably not going to be the case.

He hastily made his decision, not knowing when his Luck would run out, no pun intended.

Deliberately, he pushed his right arm onto the bullet, on the front of his bicep, where it wouldn’t damage anything truly critical.

One blink, and he was on the concrete plating of the plaza, blood quickly seeping through the half-formal jacket he’s tossed on randomly for all his walks throughout the city.

He cries out in pain, taking what little pain he felt and expressing it into an anguished scream, clutching his arm where the bullet had impacted while discreetly positioning his head so that he could watch the other two people still there. 

Dream has just now realized that he has been shot point blank while wearing no armor, with no potions, or anything to possibly defend himself.

And just like the last time he’d saved a supervillain’s life, he was beginning to have serious second thoughts. 

When the pistol was raised once more, another PAK echoed across the empty square, Dream refocusing on the battle just in time to see The Angel of Death giving him a look of surprise, but refocused his attention on the fire-wielder, his eyes widening slightly before he raised his arm where the inhibitor cuff resided, blocking the shot like some sort of Wonder Woman.

A loud crack, almost as loud as the gunshot, explained what had happened as the inhibitor cuff fell to the floor, the lock broken and twisted from the impact.

A wicked grin came over The Angel’s face, his head turning swiftly over to the gunman, whose whole body screamed with I’m so fucked.

A black blur sped towards the man seemingly faster than the bullet, the pistol knocked away and sent spinning onto the cement. The Angel held the man by the throat, squeezing tightly as the elemental choked.

He loosened his grip just enough to allow the man to breathe, and he gasped for air, staring at the #2 ranked villain in the country with a look of pure terror as Dream clutched his heavily wounded arm, almost completely helpless as he lay rather awkwardly on the decorated floor of the cemented plaza.

The man was in even more danger than Dream was, however. The same amount of helplessness, but in much more danger.

You see, The Angel’s power set consisted of multiple things.

If he had physical contact with any part of your body attached to you, he would negate any powers you had, or in Dream’s case, put an incredible weight on you and would leave you feeling like you would collapse in just another second.

If it was for a consecutive thirty seconds, you’d pass out. Another thirty and you’re dead.

The Angel’s unforgiving gaze was fixed on his previous attacker, a look of pure evil, one that promised pain.

He cocked his head like a bird as he said darkly, “Now. What made you think you could try and kill me ,” The Angel narrowed his eyes, “And get away with it alive?”

The man snarled. “I don’t answer to you . I ain’t snitchin’. I ain’t no rat.”

The Angel only chuckled, no humor residing within it. “Then how about you tell me who you do answer to then? I can guarantee a quick death if you do.”

The elemental only scoffed, trying aimlessly to escape The Angel’s death hold.

The Angel of Death smiled cruelly, spreading his dark wings out to their full length, almost as long as Dream when he lay down. 

“Then we can do this two ways.” Angel drew out the ‘s,’ for a second longer than normal. 

“One. You can tell me where that shipment of Blue is from and where it’s going to, and who you work for, right now , and I’ll bless you with a painless transition to hell.”

“Or,” The Angel’s veiled eyes flashed with a deadly look. “You don’t, and I spend the next six hours watching you scream and plead for mercy, until you’ve told me everything you’ve ever known and are begging me to kill you. Then, I’ll lock you in a metal coffin, throw you into the ocean, and leave you to your fate.”

“So please. Choose the second option. ”

The man’s posture radiated a horrified fear, exactly how Dream felt at the moment.

Then, he mumbled something unintelligible, as Dream was too far away to hear, and Angel nodded, apparently satisfied, before he squeezed just a bit tighter on the man’s throat, and his eyes rolled back into his head before being dropped like a ragdoll, Angel stepping away quickly as if disgusted.

Another moment, and The Angel was standing over Dream, dark, glossy black feathers blocking Dream’s vision of the sky above, the striped bucket catching his eye as The Angel knelt down.

Huh. He kinda looked like a real angel of death, coming to aid him in his journey into the afterlife. That was funny. A villain, helping someone?

And since when was he dying? Why was he dying again?

“Alright, mate. I think that’s the blood loss talking.” The Angel said, gently (surprisingly) taking his wounded arm and examining it quickly, eyes flitting over the bullet wound with what could only be a practiced maneuver. 

He’d said that out loud? Dream hadn’t noticed that, which was very concerning, especially for him. Normally, he practically knew everything his body ever did, being able to bend it to his will. 

Dream was the one who had figured out that you can’t fake emotion. At least not as convincing as Dream’s way.

You can’t fake it, because your body language will always somehow give it away. You have to truly feel the emotion, but know in the back of your mind that it’s not really what you’re feeling. 

Take it from what you do feel, but still know that it’s not true.

To put it shortly, the fact that he hadn’t noticed himself talking his thoughts out loud was genuinely extremely concerning.

“Mate! Mate, can you answer me?” Dream snapped back into reality, shocked by the sheer–and as far as Dream could tell, real– concern in The Angel’s voice.

“Ugh. Mhmm.” He answered, pursing his lips together slightly, trying to show discomfort.

“Good, mate. I was worried I’d lost you for a second.” Angel’s shoulders slumped in relief, before he then continued.

“Kay, mate. I’ve got to get this bullet out of your shoulder, it’ll be real quick. Then, you can heal it and hopefully come back to your senses soon.” Saying that, The Angel extended his wickedly sharp talons, which extended from his fingers like nails.

Dream jolted, staring at the practical knives with apprehension. The Angel sighed, repeating, “I’m just going to get the bullet out of your shoulder, mate. You can heal it right after.”

Properly hearing that, he rushed to stop him before the talons could get anywhere near his arm.

“No…..don’t. Can’t….mmmh.” Dream groaned, turning his head to see an alarmingly large pool of blood around his arm, his clothes around the area darkened.

“It won't hurt too much, mate. I promise.”  

Dream’s eyes widened. While he couldn’t exactly recall why at the very moment, he could not let The Angel do that.

“Nooo!” He used his good arm to clumsily push the talons away from the other.

The Angel furrowed his eyebrows. “Mate, if you don’t let me do this, you could die. I don’t really know if you understand that right now, but I have to do this.”

Dream grabbed The Angel’s arm and shook his head. “But...I can’t…I can’t actually…mmmmh. Heal..mmslf.” Dream groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Oh, no mate. Don’t close your eyes. Not now, okay? Stay with me for just another second, alright?” Then, Angel’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, did you mean you can’t heal yourself?”

“Mmmhm. That’sss.. That’ss why I wasn’t supposed to tell you.” 

Dream blinked blearily. The Angel’s figure was beginning to seem blurry.

The Angel paused, thinking. “Alright mate, guess there’s only one thing I can do.” And with that, he scooped Dream up bridal style and carried him over to… the body of the flame elemental, still sprawled in a very uncomfortable position on the glittering floor of the plaza.

Angel set him down slowly before pulling over the body–which Dream now could see was just unconscious, not dead–a bit closer, within arm’s length. He shivered at the expression on the unconscious man’s face.

“Hold still.” Angel commanded him softly, putting a hand on Dream’s bullet wound and the other on the man.

Then, a burst of adrenaline shot through him. 

The pain was gone. 

Dream looked in confusion to where the bullet wound lay, but it had disappeared, seemingly vanishing in a second. There was still blood, but any trace of the puncture that the bullet had made was now gone.

The fuzzy lines in his sight vanished as well, and his head felt like the sun after a storm, when the clouds parted and cleared his thoughts.

His first thought was to look at The Angel’s previous attacker, and found something shocking.

Dream’s bullet wound was now on the flame elemental’s arm. The same bullet, the same puncture. 

What the fuck?

“You can do that?!” Dream exclaimed, turning his head to see The Angel give a (foreign) sheepish look.

“Yeah. But it’s not something I want to get around, so try not to tell anyone, ‘kay mate?” 

Another thought struck Dream like a lightning bolt. 

Angel had revealed a secret power to save him. Dream. A helpless civilian who……

Who owed the Syndicate a favor.

Actually, technically two favors, because of that one incident where he nearly died.

This was not how Dream had wanted to spend his last vacation night. 

A long silence passed between them, before Dream decided he didn’t want on the floor any longer, moving to stand up. 

He had only put weight on one of his legs before it gave way, and he toppled towards the decorated cement, surprised, before familiar arms caught him neatly.

“Woah, mate. That’s probably the adrenaline wearing off. Let’s get you back home.” Angel scooped him up once again, this time with Dream letting out an embarrassing squeak of discomfort as a sudden force pressed on him like the world was leaning against his body.

The weight left as soon as it had come. “Sorry mate. My fault. We’ll just get you home as quick as possible, alright? Hold still.” Angel warned before he promptly crouched slightly and took off, startling Dream once again.

“Yeah, it’s totally not concerning that a supervillain that can kill me with a touch knows where I live. Yep, not at all.” Dream muttered, though he purposely didn’t try to keep his words from Angel’s ears.

The Angel unexpectedly chuckled as they soared through the skies. 

“I’d never hurt you, Dream, you know that. I actually quite like you. And, you know, you saved my life again tonight. The least I can do is pay one of those back.”

Dream tried to answer, but all that he managed to say was an incoherent, “Hmm,” as he began to feel drowsy.

The Angel laughed again. “Just sleep, mate. You’ll be fine.”

And Dream found that was exactly what he did.

                                                                                 — — —

Dream woke with a start, breathing heavily, before calming down once he realized where he was: in his bed, in his mansion, covered in his silk blankets.

A quick inspection revealed that his hero bracelet was still on, and that he was still wearing the clothes from last night, with his outside suit taken off and the inside polo not, instead separated from the bed by being wrapped with an unused towel of Dream’s.

He wondered how Angel knew where to get that.

A flutter of paper grabbed his attention, forcing him to follow the sound. 

A small, folded up note lay on the floor, and Dream leaned over the side of the bed to pick it up.

There, written in loopy handwriting, was this message:

To Dream,

Filled up your refrigerator with extra food as a thank-you gift for your deed as a sign of gratitude. Your suit is in the laundry. The Syndicate is in your debt once again. Will keep in touch later. 

Thank you.

Signed, The Angel of Death

Dream looked up from the note as the welcomed sound of Drista echoed through the mansion.

“Dream! When did you go out shopping? What’s your latest culinary adventure gonna look like? I demand to taste it!”

Dream smiled before turning back to the note, both confused as taken aback by the sincerity of the words.

Dream’s favorite Syndicate member has to be The Angel. 

He’s the one that’ll be spared from XD’s wrath.

Chapter Text

The private elevator doors to his team’s floor opens, and he steps out in his XD suit, looking around.

His new, upgraded suit.

It somehow managed to make him look even cooler than he did before, with dark green netherite panels fitting his arms and legs and chestplate of many separate pieces in order to allow movement, still wearing his iconic smile insignia.

As soon as he steps out of the elevator, he’s greeted by an ecstatic Phoenix.

“Yes! You’re back! You’re finally back!” Phoenix embraces him tightly, leaving Dream bewildered.

“What?” 

Did Sapnap somehow miss him that much? 

No way.

“I swear, I’ll never make fun of you having more work than me again! How do you even stand those people? I don’t know how you interact with them on a daily basis! And your paperwork! It’s terrible! Why’s it so long? And boring? I never want #1 again!”

Ohh, that explained it.

“Was my work really too much for you? Both of you? Really ?” Dream looked over Phoenix to see 404 standing a few feet away, unimpressed, holding a juice box.

“Sapnap’s right, though. The Board sucks. How do you stand those people?” George asked as Dream pried Sapnap off of him.

Dream tilted his head. 

“It helps when they can’t tell if they’re getting to you, or what you’re thinking.” He tapped his full face mask.

“Actually, I just pretend to be a totally different person: A selfish, pretentious, manipulative asshole.”

Both of his friends snorted at the last sentence. “Are you sure that’s you pretending?” George teased, walking over.

Dream flicked his forehead, earning a yelp.

Sapnap grinned at their antics. 

“You’ll be bored for a while though, XD. HC wants you to wait until The Syndicate makes a move before revealing that you're completely fine to catch them off guard.”

Dream smirked deviously underneath the mask. 

He was so going to punch Siren in the face. Maybe stab The Blade a little.

You can’t just go to Dream’s house just to interrogate him! And Siren’s case is self-explanatory.

The other two-thirds of his team eyed him warily. Dream guessed they probably could sense his excitement. Of sorts.

“Gosh, The Blade’s in for a terrible day.” Sapnap said.

“Oh, also, I didn’t finish any of your paperwork. So… You’ll be sitting there for a while. Probably three hours.”

This time, Dream let smugness radiate off of him.

“Oh, just watch me. I’ll be done in thirty minutes.”

He turned and strode in the direction of his office.

                                                                                 — — —

Dream, it turned out, was wrong.

He was actually done in 23 minutes.

He walked back in to see Sapnap and George talking on the sofa.

When he reached them both and leaned casually against the right arm of the chair with one arm, they both turned to look at him.

“Are you taking a break?” Sapnap asked with a hopeful tone.

“Nope. I’m already done.” Dream couldn’t help laughing at the horrified look he received.

“What?” 

“How?”

Dream continued to laugh while they bombarded him with questions. 

“Do you have some secret superpower that fills out paperwork for you?”

That sentence caused him to stop laughing and look at Sapnap in sheer disbelief.

And then he started wheezing like he was choking or something.

“You sound like a tea kettle!” George exclaimed.

Dream just shook his head, still laughing.

Eventually both of them joined him.

                                                                                 — — —

“And there’s one thing I especially want to try.” Sam said, glancing at the huge digital clock on the wall before turning his gaze back to Dream.

They were in the training room, a specialized area as large as a football field, especially created for the top #10 and above ranked heroes to train with each other and let loose without damaging anything.

Dream and Sam were here in particular to test out Dream’s new suit and all its features.

“Just say ‘shield’ into your personal mic. You do remember how to do that, right?” Sam asked expectantly, his gas mask taken off to reveal an amused smile.

“Hey, who has the perfect memory here?” Dream teased back. “Not you.” Dream then changed mics and said, “Shield.”

A netherite shield sprung out from his right wrist, and he twitched a little from surprise, but didn’t allow anything else.

It was the same green as the other pieces of armor on his person, big enough to protect his entire body with some strategic movement involved.

“That’s amazing Sam!” He exclaimed, turning his wrist to experiment with the new weight.

Sam somehow looked prouder at the compliment. “Thanks.”

“And I’ve got one more thing for you.” Sam pulled out a familiar bo staff.

Dream’s signature weapon in the criminal and superpowered world was his axe; he was terribly deadly with it, and could even twirl it around with just a hand.

However, an axe wasn’t exactly PG, and XD was supposed to be a male role model for young children, so he had to have a weapon that was less realistic with real life and less associated with violence.

Hence, his bo staff, which could break into two escrima sticks that could tase people from a distance by Dream just pointing the right end at his target, then of which a beam of electricity would shoot towards them, given they’re at a reachable distance.

Dream figured out which end it was pretty quickly, because of his perfect memory.

It was pretty funny to watch Sapnap and George try and use them and then sometimes end up tasing themselves.

Sam threw the bo staff to him; Dream caught it easily, twirling it for fun.

“Press that button there.” Sam gestured to a thumb-sized button on the side of the staff, and Dream did so with concealed eagerness.

“Wow.” Escaped his mouth when the staff morphed into an axe: an almost exact replica of Nightmare, minus the inscription and a few custom features Dream had added to his famed weapon himself.

“I noticed that during public appearances, you’re usually not very geared, so I threw in that feature just to lengthen your life expectancy.” 

“I love it!” He smiled at Sam, who grinned sheepishly back.

A loud ringing from both their hero communicators turned both their heads, Dream pulling out the phone-like device before widening his eyes.

“Oh fuck, I have to open that meeting for next week’s Hero Day.” 

Dream said, tucking away the communicator and moving to leave before noticing Sam’s slight apprehension, weirdly unmoving.

Gosh, Sam. We’ve known each other since we were still trainees!

Dream then subtly stopped, a thought coming to him.

There’s got to be something on his mind. Something that’s making him nervous around me.

I wonder what it is.

Dream turned and cocked his head, pulling up confusion into his body language. 

“You need to come too, Sam. We can go together.”

                                                                                 — — —

Dream and Sam arrived to the private meeting room fifteen minutes early; because of that, there was no one there, and when Dream went to the control panel and clicked the SET button, panels on the floor opened to reveal a hundred or so chairs, as well as a large screen at the front of the room, where a small decorated stage revealed itself from the wall.

Another ten minutes and the room was semi-full. Sapnap and George had arrived, and Dream stood on the side of the stage steps, talking with them in low voices with Sam and Ant, the latter’s hero name being Calico.

George nudged Dream playfully, though everyone was quite aware of their slight audience of people. Dream had already noticed all the trainees and sidekicks gawking at him.

Some tried to be discreet out of politeness and shyness. Others just straight up stared at him.

Dream acted like he didn’t mind either way.

“And George, try not to embarrass yourself like last time, ‘kay?” Sapnap ended.

“No civilian names in public!” George hissed quietly. “And last time, Hero Day was absolutely terrible, alright? The only guy who got out of that uninjured was XD. Completely unrelated.”

Sapnap snorted. George just shook his head slightly as Dream examined the other heroes in the room.

“You know I hate Hero Day.” Dream commented offhandedly, surveying the room.

The room was organized by seniority and rank. Every rank had an assigned chair and placement, while the top five (being Dream, Sapnap, George, Sam, and Ant respectively) had the duty to lead Hero Day, as well as all the meetings of heroes.

Hero Day was the day when the city celebrated the Hero Corporation and all the heroes in it. There were parades, discounts, merchandise for sale–mainly of Dream, if he was going to be honest– and everyone was off work and out of school.

The top hero, XD, also had to do a speech for the city after the president himself, and then just be paraded around and showed off like some glorified circus animal, albeit with much more respect.

You see why Dream hates it now?

“Oh, XD, you’re on in ten.” George looked up from his comm. 

Dream sighed, pushing up his mask to reveal his mouth.

“Hope this year’s Hero Day doesn’t go like last year. It was not fun to have to take care of the president, who by the way, does not like listening to anyone.” Ant said as Dream hopped up the steps to the stage, skipping the first and last step.

“Hello! Hello, everyone. Please take a seat.” Dream waved as everyone politely scrambled to their assigned seats, trainees having a spot on the side and sidekicks leaving their mentor and sitting on the wall opposite to the trainees.

“Now, I’m sure most of you know why we’re all gathered here today, but for those who don’t, this is the annual meetup for the standard protocol and expectations for the upcoming Hero’s Day, scheduled to be in a week's time.” Dream saw the trainees and sidekicks perk up, especially the new round of them; this would be their first Hero’s Day, and that was always special.

In complete contrast, the older, veteran heroes sighed slightly, having had to go through this exact same meeting and day for every year they’d been heroes.

“For those ranked #50 to #29, you will go on your standard patrol if you are scheduled for one. For those who aren’t, you will obtain your new schedule via email by tomorrow. Remember that you may not stop to sign any autographs, but try to be friendly. Waving is encouraged. Those above rank #40 will meet at the parade for their shift, on time, no exceptions.”

“For the rest of you,” Dream turned slightly to see the hologram of the city in bird’s eye view. Already, the areas outside of downtown were colored in purple, and on the legend on the bottom left corner, purple was labeled as ‘50-29.’

“Those ranked #20 to #11, you will be assigned to either crowd control or lookout for any villains or suspicious activity, though protocol says you are allowed to stop for autographs, but not for too long. Trust me, that rule is in your best interests. You do not want to be caught in a crowd. It will not be fun.”

Dream spotted a few younger heroes huffing in disbelief and the lower ranked ones in disappointment that they wouldn’t be included in the celebrations.

Well, if that's what they wanted to believe, so be it. It wasn’t Dream’s fault if they got bombarded with questions from civilians and followed around by the media for a good long hour or so after escaping.

The downtown area was lit up with a rather bright red, and in the legend, red was labeled as ‘20-11.’

“Top ten will gather at the center of Hero’s Square for the president’s speech. You will be expected to be on your best behavior, though I doubt none of you will not do so, as you will be constantly monitored by the thousands of people who will be gathered there. Your main task is protecting the citizens, in the event of a villain attack, your job is to get the civilians to safety before dealing with the villain.” Dream’s tone turned serious.

“I cannot stress that enough. For scouters, you must make sure civilians are not in the blast radius before you confront the villain, or you risk large civilian casualties. We do not want a repeat of last year.”

The heroes who had experienced last year’s Hero Day shivered, and even the trainees grimaced, having most certainly heard of it from their mentors.

“My team and I are also the only ones to engage the leaders of The Syndicate. This is very important . I truly do believe that anyone underneath rank #10 should not even think about trying to attack the top three villains. You will get injured. You can most certainly die. They hate heroes. They have no lines drawn for age, either. Do not engage Siren, Angel, or The Blade . I want everyone to repeat after me.”

“I will not engage with the top three villains.”

“I will not engage with the top three villains.” The room chorused after him.

“I will prioritize civilian safety over attacking the villain.”

“I will prioritize civilian safety over attacking the villain.”

“I will remember the basic rule of self-preservation.”

The room turned to a slight confused air after those words, but dutifully repeated Dream’s words.

“Yes. That’s right. If you believe you are losing the fight you are fighting, it is not cowardly to run away. At least at the end, you will be alive to feel cowardly, and that’s what I want. No lives lost because of villains.”

Dream changed tone again, wanting to bring the crowd from their saddened state. “Now, just because there are potential risks doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the festivities. There’s a chance that villains won’t even show up, and you can enjoy the day you’re celebrated for doing your job.”

The senior heroes laughed at that; the younger ones smiled, though not truly understanding. 

“And I’m sure you all want to go back to those same jobs, so I’ll wrap this up. All your shifts for the parade, as well as your schedules will be emailed to your hero accounts. Have a great rest of your day.”

As the crowd began to file out, Dream hopped off the stage to where Sapnap, George, Sam, and Ant were standing. 

“You sounded so professional. It was weird.” Sapnap said to him.

Dream smiled. “Are you saying I’m not professional all the time?”

“Yes.” All four said in unison, before looking at each other and laughing, with Dream joining in.

“No, honestly though.” George said in between bouts of laughter. “I heard a few newbies complaining that they have to patrol while us top heroes get to–” George cut off, snorting. “Sit around and be ‘praised like gods.’ They were-” George cut off to laugh again. “They–they were saying that it was unfair.”

They all burst into laughter again at that statement. 

“I would much rather be patrolling. If only they knew what a pain it is to stand around and smile while news reporters ask you deeply personal questions and follow you around all day.” Ant said.

“Oh, you have it easier than XD. Remember that year someone got down on one knee and proposed to him? With a ring and everything?” Sapnap commented, and they all burst into laughter again, this time without Dream.

“That was not funny!” Dream protested while the rest chortled.

“I didn’t even know who she was! I’d never seen her before, ever, in my life!” 

For some reason Dream couldn’t seem to comprehend, his friends continued to laugh at his expense, until Dream just decided to shake his head and move to leave.

“You know what, I’m pretty sure they’ll be emails for me to reply to. I’m leaving now.” As Dream turned and began to walk away, George and Sapnap caught up to him immediately.

“Aw, is little XD mad because we laughed at his traumatic experiences?” Sapnap teased in a babyish voice. 

Dream jabbed Sapnap’s bicep with one finger and he yelped.

Dream snickered.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!”

At that Dream, and even George stopped to stare at Sap.

“Really Sap? After you just laughed at him ?”

“I thought you said no names in the field!”

“That was with an audience!” 

“XD counts as an audience!”

“He knows both our names!”

“He still counts as an audience!”

“Are you serious?”

Dream just stood there, watching them bicker with profound amusement, leaning on one of the many empty chairs in the auditorium. Sam and Ant had apparently already left, leaving the three top heroes by themselves. 

And just like the last time he’d faced The Syndicate as a hero, they were interrupted by a loud beeping noise in their ears as their communicators flared up, the word ‘ALERT’ spelled in red.

It took Sam a moment to reach their comms, likely because he had probably been walking. 

“Syndicate up to some business in the North of downtown, Corsivan Drive. I’ll guide you. Ant’s coming with, because Nemesis was spotted nearby only an hour ago, and she’s been known to have connections with The Syndicate.” Sam recited, even knowing that everyone that would hear him already knew the things he was saying.

“Alright then.” XD replied, pulling down his mask. Sapnap grinned.

“Ready to have some fun, XD?”

Dream grinned back, though his two best friends couldn’t see it.

“Born ready.”

                                                                                 — — —

Dream stalks the battle from a nearby empty alley, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself.

There are still cameras around, and a news helicopter circling the perimeter of the fight from high up, likely knowing that they could be in serious danger if Angel and Phoenix came anywhere near them.

Well, that would make a dramatic re-entering, at least.

He’d actually seen many citizens pray for his safety at the statue of him when it was his first break day spent with Drista, and it was both heartwarming and amusing.

The city was told that XD had been seriously injured, and a coma was implied, but not straightforwardly said.

A very convenient reason for why Dream was going to absolutely pummel The Blade and smile while doing it: Revenge.

For XD, it was almost killing him and then ‘putting him into a coma.’

For Dream?

Because Blade broke into his house, interrogated him, annoyed him, and The Blade getting injured was the whole reason why civilian Dream was associated with villains! 

Dream is very justified in at least stabbing him a little.

“Calico! Backup!” 404 yelled as Siren stabbed at him with his katana.

Calico, in his hero suit consisting of a simple, breathable, flexible decorated body suit that let his cat hybrid features show, bared his pointed teeth and transformed into a black puma, snarling as he lept towards Siren, who backed off away from 404 and dodged the huge cat just in time.

The large panther landed in front of 404, where Siren had been moments before, twisting with his tail curved in the air, making him seem even bigger than he already was, ears flat against his head.

“ Sit, kitty.” Siren sang with his hypnotic voice, and Dream grimaced a little as the command rang through his head, a little teasing voice in the back of his mind. Because it wasn’t directed to him, though, it wasn’t nearly as effective, and Dream slipped past it easily.

Calico growled and shook his head before getting past the command as well and swiping at Siren, extending his sharpened claws.

Because Calico was a cat-hybrid and had the ability to shift into any kind of cat, Siren’s singing had less effect on him than any other hero, minus 404, which was why he often teamed up with 404 to attack Siren.

Siren’s face expression showed that he was widening his eyes behind the blindfold mask as he blocked using his katana, stabbing at the outstretched paw which Calico quickly withdrew, leaping at Siren and shifting into a tiger mid-air, skin rippling from a dark black to a bright orange, streaked with stripes.

He heard Phoenix yell into the comms. “404, you hog! Code 4!” 

Dream quickly looked up at that statement. Code 4 was used when someone was in a general life endangering situation, specifically while fighting The Syndicate’s leaders. 

A cry for help from anyone available.

Phoenix blasted a large stream of fire at The Blade on a nearby rooftop before turning and parrying a thrust sent by The Angel just in time, lunging forward and stabbing at his black wings and simultaneously dodging a tipped arrow from the ground.

Phoenix swore into the comm line as Angel managed to stab him on one of his arms, his wings immediately bursting into flames, making Angel back off quickly as Sapnap waded him away, arms igniting in a similar fashion. 

A wall of fire suddenly erupted around Phoenix, forming a shield around him while he likely recovered, the flame keeping anything and everything out, protecting the phoenix within.

Dream stood with his arm on his axe, uncertain whether he should reveal himself. But even if he did, how could he help Sapnap? They were battling in the air, and Dream definitely did not have wings.

A second later, and Siren cried out for help as well, 404 cornering him into a wall while Calico would constantly bombard him with attacks, lunging and swiping at him.

Dream’s head whips to The Blade, who makes an exasperated movement and leaps off the three-story building, rolling and recovering quickly, rushing towards where 404, Calico, and Siren are.

“Careful. Blade’s rushing your right, 404.” Dream said, retreating a bit into the shadows that were growing scarcer as the day progressed.

“Shit.” George swore, head turning in the direction Dream had indicated, warning Ant before drawing his bow, shooting an arrow.

The Blade deftly dodged it, smirking. “Oh, that was very deadly. Very dangerous indeed.” He twirled his sword with one hand, clearly showing off.

“I’m gonna need you to just like, die now.” George’s muscles tensed, and he drew his bow, launching another well-aimed arrow at The Blade’s chest. The Blade spun, twisting away from it effortlessly, making it seem like he was moving slowly, even.

“Bruh. It’s like you’re not even tryin’.” The Blade still wore a smug expression on his face.

The Blade suddenly darted at George with speed Dream factually knew only XD could keep up with; it was like a blur, a flash of movement like a trick of the eye.

George yelped as The Blade slashed him on the shoulder, and tried to retaliate, but The Blade darted away again, just a meter away.

“Calico! Exchange!” George yelled without turning his gaze away from The Blade, who only raised an eyebrow, still smirking.

George and Ant swapped; Calico shifted into a beagle tiger, showing off his large, sharp canines to The Blade, who drew his sword lazily. 404 pulled out his double-sided sword, colored in a navy blue at the handle and a lighter shade of blue for the blade, facing Siren who had his gold and black katana ready.

Dream focused on Ant v Blade, as it was more likely that he would have to intervene. Ant didn’t have much experience with fighting The Blade, and Blade’s unique style of fighting certainly gave him an advantage. 

Ant opened first: a good choice. He lunged, which Blade sidestepped, and then had to parry a ferocious bite for his leg, swinging at Ant’s head, which was ducked, Ant flattening his ears as he did so.

Dream sighed quietly in relief. Then, he tensed up again and regained a tight hold on his axe when he heard a muffled thump.

Ant growled, on his back, obviously thrown to the floor by The Blade’s sheer strength his piglin traits provided him with. He clawed at Blade as he tried to get closer to pin him, before The Blade smiled forebodingly.

The Blade swung his sword directly at Ant’s left paw, and he withdrew it, snarling, attempting to get back to his feet. However, The Blade didn't allow him, quickly using his speed to pin his left paw first, then his right in less than a second, and soon he had Ant pushed against the pavement, struggling and hissing, claws extended, but futilely.

Dream’s eyes widened, and his feet had a bounce to them, adrenaline pumping through his head and into the rest of his body.  

“Bruhh. You heroes are so borin’. Well, just say goodbye, I guess.” The Blade turned his sword into a stabbing position, and held it above Ant’s throat. The cat froze for a second, slitted eyes widening in fear.

Dream found that he didn’t need to tell his body to move; it did that on its own.

He’s launching himself at The Blade with precision and purpose, and The Blade turns just in time, a rare surprised look flickering in his gaze before he blocks, gritting his teeth as Dream pushes his weight behind the force of his axe.

“Did you miss me? I sure didn’t miss you.” Dream grinned behind the mask at the caught off guard expression of The Blade’s, an infrequent occurrence for sure.

“Gotta say, your teammates suck. Honestly, at this point you should just be a one man hero force. It’d actually be more effective, one hundred percent.” The Blade replied, recovering smoothly.

“Damn. Harsh. I’ll totally take advice from the villain that put me in a coma.” Dream broke away from the push, swinging hard at The Blade unprotected leg, which was parried, and he dodged a slice at his chest with ease.

“Hah. Nerd.” The Blade just barely revealed a huff of exertion when Dream pushed against him once again, this time with true, unconcealed anger.

“I missed out on two weeks of my life because of you and Angel. I’m justified in drawing a bit of blood.” The Blade smirked again, and that only made Dream push harder, blood beginning to boil.

While his words may not be exactly verifiable, his anger definitely was, and he didn’t even need to forcefully draw it up from deep within him: it was already there, sitting impatiently in his head, waiting to be released.

A stab at his arm wielding his axe made him tuck it in, ducking and swinging at the momentarily undefended arm, which was sidestepped. Soon, it became a flurry of blades clashing against each other with speed and force that only their battles were made of, Dream moving with twirls and grace, focusing on his speed advantage, while The Blade moved with heavy hits and decisive dodges, obviously focusing on his strength advantage.

Their banter ceased as their conflict began to move even faster, both Dream’s axe and The Blade’s sword slicing through the air at a speed almost unseeable to the eye. Dream barely had time to think before each movement, and it was mainly his skill and instinct leading him.

Eventually, slowly but surely, Dream noticed that he was gradually exhausting The Blade.

He was–

He was winning. 

That knowledge filled him with a new rush of adrenaline, and he found himself going even faster still, forcing the Blade to keep up with him and his wave of re-energised attacks.

A gasp made him slow for a second; Sam in his comm came back into focus, one word making itself clear to him: “Nemesis.” 

Ah. So the #4 ranked villain had finally decided to resurface after the explosion in the city square nearly two months ago, and the answer was explicit.

She had come to help The Syndicate.

Nemesis’ abilities consisted of S tier hydrokinesis, and she was well aware of just how deadly she could be. Proficient in her wielding, and creative in her ways of using it, those two factors alone already made her a formidable adversary, and that wasn’t counting the fact that she had strong connections with The Syndicate leaders themselves, having been seen helping and aiding them multiple times.

Dream muttered into his mic, “Mute.” An automated voice answered. “Your outer mic is now muted.”

“Calico. Are you in good enough condition to deal with Nemesis for a while?”

“Well enough.”

Dream took that as a confirmation.

“404, what’s your situation?”

“Siren’s abandoned me. He’ll be coming your way in a few.”

“Copy that. Go on crowd control. There are still some lingering reporters. Get them out of here and then assist Calico. Warden?”

“Heard you. I’ll get those helicopters out of the danger zone.” 

“Phoenix. How’s Angel?”

“I think he’s giving up on me. Uhh, he’s also coming your way. Better prepare for both Siren and Angel at once.”

Dream grimaced, parrying a heavy jab thrown his way, retaliating with a thrust which was blocked. He was taken by surprise when The Blade suddenly was stabbing at his mask, at his face, and he said into his personal mic quickly, “Shield.” 

His netherite shield sprung up from his wrist, blocking the hit, and Dream took momentary pleasure in the startled countenance that found its way to his rival’s usually unreadable face, using it to stab his arm, which landed before The Blade twisted away quickly, grimacing at the blood that dripped down. 

“Shit." Could Dream fight both of them at once? "‘K, can you–” A distinguishable whistle of an arrow made him sidestep immediately, cutting off his words. He turned to see both Angel and Siren standing behind him menacingly. 

Dream’s gaze lingered on Angel, which could be passed as intrigue and anger at the same time. In truth, Dream was feeling reluctance. This man had saved his life. Did he really want to fight him now?

Then again, he’d saved The Blade’s life, and he definitely wasn’t regretting stabbing him.

Instead, he tilted his head both mockingly and invitingly. 

“You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

That was enough of an invitation. All three Syndicate leaders launched at him from all sides. Dream’s eyes widened, though careful not to show any kind of panic, ( any kind of weakness , his mind whispered to him) instead letting his survival instinct take control and he leapt into the air above them, managing to land away from them, taking a forward roll.

Before he knew it, he was in the midst of a bloody battle, where swords clashed quicker than the eye could see and the participants moved so quickly that it looked as though they were slightly blurry. 

Dream ducked fluidly from the swing of a katana, slicing back harshly. He smiled victoriously when he heard a swear from Siren, looking up to see him clutching his right arm which had a long, deep cut on it, the cut even going down to the leg behind it. 

Angel swiftly covered Siren's retreat.

Somewhere during this time, he muttered into his mic, “Unmute.”

He didn’t have much time to celebrate taking Siren out of the game, as there were still the other two-thirds of the top three villains, and they were arguably much more threatening. 

He fought them both by using them against each other. While they were experienced in teaming up, they didn’t truly know each other’s skill set, what the other could do. Dream knew this because this was a weakness his own team had. His team, however, was slightly larger and had a ‘guy in the chair,’ as well as training facilities worth millions of dollars.

And a certain…

Unique way to train.

Based on these factors, it seemed obvious that Dream would somehow win.

And win he did.

It’s a moment later when he finally manages to twirl and use that momentum to land a large heavy-hitter on The Angel’s abdomen, and his black wings flared up to cover the wound, and Dream just barely managed to elude an equally fierce retaliating strike. His heart thumped, eyes soaking in every detail. 

It felt weirdly calming, though he was risking his life every moment he was out here. Now, the only real threat to him was The Syndicate; anyone else was practically child's play. Maybe his friends, but that was all.

This was something he enjoyed. The rush of battle, the fight for survival. Protecting the innocent, with almost no harm to yourself. Mostly.

He made himself give off an air of smugness. “Out of practice? ”

The Angel didn’t answer, only lunging forward, talons extended and sharp. Dream rolled out of the way, and The Angel flared his wings, using that little time in the air to take off into the sky, pulling out his bow and shooting a few arrows. Dream dodged, switching his axe into a bow as well, drawing back, and firing a weakness tipped arrow.

He saw the dark blur come down to the ground, Angel just managing to land safely before collapsing behind The Blade.

Now, he had one final opponent. An injured one. He stalked towards The Blade in a predatory way, an unseen gleam in his eye.

Was this really it? Was this the chance he’s been waiting for, for the six years of conflict, of potentially lethal confrontations?

Could he finally win?

The universe said no.

“STOP! XD, you better stop right now. ”  Nemesis’ desperate voice made him spin, weapon drawn.

Nemesis held a soaking wet, unconscious Calico in her arms. He noted with some grim satisfaction that she had multiple animal scratches along her arms, and one bite mark on her throat.

A rather large puddle of water lay next to the two, and he narrowed his eyes, portraying that movement in his body language.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she had probably caught Ant unawares; managing to deprive him of oxygen long enough for him to pass out from asphyxiation. 

Nemesis pulled out a long, wicked knife, decorated with carvings of aquatic related things. Her signature weapon.

A beautiful weapon to send you to the afterlife. A heavenly ticket to hell.

“You’ll drop your weapons right now, and surrender.”

“And if I don’t?” Dream was careful to keep his voice even as multiple different possibilities ransacked his brain, possible solutions coming and being dismissed, until he settled on one. The most risky, but the most likely to work.

And if anyone got injured, it would most likely be him.

“Your friend here,” She pressed against his undefended throat. He tensed slightly, eyeing the knife warily.

“Dies.”

There was only one thing Dream could do.

Chapter Text

Dream dropped his axe. It clattered to the pavement with a distinct sound, ringing in the silence as if the city itself was holding its breath.

He had to tread lightly. There was going to be cameras soon; he was sure of it. While there might not be as much anymore thanks to 404 and Sam, some civilians really didn’t have any self-preservation instincts. The media would be back in about twenty minutes, at most. 

And with XD on the scene, having already done so many new things? And having it be his re-entering fight?

There was no chance that the media would finally think about the potential risk that is running into a hero-villain fight as a civilian .

“Hand where I can see them!” Nemesis demanded, pressing slightly harder on Ant’s throat. Dream was quick to raise his hands in the surrender motion, wrestling his heart into a controlled beat.

“Phoenix.” He was careful to say it quietly. 

“Do you copy? Did you hear that?”

“Loud and clear. What do you need me to do?”

“Cover me from anyone that tries to intervene.”

Sapnap knew him well enough to predict what would happen next.

“Are you serious? You’re going to die. You just fought all three of the most destructive and lethal villains in the country, heck, the continent, and now you want to– have you gone insane?! Can you even– do that? That fast?” 

Funny. That was what Drista had said to him the morning she found him passed out and a blood-soaked couch.

“Everyone’s said that millions of times, and I’m still here.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Just cover me .” He grit out his last words.

Sapnap huffed in frustration but didn’t try to argue any further. 

“Copy that.” Sapnap eventually answered in a resigned voice.

See, Dream knew that this stunt would never work with The Blade. The Blade, whose reaction time was the same–if not better– to his own.

Nemesis though? 

It’ll probably work just fine.

“Let him go.” Dream said in a neutral but demanding tone, eyes hooked on the knife.

“Don’t think so.” Nemesis replied, chin slightly raising. 

“Here’s the deal. I take him, and you let us all go. Then, you can trade this little kitty back later. Otherwise? He dies now."

Dream was aware of everything at his disposal, and well, there was a course of action that could potentially get him killed, but save everyone else.

He’ll trust his Luck to handle that problem.

Besides, it was a low probability anyway.

“Sorry. No deal.” 

Dream hand flew to his belt, and he procured a splash potion that glittered with the light color of the sky above.

Speed III. His own creation.

He cracked it down onto himself, the glass of the bottle shattering upon impact.

 A burst of adrenaline shoved itself through him, and he felt as though he could see everything. The glass is littered on the floor, and a few shards attempt to poke itself through the netherite fabric of his costume, to no avail. The world seemed brighter; his targets clearer.

This was the reason why Dream loved swiftness potions. 

There was a moment of hesitation from Nemesis, one second where she didn't drop the knife down on Calico’s defenseless self.

With swiftness, one moment was more than enough.

He has Ant in his right arm in a flash, and his left pulls out his bo staff. 

Almost immediately after, a burst of water aimed at his chest comes streaming towards him, and he dodges, his figure blurred as he moves. 

Behind him, flame shoots from the sky with a clear target as The Blade tries to follow, blocking his path as Sapnap descends down wearing wings of blazing fire.

Another flash, and he’s shoving Ant into a bewildered and caught off guard 404, who takes him without question.  

His staff twirls in his arms as he launches himself back at his new opponent, who looks much more sure of herself than he would like. 

But Dream knows that he has the advantage.

After all, with enough speed, it was just as good as strength. Potentially better.

He’s happy to say that he did manage to whack her in the chest after going 60 miles per hour, which is a hard feat. It definitely takes some practice to get used to these speeds, and well….

How to stop.

She hisses in what must be brutal pain, winded and in that all too familiar pain of broken ribs(maybe internal bleeding or even a punctured lung, his mind unhelpfully supplies) as he spins away from another blast of water like a ballerina in a battlefield, eventually breaking his staff into two, wielding his escrima sticks just as efficiently.

“You might as well just give up now.” He suggests, spinning and dodging new attacks and causing some bad bruises everywhere he can hit.

Which was almost everywhere.

 She glares at him with an intense, furious rage, clutching her midchest. 

She hates him, he realizes. 

For some reason, Nemesis hates him for something other than his position as a hero. 

Another twirl away from a spray, and he twirls his escrima sticks along with him before pointing them at Nemesis with a smirk and pressing down on a button.

A beam of electricity shot out of the end of his escrima, and she curled her fists and bit her lip and she shook before stumbling, this particular weapon designed to work like a taser. 

Dream was on her in a second, sticking his escrima back together before letting his staff morph into the axe, pointing it at her face. She froze, before she eyes something behind him.

Dream just barely manages to block as Angel dives into him from the sky, and they’re both thrown to the ground, wrestling. 

Eventually, Dream manages to throw The Angel off of him and get to his feet, and the #2 villain procures a sword.

Battling The Angel was unlike any other villain. For one, his wings gave him a speed advantage to everyone. Dream is proud to say that that particular unsaid rule didn’t apply to him, or Sapnap. 

The Angel didn’t fight like The Blade, all heavy hits and precise moves. His wings gave him grace and agility, often being able to fly over his opponents when he tires and then go back in once he’s recovered. That was the reason why he was Sapnap’s arch nemesis, not Dream’s.

The Angel relied on his wings. Far too much.

A weakness to exploit, along with the fact that The Angel of Death was already injured.

An intense battle ensues, with Dream eventually standing victorious, albeit even more exhausted than before. He holds his axe against The Angel’s wings threateningly, having them pinned as he holds the villain tightly with one arm, Angel’s arms trapped at his sides.

“Oh, XD~” The Blade calls tauntingly. 

The Blade doesn’t manage to hide the underlying worry in his voice.

Has one of his teammates seriously managed to get themselves into more trouble?

He turns to look in the direction Blade was, and finds him with a sword pointed at Sapnap’s chest, stepping on damp, drenched feathers with no effort to be gentle. 

Every movement of The Blade’s boots make Sapnap hiss in pain. Dream clenched his fist around his axe in an angry motion.

“I’m not exactly feelin’ nice right now, after you stabbed me, so I think I’ll just murder this guy. That sounds pretty fun. Not for you, of course, but definitely for me.” 

Dream’s eyes widened at those words, mind immediately spinning into possible contingencies and solutions. He remembered Angel still at the edge of his axe.

Oh god, he was going to hate himself for doing this.

It takes a lot of willpower to bring the axe away from the jet black feathers and have it rest against The Angel’s neck, like Nemesis had done to Ant just a few minutes ago.

He just hates himself more after The Angel of Death tenses, freezing in naked fear. 

He hates with all his heart, hurting people, however terrible that person may be. After all, this is a guy who has saved his life.

Even Sapnap twitches in surprise, but makes no other movements. The Blade, on the other hand, flinched, red eyes seemingly starting to glow as he stared at Dream.

“You let him go. Now.” Dream shocks himself with just how calm and decisive he sounds, as if..

As if he’s done this before.

Dream’s so going to hate himself after this. He already felt like gagging at the sheer thought that he could even....

But, he reminds himself. I don’t have time for that now .

He has a very limited timeframe before the reporters decided that it had been long enough and came back. It wouldn’t exactly be good if they saw him doing this.

He forces calmness and firmness into his voice, letting it ring. 

“Step away from Phoenix. Or Siren will soon be having a two next to his name.” The Blade bared his teeth, the simple gesture radiating with furious rage.

Dream prayed The Blade didn’t call his bluff.

Please, please, please. Please.

He knows he could never bring himself to kill a person. 

Dream once again wrestled his heart back into control, fearing that The Angel would be able to feel his anxiety.

His heart collapsed in sheer relief when The Blade pulled Sapnap up, keeping the sword trained on his chest. 

Then, it became known to him that The Blade really thought he was terrible enough of a person that he would murder someone and then smile at the media a second later, saying that he saved them once again.

God. The villains really think he’s a monster. 

“We can do a trade. On three.” The Blade kept his eyes trained on Dream.

“I count.”

The Blade jaw tightened, but didn’t argue; Dream felt The Angel give a small shake of his head.

“One.” They both clenched their hold around their hostage.

“Two.” Dream readied himself.

“Three.

Dream shoved Angel forward just as Blade let go of Phoenix. The latter spread his wings, fire surrounding them. Probably dry enough to do so after Dream’s ‘negotiation’. Sapnap took off, The Angel following suit.

He’s ready to launch into another battle, but relaxes slightly when The Blade turns tail and retreats. Nemesis is already nowhere to be found, and so was Siren. He had a half mind to try and give chase, but he was already so tired. He settled for just watching the villain’s retreating forms.

Something slams into him, and he tenses, his brain thinking it’s another enemy, that the villains didn’t really retreat, until his body realizes that it’s being hugged.

“You absolute fucking idiot. Don’t you ever do something like that again, okay?” Sapnap sounded like he was angry, but there was relief underneath his voice.

“Unless we somehow get into the exact same scenario again.”

“You dumbfucker.” Sapnap hugged him tightly.

“Ew, Phoenix, you’re getting your blood on me. And you’re being nice. It’s weird.” Sapnap grinned, releasing him.

Then, joyful air turned somber once more when they both realized the same thing.

“404? Calico?” They both said into the comms.

“I’m here!” Whipping their heads around to the source of the voice, they smiled when they saw 404 waving thirty feet away from them.

Dream and Sapnap quickly rushed over, assessing George and Ant for any new injuries. When they found nothing but a sprained ankle on 404, they all sighed in relief.

“And once again, I’m the only one with no injuries.” Dream teased, and his friends all groaned, even Sam.

“Let’s just go–” George cut off and turned his head, sighing slightly in despair.

In one motion, about ten different reporters surrounded the group of heroes, XD in particular. 

He simply smiled on instinct, pushing his mask up to reveal his mouth.  

“XD! XD! How do you feel about your return?”

“Are the villains finally leaving?”

“How are you after battling all of The Syndicate at once? That’s certainly no easy feat!”

Dream latched onto the final question, finding the answer harmless.

“I’m doing great, thank you for asking. And I’m glad to be back. I just wish it didn’t have to be so… violent.” Dream got many smiles and chuckles from his remark.

“And I’m happy to finally be serving the community again.” Dream coated his words in honey, emanating a warm smile in both his tone and expression.

“Will the damage take long to repair?”

 “I’m afraid it might, though we'll do everything we can to speed up the process. I’m sure the road will be open once again in less than a day.”

The reporters and camera crews replaced their worried and excited faces with calm smiles.

“We’re so grateful to have you back, XD!” Another reporter shouted, and the rest agreed in another flurry of voices.

Dream turned his head to the camera, a smile still plastered on his face. 

“I feel flattered, honestly. I’m just doing my job.”

The reporters shouted reassurances, and he gave them a grateful look.

“Truly, thank you. My team and I must be getting going now, as there are some wounds to attend to. Thank you again! I’ll see you soon.”

He waved them away as police cars arrived on the scene, as well as a few lower ranked heroes to serve as a safety net for any more questions.

They snuck away onto the rooftops, and Dream scooped up George, earning a yelp.

“Put me down, XD! I can walk!”

“Not with a wounded shoulder and sprained ankle, you won’t.”

“I’m fine, put me down.”

“No can do.”

George sighed, before suddenly having a thought come to him.

“How do you always manage to get the media off your tail? I need a skill like that.”

“Try being nicer and more open, and less sullen and angry.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

George huffed in exasperation.

Sapnap snickered from above them, carrying Ant.

George glowered at both of them.

                                                                                 — — —

Ant lay on the bed on the left side facing the door. George and Sapnap sat on the bed next to it, and Sam sat on a stool. Dream stood, leaning on the wall.

They all watched as Ponk gently placed his hands on Ant’s chest, and a soft yellow glow shone from his fingertips, not unlike Dream’s own power.

Ponk stepped back after a few seconds, satisfied. 

And, as if on queue, Ant blinked open his eyes blearily. He spotted XD first, who waved, smiling, before noticing the rest of his company.

Then, Ant deflated. “Don’t tell me I missed everything again .”

George, Sapnap, and Sam all grinned. 

“You missed out on XD kicking the villain’s asses. Again .” Sapnap chuckled at Ant’s exasperated stare.

“Hey, Sappy Nappy, you also got held hostage. Don’t bully poor Ant.” Sapnap turned a glower onto George, who smirked cheekily. Ant just looked confused.

“It’s not my fault! I’m fighting The Blade from the sky, and then I just get shot down by like a tidal wave, alright? I didn’t even know where she came from! And I didn’t pass out.” Sapnap added. 

“I don’t know how that makes a difference.”

“It makes all the difference!”

Dream let them all bicker back and forth, before freezing.

“Wait, did any of you pick up my axe?”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

Dream pinpointed Sapnap’s sheepish smile and connected him to the last answer. “I thought you wouldn’t notice.” 

“What do you mean, wouldn’t notice? That’s my favorite weapon!” Dream crossed his arms, unimpressed. 

Sapnap pulled out Nightmare, which glimmered as it was brought into the sunlight that streamed in through the window covered wall facing the city, and handed it to Dream. He tested its weight again before tying it back on his belt.

“I wanted to try and play Manhunt with it.” Sapnap admitted, bursting out into laughter when Dream turned his head over and stared at him.

“Can you even swing it?”

Sapnap spluttered, turning slightly red. “Of course.”

“Oh really.”

“I’m serious!” 

“I mean, if you can convince the rest to play a game of Manhunt. Especially Ant. He just woke up.”

Yep. This was their way of training. 

A game where the rest of his team tries their best to hunt him down and ‘kill’ him. His job?

Kill the dragon at the last level of the game.

Wow. That sounded rather egotistical, that it was harder to kill him than a literal dragon.

 But it was painfully true.

Both Sapnap and Dream’s gaze wandered over to the person in question, who looked taken aback.

“Uhh, I mean sure, if George and Sam–”

“Yes!”

Sam and George immediately answered, excited smiles in their eyes and on their mouths.

Dream was suddenly thrust into a memory, with one other person who was missing from this exchange. Their fifth hunter.

Oh, Halo, where did you go?

Then, all of a sudden, his other four friends all turned to look at him at once. Dream blinked, bewildered by their unusual intrigue and thrown out of his temporary deja vu.

“Uhh..” He made a show of heaving a sigh and slumping his shoulders. 

“You agreed, XD! There’s no turning back!” George got up from the bed and nudged him playfully. Dream shook his head.

Maybe playing a game of Manhunt might take my mind off of the battle this morning. 

“Alright. If you say so.”

His four friends grinned, light in their eyes. Ponk just sighed dramatically, leaving the room to get more medical supplies.

                                                                                 — — —

And of course, that is the story of how he ended up here. In the training room, their new manhunt simulation already started. They were all decked out in their full outfits, albeit with no armor and weapons, and Sapnap wore a wing concealing bracelet that hid his wings from view and rendered them useless.

His eyes darted from the four hunters that surrounded him in a circle, turning his head and body around and surveying the landscape, piping himself up for a chase.

His gaze latched onto the oak forest behind him, rather than the plains in front. Somewhere easy to gather materials, and to parkour.

He turned towards the forest, using reverse psychology; he made it painfully obvious that he was running towards the forest. The hunters readied themselves, eyes trained on Dream with wary expressions.

Then, he shoved Sam who was standing in his way into Sapnap beside him and darted for the trees.

“He’s running!”

“Get him!”

He got a few attempts at tackling him to the floor, but nothing else as he quickly increased speed.

Dream paid no mind to the hunter’s yelling behind him. Instead, he leapt onto a stable-looking branch on a tree, swinging himself up into the higher branches. Thinner, but ironically safer. And, as no one had any arrows or weapons yet, there was no way the hunters could catch up to him now.

The treetops were his domain.

“Not again, XD! I swear, you do this every time!”

Dream snickered at George’s annoyed yell as they followed him from the ground.

“Maybe because it works every time .” Dream answered back.

He stared at the hunters below him, following him as he swung on vines and hopped on branches, rapidly losing the hunters.

Dream observed his surroundings, and it was clear that he would have to slow down eventually when he got tired and/or needed food. He stopped when he reached a particularly tall oak tree, and scaled it, eventually crouching down on a bend on the branches that hid him from view.

A few minutes later, Sapnap and Sam arrived at the base of his tree. 

“Where’d he go?” Sam checked his compass as Ant and George came into view.

“Guys, it’s spinning every time we move. He has to be right above or below us.”

Saying that, he looked up, peering at the dark spot where Dream was hidden. He flattened himself against the trunk, quieting his breaths.

Eventually, Sam and the rest of the hunters looked away. 

“He must have dug down. Or… Is there a cave nearby?”

“Don’t think so. Look, guys, he’s got to be right below us! Dig!”

“How could he have dug? He doesn’t have anything to dig that fast.”

“Oh, right! Good thinking, Ant!”

Dream cursed in his head. That little intermission where they were arguing gave him enough time to gather wood and make a crafting bench, but now he had to get out of this tree without being seen and he was home free. 

At least, for a while.

He crafted a sword and a pickaxe.

“But that means..”

“He’s in the tree.” They all finished together.

Dream dropped down onto Sapnap, the one he deemed most dangerous. He heard a muffled grunt underneath him as he brandished his new weapon dangerously.

“Oh, George!” Dream chased as George’s eyes widened and sprinted away from him, deeper into the forest.

“Guys, help me! XD’s going to kill me, do something! ” George screamed as Dream chased him, swiftly gaining on him.

As soon as he caught up to George, he tackled him, poking him in the chest with the wooden sword.

George groaned in disappointment as he dematerialized, the teleporters bringing him back to spawn. 

“How dare you kill George!” Sapnap yelled, though with a humorous tone behind it, conveniently also announcing his presence. Dream whipped his head around and rolled to dodge a stab of a wooden sword.

A few blows were exchanged, and he grunted when he was harshly hit on his leg before Dream ducked and spun, ‘stabbing’ Sapnap in his exposed back.

“Fuck.” Sapnap swore as he dematerialised.

Without confirming that Sam and Ant were indeed behind him, he picked up Sapnap’s sword that lay on the floor (so that Sam and Ant couldn’t get it) and bolted, running in a straight line.

Dream stopped to craft a few boats and mining, getting iron tools, a flint and steel a bucket, and armor, as well as food, but nothing else. Finally, when he was sure that he’d lost the hunters, he slowed his pace to a brisk walk, still surveying the land for anything potentially useful. 

When he reached the desert, he stopped, contemplating. There was a high chance he could get a desert temple, and the tnt there would be useful in the nether. On the other hand, if he didn’t find one before the hunters caught up to him, it would’ve been a huge waste of time.

Dream decided to take the risk.

And it paid off, because just ten minutes later, the shape of a desert temple made itself known in the distance. As he got closer, he realized that there was a village right behind it.

“Ooooh.” Dream said into the comms, and the hunters expressed their annoyance.

“Whenever you make that noise, you’ve either found something good or am doing something that’ll screw us over.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Dream replied, smiling as he leapt down the dark chasm, broke the pressure plate and the explosives underneath, and began looting the chests.

He found a notch apple, and two golden apples, a punch II book, gold and iron ingots, and three diamonds.

What is his luck?

When he received the advancement in chat, the hunters’ voices delved into a mixture of urging each other to hurry up, wondering how he got diamonds, wondering where he was, and freaking out.

He laughed as he took hay bales and beds from the village, before Dream’s head shot up when a flick of what could only be molten lava shot into his vision.

This was shaping out to be a great start.

                                                                                 — — —

Dream entered the nether portal and closed his eyes as he was teleported to the second level of the game.

Ignoring his friend’s screaming in the comms, he was instead focusing on hopping fluidly between rocks of the basalt delta and leaping over huge pools of lava like a graceful doe.

When he eventually scaled a huge netherrack wall, he pumped his fist into the air celebratorily as he dove over the huge expanse of lava and clutched with a piece of netherrack, towering up and receiving another advancement achievement.

“Honestly, you guys, what are you doing? Usually you’re chasing me by now.” Dream opened a chest and collected the two diamonds inside and two ingots of gold, leaving the rest of the worthless loot behind.

“I told you that this was a bad idea. For you.” Dream added as an afterthought, vaulting up nether brick stairs in search of a blaze spawner.

“Well, how about this?” Sapnap retorted.

Four pings sounded in his communicator. He huffed, glancing at the words written on the screen.

“Just because you have diamonds doesn’t mean you’ll be catching up to me anytime soon.” His words were left unanswered.

He smirked as he heard the whooshes of flame, clearly sent by a blaze. 

A few crits and close calls later, as well as a few minor burns, Into Fire sent into chat.

“Honestly, at this point, I’m going to get to the stronghold before you even reach the nether.” Dream commented offhandedly, picking up his last blaze rod and stowing it away into his inventory.

“Just you wait.”

“Uh huh. If this is a strategy, it’s a really bad one.”

“Just you wait.”

“Okay then.” Dream shrugged, even though the hunters couldn’t see the action.

                                                                                 — — —

He leaned over the hole he had dug, carefully picking up any useful items as he simultaneously threw down more gold. The piglin snorted, inspecting the shiny metal before tossing down ender pearls.

“Yes!” He picked up the orbs with glee, an astonished gasp escaping him.

“Oh my gosh, this is the max amount! You guys are done.”

Just then, another four pings originating from his communicator made him pull it out, storing away the pearls.

“We would’ve been here ages ago if it weren’t for someone. ”

“Hey!”

“Where are you, XD?”

“Oh, you’re so done, XD.”

“Not if you can’t catch up to me.” Dream released the piglin, picking up the spectral arrows on the floor before sprinting away, eventually finding himself in a soul sand valley.

He carefully jumped from block to block, placing them down beneath him, when the distinct sound of footsteps breaking into a run made him turn back. His eyes widened as his jumps became hops and his block placement more frantic.

“WHAT!”

“Come here, XD! We just want to kill you!”

“I’m screwed. I’m screwed. I can’t even do anything!” Dream exclaimed, and the hunters grinned.

Sapnap headed the group, and Dream sprint jumped, trying to get as far away from them as possible.

The hunter group stood out from the large nether expanse, colored red, orange, and brown, with the occasional soul fire blue.

Sapnap himself wore full enchanted diamond armor and an enchanted axe and sword, like the team’s attack dog, while the rest wore only enchanted diamond chestplates and leggings, with tools.

“XDDDD!” Sapnap yelled, and as Dream finally got out of the valley and dashed full speed through the crimson forest that bordered the valley.

“Just slow down! I just want to talk, and maybe kill you, I don’t know!”

“Hell no! I’m not stupid!”

He vaulted over a small hill and swung himself onto a crimson vine, flying through the air and onto a tree.

Once again, he darted from tree to tree. The hunters still chasing behind him, he eventually reached a large lava lake. He scanned his inventory, only now realizing he didn’t have enough blocks to get over it.

He quickly placed down his crafting bench, making a diamond axe and then gripping it tightly as Sapnap came into view.

“Fight me, XD! Let’s see who wins!”

Dream launched a heavy slash at Sapnap; it hit, but only bounced off his superior armor. A few more attempts were made until Dream concluded that it was futile to try and attack them now.

He’d have to get them with fall damage, hopefully. Lava or the void later on if he wasn’t.

They continued fighting on the edge of the high cliff overlooking a lava lake. When Dream finally managed another heavy hit on Sapnap’s leg, knowing that it would be a distraction, he turned to sprint away.

Sapnap lets out a seemingly pained gasp behind him, and he falters.

He stops short, turning around, worry in his stance. He goes to open his mouth to ask if he’s okay, if they need to stop the manhunt, while also wondering how he possibly could’ve gotten hurt.

“Are you–” He starts, real concern lacing his tone.

Big mistake.

Before he knew it, he was shoved into the lava lake with the handle of a sword. 

He yelps as he falls over the edge, seeing a victorious Sapnap still standing on the precarious cliffs above.

As he plunges down, he fumbles into his inventory with both shock and surprise. His eyes land on the notch apple collected earlier, and he summons it into his hand as he hits the surface of the molten lava.

It doesn’t hurt: actually, the impact stung more as he slowly sank, slight pain shaking through him. He can hear the hunters yelling in victory in his ear, but he’s more focused on the fact that he can’t see through the thick expanse of the orangey yellow.

Then, his mind recalls that if he doesn’t get out of the lava or some other remedy to cease the theoretical damage he’s getting, he’ll lose the manhunt.

He frantically bites into the apple, breathing a sigh of relief when its effects pass through him as he swims. The lava feels less like lava and more like hot water. However, the consistency is thicker, and he eventually pops his head out of the surface, ignoring his friend’s confused shouts from above.

He eventually gets back onto shore, breathing heavily as he lays there, tired out from pushing his way through the magma, while still keeping an eye on the hunters who are still standing at the edge of the lake.

Then, a large wave of embarrassment hits him when he realizes that he just had a truly stupid moment. Of course Sapnap was okay; he had full enchanted diamond armor!

He got caught up in the moment. 

(And maybe he saw Drista there, too, for a moment. His friend. His sister. Not very different, in his eyes)

Dream will blame it on the fact that he technically crossed a line of his to save Sapnap’s life earlier in the day. 

Sunk-cost fallacy, or whatever.

“That was– unfair, Sapnap! I was actually…. worried! That should not be allowed.” Dream demands shakily, and his friends go quiet.

“We didn’t say that was against the rules.” Sapnap defends.

“It….. should be.” Dream says in between breaths, shaking himself and getting to his feet.

“WELL, I already did it, so there’s no turning back now.”

Dream stayed silent after that, before turning and staring at Sapnap’s figure in the distance with a deadpan look.

“Seriously?”

“What?!”

Dream heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes and continuing his journey back to his portal.

“XD?”

Dream didn't reply. 

“XD, I’m sorry ! Don’t get into a big brother tantrum!”

Dream continued walking, not saying a word.

“Oh, come on! XDDdddd!” Sapnap whined as George laughed at him.

“I promise I won’t do it againnn! Stop being maaaad, please?”

His pleas went unanswered and ignored.

“Come oooon!”

“XDDdddddd!”

Eventually, of course, Dream made it back to his portal just to find that it was covered in lava, albeit (clearly) hastily. He stopped the source blocks and hopped through, still ignoring the heartful pleas from Sapnap to say something.

He reached the overworld and threw his eye of ender after covering the portal on the other side full of lava, and with zero remorse.

He also hoped that Sapnap was the one that went in first.

He followed the eye of ender that zoomed through the sky like a star, until it went downwards into the grass instead of up above him, and his eye lit, digging down.

And if he smiled when he heard Sapnap yell, “Really, XD! Lava?” 

Well, you didn’t see him do it.

And if you did?

Ignore it.

He also likewise ignored the pings that sounded in his ear, instead diving into a search for the end portal room. He traversed the narrow, dark corridors of stone, fighting off undead creatures and spiders, finding extra food and pearls in a few of the chests.

The end portal was a welcome sight. He stabbed the three silverfish and placed the eyes into the frames, hopping in as fast as possible. 

He was hoping to win this already and get it over with.

He blinked as he registered where he was standing.

A huge obsidian platform was beneath him, the only barrier from the rather terrifying dark void below. He pulled out one of his leftover ender pearls, grunting in slight pain when the world squeezed in and out of nothingness. 

A roar vibrated through his skull and rang through the air. He looked up to see the huge, winged beast that was the ender dragon fly through, jaw opened and spewing purple breath.

He stood in awe for a moment, wondering how Sam managed to make the scales look so real, how the eyes seemed so human and realistic, even though it was all just a simulation.

He towered up to the highest of the obsidian pillars.

When the hunters finally arrive on the platform, there are explosions that sound as Dream meticulously aimed and shot arrows that burst the crystals atop the pillars in huge flashes of light.

“Guys, we have to stop him!” Sam yelled, and his fellow hunter gave various sounds of approval.

He grinned, before sitting back, legs crossed over the edge.

“Come and get me then!”

“We will!” George called.

He tilted his head, hand already resting on his axe that lay semi-hidden beside him.

A short while later, (after knocking all his friends off the pillar a couple times and then proceeding to ‘stab’ them until they ‘died’) Dream leapt onto the ender dragon’s back, and, with a victorious scream, plunged his diamond axe into the scales before him.

The resulting crackle was elating, as he slowly slid down and watched it combust, falling into the portal.

He lay on his back as the rest of his friends appeared, groaning, and only sat up when the simulation ended, leaving them in the white, bare training room.

“Uggh. Again?” George complained, poking Dream in the chest, which only got a laugh out of him.

“That’s what you guys get, playing my emotions like that.”

“Of course it’s Sapnap’s fault.”

“Hey! You can’t be talking, you practically die every second!”

“ I do not! ” 

“ Yes, you do. ”

“Can I just say that both of you are acting like children right now?” Dream adds, and his two best friends turn to look at him.

“Says you!”

“Shut up.”

Dream’s eyes flitted between the two of them for a moment, before he chuckled, walking away.

“Oh, and also, Sapnap? If you ever do that again , I’m assigning you all my paperwork for a week.”

He glanced back as he walked, and saw all his friends– even Sam and Ant, surprisingly– freeze in what could only be described as terror.

“Ohh, no way am I ever– ”

“Sapnap, I swear–”

“XD, I hate you .”

                                                                                 — — —

Dream stood by behind a counter, carefully maneuvering an energy bar into his mouth, mask pushed up, observing his friends arguing about something dumb again. This time though, he’d decided that he’d just watch instead of intervening, finding it rather amusing.

Dream had debated cooking food for George and Sapnap , especially after finding out that they almost always ate fast food.

Then again, he can’t judge; while heroing, the most he’ll eat is a few hero-approved energy bars, which give you all the nutrients to survive and more. Problem is, they tasted absolutely disgusting and you had to eat quite a few of them for it to take effect.

He was fine with that, because he could cook if he had a night shift.

How hero schedules worked: you were assigned either a day or night shift, or for the top #10 ranked heroes, sometimes full-time. 

You worked from 6am to 6pm for a day shift, 6pm to 6am for the night shift. For the other half of the day, you were expected to spend it sleeping and doing average day-to-day things of a citizen.

There was a lunch break of 2 hours, and an hour break spread across the day. Full-times were self-explanatory: you worked for 24 hours, with double the breaks. Even so, it was grueling and viewed as a sort of punishment for the lower ranked heroes.

You were sent your schedule via email to your hero email address before the start of each week, and patrol times and partners all sent along with it. Usually, they were chosen both strategically and randomly at the same time, mixing unpredictability and strategy.

Dream chose the schedules for all heroes outside his team, which included Ant and Sam. The Diamond Board decided the Dream Team’s schedules (again, including Ant as their backup fighter and Sam as their guy in the chair).

He absent-mindedly finished his quote unquote ‘lunch’ leaning against the counter, lost in thought, when he was jolted out of them with both Sapnap and George very suddenly and rather ferociously snapping out of their stupid argument and asking him: 

“XD! Did you go to university?” 

“Or college?” They added. 

Dream stopped, dumbfounded by the question as both of the  individuals on the couch stared at him, practically begging him to answer, and soon.

“Uhhh… Yeah?” His voice tilted up like he was asking a question, projecting confusion into his tone.

“Do you have a PhD?” They both rambled immediately, eyes not wavering off of him. Dream blinked.

“......Uhh– yeah?” Dream eventually replied slowly, sensing nothing threatening in the question. Both his friends froze, eyes widened in comical surprise.

"What!?" 

"Oh come on!"

Dream couldn’t help but chuckle at the expressions on their faces, shaking his head in unconcealed mirth.

“Wait.” Sapnap’s air of an apparent, sudden breakthrough made Dream tilt his head at him, asking the unsaid question for him.

“How old are you then? Please don’t tell me you’re almost thirty.” The slight horror on Sapnap’s face made him smile and shake his head once more.

“No, I’m not thirty.” His exasperated voice sounded. "Why would I be almost thirty?"

“Then how old are you?”

“......I turned 23 last month.”

It took another short minute for George and Sapnap to comprehend his words.

“You’re telling me that we’ve been friends with a guy who’s got a PhD at 23, perfect and photographic memory, who can charm the media, and fight The Blade without losing, for years, and we somehow didn’t realize that he was a prodigy?” 

George and Sapnap continued to follow him with both their heads and eyes as he smirked and walked over closer to where they were sitting.

“Yep. Although I wouldn't consider about half of those being terribly abnormal, but sure.”

Then, George promptly snickered.

“Sapnap, this is the same guy that’s still semi-mad at you for triggering his big brother instincts.”

The resounding groan echoed through their floor.

“George, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Not with XD here, you won’t.” The smugness was prominent.

Huh. Dream was suddenly feeling rather lethargic. Probably from the Manhunt, he reasoned. 

While he was reluctant to let himself drift off as XD, Dream figured he was safe on their private floor.

He’d go into his office for precautionary measures, and if anyone tried to brother him.

“Well, in that case, George, you’d better start running because I’m gonna sleep now.” Dream piped up, and just about caught the evil expression that made its way onto Sapnap’s face as the man in question got up, light in his eyes.

“Oh, Geeorrgeee! ”

“No, Sapnap. Don’t.”

“ Geeoorrggeeee! ”

“XDDDdddd! Don’t abandon me!”

Needless to say, Dream continued walking.

He collapsed onto the couch in his office, and passed out almost right after.

Chapter Text

Dream is sitting on one of the many couches in their living room, reading, when Drista bursts through the decorated, unnecessarily fancy front door, face littered with tears, death-clutching a rolled up paper with the bright gold HC stamp on it.

Dream is quick to react, carelessly dropping his book and rushing over to his sister, with the intent to comfort.

“Hey, Drista, Drista, it’s going to be okay, alright? Can you take deep breaths for me? Like I said?”

Drista sniffles a bit, hiccuping as she calms down slightly. Dream slowly leads her over to the sofa, letting her sit down and handing her a tissue.

“What happened?” Dream inquires softly, and Drista bites her lip.

“I–I got an upgrade. At school. A–And people saw. Everyone saw.”

Dream’s eyes widen with worry, but he erases the motion before Drista spots it, instead gently pulling the rolled up piece of paper out of his sister's hand.

He doesn’t read it immediately, instead pulling Drista in closer.

“What’d you get?”

“I’m an empathetic.”

Dream’s hand twitched. Empathetic. His sister. 

To be able to read other’s emotions, and sometimes strains of thought. A rare ability. And it was likely to increase in strength over time.

And that was only the very tip of the iceberg for what Drista could do. If HC found out…..

Drista would be in danger for the rest of her life.

Fuck, she was barely eleven!

Dream hugged her tightly, glancing at the paper before throwing it aside, ignoring the thump it made on the floor.

“You’re not being a hero.”

Drista looked up at him, eyes full of understanding, though also brimming with newfound tears.

There is an underlying sadness and maturity that could only stem from both of their fucked childhoods.

“....... Be safe, okay? Promise me? Promise me you won’t get hurt.” She whispered.

Dream gives her a warm smile full of light. 

“I promise.”

                                                                                 — — —

It only takes a little more than a week of research and another around East End, and Dream has all the information he needs.

He makes a private appointment with the president himself, using his parent’s (father’s) connections.

A few conditions are met.

Just two months later, the hero XD debuts as the first hero trainee without a mentor.

One month in following, XD is proclaimed a professional hero, to the utmost united joy of the public, having won over every man, woman, and child’s heart faster than anyone else in similar rank.

Only four months after that, the Dream Team is created, rather ironically named by the public, and XD is pronounced the very youngest hero in the country for as long as the Hero Corporation had existed to reach rank #10.

Then, he finally meets The Syndicate for the first time.

The first–and only– time The Blade had been defeated.

“Have you ever seen him this relaxed before?”

Dream woke to sounds of hushed voices not too far away from where he was. At first, he resisted the urge to tense, and calmed when he recognized the first voice to be George’s.

“No, actually. Well, come to think of it, I’ve only ever seen him sleep once.” Sapnap whispered. From the way his words sounded, Dream guessed they were both probably staring at him right now. He focused on keeping his breathing steady.

“That was during Insomnia Week. It doesn’t even count.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The other people in the room stayed silent for a few minutes.

Oh, Dream remembered Insomnia Week.

The week where The Board decided that it was a great idea to assign their rank #1 hero to a full week of full-times. 

Dream is pretty sure he got a total of six hours of sleep during the whole thing. By the end, he dragged himself back to their private floor after his last patrol and promptly passed out right in front of George, scaring the living heck out of both his teammates.

“Remember how XD passed out at the end of the week?” George sounded as though he was trying to hold back his laughter.

“And that you couldn’t pick him up.” Sapnap added.

“Hey! You couldn’t pick him up either!”

“In both our defenses, we also got a combined twenty-four hours of sleep that week, okay?”

“Yeah, that's true.”

Silence once more.

“Hey, do you sometimes wonder how he looks under that stupid mask?” Sapnap inquires, sounding honestly intrigued.

“Yeah, I do.”

 “Do you–oh, XD!”

Dream chose that moment to stir, making a motion like he was blinking, sitting up slowly before turning around to see his friends both leaning against the doorway to his office. 

He stares at them.

“Were you guys watching me sleep?”

The people in question both turn slightly red.

“No.”

“Yes.”

George and Sapnap look at each other, the latter’s wings puffing up a little.

“Georgie, there’s no point lying. We look very incriminating right now.”

George deadpan stared at them before huffing, lifting up his goggles.

“We were just curious about what is exactly is your PhD."

Dream snorted, standing from the plush, forest green sofa he’d been sleeping on. “You’re still on about that?”

“Of course.” They answered together.

He stretches, working out the kinks in his neck before side-stepping the glass coffee table and over where his office chair is, leaning against the arm rests with his right hand.

“Alchemy.”

This time, his friends don’t even seem surprised. Sapnap walks over and collapses on Dream’s couch with a heaving sigh, and George follows, instead leaning on the top of it, shaking his head.

“No wonder you can finish hero reports and plan meets so fast. Fucking prodigy.” 

“I don't see how being good at potion studies relates to that, but sure.”

“Oh, and Ant can’t patrol today, and since you have a night shift right before his..”

“I’ll take it, if that’s what you mean.”

George let out a relieved sigh that mimicked Sapnap’s. “Good. There’s no way I’m doing that.”

Dream tilted his head. “Where is it?”

“East End. They want us to look into the rising vigilante ‘issues’ over there. Honestly, I don’t give a damn about them, as long as they’re not turning into villains. But–”

Dream nodded. “Corporate still wants them arrested.”

“I don’t get it, though.” Dream slid onto the seat beside Sapnap, and was joined by George as Sapnap relaxed his wings, spreading them out behind them.

 “Why can’t we just leave them be? Less resources spent, more time, the list goes on. Besides, their existence also means we don’t have to go down there all the time and deal with the low level criminals.”

Dream shared the same opinion, but that particular law was something that wasn’t going to change. Besides, he wasn’t exactly sure about letting kids potentially run around rooftops and throw themselves into danger without any sort of training. And also, since he’d found out about Drista’s… nightly excursions, he was rather reluctant to arrest any of them. Dream didn’t voice any of that, however. “Maybe you’re just lazy.” He teased.

George made a ‘hmph’ sound of disagreement, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, by the way, how long did I sleep for?” Dream inquired.

Sapnap glanced at his communicator. “ ‘Bout six hours, surprisingly.”

Dream nodded, weirdly impressed and also slightly worried about how long he’d managed to stay asleep.

“And,” Dream got up again, readjusting his mask as he did so, “You guys have to do that interview.”

Both his friends groaned in disappointment. 

“Noooooooooo,” Sapnap complained, pinching in between his eyebrows. 

“I have no patience to deal with those people today. Ughhhhhh.” 

“XD, can’t you do it?”

Dream smiled at them as they turned to him with hopeful looks.

“Sorry. I’ve already got that whole thing with the new recruits, and that internship thing for our team I’m expected to be there for. Though, I’m pretty sure all I’ll– and you guys too, by the way –be doing there is scaring the living heck out of those kids.”

“Tt.” Sapnap scoffed, and George slumped. “I’d take dealing with trainees over talking to Ms. Beverly Sanders for the hundredth time .”

“And it’s not enough that her middle name is ‘Karen’.”

“Too true.”

And then they went on talking about their most horrid encounters and talks with the rather desperate, prying lady who, in their experience, seemed to think that she could ask them anything, even the most personal of questions. Eventually, he asks them out of the blue, “When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t take-out or energy bars?”

Concerningly, the people in question stop dead.

“Uhh.. don’t remember?” George tilts his tone up as if he’s asking a question.

Sapnap likewise shrugged. “Dunno, man.”

Dream lets them know that he’s absolutely horrified by those vague, dismissive answers.

“ What do you mean, don’t remember? ”

He receives two blank stares and shrugs.

Dream sighs, “Yep, that decides it. I’m making you guys breakfast.”

Dream turned a blind eye to his friends’ both confused and bewildered aspects on their faces and swept out of the office towards the kitchen.

He decides to make a treat: French toast with bananas foster belgium waffles. And, with the fact that he’s made this plenty of times for Drista, he’s done both in just under 45 minutes.

Finally, after doing god-knows-what, Sapnap and George walk into the commons to find two plates of a beautifully constructed breakfast, with a mouthwatering smell. 

“Woah, man. What? You didn’t–”

Dream cuts him off almost immediately. “Yes, I did. You guys are so unhealthy , I feel like a responsible parent around you guys.”

“Big brother instincts.” Sapnap and George snickered, sitting down.

Dream leans on the marbled counter, finishing his share before his friends and cleaning up.

And if he smiled both internally and externally when he heard their shouts of, “Oh my gosh, why the fuck is this so good?” and “XD, I didn’t know you could cook this well or I would’ve taken advantage of this new secret skill years ago, holy shit .”

Instead, he deadpan told them, “You guys are just really unhealthy. And that stuff is packed with just as much sugar as I felt comfortable putting in. You need to eat real food, not junk.”

Dream was ignored in favor of eating said food.

He then glanced attentively at the clock.

“By the way, it’s 7:45. You’ve got five minutes to get your asses down to the recording studio.”

Comedically, his friends jolted, sudden panic apparently rushing through them. Sapnap and George wolfed down the rest of their breakfast and dashed to the elevator, adjusting their uniforms as they ran.

“Thanks, XD!” George’s rushed thank-you rang through the halls. Dream shook his head. I swear, I acted more mature than both of them combined when I was sixteen.

It simply took him a few minutes to carelessly throw the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and then leave for his own appointment, making sure his smile mask covered his mouth.

Thank god Sam was in charge of trainees, and would be doing all the talking. Besides, he’ll just say a few words and stand off to the side. 

And, of course, allow the trainees to sufficiently stare at him for as much as they wanted, so that they’d do it less later on. 

Hopefully.

Because, for some reason, it only seemed to work sometimes .

He checked the clock one final time before striding into the elevator, making his way over to the grand announcement hall, which sadly required him to use some public hallways.

Fortunately, it was still somewhat early in the morning, so the most he got were a few lingering intrigued looks from some sidekicks, mentor not in sight.

Dream entered, lightly pushing past the large tinted screen doors. Inside was a high-tech looking hall with many chairs and a raised stage at the front. He spotted Sam chatting with The Captain, rank #6 hero, previously #1 long before Dream and his team. Despite her lower rank, all the heroes treated her just as well as Dream himself, as she was considered a senior and greatly trusted.

The Captain’s ability was that she could tell if you were lying by just touching you, as well as super-powered strength to go along with it. As a side-effect, she could feel your pulse, and how stressed you were with physical touch as well.

He smiled, pushing up his mask to reveal a genuine smile. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed, raising his hand in the air like he would start waving, briskly walking in their direction. Both Captain and Sam smiled back.

“Hi, XD! Prepared to have hundreds of teenagers evaluate your every move for the next hour or so?” The Captain teased.

Dream, having access to all the hero documents, could've found out who she was within a minute's notice, but didn't, finding it rather rude to dig into his colleague’s (and friend’s) personal life.

He knew her legal name was Puffy because she'd told him, and that was pretty much it.

“Oh, I’m ready. Always ready. Whether I’m going to like it is a different story, though.” Dream smirked as Puffy snorted.

“Why don’t you take a kid, XD? Might be good for you. I know how you’ve been, lately, with all that Syndicate business.”

Dream suppressed a grimace. “You know why I can’t.”

Sam rolled his eyes playfully. “Letting loose that inner hero again, huh?”

“Sure.”

The other two heroes laughed.

They moved their way over to the corner of the stage when the trainees started filing in, talking to each other and occasionally looking back at the growing crowd of teens.

Trainees were heroes that didn’t have a private mentor and weren’t evaluated to be skilled enough to have the status of sidekick just yet. They wore training suits usually made of a tear-resistant reflective fabric that mimicked chainmail. Trainees also had badges of different colors to signify their status. 

Already, Dream knew almost everyone in the hall was talking about him.

“–Ranked #1 in the country–”

“–can beat The Blade–”

“–want to be just like him–”

“–wonder if he’ll take a–”

That last one Dream knew the answer to. No, he wouldn’t take a sidekick. Not only would they be targeted by The Syndicate and be in danger almost every minute of their lives, there would be higher expectations of them from the media and other heroes, and they’d have to deal with other more menial things like jealousy from other trainees. And Dream would have to spend even less time at home than he already did to properly train and mentor them like he was supposed to. He’d have to let his guard down for them, make sure they were true in heart, and other unnecessary things.

No. Just no. Not worth all the work.

Dream and Puffy remain on the side of the stage as Sam waves everyone quiet and gives his entrance speech before gesturing to them as they stand on either side of him.

“Now, for introductions! For those who don’t know, my hero title is The Warden, and on my left here is The Captain!” 

Cheers erupted from the audience and Puffy smiled, passively waving as they shouted praising things.

“And I’m sure all of you know who this is, but just be sure, this is the current #1 hero, XD!”

More cheers. Dream waved as well, giving a light smile as he took over.

“Hello! I hope you all had a great year. Now, I know what all of you are thinking. ‘Oh, XD, just get along with it and answer the question we all want to know!’ And it’d be a pity to keep you all waiting, wouldn’t it?”

A chorus of excited screams and cheers drowned out the calls of ‘Yes!’ and ‘ Please !’

“Now, I unfortunately will still indeed not be taking on a sidekick this year. Or the next year. Or the year after that.” 

Disappointed groans echoed through the chamber. One voice echoed out from the crowd, “Why not!” And soon the hall began to delve into a mix of voices. Dream simply held out his hand, and they fell silent.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He gently teased, and they groaned politely again, but this time staying orderly.

“Now, I have good news. These heroes you see on the board now will be taking trainees. You might see some familiar faces…..”

                                                                                 — — —

Once again, Dream stayed behind and chatted with The Captain and Sam, occasionally laughing politely. They all agreed without saying anything to stand in the middle of the stage as they did this so the trainees got one final look at them before they left.

“And I have to go choose soon.” Sam complained, and Puffy and him shared a knowing look.

“That’s another reason why I didn’t sign myself up for that. You do know you’ll have to painfully analyze every single candidate, make sure they're vetted, that they can actually do their job well, and on and on for ages?”

Oh, and Dream forgot to mention that Sam had decided to take an intern this year to help out with designing and the technical side of his job so that Sam could be out in the field more often.

Sam made an unidentifiable sound that was best described as a mix of a groan and a gasp.

Dream snorted. “It sounds like you’re dying.”

Sam shut his eyes as though in pain. Puffy and Dream continued to laugh at him.

                                                                                 — — —

A few hours later, Dream stood in the middle of Sapnap and George, the latter being on his right and the former on his left. Dream casually leaned against the wall, and his friends all seemed bored, sizing up all the interns at the same time.

“How much longer.” Sapnap whispered to him through gritted teeth, forcefully smiling as two teens passed by them.

Dream subtly checked his communicator. “Still half an hour to go, and an additional twenty-three more potential candidates.”

Beside him, George made a choked noise. “That much?”

Dream picked up his hand to acknowledge a group of twittering girls that passed them by, ignoring them when they hurried away, giggling.

“Suddenly, I want Sam to be out here. He’d be able to scare them off.” Sapnap narrowed his eyes at a blonde boy, looking to be about eighteen to nineteen, striding into the interview room where Puffy was, body language both worried and anticipating.

“That one looks more promising than the last one.”

Dream stares at the spot the teenager left. “Let’s just hope Puffy and Sam can speed up the process. Also, what do you mean, be able to scare them off? You can do that just fine.”

Sapnap grimaced. “Can’t. Too many phones. Reputation would be pretty much ruined if they caught it on camera. Or at the very least slightly tarnished.” 

Dream raised an eyebrow, though no one could see it. “I think you’d be fine. Whatever gets us out of here faster.”

“I would not. Sam, though? Everyone already thinks he’s scary ‘cause he doesn’t show up as much in public. One glare from the guy would send all these kids rushing for the nearest exit.”

“He’s not that bad. And don’t scare them, it’s mean .”

“Of course you’d say that, rich boy.”

“ You’re also very rich. Also, remind me who has the cooking skills here? I can swear to never cook for you again.”

“.......Shutting up now.”

George snorted.

Dream’s eyes zeroed in on another boy that looked similar to the one who just walked in, though not identical. 

He looked slightly younger, and had fierce blue eyes that seemed strangely reminiscent. He went through his memory, searching for a matching face, when his eyes dawned. This was the same boy in Drista’s high school, the one she talked to even though she said he was annoying.

He flipped through the memories of past conversations with his sister, and he eventually found the teenage boy’s name: Thomas ‘Tommy’ Craft, son of the netherite industrialist Philza Craft. Dream knew that Philza had two other older twin sons, but couldn’t find their names anywhere in his memory.

What was a young, wealthy teenage kid doing at a hero interview for an internship underneath The Warden? If there was one thing he clearly remembered, it was that Drista had said that Tommy was quote, ‘had no skill whatsoever residing on any technology aspect. The most he can do is text and take pictures. Believe me, I’ve seen it all with this guy,’ She had proclaimed as she scrolled through her photo album on her phone.

He tilted his head in curiosity.

“Are you even listening to–wait, what are you looking at?” Sapnap asked.

“Not what, who . That boy over there. Recognize him?”

Sapnap followed his gaze carefully, making sure to be subtle. It took a moment before Dream could see the gears click into place.

“Oh, the son of the Craft guy? Huh. Isn’t he too young to be applying for the position?” Sapnap whisper-asked.

“Yeah. I think he’s seventeen. Almost eighteen though, for what I remember.” George added quietly.

“I'm going to talk to him.”

Both his friends twisted their heads over to him, momentarily surprised, before being careful to correct the movement and smile when a well-dressed, haughty twenty year old sauntered by. 

The clearly rich man barely gave Sapnap and George a glance, but lingered on Dream for an extra minute or so before breaking his gaze, leaving.

“Why? Is he even a candidate?” They both asked incredulously at the same time as soon as the man was out of earshot.

“He’s…. interesting. I’ll tell you what I think of him.” Without another word, Dream discreetly made his way over to the teen who was staring into blank space, clearly in deep thought.

“Hey. Applying for the job?” Tommy jumped a little at the sound of Dream’s voice behind him. 

Then, his face morphed into one of shock when he realized exactly who was behind him, turning.

“X-XD! I-I didn’t know you were–well I did know you were here– uhh, me? N-No, no. I’m–I’m not.” Tommy stuttered, staring at Dream’s mask with a wondrous expression. Dream noticed the slight apprehension in his stance and the way his eyes were widened with suppressed tension.

Well, Dream supposed, the #1 hero did just appear behind him out of nowhere, so it was a reasonable reaction.

“I’m just here for…. emotional support. For my friend. Who just went in.” Tommy added quickly.

Dream nodded his head in understanding.

“What’s his name?”

Tommy blinked at him a few times, eyebrows raised.

“Uhh… his official name is Toby, but I call him Tubbo.”

Dream hummed.

“I’ll be sure to mention that name to The Warden. Nice to meet you.”

And just like that, Dream ominously disappeared again, amused at the expression on Tommy’s face that screamed, ‘what the fuck just happened?’

When he reappeared next to Sapnap and George, the latter asked, “So, how is he?”

Dream snorted. “Fun to talk to. More genuine than most of the actual candidates for the job before him. He’s friends with that guy that just went in.”

Sapnap and George both nodded once. 

“If his friend is also mentioned by Captain and Warden, I’ll back him up too.”

To this, his teammates didn’t react, unsurprised. 

“Already considering adoption?” Sapnap teased.

“I told you, I’m not–”

His friends laughed at his expense while he continued attempting to discourage them.

                                                                                 — — —

A full moon is hanging in the sky, the sky bright and stars shining. Dream’s relaxed jogging across the rooftops of the outer downtown area is far from the only sound. This early in his patrol, there were normally a few lingering civilians which would always give him a cheery wave or in some cases, just an awestruck expression.

Dream gave a small wave before moving on to a father and daughter, the latter of which having been pointing to him to gesture to her father, who lightly scolded his daughter but smiled at him anyway.

(And if he felt a small, strange sense of longing when he looked at them, no one else who was there could notice). 

Practiced ease let him vault across alleyways almost lazily, head alert as he absent mindedly made his way around the industrialized side of West End for his part of the patrol, before he had to move on to East End.

A strangled shout makes him skid, stopping almost instantaneously and making his way to the edge of the slanted roof he was on, peering over to find the source of the noise.

A well-dressed, brown-haired woman who had long hair, modest gold earrings, and a small decorated hairpin was wrestling with a man about her height who was blocking her in a dingy alley, attempting to tug back her purse that was in the other man’s hands.

Dream drew his bo staff, but didn’t move. As he’d learned plenty early on, dropping into a fight or a conflict without context or any information whatsoever was generally a bad idea, and should always be avoided if possible. 

After all, the man could have hidden powers. Or they were actually playfully wrestling. Or perhaps the woman could handle herself and Dream would just have to knock the guy out without having to worry about a civilian.

He watched silently as the woman managed to throw the man off of her purse and started to run, pushing past him, but her apparent attacker grabbed her other arm harshly and pulled her back, likely causing bruises with the amount of force used. The woman yelped, stumbling backwards.

Alright, they’re definitely not friendly towards each other. A real conflict. Not a trap, probably. He couldn’t see any dark windowed cars parked nearby, or any cameras or potential hiding places, as the alley was clean and free of trash.

Dream wonders about the intelligence of this apparent assailant. Or his general lack of information. Didn’t everyone know the West End was off-limits? And that heroes were almost constantly patrolling it?

Dream continued to observe but was prepared to jump down the moment he was needed, hand gripping his staff readily.

The woman yelled again, punching the man straight in the nose. He coughed, gritting his teeth, and had to let go of her. Dream nodded approvingly. 

She turned, primed to dash away, but the mugger produced a gun from his previously hidden pocket and she froze in fear, eyes widened.

“Cooperate, and I won’t shoot.” The assaulter threatened, gun shaking slightly. The woman gasped, unmoving. 

Already prepared for this moment, he dropped from his perch and landed effortlessly in between them, back facing the woman.

As soon as the man saw him, his expression turned from threatening and victorious to terrified, swearing.

 “Oh shi–”

One quick swing on the right nerve on his wrist, and the mugger was forced to drop his gun, clutching his hand to try and ease the sudden pain. The man turned to run, deciding to retreat, and another calculated wack with his bo staff on the temple of the obvious aggressor’s head and he collapsed, legs crumpling and leading the man to fall onto his back. 

Dream was quick to handcuff the man’s arms, sitting the unconscious man against the right wall of the alleyway before turning to the woman, examining her for any injuries. The only thing he could find was the red handmark on her wrist.

“Are you alright, ma’m? Are you injured?” He inquired.

She seemed to snap out of her frozen state, staring at him in wonder for only a second before rambling, “Oh my gosh, XD, thank you, thank you , I was so terrified– I mean, thank you . So much . And I, no, no, I’m not. Injured, I mean.” 

He nodded once. “Just my job, ma’m. I trust you know how to call this in? Do you have a phone?”

She probably did know how to call it in. It was taught in school, and was general, common knowledge, like 911. 

It was also trivially easy. You typed in the phone number 0934, and then stated what the crime was, what hero (or villain, or vigilante) was on the scene, and where you were.

She nodded, thanking him profusely, and Dream politely cut her off, saying, “I must be going now.”

She immediately nodded. “Right, right. Thank you, again. Really . I mean it.”

Dream simply saluted. “Be safe.” With that, he vaulted back up onto the rooftops with two movements, and continued his patrol. 

The rest of West End was calm, like usual, so he soon turned around and made his way down to the southern side of West End where the land met the sea, and where the shipping docks and sandy beaches were also located.

The calming breaths of the ocean made him smile as he leapt over triangular roofs, making not even the slightest of noises with his doe-like feet. 

Sometime later, he veered away from the seaside.

Then, slowly, the quality of the buildings started to lower as well as their height, and when his boots hit a flat, concrete top of a three story structure and he was on the opposite side of downtown, he knew he’d crossed into the East End. 

Dream grinned underneath his smile mask, collapsing his staff and putting it into one of his shoulder straps before pulling out Nightmare .

Here, he didn’t have to be so careful about public appearances. Most people on this side of the city, especially the farther you went, didn’t give a damn about heroes.

Now, it was also true that little less than half of them hated heroes, and that about three quarters of the lower side were criminals in some way, but Dream was going to take what he could get.

He stopped countless other attempted robberies, going farther and farther in, and was just at the end of his patrol time, about to head back to city central when he spotted something….. peculiar.

Dream blames the fact that he had been lost in thought, and hadn’t paid much attention to where he’d been going, foolishly trusting his muscle memory to guide him back to the city.

The night was quiet, but East End tended to be rather silent. 

All its residents were either smart enough to stay inside for safety or doing crimes themselves, and it went without saying that you generally tried to be discreet while doing something illegal.

Being a villain was about the only exception.

Dream landed in the middle of a deserted road confusedly, the buildings lining the sides destroyed, windows cracked and bricks fallen.

Where am I? I don't remember anything like this in the city layouts.

An entire section of an indistinguishable structure had fallen, pulverized rock and long since settled dust telling a story long forgotten.

A faded sign, obviously having once been beautiful, lay underneath the wreckage, the metal rusted and bent. Dream peered at it for a moment, only managing to make out a ‘anberg’ at the end.

He tensed, listening out for any movement of any kind once registered just how eerie this place was, but there was none.

When his foot sank in something sand-like, he looked up ahead, and gasped in surprise and wariness.

There were piles of ashes, snaking around the seemingly abandoned street like plant vines, and as his eyes followed them, they landed on a singular flower growing from a crack in the center of the concrete.

Dream recognized it to be a rose, but it looked nothing like any rose he’d seen before; the petals were dark and dead-like, colors just as black as the many lines of ashes circling it like a ritual circle. 

Its thorns were large, and as he cautiously moved closer, he saw that the flower was smoking like it was about to be set ablaze.

Some of the piles were thicker, and some were thinner. Dream stepped over another twisting vine of ash, inspecting the flower even closer.

Dream caught a brief scent of rot and the irony tang of blood, distracting him for just an instant.

Suddenly, a large, red snake-like thing launched itself at him from nowhere like it had a real consciousness , and he yelped, slicing at it with his axe on reflex.

Dream jumped back, heart pounding in his head when it hit the messy concrete on the floor, writhing like a snake, and Dream realized it wasn’t a snake, but a tentacle, red and spined with razor-sharp spikes. 

His eyes widened in horror, all while screaming in his head what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck is that–

Then, the movement stopped, and it relaxed. Dream hadn’t had enough time to even release the tension in his muscles when it began to flail before blackening first, and then turned into dust in front of his eyes, becoming yet another pile of ash.

Once it all settled, the tentacle lay on the floor right beside the flower, and he eyed it with newfound wariness, breath quickened and hands shaking in rare fear, stepping back once, twice–

And then turning around and dashing away, filing all this new information carefully, noting where exactly he was and the positions of the moon and stars in the sky (so he could potentially come back later).

(Why he’d ever want to come back to this terrifying place, he didn’t know the answer to).

                                                                                 — — —

Eventually, he did find himself back in the city. 

Looking back the way he came, a turmoil of thoughts rushed in, and he hurried to supress them.

Subsequently, with the tall, looming skyscrapers of downtown in view, the lights brightening up the roads and dark sky, a familiar voice froze him right in his tracks, temporarily wiping out any worry and thoughts of what had just occurred a few minutes prior.

“– didn’t know !”

“HOW did you not know XD was here! I thought you said–”

“I can’t know everything ! I have no clue how my powers work! The only thing I do know how to do properly is stare at someone to activate TWO of them!”

“They’re YOUR POWERS!”

“Let’s see YOU try and use them, then! Oh, wait, YOU CAN’T!”

The first voice–

Was unmistakably Drista’s. Puppeteer’s.

The second?

A young male teenager, probably between the ages of 17 to 20.

Theseus. Drista’s vigilante partner.

Dream’s just going to keep stumbling upon revelation on revelation tonight, huh?

Recently, the duo had been taking both the internet and streets by storm, lowering crime rates far more than any other vigilantes before them. Adding their unique abilities of electrokinesis and being able to read your mind, they’d taken every person’s interest in a matter of weeks .

Returning to the present, they already knew he was here, so there was no point in staying where he was.

Dream grabbed all his remaining emotions of fear, doubt, and worry for his sister, and wrangled them into control, taking a soundless breath and then hopping onto the rooftops the two vigilantes were on.

The instant they saw him, both their eyes widened. Drista's face screamed Oh god I’m fucked and Theseus’ face said can I fight this guy and get away with it alive? Probably not.

Dream tilted his head, forcing an amused, yet intrigued tone into his voice, resting the back of his axe coolly over his shoulders, blade facing upwards.

“Vigilantes, huh? What brings you so close to City Center?”

Chapter Text

Dream examined them as the two vigilantes remained silent.

Drista wore a dark purple cloak that hung from her shoulders that also doubled as a cape, with flexible undergarments (that were hopefully padded, at least) that carried a belt to hold her twin daggers on either side.

A hood, fastened to her cloak by the tips so that it could let out long, dyed, curly black hair.

A purple half mask covered her eyes, black detailing on the sides and the left side of it had a beautiful butterfly design that reached up and touched the hood with the tips of its violet gemmed wings. 

Generally speaking, it was a better outfit than most vigilantes.

Theseus wore a white T-shirt with red sleeves, as well as a matching red jacket overtop. Dark green cargo pants with multitudes of pockets fell over black combat boots.

The most noticeable thing about him was the large, glistening white wings that stood out in the darkness of the night. They were almost as long as The Angel of Death’s ebony wings himself, and were even shaped similarly.

A red and silver masquerade half mask which was adorned with designs of birds on the sides hid Theseus’ identity.

What made him slightly wary was the two guns strapped in the same place Drista had her daggers.

Drista. Hanging out with a guy who dual-wielded guns.

Then, the logical part of him activated. They were probably just dart guns. Because Drista, while reckless, wasn’t in fact stupid.

“Don’t–don’t mind us, XD! We–w-were just….” Theseus trailed off, looking to his partner for help. Dream spots him reaching up to touch an earpiece in his ear, and sees an identical earpiece in Drista’s ear as well.

Huh. So they did have some sort of guy in the chair. And a sort of plan. At least.

“Admiring the view! Yeah. We’re done…. now… so we’ll just go .” Drista chimed, and as if on queue both of them start inching backwards, away from Dream.

He simply shook his head, inwardly chuckling at their antics.

“You know, I’m fine with letting you kids leave.”

“Not a kid.” Theseus immediately answers.

“And what’s the catch?” Drista eyes him cautiously. 

Dream has to shove back down his emotions and instead thinks about how he’d react if these were just two normal vigilante kids.

“You stop endangering yourself. Playing hero isn’t something for kids, much less untrained ones. ”

“You’re asking us to quit?” Drista incredulously said.

Dream brought his axe down from his shoulder. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. One of these days, you’ll get hurt. Badly. Or worse. And I don’t want any dead kids.”

Theseus hissed. “ Not kids. And like fuck we’d ever listen to you . Right, Puppeteer?”

Drista turned her head to look at her teammate, and then turned back to look at Dream, indecision flitting in her gaze for only a second.

“Right.” She answered.

Dream shrugged. “Are you sure? Because, you know.” He casually twirled his axe with one hand.

“That means I’ll have to take you in.”

Both Drista and Theseus tensed, before a flash of movement passed his gaze, making him sidestep a sudden stream of lightning.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dream tried again, but to no avail as Theseus jumped at him, electricity jumping between his fingers.

Dream flipped, dodging another blast of light. He hadn’t even moved his axe, posture still relaxed.

“FUCK YEAH I DO! What, worried I’ll kick your pretentious hero ass?”

Dream heard Drista hurriedely sputter out a, “Wait, Theseus!”

Another smooth jump straight in the air later, and Dream is battling Theseus, still half-heartedly trying to talk him out of it even though he knows the attempt was futile.

When Drista comes up behind him and tries to grab his arm, he just manages to twist away, swiping his axe a little to ward her off.

Right. ‘Puppeteer’s’ power was that she could control you with her thoughts for a limited amount of time after physical contact was made.

Just how long had Drista been keeping these secrets?

Simultaneously battling both teenagers, after The Syndicate, was a bit like a warm-up if anything. They were powerful, he’d admit that, but they also needed a lot more practice and a lot more training in order to come close to truly hurting him.

Another bright light was shot at his mask, and it was ducked.

Dream didn’t realize that Drista had been right behind him.

A small gasp escaped him, head twisted around to see Drista just manage to spot the beam. Discreetly, he shoved her aside, just narrowly missing the blast.

A whistle behind him and in an instant his axe was raised.

The beam of electricity hit his axe and rebounded, blocking it like a shield. The shock on Theseus’ face made it clear that that was something that hadn’t happened before. If Dream turned around, he was sure he’d see the same face on Drista as well.

He walked closer and closer towards the emitter of the lightning, and then leapt up straight in the air, the axe still held out in front of him as a guard for any more attacks.

The teen underneath him bolted as soon as he saw him, forward rolling away as Dream landed on the floor, whipping around and thrusting his right hand at him.

Dream ducked, avoiding another stream of not-exactly-very-well-aimed energy, twisting, and accidentally catching Theseus at the end of his axe, just barely managing to turn it so the flat side saw to the impact at not the sharp end. 

Even so, Theseus’ strangled gasp was enough to send a sharp twidle of guilt into his head. 

The teen stumbled back, clutching his mid-chest ( just like Nemesis ~ his conscience supplies him~ you hurt a kid Drista’s age ) and Dream had to grit his teeth and push away those thoughts, focusing instead on what was in front of him.

A knife is thrown in his direction, and it’s dodged, Dream ignoring Theseus’ pained wheezing in the background.

“Are you sure you don’t want to back down? It’s not too late.”

Sadly, the only response he receives from Drista is another attempted stab, which Dream twirled away from.

He was getting restless; trapped in a cycle. He couldn’t– wouldn’t – arrest/hurt Drista, or her friend, (intentionally) and they weren’t going to be able to make him back down either. He’d have to somehow maneuver his way out of this situation.

Fortunately, it turned out that he didn’t have to.

Only a few seconds after another few artful twirls, he turned and sliced at Drista, not aiming to main, but instead intimidate. Judging from the startled yelp, he was successful.

Then, Drista suddenly whipped around and stabbed at him, dagger pointed, and on reflex he retaliated.

Time seemed to slow as he realized where his hit would land: 

Directly on Drista’s mid-chest. 

Fuck.

His heart pounds at the revelation and his axe swerved at the last moment, managing to whip past her head, air whistling, perhaps even providing a slight hair trim and a small breeze.

Dream spots her starting to move her hand towards him, and he has to stop himself from moving out of the way. He needs to end this. Give them a way out.

Her hand closes around his wrist, and Dream feels his body seize up, muscles contracted and refusing to loosen. His eyes widen when he acknowledges Drista’s shocked expression, body suspended in a rather awkward position.

His arm, outstretched and still death-clutching Nightmare , was in front of him, his shoulder as well. His torso was twisted, the other arm in a prepared state. His head was overlooking his axe shoulder. Dream grimaced.

It was both horrifying and impressive. Dream was used to being able to control any part of his body, and having it not respond at all to any of his demands was genuinely terrifying.

He felt powerless, and it wasn’t something he enjoyed.

The silence was pierced by Theseus’ wheeze, “Holy fuck, that guy hits hard .”

Drista didn’t respond for a minute, staring at Dream. Eventually, she stepped back, gaze unwavering at Dream’s frozen state. If he could, he’d attempt to offer his condolences, or try to calm her, but nothing from his body listened to anything he told it.

“That was close.” Drista’s voice sounds slightly shaky.

Theseus grunted. “Tell me ‘bout it. How long is that gonna last?”

Drista turned to look at him, and then her partner, and then back again.

“Dunno. Didn’t we just have that conversation?”

“I blame the fact that I’m injured. It’s fucking up my head.”

To this, Drista breaks her gaze off of him, worry prevalent. “How bad is it? Can you walk?”

Theseus gives a glare, though holding no real edge. “Who do you think I am, XD ? I’m the biggest man ever, of course I can walk.”

Drista just sent an unimpressed look in her fellow vigilante’s way.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious! So fucking serious.”

“Sure. What do we do with him?” A thumb is pointed in his direction, just at the edge of his vision. Even though the rest of her sentence sounds strong, it wavers a little on the last word.

“Umm…. aren’t we just gonna leave him here?”

Oh, no. 

If they did leave him here, who was to say when the effects of Drista's apparent new power would wear off? The last thing that Dream wanted to happen was The Blade, or even any low level street criminal to come along and find him while he was helpless like this.

Okay, then. He originally didn’t want to do this, but he did in fact value being alive.

And if they really were going to just leave…..

Sorry, Drista. Especially if this hurts you.

Dream unleashed a mental assault on the mind perching in his consciousness. He heard an ‘oh, shit!’ but didn’t pay it much mind, instead focusing on stabbing and prying the ability holding him prisoner. This particular trick worked on every mental ability he’d come across, even Siren’s.

Suddenly, he felt the presence withdraw and he was shoved back into his body. Lurching forward, he was caught off guard momentarily, before spinning, axe held defensively. However, he simply saw both of the vigilantes turning and dashing in the opposite direction, Theseus spreading his wings and flying.

Instead of chasing after them like how they’d expect him to, Dream just watched their figures fade into the distance, before looking up at the rising sun on the horizon.

What an eventful night.

 At least I didn’t run into any villains.

                                                                                 — — —

He gave a warm smile to the front desk lady who returned one with equal nicety, walking out of the tower with his normal civilian clothes, brown hair dye already washed out to reveal his normal hair color. 

Outside, his driver was waiting and he slipped onto one of the spotless black leather seats, pulled out a novel from one of the side pockets and began to read. 

About ten minutes later, his car pulled into the driveway. Dream stepped out, thanking his driver with a wave and a smile before using his keys to unlock the front door.

Pushing it open, it revealed the ground floor living room, a large hallway leading to a pair of turning stairs, all colored with an assortment of blues, golds, and white.

Dream shut the door behind him, quickly crossing the hall and the stairs. A few more turns and extra stairs later, he was in Drista and his bed chambers, preparing to collapse into bed and sleep until mid-afternoon. 

A startled fumble from the medical room makes him stop, switching directions.

He pops his head in the doorway and was greeted with the sight of Drista leaning on one of the walls, her right leg reddened with a shallow but long slash from her kneecap to her ankle.

Drista paused and stared at him with a deer in headlights look. 

“Uhh….”

“Oh my god !” Dream hears himself exclaim, rushing over and practically pushing his sister onto one of the beds, examining the wound.

“What even–what?” Dream didn’t…. he didn’t remember ever injuring Drista, or her having an injury when they’d ‘fought.’ It must’ve happened after they’d left.

“I–umm, fell?” Drista sounded unsure.

Dream stopped his inspection to stare at her, unimpressed. 

“I would think after years of being a hero I would know what a knife wound looks like.”

Drista plastered a nervous smile on her face. “I fell…. on a knife?”

“Then how was the blade facing you? Wouldn’t it be flat on the floor?” Dream continued to fuss, searching for the disinfectant, after which he remembered that they’d run out just recently.

“Umm… I dropped the knife… and then I fell?”

A for effort. You know what, maybe it was best to let Drista tell him on her own time.

Dream supplied her with one more skeptical look before pushing his hands onto the slash, hands already beginning to glow a bright green.

“Oh– Dream, you really don’t–”

With one parental look from Dream, Drista fell silent.

 Soon after, the wound closed up with just a simple momentary dizziness which passed soon after.

“Thank you.” Drista said quietly, looking at him with slight concern, the emotion asking the question for her.

“I’m fine.” Dream reassured, standing up. “Just be more careful next time, ‘kay?”

“Yep.” She popped the ‘p,’ moving out of the room, trying not to act nervous and semi-failing, trying to put fake-cheerfulness into her voice. “I need to call one of my friends!”

Dream watched her leave, worry continuing to plague his mind. 

After a while, he decided to go onto one of their more private balconies which also conveniently had a very nice view of the sunrise.

And that’s how he found himself here, leaning over the decorated castle stone railing, an identically designed roof above him, thick wall of vine on either side of him, grown specifically for privacy, some even twisting around the top of the railing.

The only open spot on the rooftop balcony was the front where Dream was facing, making this relatively safe, and by extension, one of Dream’s favorite places and where he spent the most time.

He smiled, closing his eyes, feeling the light morning wind, posture relaxed.

He began to breathe in and out, calming down drastically. Perhaps after this he’d go to sleep for a bit. He probably wouldn’t be able to stay asleep for long, though, because of the time he’d spent in the tower. 

Everything was fine. Drista was safe. He was safe. There was nothing he needed to worry about. Not now.

Well, except–

“Hey, mate.”

Dream’s eyes flew open and he whirled around, suddenly tensed, one hand letting go off the railing and turning with him. 

Then, seeing who it was, he just blew a relieved breath, slumping.

Speak of the devil. Well, in this case, Angel.

“God, don’t do that. You scared me . And– how’d you even… where did you even come from ?” 

The Angel let out a low chuckle, tucking in his elegant wings, striding over to where Dream was and leaning with one arm beside him.

“Whatcha doing?” The Angel asked, avoiding the question. The veil that concealed the top half of his face was illuminated with the rising dawn, but didn’t reveal anything. Apparently it was light-resistant.

Dream turned his head back, re-placing his hand. The orange, pink and yellow glow on the horizon as the half-risen sun slowly climbed the sky, colored clouds looking as if someone with an artist’s eye had taken a paintbrush to them.

“Just admiring the sunrise.” Dream said softly.

The Angel hummed in response. “It is quite beautiful.”

They sat in silence for a minute, hero and villain, (not that the latter knew it) gazing ahead as the city lights dimmed and shut, darkness of the night waning.

Then, Dream said, “You know, you guys still owe me an apology for sending The Blade to bust into my house and interrogate me ‘bout two days ago. And also, did you know that he changes moods faster than a teenager?”

The Angel muttered something underneath his breath. Dream only caught the last bit, “–ard.”

Then, the villain admitted, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Dream turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Right.” The Angel somehow managed to sound sheepish. “Sorry about that.”

Dream waved him off. “It’s alright. You’re villains . A ‘sorry’ is probably the best I’m gonna get.”

“We could always give you another–”

“Nope.” Dream stopped him right there. “No. Just no. I already have two, I don’t want any more.”

It’s weird that he’d offer to give me a favor. I thought the villains didn’t like people having any, much less more than just one. Wouldn’t they try to get out of handing one out as much as possible?

What game are they playing with me?

Or are there truly no games at all?

“You have three, mate.” Angel corrected him.

That made Dream pause for a moment. “Oh, fuck, is that from the Siren incident?”

Angel nodded, smirking a little at Dream's seemingly miserable face.

“Ughhhh. Can I– I didn’t mean that. I was delirious from power overuse.”

“I think it’s too late, mate. You already said it. And we really do owe you something from that.”

Dream’s depressed sigh made The Angel laugh again. Who knew villains could be so genuine? He’d always thought of The Angel as a brutal murderer/terrorist, and never anything… like this.

Maybe villains weren’t actually as bad as he’d previously thought they were.

They were still murderers, though. That probably wasn’t going to change.

“By the way, why are you even here? Isn’t your whole thing being ominous in the dead of the night or blowing up properties in broad daylight?” Dream asks.

“What if I just wanted to hang out with our resident secret healer?”

“Like I’d believe that .” Dream rolled his eyes. 

The Angel conveyed an amused glance in Dream’s direction, turning and walking farther back, making Dream turn and watch him. 

The avian spread his wings to its full length before tucking them back in, stretching them.

“I’ll get to the point, then, if you want me to. I’m here for–”

“What happened to your leg?” Dream stared at The Angel’s right leg, which he had noticed to be slightly limping behind the other.

The Angel stared at him. “Nothing.”

Dream scoffed. “Bullshit. Let me look at it. Why– you villains are so reckless . Why are you outside with an injury?”

Dream stepped up and knelt down to both knees, as he was about a head taller then The Angel, funnily enough. Now that he was closer, he could tell the under armor stopped from the top of the thigh and started again at the bottom of the knee. Instead, there were dark-colored bandages wrapped in place.

Huh. Here he was, willingly kneeling down to help a villain, while just yesterday he was stabbing the same guy. What has his life come to? 

“This feels wrong. You….” Angel awkwardly trailed off, partially echoing Dream’s thoughts.

“Maybe if you would stop acting so incautious-like, I wouldn’t be doing this.” Then he huffed. “Can I take off these bandages?”

He looked up for confirmation and got a careful nod. Carefully peeling back the gauze, he gasped quietly when a deep, painful stab wound entered his vision.

“Don’t you have potions? Regeneration or such?”

The Angel of Death winced. 

“I’m already on a potion overdose from the fight a day ago. Strength to keep me awake, healing for that cut from XD. Anymore and it'd be dangerous.”

Dream did a double-take. “Awake? Don’t tell me you’re sleep-deprived too.”

A short silence followed. 

“I suppose you wouldn’t know. XD shot me with an arrow tipped with some more powerful form of weakness during the battle. Knocked me out cold. The Blade had to carry me.”

“And now, I reiterate, why the heck are you even here ? Shouldn't you be resting?”

Supervillains. They apparently have no sense of self-preservation. Whatsoever.

It always just seems as though no matter who I’m with, I’ll always end up feeling like a responsible parent around them, age providing no difference.

I’m surrounded by idiots.

Angel simply tilted his head. He was taking this bird thing to another level. “Blade and Siren are busy, and even Thunder. Nemesis is still recovering from yesterday’s fight. I was the only one available.”

“Still.” Dream let the bandages fall to the floor. Looking at the state of the injury, it looked like he’d have to use his power if Angel couldn’t take any potions.

At this point, his hands begin to glow when he even begins to think about using his power, but he’d scarcely even twitched in the direction of the puncture wound when The Angel stepped back. Impressively, not even a flash of pain crossed his face.

“Woah, mate, you really don’t–”

Somehow, the country’s second most lethal supervillain and his teenage sister were one in the same. At least when it comes to actually being sensible.

“Seriously?” Dream exclaimed, though with no real heat. “The one time I actually offer to do it is also the one time you refuse? Just get over here . Do you want me to change my mind?”

The Angel remained looking unsure, but didn’t move again when Dream pressed his hands onto the bloodied gash. Within seconds, it disappeared, leaving not even a scar.

Dream shut his eyes to get the darkness out of his vision, a light headache beginning to come on. This time though, it wasn’t bad, and when he opened his eyes again, The Angel was peering at him.

“You alright, mate? You’re not going to pass out, are you?”

Well, it was nice to know that The Angel cared about his well being. 

The Angel of Death, for all his name suggested, wasn’t really as evil as he was made out to be. What Dream had also thought him to be up until a few days ago.

“No, I’m not. It wasn’t even that bad.” Dream waved him off, though stumbling a bit as he stood.

“Anyway, what were you saying?” He prompted, rubbing his temple with one hand, grimacing at the light-headedness he felt.

“Right.” The Angel flexed his newly healed leg with brief awe, the action very neatly concealed. 

“I wanted–we wanted– to know if you would be willing to,” The Angel paused, staring at Dream, who suddenly felt slightly awkward. 

“Be our healer.”

“The Syndicate’s healer?” Dream didn’t miss a single beat.

“Yes.”

Dream took a deep breath.

“You already know what my answer is. I said I didn’t want to associate with,” Dream gestured to the man in front of him, “your kind of people. Hero, villain, anything in between.” 

“We’d pay you.” Angel offered.

“And you know I don’t need money.”

Another silence.

“Why do you even need me? You have enough resources.”

“......I can’t answer that until we’ve known each other for much longer.”

If Dream had his way, they didn't have to know each other for much longer.

Dream gazed at The Angel, and how far away the look on his face seemed.

“Just think about it, okay mate?”

Dream bit his lip. “If I ever did say yes, and I’m not saying I will,” Dream turned his back to the outside, “It’ll be on my own terms, and my rules. No exceptions.”

To his surprise, The Angel quickly agreed, though asking, “Do you not trust us? To not take advantage of your power?”

“You possess the ability to murder me with a touch. Siren could literally tell me to jump off a cliff I wouldn't be able to refuse. And do I even need to explain ‘The Blade’?” Dream used his hand to make the quotation gesture.

The Angel snorted, though the sound held no humor in it. “You have me there. But I promise, we won’t.”

That caught Dream off guard; The Syndicate never broke its promises, the serious ones. Not even to heroes. And he was, as far as they knew, an innocent civilian. 

No reason to stop their unsaid rule for him.

“.......You really mean it.”

“Of course I do, mate.”

“You won’t– you won’t… take advantage of– it.”

Never again. It won’t ever happen again. 

It can’t.

“I promise, mate. As do the rest of us, I’m sure.”

“The rest…meaning The Syndicate? Every member? Even the ones I don’t know about?”

“Yes.”

Wow. That gave him a lot to think about.

First, it confirmed the fact there was in fact more members of the villain organization than just the top six villains: The Blade, The Angel of Death, Siren, Nemesis, Thunder, and Gambit, with Thunder being less of a full-time member having more association through his partner, Nemesis.

Second, that The Syndicate was serious about wanting to have him. Whether for his powers or something similar to such.

“I need some time. To think.”

The Angel opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the balcony door slid open and Drista stood at the entrance. Dream smoothly hid his shock and worry, hearing a barely noticeable whoosh behind him and repressed the urge to glance in the direction The Angel had been. 

“Hey, Dream, do you know where the Craft mansion is?”

He blinked at her, suddenly remembering the kid from yesterday. Tommy. “Yeah. Why?”

Drista just smiled rather evilly. “My friend’s a Craft. Tommy Craft. He gave me a challenge to try and find where his house is. Unluckily for him, my brother has photographic memory, and knows the whole city like the back of his hand.”

Dream snickered, because that was completely true. “Two blocks east, then start walking south when you reach the coast. Can’t miss it, it’s got a huge gate with their family logo.”

“Oh! Okay. See you!” And she ran back into the house, grinning maniacally. 

Then, quickly, pieces clicked in his brain. Tommy, the friend of the intern, was also coincidentally friends with his sister. Huh.

It was a small world.

Dream cast his gaze around, trying to find a hint of a wing or such. 

“Angel? You still here?” 

No response. Dream sighed, turning to the door, when a single, shimmering black feather lying innocently on the floor grabbed his attention. He got down on one knee, inspecting it gingerly, before picking it up. Attached to it was a singular note with the same handwriting as before.

For my promise.

Dream held up the feather to the light. It shone with a light purple-green sheen, beautiful and perfect and true in every way.

He’d have to hope that a villain’s promise was just the same.

                                                                                 — — —

Dream groans, opening his eyes sleepily and then shutting them again when they were met with the blinding light of the mid-afternoon sun, streaming in through the windows, the curtains drawn apart.

Eventually, he gets up, dressed in a simple white polo shirt and black dress pants, vaulting over the side of the railing instead of going down the stairs. Dream adjusted his sleeves, feeling for his bracelet as a habit, after which he threw on a black blazer as well, tucking his papers into the inside pocket.

The diamond earring on his left ear’s twin was held by Drista, swinging as he walked. He’d gotten it as a gift for her sixteenth birthday.

He was also quite aware that there was excess energy pent up inside of him, just waiting to burst. He’d have to go on a walk to decrease it, which wasn’t something he was truly against. After all, there was some hero business (XD business) to attend to, by order of President J. Schlatt himself, who, in Dream’s rather accurate opinion, was a tricky, sleazy douchebag.

He did run Essempi, however, and quite well, so he wasn’t the worst President they could’ve had.

The Essempi Archives was only a 17 minute walk from his house, so it made perfect sense that it felt like only a few minutes later that he spotted the large building that looked like a temple of sorts.

Dream hopped up the steps, blending in with the crowd of tourists and government workers, stepping inside the large, artfully constructed building.

The inside partially mimicked the lobby of the Hero Tower, except magnified in area. Spotless marble tiles paired with chiseled bricks, the walls hung with priceless paintings.

Dream navigated the public hallways on instinct, finding his way to his destination: a tall administration desk, specifically for more private matters such as his. Beside it were two burly security guards who’s gazes slid right past him.

Behind it sat a rather bored, seemingly tired woman with black hair and a pair of spectacles.

She looked up and saw him, blinking once before reacting.

“State your name and business.” She droned, sighing heavily.

“Dream Hunter. Classified.” Dream answered in a low voice. With that, he placed his signed documents and ID card in front of her. The woman’s eyes widened slightly at the end of his sentence, and adjusted her spectacles, unfolding the papers before scanning the contents. 

Her posture and facial expression when she reached the bottom of the page revealed that she was taken aback, seeing the Signed, President J. Schlatt handwritten on the bottom, looking up and studying him closely with newfound respect and curiosity.

The woman peered at his ID quickly before saying, “I’ll have someone take you to your destination.” She folded back up the pages and handed them back to Dream as well as a temporary access key, who carefully reinserted them both back into the inside pocket of his black blazer.

“No need. I can find my way.” She pauses, staring at him again, but eventually relents, gesturing to her right to the locked door with a one-way window from inside to out.

Dream hears the buzzer and the click of the lock, and he pushed the metal door open, hearing it slam shut behind him and he continued forward.

He was greeted with rows upon rows of looming, but simple, metal shelves holding large marked boxes labeled and sorted alphabetically which seemed to touch the roof above.  To his left and right was a long hall where you could see letters printed on posters stuck to the metal racks. From where he was standing, he could see the letters ‘M,’ ‘N,’ and ‘O.’

He swept past them without a glance, moving forwards down the first row.

The farther down the rows he walked, the more it started to appear like the shelves of files would never end. 

Despite this, after an eternity Dream reached another ominous, lone reinforced door with a keypad and card scanner. Straight behind him, far enough away to be out of sight, was the entrance door. 

Not exactly a very good security-in-mind design, but he guessed you couldn’t have everything. It was beautiful, and well-organized, so it was alright. Everything had flaws.

Especially you. A sudden intrusive internal thought sneered.

....Where had that come from?

Moving on.

Guarding the door were two zoned-out, low level heroes. Their uniforms were nothing like his team’s, custom made with the best material, enchantments, and technology in the city. Instead, they were simple: one base color, with some simple designs like swirls and a matching weapon, complete with a on-color-theme domino mask.

They snapped to attention when he came into view, eyeing him momentarily before apparently deciding he didn’t seem like a threat of any kind. Rookie mistake, but that was probably why they were sent to do this instead of patrolling.

He pressed in the passcode (633201) and scanned his access key with practiced efficiency.

Stepping into the room behind it, it was clear that this was an important place. Instead of tall, metal racks holding countless cardboard storage boxes, there were instead neat lines of metal filing cabinets, each with a scanner lock.

Dream made a bee-line for the one hidden in the corner of the gymnasium sized room right next to another that was slightly tilted. Using his card, Dream unlocked the last drawer and flipped through the thick folders almost spilling with papers, eventually pulling out one in the middle. Across the top, in big, bold, red letters was the word CLASSIFIED.

He picked out the half he needed, which were the only copies that existed outside of the White House itself. Dream tucked them into his jacket pocket as well, turning his head to look around purely on instinct. He then placed the folder back where it had originally been and shut the cabinet.

Dream had scarcely stepped out of the room and fallen out of sight of the two heroes, at the edge of the hallway to walk between all the long rows and connected to the entrance door when the startling sound of explosions made him freeze right in his tracks.

Who had the gall to attack the Essempi Archives, one of the most well protected buildings in the city just below Hero Central and the White House itself, in broad daylight no less?

He was thrust back to his conversation with Angel:

“Isn’t your whole thing being ominous in the dead of the night or blowing up properties in broad daylight?” Dream asks.

The only people who had the skill and the means were The Syndicate themselves. 

If it really was them, Dream didn’t have to worry about himself, weirdly enough. They wouldn’t kill someone they owed. Other people though? They didn’t have nearly as much safety.

Then again, there was also a chance it wasn’t The Syndicate after all, and instead a different villain.

Or not even a villain at all, and Dream could rest easy knowing that they’d be arrested almost immediately.

Somehow he knew that that was not the case.

Another crash snapped him out of his thoughts and he tensed before pressing himself against the shelf so that he was hidden facing away from the door, only three rows to the left. His eyes were widened.

BANG!

A small gasp escaped him as the door that led to the file room sounded to have burst open, locks giving way to an immense pressure.

“HEY! STO–” The voice, startlingly close, cuts off with a fearful gasp. It was from one of the heroes that had been guarding the door to the classified files.

A quick tussle is heard, and Dream makes a dash for the next row of shelves down, which turns out to be a smart choice because just seconds later, someone smashes into the one he’d been pressed up against and makes it teeter, some boxes slipping from their places and creating an ominous, foreboding drum.

Dream hasn’t relaxed the slightest bit, controlling his breath to slow it down. He’s not scared, at least not for himself. 

Then, a thud right next makes him jump in surprise; he hadn’t heard anything for a while. His fists clenched at the sight of the nameless hero, collapsed on the floor of the hallway, eyes vacant. There is a bloody gash on the side of his head, running from the temple to the cheekbone. 

Dream finds himself wanting to rush towards him to make sure he’s okay. That he’s alive.

He knows his breaths are becoming too loud, that he’ll be noticed eventually, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less about his own life. What if the man was dying, and Dream could save him? What if he didn’t? What if the rookie hero did die, because of him ? What if…

A sudden presence behind him shoved Dream out of his spiraling thoughts once more, trying to initiate the ‘freeze’ of his fight, flight, or freeze instinct, and Dream forced it back down. The attacker, the one who might’ve killed the hero, was behind him. There wasn’t any time for that nonsense.

Dream turned, and was met with a sword to his neck, and a startled Blade, though the emotion was masked to any but Dream himself.

Now, Dream was quite aware that any normal civilian would, with getting a sharp object pointed at them, react with a hysterical scream, at the very least. He drew up fear and threw it into his voice.

“AHHHH! Holy fuck, what– you could’ve killed me ! Again!” He reeled away, flinching violently (and also very realistically, staring at the villain with widened, fearful eyes).

The Blade only cocked his head. 

“Dream?”

“What are you doin’ here?”

Chapter Text

Dream gaped at the supervillain in front of him. 

“What am I doing here? I should be asking you that!”

The Blade blinked once. “Uh huh. Okay then.” He comments in a nonchalant tone.

“So, I’m also sort of on a time-limit here before that nerd XD shows up and then just absolutely destroys all of my plans, so I don’t know about you, but I’m leavin’ now.”

“Wha–”

Dream doesn’t even have a chance to offer a reply, because at that moment The Blade turns and dashes away, and within a few seconds his figure disappears from view down the endless metal racks.

“Good talk.” Dream mutters to himself, twisting his head to look at the body of the trainee there. He crouches down, pressing two fingers onto the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he felt it.

Now it was time to get out of here, preferably as quickly as possible.

Feeling for his bracelet again, he found comfort in the way his thumb slid over the gem. In only a few seconds, he could become XD, and stop The Blade from doing…. well, whatever he was going to do, which was probably something not exactly legal.

But I can’t blow my cover, he reminds himself internally. Someone'd wonder how he got there so fast, and with the amount of security cameras here… and there could be even more villains outside, and he’d have no backup if there was.

It’s not worth it. 

No matter how selfish that seems.

Besides, he had a rather sneaking suspicion that the thing–or things– The Blade was after were the same things he had tucked neatly in his jacket pocket, concealed from view.

Nothing big could go wrong. As long as nobody died.

Dream ran, though not nearly at his top speed, carefully controlling it to a normal (for him) jogging pace.

He easily slipped through the empty doorway where the entrance to the file archives used to be, hopping over the damaged door lying on the floor, wariness increasing as soon as he stepped through.

Thankfully, it seemed all the chaos was contained to the main entrance hall, so he reduced his jog to a hop, footsteps lighter than a rabbit’s on snow, not producing the tiniest of noises.

Dream took care to look behind every corner as he traveled. The whole of the path was weirdly empty, but continuous explosions and clashes of metal rang throughout the building.

Hopefully, all the civilians had already evacuated, and the heroes were here already.

Dream was struck with a sudden thought: if the heroes were here, it was likely his team, who almost always responded to threats concerning The Syndicate almost every time.

Interacting with his team as a civilian would likely feel very– awkward, to put it lightly.

It was best to just get out of here. Now.

Dream peered down another corner, running the blueprints of the Archives inside his head. If he went down this corridor and turned two lefts, he’d reach the back door, usually guarded fiercely but now, most likely not. Then again, he’d have a much shorter distance to travel if he went through the front door, but that posed multiple problems that weren’t preferable.

Back door it is.

At this point, the explosions and distant thuds made him anxious to escape the scene before anyone showed up, so he broke into his full sprint, speeding down the halls at a speed that made his figure look blurred. Despite this, Dream still managed to maintain a somewhat quiet pacing, with his footing being as light and relaxed as possible.

And so it felt like only a minute before he found himself in front of an unassuming back door, the lock broken and twisted, with a few rather worrying bullet holes through the metal. Above it was a large red-lettered EXIT sign. 

Dream pushed past it without another thought, breathing heavily as he tumbled outside and onto the back steps of The Archives, the road clean and free of even a speck of dirt just like the rest of West End’s walkways. 

In front of him, across the empty street, was a tall, corporate building made of glass and metal, with either side of the construct having two more high-rise skyscrapers, decorative greenery lining the view. The road was abandoned, and there was no one in sight, not even police officers.

Sighing with slight relief, he adjusted the papers which had fallen slightly loose during his sprint, turning his head to walk in the direction of his house when a tick tick tick registered in his mind.

Dream barely had enough time to turn and shield his head before the entirety of the wall behind him exploded. 

What the fuck is happening today?

So, he stared, bewildered and shocked, hair blown with wind and dusted with pulverized rock, once immaculately looking clothes roughed up as The Blade, once again, stepped through the huge hole in the wall, the area around him smoking. Most of the once beautiful building was now destroyed, debris spread across the pavement.

Then, Dream became aware of the sharp rocks and cuts, and he winced, hands and part of his neck flaring up in pain.

“Again?” He finds himself exclaiming quietly, huffing as he stepped backwards down three steps, hair now lightly dusted with soot.

“Bruhhh.” 

The Blade was staring at him. Rather forebodingly, a large amount of blood was dripping from his netherite sword. A satisfied smirk on his face just almost hid the underlying annoyance his body language portrayed.

“Why did you… Why? Just why ?” 

“I had to get out of the buildin’ one way, Dream. It just happened to be the most convenient way.”

“You could have used the door! Like a normal person !” 

“Well then, Dream, I regret to inform you that I am not a normal person by any means. Besides, destruction? Pog. Especially government-mandated facility destruction. I live to cause the most inconvenience for the government as possible.”

“What is wrong with you ? ” Dream asked in an exasperated voice.

“Do you want a list?”

That just rendered Dream speechless, blankly gaping at The Blade and his royal attire, the rich, armored fabrics he wore, the bloodstained cape, and the golden crown complete with glittering gems, glinting in the afternoon sun. 

Dream is (kind of) playfully bantering with a supervillain that is a psychopath who murders people and commits mass terrorism on a daily basis.

Meanwhile, he’s a hero.

Dream is an idiot. 

Why, oh why , had he not decided to leave that night? Why hadn’t he just left?

Oh, that's right. Because he’d never be able to live with himself otherwise. He’d potentially indirectly killed so many people just to give himself comfort that there was no blood on his hands.

You’re selfish. Always was, and always have been. The sneering, intrusive thoughts returned once more.

Selfish.

“Why do I even bother trying to talk to you?” 

The Blade didn’t respond, because suddenly a black and gold cloaked figure came up from behind him: Siren.

Apparently this was what The Angel had said they were busy doing.

This, making Angel go out injured while they raided The Archives, made Dream doubt that The Syndicate were truly very close, or if they even knew each other’s civilian identities. Then again, they certainly seemed close.

The Syndicate was a well and true mystery. One that Dream just couldn’t seem to solve.

Siren glanced at Dream, and then said something to The Blade that Dream was out of earshot to hear, before turning to him.

“So, I hope you’re still not mad about the whole me almost killing you thing, right?”

“Still a little bit, but I’m over it. Mostly.” Dream snorted at the disappointed look on Siren’s face. 

“Best I’ll get, I guess.”

The Blade strode over to where Dream was standing, inspecting him.

“Why do you look like you were thrown off a cliff and then trampled by a horse?”

“You blew up a building. In my face. Of course I do!”

“L. Couldn’t be me.”

Dream just sighed dramatically.

“You know what? I’m not even going to try. I don’t even want to know how you don’t get injured by these sorts of things.”

The Blade chuckled, twirling his sword like how Dream did his axe. 

“Well then, we best get going then, ‘cause I don’t want to stick around and wait for the–” Siren swore.

“–oh, absolutely fucking fantastic. ”

The Blade looked up at that moment, and raised an eyebrow.

“Dream, it’s best you leave. If you’re really as against violence as you seem–no matter how skeptical I am–I don’t think you want to be here for this .” Siren suggested.

Dream glanced at The Blade, who just shrugged.

“Don’t really care what you do. Just don’t get in the way of my fun.” He returned to staring at whatever he was, smirking and continuing to twirl his sword in newfound glee.

Dream warily followed the two villain’s gazes, and spotted a flash of red and orange in the sky. 

Sapnap. 

Phoenix.

Dream twitched, instantly wanting to escape. A battle was sure to happen, and as a civilian, he did not want to present when that inevitably commenced.

When he turned and sprinted out of there while preserving as much of his dignity as possible (controlling his speed, of course) neither villains acknowledged him, instead opting to continue surveying as the heroes arrived.

Dream checked his watch as he slipped through another partly demolished wall, the rock teetering precariously because of the lack of structure present. Technically, XD could show up at any time now. It was late in the day, about 5:30 pm. Almost six.

Those extra thirty minutes didn’t matter. Besides, this was bound to be on tv already.

He was right.

However, this also meant that as soon had he made himself visible, he was immediately surrounded by a circle of police and paramedics, who formed a natural barrier between him and the media, who recognized him straight away (of course they did, he was one of the richest people in the city and a sought after bachelor who had connections with The President himself, and his face was practically plastered on at least one poster in every district of the city. Not that he particularly liked that, but there was no escaping himself, it seemed).

“Sir? Sir, a word, please!”

“Did you encounter The Syndicate?”

“Sir, a moment?”

“Essempi News, how are you feeling? There are–”

Multitudes of questions bombarded him, but thankfully the police managed to wave them away as two paramedics had him sit on the back of an ambulance as they checked him out, Dream’s legs hanging off the edge.

“Sir? How injured are you?” A paramedic inquired, inspecting him, frowning.

He grimaced, putting on a natural facade of minor discomfort but not wanting to inconvenience when there could be far more injured people than him. “Not much. Explosion burns, minor smoke inhalation, a few minor cuts and bruises. I’m fine.”

Apparently, the paramedic disagreed greatly, judging from his alarmed expression. 

“Explosion? You got caught in an explosion?” He instantly began prodding Dream in the abdomen, searching for any major injuries.

“I was far away. Sort of.” He attempted to reassure, but seemingly failed as the doctor eventually sighed, finishing his inspection.

“I suppose I’ll just do a light heal, then. If that’s okay with you, Mr. Hunter?”

He chuckled and flashed the man a charming, calm smile.

“Of course it’s okay. And thank you.”

The doctor blinked, apparently surprised at the genuine gratitude that lined Dream’s voice, but brushed past it quickly.

“Hold still, please.” 

Dream allowed himself a small smile as a rush of happiness and dopamine pushed itself through his mind. He was reminded of warm sunlight, friends, time spent with Drista. It was amazing .

It was easy to see how people get addicted to this sort of feeling.

A sudden memory snapped him back to reality.

“What are you doing?”

“I trusted you!” 

“No, no. Please. Don’t. DON’T! I’ll heal you, I’ll heal you, I will!”

“Just stop.”

Please.

“Sir?”

Dream nodded, covering up his thoughts as easily as breathing, the same untroubled look returning smoothly as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you, again.”

“No problem.”

Dream hopped off the ambulance side, comforted by the weight of the papers in his blazer. Dream then pulled out his wallet, and, much to the shock of the paramedic, gingerly took out a $100 bill and pressed it into his hand. It took the man in question a second to respond.

“Uh-I, wow. Thanks, but I-I can’t take this. We don’t charge for healing–”

“Consider it a tip then. A gift. Trust me, I won’t miss it.” Dream ignored the medic’s half-hearted disagreements, giving him another warm smile before slipping away from both the news reporters and the police. 

Thankfully, Dream didn’t encounter anyone, and soon after, he looked over his shoulder one final time before slipping into a semi-hidden alleyway, pulling up his sleeve before once again reassuring himself that the files were tucked securely in his pocket.

Dream took a deep breath. Yes, he would admit that this was risky, but he wasn’t about to let anyone die today. 

Dream pressed down on the emerald at the center of the gold bracelet, and felt his clothes exchange and his hero uniform morph itself onto him, his axe appearing in his hand instantly.

A few seconds later, he was vaulting across the rooftops, mask covering his face. Dream slid across triangular roofs with ease, eventually picking up speed as he circled back towards The Essempi Archives building, which was easy enough to locate, even to someone without an internal map of the city.

There was rising smoke originating from his destination, as well as the blares of police sirens and spinning red and blue lights that lit up that particular section of the city as the sun began to set, spilling orange, yellow and pink into the skies.

Dream got as close as he could to the scene without being spotted by anyone, sneaking past the police and finding the bit of the wall he had exited from, he entered back in, unnoticeably silent footsteps as he made his way behind where he’d seen the villains last.

The moment he spotted a glimpse of a pink braid through the person-sized hole The Blade had blown to bits earlier, his eyes widened from underneath the perpetual smiling porcelain and he promptly tucked himself behind the part of the supports that remained, though still discreetly eyeing the battle.

Flames burst past him and just narrowly scraped past. Dream didn’t even flinch, staying hidden in his spot. When it was deemed safe, he took another glance and saw Sapnap wielding swirling rings of fire around his arms, using them to keep The Blade from getting too close to him as they sparred. 

George and Siren were caught up in some sort of bow spleef sort of combat, shooting at each other’s legs and feet to try and catch them, though neither seemed to be being successful so far.

The moment Sapnap managed to drive The Blade up onto the top of the steps, leaving his back exposed to Dream, he grabbed the opportunity, wasting no time in pulling out his axe and jumping out, swinging a heavy hit on the villain.

The Blade turned, eyes slightly widened in his unique interpretation for surprise, dodging most of the hit but not before Dream had managed to draw a thin line of blood from his calf.

The supervillain hissed in not pain, but anger, and Dream fluidly ducked a retaliating stab.

“Nice afternoon for a fight.” Dream commented, ducking another swing and then blocking another hit with Nightmare as The Blade threw his body weight into the blow.

“Certainly is.” The Blade seemed to have recovered quickly and leapt up into the air to avoid a blast of Sapnap’s fire, Dream rolling out of the way at the same time before the two nemesis’s continued their deadly dance, with the occasional interruption of flame.

Dream noticed that The Blade didn’t really seem very engaged in the battle, or rather, much more cautious than usual; not taking risks he usually would, playing on defense more than half the time, and just generally acting out of character.

Well, all the better for Dream.

(He didn’t know if he would be able to arrest The Blade today, not after their almost friendly banter. Of course, that was Dream, not XD, but all the same for him , anyway).

Then, there was a scary conclusion he came to that he didn’t like one bit.

The Blade was trying not to get injured because of something they were planning. 

They’d broke into The Archives for information, not to fight with the heroes. And the papers The Blade was (presumably) looking for?

They contained the detailed blueprints of every important building and location in the city, including the White House, the Hero Tower, and the dozens of corporate skyscrapers that lined Essempi’s horizon.

Something was going to happen in the near future that needed The Blade uninjured. Probably to commit second-degree murder. Lots of it.

Shit.

Another easy dodge from a stab at his leg and he manages to hook the sword onto his axe, yanking it out of The Blade’s grip and tossing it away, his opponent’s annoyed huff making him whip his head back immediately just in time to duck underneath a punch backed up with super-strength, per The Blade’s ability.

Or should he say abilities.

Having enhanced strength, speed, agility, sight, smell, hearing, you name it, he’s probably got it. 

Now, Dream also most certainly had the advantage; with Blade injured, and weaponless, he and Sapnap shouldn’t have had any difficulties fighting him, regardless of his skill.

Key words: Shouldn’t have.

He just caught Phoenix’s warning cry of, “XD! Behind!” and rolled out of the way of a ball of flame, and whispered a hurried, “Shield!” To block the resulting explosion that came afterwards, hiking up the netherite to protect him from burns.

In the midst of the flaming concrete, smoke rising from his clothes, was Thunder.

He possessed a rather unique skill of, as Sam so eloquently and scientifically put it, pyrokinetic combustion inducement.

In other words, he can shoot fire-balls that explode. Into more fire. And smoke. And he was partially immune to explosions, smoke and fire.

Basically Sapnap if he got his hands on any bombs. 

Thunder had no mask but a pair of glasses with one blue tinted glass and the other red. Then again, he didn’t really need one, because A: He’s usually on fire, therefore hiding his identity. B: he was part blaze-born, meaning what he looked like as a hybrid was different than as a human.

The pyrokinetic villain also sported an armored blue and black striped hoodie, as well as a pair of black flexible pants which had a belt with numerous pockets strapped to them. At times, he also wore a pair of black headphones around his neck, mainly for style and/or for use as a comms channel.

“Thunder.” Sapnap growled, fire– haha, get it? Fire? Right, not the time– alit in his eyes.

“Phoenix.” Thunder replied in the same impartial tone, smirking wildly.

Those were the only two words spoken before Sapnap dives off the steps to The Archives and barrels straight into Thunder, who curses and lights himself up, balls of flame erupting from his hands, forcing Sapnap to let go of him lest he be blown up.

Dream has to pull his attention away from them and dodge another forceful punch, slicing at The Blade to force him away.

“Aww, The Blade doesn’t have a blade? So sad.” He teased.

“Then it’ll just be more embarrassin’ for you when you inevitably die.”

“Hopefully of natural causes, then.” Dream sniped back in a faux cheerful tone. 

“ I’ll sincerely hope not.”

They continued trading quick paced blows, though not at the speed nor hostility they usually did. Finally, before Dream could even begin to get bored, a voice shocked both Dream and Blade out of their practiced choreography.

“The flame is lit! Blade, ready when you are!” Thunder calls from behind him. 

The hidden implications that Dream and the rest of his team had just been stalled to distract them from something else unnerved him as well as worried. As such, he didn’t have time to dwell on it because at that moment, The Blade stopped fighting, flipping away from another stab and landing a few meters away from Dream.

“Well, it’s been fun, but we’ve got to get goin’ now. You know, places to be, people to kill, things to explode. You get it, I’m sure .” The Blade practically purred that last word, saluting with a cocky eyebrow raise.

“Let’s cheer for a rather explosive exit, shall we?”

Dream realized it before anyone else.

He spun around immediately, spotting his two teammates and sprinting towards them, steady and surely. Dream managed to grab Sapnap by the wrist and unceremoniously tumble into George before raising his shield attached to his wrist to protect them all from the resulting BOOM that echoed through the streets.

Thank god his mask protected his whole face, because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to open his eyes from the smoke that clouded his vision. Even with a filter, he coughed, ash invading his lungs as most of the street disappeared in a smoky haze of destruction, eyes burning.

When the dust settled, all three villains had inexplicably disappeared, leaving only dying sparks of flame and blackened rubble. Dream hopped to his feet, untangling himself from his friends, who groaned.

Sapnap blinked at the blackened street and the practically destroyed building ahead of them.

“And that’s another few million in damages. God, I hate it when Thunder shows up.”

“I’ll say.” George huffed, dusting himself off. Sapnap spreading out his wings and shaking them, a layer of grime dusting off.

“And another hour of preening, too.” Dream observed, the shield retreating back onto his arm. He looked around for The Blade’s sword, but didn’t find it, much to his annoyance.

“At this point, it’ll be more than just an hour. A few days, more like.” Sapnap just sighed, lighting his wings on fire before extinguishing them just as quickly, but to no avail. Thunder’s debris tended to be fire-proof. Why? No one knows.

“At least you showed up early. I was worried I’d have to try and fight The Blade again. Do you know just how embarrassing it is to almost lose when the guy doesn’t even have wings ?”

“It’s still like a 50/50 chance of victory by now, even for me. And I’ve fought him tons of times.” Dream added, helping Sapnap up.

“We should get going. There’s a swarm of reporters just in front of The Archives. Or, well, what’s left of it.” Again, Dream found comfort in the knowledge that the city’s blueprints were safe and secure, tucked away as data in the bracelet that had morphed into a hero band during the change.

George grimaced at the mention of reporters. “Fuck, yeah, let’s go.”

Saying that, Dream and George took to the rooftops with Sapnap flying above after calling in more lower ranked heroes and informing the police that the villains had escaped the area.

As they ran, Dream saw the multiple posters and billboards with either XD on it, or Dream Hunter, promoting his business, or his donations to the city, or something like that.

He can never escape himself. Ever.

Apart from him, there were also posters of discount prices for Hero Day, and when Dream and his team passed Hero’s Square, a huge area dedicated just for Hero Day, there were already decorations and preparations underway, which didn’t take away any of his slight dread.

Apparently, both his comrades shared the same thought process as him, because as soon as they noticed it, they both reacted in the exact way Dream felt.

“Ugghhh, no. No. No. ”

“I love Hero Day. So much. In fact, it’s so great that I would die from amazement when it inevitably happens again. ”

“And why’s that?” Dream chanted amusedly as a part of their usual joke.

“Because even though it’s celebrating us , it manages to make us feel the exact opposite!” They all answered together.

“ And ?” Dream said in an excited tone.

“It’s a prime target for villain attacks!” All three of them exclaimed, sounding like the epitome of joy.

“ And ?”

“We don’t do anything remotely productive or fun the whole day!” They cheered together, just barely managing to hold in their snickering, bodies shaking with mirth.

It took them five seconds to burst into laughter.

“Oh, geez.” Dream mimed wiping a tear from his eye, recovering first. They hadn’t stopped moving even while laughing like their life depended on it. He shook his head.

“I’m looking forward to Hero Day more than anything else in my whole life ! In fact, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else! ” Sapnap continued, still tittering as he spoke.

“And I–” George wheezed, “Love it so much that I’d willingly talk to anyone that even looks in my direction !”

Dream wheezed again, bursting into another fit of hysterical laughter, joined by his friends once again.

They continued in this fashion for the rest of their run to the Hero Tower, trading jokes and sarcastic remarks. At one point, he even heard Sam (and possibly Ant, as well) chortling in his ear.

Good times.

                                                                                 — — —

“–And that concludes the weekly updates. Warden, if you could please?” 

Dream took his seat at the head of the rounded conference table as Sam got up from his own and stood at the other end of the table where a hologram of the city was floating in 3D.

The room they were in itself was modeled in a futuristic way, with many curves and geometric shapes in the design itself. The color theme was blue, white and gold, with the table as clean as paper.

They were in a private conference room with sound-proof walls with the new, state of the art technology and a few custom bonuses designed by Sam himself. One of these was masking sound and making sure no one could listen in on conversations that went on here with chips or bugs, so the area contained an EMP that was selectively permeable to only allow Hero-tech to function.

On Dream’s right sat Sapnap, and on his left George. The former just barely stifled a yawn, stretching his wings in an avian way of showing boredom before folding them again.

Beside Sapnap was Sam’s now vacant seat, and across from Sam was Ant, whose tail was drooping tiredly.

Seated beside Ant was Ponk, who was sat straight and attentively, engaged in a way only he could be, legs crossed rather professionally looking.

Finally, beside Sam’s designated space was Puffy, the person in question resting her chin on her right hand, ram’s horns clean and polished as always. 

She was missing her sailor’s hat but the rest of her outfit was complete just like everyone else’s in the room, save for Ponk who just wore his doctor’s coat with dark blue pants, complete with his signature mask.

Ponk was filling in Halo’s missing role, as Dream hadn’t really been ready to introduce a new hero into their group without knowing them too well, and he was sort of like the group’s anchor, keeping them all grounded in their decision-making.

“As you all know, Captain and I have recently been shuffling through the applicants for the internship position.”

“You mean your internship position.” Sapnap lazily added, leaning back in his chair.

Sam surveyed him for a moment before continuing, already quite accustomed to Sapnap’s antics.

“Well, the position is technically an internship to all of us in this room, though yes, it will majorly be a studying opportunity under my guidance. Now, we are straying from the topic.” 

“Only one applicant stood out to both Captain and I. Tubbo Underscore, the President's son.” 

An ID profile of the mentioned kid was shown on the hologram screen, and suddenly the whole conference room changed their tune, studying the words attentively.

“Not only does he have incredible knowledge and skills in all things technology, he also has much more firsthand experience than most of the other contenders. It helps that he’s also Schlatt’s son, meaning that he’s automatically trustworthy and knows more about the inner workings of Hero Central than anyone else. He most certainly has my vote.” Sam finished, waiting for an answer from the room.

“I second the motion. I spoke to a friend of his who was waiting outside. Craft’s youngest. They’re good kids.” Dream said, tone even and sure. The rest of the room turned to look at him, accepting his words easily, usually tending to agree with whatever Dream said. Sapnap sighed.

“Well, if XD thinks he’s fine, he can’t be all that bad. I mean, this guy knows everything.” Sapnap jabbed a thumb towards Dream, then raised his hand. “My vote is yes.”

“I agree.” Puffy spoke up. “He was honest during the entirety of the time I traded words with him.”

“That’s the deciding vote, then. Unless anyone disagrees?” Sam inquired. The unvoted members of the meeting–George, Ant and Ponk– all shook their heads, with George shrugging.

“I’m with XD.”

“Okay then. I’ll send the email tonight. His first day is tomorrow. XD? Are you alright with that?”

Dream nodded once. “Of course. But don’t expect me to interact with the kid. If he wants to meet with a Dream Team member, Phoenix and 404 can duke it out to decide.”

At this, his two best friends narrowed their eyes at each other, though playfully. “No way. 404, you–”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah uh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah–”

“Later, please .” Dream interrupted Sapnap, who grinned. “Whatever you say, amazing leader of mine.”

Dream sighed, then said, “If that’s all, then you’re free to leave now. Meeting adjourned. Same time next week.”

Sapnap leapt up from his chair. “Yes!” And bounded out of the room, followed by Ponk and then everyone else, save for Dream and George.

“You thinking of adopting another one?” George teased, and Dream smiled, though not genuinely. 

“He’s Schlatt’s son. I’m just a bit… apprehensive about his potential character. Trustworthy is certainly a word to say it. Morally ambiguous is another.”

“I thought you said–”

“I know what I said. I do support him. I do. Just…well.. gut feeling. And it’s not usually wrong.” 

“It’s not.” George agreed. “But it could be. The apple doesn’t necessarily have to fall close to the tree, after all. It doesn’t have to.”

No. No, it doesn’t have to.

“You’re right. Maybe I’m just worrying about nothing.” The Dream smiled again. “Wanna play another game of Manhunt?”

George smirked. “You’re on. I’ll go find Sapnap.” He rushed out of the room, though stopping to say, “He’s probably on the rooftop again. Chirping or something, that fucking bird.”

Dream snickered at the remark.

                                                                                 — — —

Long story short, Dream won. Again. 

Though, he had nearly lost. He’d shot the fatal blow from his arrow right as Sapnap aimed a ‘killing’ slice from his sword.

His friends would be sour about it for another day or so, and Dream would enjoy every minute of it.

Right. No more daydreaming, Dream. Focus.

He landed swiftly behind a hedge in the front of his house after leaping from a rooftop, rolling and standing with ease that came from doing the same movement multiple times a day for years.

Immediately, he pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie and pressed the wristband, waiting for five seconds and holding his thumb solidly on top. Finally his suit dissolved, replaced with the same blazer and shirt he’d worn to The Archives. 

It was dark out, which helped calm his nerves. He never liked changing outdoors, but he wasn’t about to walk into Dream Hunter’s house as XD, not when supervillains now knew his address.

Dream stepped into the house and was surprised to see that no lights were on, making the indoors of the mansion just as dark, if not darker, than the moonlit sky outside.

Just as he was about to walk over to the control panel to open the lights, a sudden presence made itself known to him and it took willpower not to freeze in his tracks.

Someone was here.

And, if he was going to be honest, it was probably a villain.

The moment he walked into the first of his many living rooms and illuminated the house, he was instantly aware of not one, but two villains in his house, one of them lounging on his couch.

Dream blinked at them bewilderedly. 

“Why is it that almost every time I talk to you guys it’s because you’ve broken into my house?”

The Blade shrugged, a bored expression on his masked face.

“‘Cause it’s fun.”

Dream just sighed, but then jumped, pretending to have just spotted Thunder sitting cross legged on one of his counter seats, turned so that it faced the same way as the couch.

Dream studied him for a moment. “You better not blow up anything.”

Thunder just rolled his eyes.

“If you annoy me, I just might.”

Dream wasn’t sure if the villain notorious for destruction was joking or not, so he decided to just steer clear of him for now, refocusing on The Blade.

“So, what’s it this time? Here to convince me to say yes to your proposal? Because if it is, you won’t have much luck. Angel couldn’t, and he’s a lot nicer than you are.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” The Blade deadpanned in his monotone voice, stretching dramatically and hopping up to his words. It was a good thing that The Blade was about the same height as Dream, and that he wasn't the civilian he said he was, because his many weapons strapped on his person would have definitely creeped anyone else out.

“We’re actually here to request your ‘amazing’ healing services again. It’s urgent.”

“And it is?”

The Blade clenched a fist tightly, releasing it afterwards, sighing.

“Nemesis. She hasn’t recovered from the fight a few days ago. We think the blood loss combined with power exhaustion is the reason, probably resultin' from the loss of water that her aquatic side needs.”

“And you want me to wake her up.”

“If you can, it’d be wonderful.” There was no change in tone in The Blade’s voice.

Dream took a moment to deliberate, but eventually slumped in acceptance.

“Where is she? Where are we going?”

“Right here.” Thunder sounded, and Dream twisted his head over to see that he was knelt on one knee, handling an unconscious Nemesis with deliberate care taken from Prime knew where.

At this, Dream’s eyes widened and then narrowed, whipping his head back around to glare at The Blade, who seemed caught off guard by the gesture.

“If I,” Dream paused to hiss, “Wasn’t already going to agree, we were going to have a serious talk about assumptions.”

Rather annoyingly, The Blade didn’t seem to react, instead just blinking a few times and answering with a simple, “Eh.”

This made Dream purse his lips in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else (for now).  Instead, he strode over to Thunder while casting another glare at The Blade, the former of which studied him with wariness and just barely concealed hostility, but did release the tension in his shoulders and let Nemesis down onto the floor, Dream getting down on one knee as well.

His hands began to glow a bright green, and this seemed to even surprise Thunder, who backed up quickly as if Dream had pulled out a sword and threatened him or something.

Bruh. Just… bruh.

Seriously?

He first just scanned her wounds without letting any energy go, and his hands didn’t stop their temporary light show even as he said, “It’s not too bad. A bit of dehydration, insomnia, exhaustion. Physically, she's just got three broken ribs, no lung punctures.”

At Dream’s words, both villains in the room visibly relaxed.

“Can you… fix her?” Thunder asked with a touch of uncertainty.

“If you mean wake her up and heal her ribs, yes. Exhaustion I can cure, dehydration a tad, but insomnia? No. I can temporarily remove the effects, but not permanently. At least without me passing out.”

Thunder answered with a nod, turning back at Nemesis with a worried look of a friend, or family member.

They were certainly very close.

(And of course he had to heal her; he was the cause of her being in this state anyway. It was the least he could do, even if Nemesis did hate XD’s guts).

This time, when he refocused his gaze onto the unconscious villain before him, he let the energy flow in, feeling the loss and at the same time the ribs seal back up and mind begins to wake.

When her eyelids fluttered, he stopped the transition of energy, though huffing as his hands refused to stop being two overly excited glow sticks, standing up.

Dream then swayed as a sudden, forceful headache pounded its way in, and Dream lurched forward, but The Blade caught him, steadying him. 

He shut his eyes, feeling unsteady on his feet.

“You okay?” The Blade’s gruff voice made him open his eyes.

“Not really. Headache. Bad one.” Dream found himself leaning against his arch nemesis, welcoming the comfort as he tried to pass over the horrible pounding and pain in his head as if he was being stabbed from the inside.

Eventually, Dream managed to right himself, though still using The Blade as a support.

Thunder rushed to Nemesis’ side.

She groaned before finally opening her eyes, bright blue ones that spoke confusion.

“J-”

“We’re in company.” Thunder interrupted her, and she closed her mouth instantly, turning her head and widening her eyes when she saw Dream, but also smiled when she spotted The Blade.

“This your healer?” She asked, and perhaps Blade could sense Dream’s concealed frustration at the designation and replied swiftly, “Potential healer. He agreed to help you.”

Dream tried his best to make a caught off guard look as Nemesis turned her tired eye onto him, studying him and sizing him up simultaneously.

Then, Dream perceived the connections in her thoughts, and she inquired, “Dream Hunter? The millionaire? The one with the sister, Drista, was it?”

Dream bristled at this. “Don’t bring up my sister. She’s not involved with any of this.”

She sat up, kindly brushing off Thunder’s attempt to aid her with a muttered, “I’m fine.” After of which she continued to study Dream with suspicion.

Dream pretended not to notice, instead just offhandedly commenting to Blade, “If that’s all, I’m going to bed. It’s late, and I have work tomorrow.” Saying this, he attempted to move for the doorway, but was speedily blocked by The Blade’s intimidating form.

“There’s somethin’ I wanted to discuss with you. Privately.” The Blade added, specifically gesturing to the two other supervillains in Dream’s living room.

Nemesis replied with, “Tomorrow, 2:00. You better be there. There are some things needed to talk about.” Dream knew for certain that she meant him, but at the moment couldn’t care less, preoccupied with The Blade blocking his exit in front of him. 

“Mmhm.” The Blade responded with a bored tone.

“See you tomorrow, then.” Thunder and Nemesis then opened the door and disappeared into the night. As soon as the door swung shut, The Blade focused all his attention on Dream once more, regarding him with an expression Dream couldn’t decipher.

“I–”

“This is about me being your healer, isn’t it.” Dream accused, cutting off Blade.

“Spot on.”

“You know my answer is–”

This time, Blade cut him off. “I mean, it's a good deal. We’ll protect you, and pay you, and respect your boundaries or whatever, and all you have to do is occasionally come and heal us from a life-endangering wound. Win-win.”

“You’d really listen? Really follow all my rules?”

“As long as they’re reasonable. I ain’t becomin’ your personal bodyguard.”

“It’s not like I wanted you to.” Dream rolled his eyes, but then stayed silent, thinking.

It wouldn’t hurt me, not as long as they maintain their side of the deal. And I have favors. Multiple. I’ll use them to protect myself if I have to. 

But I can’t afford getting too close to them. I’ll slip up, eventually. Let down my guard. I can’t afford having them find out my identity. 

It’d be the end of my quiet civilian life. Drista… would be in danger. For the rest of her life. 

I can’t.

But at the same time…

I can.

I owe them this. I hurt them on a daily basis. This way, I can make sure I don’t accidentally kill them. Make sure they don’t get too hurt.

God, this feels so selfish.

I could be indirectly condemning hundreds of people to their potential deaths by saving villains. For my own morals.

But I can’t just say no anymore.

I have to say yes, don’t I?

The second Dream gave in with a condemned sounding sigh, collapsing his shoulders and shutting his eyes, The Blade perked up.

“But you have to follow my rules. There’s only two, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“And those two would be?”

Dream took a deep breath.

There’ll be time to question and regret all my decisions later. When I’m well-rested enough to deal with them.

“One. No means no. I say no, or deny you healing in any way, regardless if I’m drugged, delirious, half-asleep, it doesn’t matter. No means back off and leave me alone.”

The Blade tilted his head but said nothing.

“Two. If either Drista or I get injured, or hurt, or threatened, or endangered because of you , I have the right to leave and you can’t stop me. You are not allowed to say no to me leaving.”

“Do we have a deal, then?” The Blade finally spoke up.

A short silence.

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

The Blade clapped his hands together dramatically.

“Wonderful. That’s great. I’ll inform the rest of The Syndicate of your rules, and we can discuss payment later. It was rather mediocre talkin' to you.”

And just like that, The Blade disappeared the instant Dream looked away, and he sighed as he made his way over to the bedrooms.

Oh, what have I done?

Despite his worry and fear and downright terror very neatly suppressed underneath all his other emotions, he collapsed into bed and passed out in just a few minutes.

Dream didn’t remember to check if Drista was in her room or not.

                                                                                 — — —

Dream is sitting cross legged on a large, white leather sofa, decked out in his full hero uniform (minus Nightmare , which was sitting on the coffee table facing him) reviewing the new protocol book when a hyperactive Sapnap bursts into the room, mask nowhere in sight and feathers puffed in excitement.

“XD, XD!” He practically screams, leaping onto the sofa. Dream turns his head, blinking twice before putting the book down slowly.

“What?” 

“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to know if you know where Gogy is.” 

A beat.

“He’s probably sleeping, I dunno, just got here an hour ago.”

Unlike Dream, Sapnap and George slept in the tower a lot more frequently then he did, resulting in them having proper bedrooms and civilian clothing around the tower, while Dream tended to go back home to check on Drista.

“Okay then. GOGY!!!!” Sapnap bounded out of the living room towards George’s living quarters, and Dream sighed. 

He was just about to return to his book when Sapnap came back carrying a very disgruntled George bridal-style, also in his hero costume but not wearing any sort of mask, goggles pushed up on top of his head.

“Sapnap, if you don’t put me down this instant, I will murder you, and no one will care that you are gone because everyone hates you.”

“That is if you can murder me.” Sapnap snickered, but dumped George onto the same sofa Dream had been residing peacefully on just a few minutes prior, George sitting up.

“All right then. George, I absolutely refuse to parade a terrified looking kid around for five hours today because I have shit to do, and he’s Schlatt’s kid too. It’s your job.”

“Oh come on, you dragged me out of bed for this? ”

“It’s not just this, Gogy, it’s straight up torture!”

“Why can’t you just make XD do it?”

His two friends stopped arguing to both stare at him, and he leaned back a bit, slightly startled.

“Oh, you know I can’t make XD do anything! He’ll just be extra mean during Manhunt, you know this! Plus,” Sapnap added, quieting his voice into a mock whisper, “I’m pretty sure if we made him do it, he’d scare the life out of that kid to spite us and watch with no remorse as Sam lectures us like there’s no tomorrow.”

“I would not!” Dream exclaimed, and his teammates burst into giggles, George in particular managing a, “Sure you wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“Uh, huh.” Sapnap joined in, lightly punching Dream on the arm.

“Oh my gosh. ” Dream slumped his shoulders, exasperated, and then said, “You know what? I don’t have to take this slander. I’m leaving. And don’t you dare disturb me.” 

With that, he stood up, grabbing his axe and moving for the elevator as Sapnap said, “In all seriousness, George, you’re doing it.”

“Am not!”

“Am too!”

“AM NOT!”

“AM TOOOOO!” Sapnap shrieks and George’s “No, XD come back! SAVE ME!” Are quite frankly ignored as Dream makes his way to their custom training room.

                                                                                 — — —

XD takes in a breath before closing his eyes tightly, gripping the decorated bow of green and black in his right hand and an arrow in his left.

You’ve done this before. Just one more time.

The training exercise (which he designed and customized for himself, Sapnap and George, because the default levels were too easy) included hitting moving targets from close range without using your sight. With the other two-thirds of his team, they were blindfolded, but as that didn’t exactly work with Dream, he just closed his eyes.

Memorization of all the positions of the targets combines with learning to rely on other senses than just your sight was how you mastered this exercise. Fortunately, one of the things Dream was quite good at was memorization.

Sadly, however, because no one could actually tell if he was cheating or not, Dream didn’t participate in Sapnap and George’s bets on how many bullseyes they could get.

Dream had already gone through a combat simulation and a survival simulation before this, and a few parkour maps Sam had designed specifically for him to work on his skills.

A whistle, barely noticeable, whipped past him and he quickly docked an arrow, raising it up, following the trail of sound detected by his keen sense of hearing. 

He let go and heard a subtle thump as it hit dead center.

On instinct, he turned and fired another, the arrow appearing in his hand courtesy of the Infinity I enchantment runes that decorated his bow. Dream was satisfied as another arrow of his hit the center of the target.

Thump.

Thump. Thump.

Thump.

His arrows began to pick up pace, and Dream eventually counted a total of 26, his personal best.

However, when he was aiming a 27th, a loud burst through the entrance door just as he let go and he cursed underneath his breath as the arrow whizzed and landed. Dream wasn’t sure if he’d landed a bullseye or not.

Internally grumbling, Dream opened his eyes and blinked as he adjusted to the bright ceiling lights, while at the same time zeroing in on Sapnap, wearing his mask this time, hopping into the room saying, “And this is the training roo– oh, hey XD! This is Tubbo, the new intern!”

Dream studied the rather petite boy nervously step in the room and freeze when he lay eyes on XD. 

His most noticeable feature were the small ram horns that had not yet begun to curl on the top-sides of his head, nestled in messy brown locks. To save Tubbo from being creeped out, Dream broke eye contact with those greenish-blue eyes to turn his glower onto Sapnap.

“I thought,” He growled, “That I said not to disturb me.”

He then subtly checked the arrow on the last target and found rather annoyingly that it had just narrowly landed on the edge of the red center, and not perfect like the rest. Though, at least he landed it. He’d be a lot more pissed if it hadn’t.

“I know, but–”

“Phoenix, you seriously need to slow down . What even are you– oh.” George strolled into the room and stopped.

“Woah, damn, XD! How many is that, 25? Blind too? That’s the record I think.” Tubbo’s quiet inhale at George’s words are ignored.

“27. And I would’ve gotten more if it weren’t for Phoenix. And hey, kid. Don’t let him be a bad influence on you. Hang around Warden more, he’s better.” Dream spoke over Sapnap’s offended squawk.

“How dare you! I’ll have you know that I’m a great influence!”

“Yeah, sorry, but I think I’ll have to agree with XD on this one. You’re not exactly the epitome of character.”

“Like you’re much better, 404 !”

“I am!”

“You are definitely not.”

“I definitely am .”

“Guys. Can you at least try to maintain some semblance of professionalism here?” Dream cut in, and both of his idiotic friends (why were they friends again? What exactly were the benefits?) became silent immediately.

“Sorry, dad .” Sapnap sniped, which Dream replied with a simple, exasperated sigh.

“Why? Why do I do this to myself?” He asked particularly to no one, and smiled a bit when he heard both his friends stifled chuckles.

“Anyway, XD, you want to come with us now? Warden needs you for something.” George asked.

Dream shrugged. “Sure.” Dream slung his bow over onto his back and his arrow attached to it, and purposely walked past Tubbo with a confident stride, not sparing the poor kid a glance.

No, Dream. Don’t get attached. It’s Schlatt’s kid. Almost anyone else would be more ideal, but–

Getting closer to the kid would also be good in the long run, for his plans. 

The President was a wild card that Dream needed in his deck.

He’d have to deliberate further on that one. Later.

Dream had already gained some considerable distance down the hallway when a whoosh of wind blew behind him and Sapnap practically appeared beside him, smiling as he stretched out his semi-preened wings.

“Having fun scaring the kid, XD?”

“I’m not scaring him.” Dream refuted, not looking at his friend. Sapnap just smirked.

“You so are. I could practically feel the fear radiating off the kid. You would think he’d be more of an asshole, being related to Schlatt and all, but he’s really not that bad.”

“First of all, saying those words could count as treason. Second of all, you’ve known him for a total of forty minutes more than I have. Third of all, I’m the one who can read people, not you.”

Sapnap just rolled his eyes in response. “He’s like, nineteen. How evil could he possibly be?”

“May I please remind you about the sixteen year old that was an accomplished assassin? Or how about that mercenary, Mercy, or whatever? He’s about the same age as me. Heck, I’m only four years older than–Tubbo. That’s his name.”

Sapnap slumped his shoulders in annoyance, though continuing to maintain Dream’s brisk pace as they traveled to Sam’s workshop place.

“This is the son of the President, he’s different! He can be trusted. Besides, you don’t count, mister I-have-a-PhD.”

“You don’t know that, and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're stupid.”

“You literally just said I have a PhD! How am I stupid?”

“I dunno, maybe you should ask yourself that question.”

“Oh, come on. ”

“Yes. You can’t deny it, XD! Wait,” Sapnap sounded as if he’d just realized something, “Why is your hero name just two letters? It’s so sad.”

“It’s not sad!” 

“Yes it is. Why would you ever choose a name like that?”

“I didn’t choose it, and you know that! The media did, and they’re the real idiots. Still not saying my name is sad, though. It’s fine.”

“Sure it is.” Sapnap was definitely mocking him.

“It is!”

“Sure it is.”

“Oh my god. ” Dream groaned. “Why are you such a child?”

“You love me anyway.”

“And every day, I ask myself why.”

Sapnap snorted, though fondly, and they stayed silent until George eventually caught up to them with the intern. Tubbo, Dream notices, has lost a bit of the tension in his shoulders but still eyes XD with fearful wariness, which amuses him if anything.

“Hey.” George said, walking beside Dream and leaving Tubbo behind their group, seeming bewildered and confused.

Poor kid.

No. Bad Dream. Don’t get attached. 

“What were you guys talking about?”

Sapnap and Dream both answered, “The mercenary, Mercy.” Then, Sapnap also tacked on, “And how stupid XD is.”

Dream shot his friend a glare with no true heat behind it.

George blinked. “Mercy? Why?”

Mercy was sort of a controversial topic. The assassin/mercenary was mysterious, and the only descriptions of the guy was that he wore a white-with-black-stripes hoodie, had many guns strapped on his person, and used a black facial mask to hide his identity. 

There were reports that the man also had golden eyes, but that could either be less from a potential demigod status and instead contact lenses or simply a hearsay detail to make him seem more mysterious.

Dream shrugged in response as Sapnap commented, “Personally, I think there’s no way he’s a demigod. They’re extinct. Probably just a rumor.”

Dream nodded in agreement but didn’t say anything as they had finally reached Sam’s workshop. George was the one who pulled out his card and pushed open the unlocked door.

Sam gestured for them to sit down in the chairs in front of where Sam’s main set-up resided. Tubbo, Sapnap, and George all sat down but Dream simply leaned against the wall behind them.

“So, XD, I wanted to test something with you, if that’s okay.”

Dream noticed that Sam had seemingly lost the tension that he had had the first day he’d come back from his break, showing Dream his new staff. At least, most of it. There was still a lingering trace, but wasn’t nearly as obvious as before.

Huh. Maybe getting an intern was good for him.

Still didn’t mean he was getting one, though.

“Yes?” Dream answered.

Sam smiled, a sort of giddiness behind it that seemed foreign on the usually stoic man’s face. That is, until you took into account the fact that this was Sam’s passion, his life, his love, and meant that this sort of barely contained excitement wasn’t very rare when it came to new inventions made by the expert technologist.

“I’ve made something I’d like to call the Enderporter, due to how it functions. If you could take out Nightmare, that would be wonderful.”

“Of course.” Dream easily pulled out the gleaming netherite axe and held it upright, turning it slightly.

“Put this on it.” Sam handed him a small, button-sized compass-like gadget, though instead of the middle having a pointer, it had a pearl that seemed a bit like a cat’s eye at first glance.

“What is it?” Dream inquired as he obliged and stuck the small thing onto higher up on the handle. 

He was greeted with a proud smirk which was somehow communicated from underneath the green gas mask The Warden always wore. “If you get too far of a certain distance away from it, the axe will teleport back to your hand, because it's connected to the hero bracelet you have.”

Dream nodded to acknowledge him, smiling.

“Wonderful. Now I don’t have to worry about the villains stealing Nightmare. Thanks, Warden.”

“No problem.”

“So, what, 404 and I are just here as bystanders?” Sapnap teased, huffing as though he was really upset.

“No, actually I have something for both of you. You first, Phoenix.”

For Sapnap, Sam had created a new sword which channeled flame magic, meaning Sapnap could set the red, orange, black and white sword on fire and use his ability through it.  

For George, a special home-in bow which worked 70% of the time, which was pretty good (even if Sam thought otherwise). 

It’s a little while later, after George leaves for a PR meeting and Tubbo stays behind with Sam in the lab, Dream and Sapnap find themselves on the roof of the top heroes’ tower.

Sapnap is sitting on the tower’s ledge, legs dangling off, sitting s0 precariously near the edge that would have probably spooked anyone except an avian. Dream sat cross-legged behind him, mask pushed up, carefully preening his friend’s flame-colored feathers.

The avian let out a content trill as Dream plucked out a broken feather and let it drop, floating to the floor, righting the messy feathers as well as cleaning out the dust and debris left behind by Thunder’s explosion.

There was barely any wind, the sun was warm but not glaring. Puffy, cotton-white clouds adorned the sky and stood out against the consistent bright blue of the sky. As their tower was one of the tallest, it seemed as though if they reached out, they could hold onto the faint moon that lay above them.

“You’re really good at preening.” Sapnap commented.

“I would like to think I am, considering I’ve been doing this for… how long have I known you? Five, six years?”

“Six, yeah. But George still sucks at it, and I’ve known him for longer. He pulls too hard.”

Dream snorted, pulling out the small bottle of wing oil and smoothing it over the rough plumage, and Sapnap let out another trill, followed by a short chirp.

“Are avian chirps and trills words? Like, do they mean certain things other than just conveying emotions?” Dream asked, suddenly curious.

“Yeah, they mean things. You can have full conversations with them. Unfortunately for me though, the only other avian I know is a supervillain. Well, unless you count Gambit, but he’s also a villain or at least a criminal, so. Not many people to ‘talk’ to.”

Gambit. A known member of The Syndicate.

The villain owned a small portion of the very north-eastern part of Essempi which had been unofficially dubbed as ‘Las Nevadas.’ As per its name, it was essentially a gambling and villain hotspot and also the reason why Gambit was hella rich.

How had HC and the government combined somehow let a villain own a whole section of the city while still remaining free and secret identity protected?

Long story short, Gambit possessed the ability of something he liked to call, ‘Luck of the Draw,’ which enabled him to say an event out loud that was physically possible for him to achieve on his own-no matter the time, money, chance, or influence required- and would receive a 50% chance of it coming to fruition.

If what was wanted required another person to come true, it seemed as though they had to be in direct contact with Gambit in order for his power to work.

Before XD had come onto the scene, Gambit had pretty much forced President J. Schlatt to sign over all the necessary documents and handle all the other paperwork needed by using this highly advanced, impossible to understand ability.

Ever since then, he’d retreated inside his now fully-developed mini-city, posing the rules that there, it was a neutral ground.

Meaning that no one, heroes included, was allowed to arrest anyone there unless allowed by Gambit himself and villains were forbidden from destroying or killing anybody unless again, specifically given permission. 

He was also an avian who possessed bright, golden wings that were usually adorned with small pieces of jewelry. 

Sadly, however, the wings were somehow too small for the age and height Gambit was, and therefore the villain could only glide, and not truly fly in the way Angel or Pheonix could.

“Lucky for me that I’m human, then.” Dream cheekily replied, and Sapnap swatted at him, which he swiftly dodged.

Finally, he finished applying the oil and said, “All done. There's just one more thing to do.”

Sapnap turned his head to eye Dream warily due to years of knowing him and his antics. “What?”

Dream grinned, and proceeded to roughly shove Sapnap off the roof which made the avian produce a rather undignified squawk as he tumbled out of sight, Dream laughing.

Less than ten seconds later, his friends appeared again, and purposefully slapped Dream with his wings as he landed, huffing a, “What was that for?”

“Pushing me off the cliff in Manhunt.”

“I thought you were over that!”

“ Now , I’m over it.”

Sapnap shoved Dream sideways which just made him wheeze harder, and he only stopped when the door to the roof swung open, making both their heads turn at the same time.

Dream was the first to smile when he saw who it was.

“George! Come join us.” Dream and Sapnap sat down again, the latter slightly disgruntledly.

George stretched out his arms as he hopped down beside Dream, yawning. 

“God, that was terrible. Excruciatingly painful, one might say.”

“I know.” Sapnap and Dream answered simultaneously, before looking at each other and snorting.

“What did you even discuss?” He asked.

George waved a hand. “Just the normal things. Advertisements, merch deals, education programs, appearances on media. Hero Day. The usual.”

That suddenly reminded him of something. 

“Right. You know, we have to go on tv tomorrow. Exclusive Dream Team interview, or whatever.”

Sapnap sighed; George groaned.

“Wait.” Sapnap spoke up. “I heard that Tubbo is also our PR manager. Sort of. Is that true? XD?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because you usually know the answer to these sorts of questions, knowing you.” 

“In that case, well, I’m pretty sure that he is.”

“I thought he was just Sam’s intern.” George tilted his head slightly.

Dream nodded. “He is, mostly. But he’s also technically ours.”

“I’m just not looking forward to tomorrow. News crews are so annoying, especially about my wings.” Sapnap complained. “Like man, it’s none of your business .”

Both Dream and George winced in genuine sympathy. 

Reporters tended to prey on Phoenix in a way they didn’t with either 404 or XD. 

They would ask increasingly prying and rude questions, especially focusing on Sapnap’s avian status, constantly assuming things and just being downright assholes.

Hybrid prejudice, and all that. 

“They really suck, huh.” Dream said offhandedly, breaking the silence.

“Mmhm.”

“Yeah.”

They watched for what seemed like hours as the sky slowly transformed from baby blue to a beautiful, ethereal, natural canvas of warm tones in red, pink and orange with the occasional cloud partially colored in the same shades.

“I have a full shift today, so I’d better get going.” Dream announced, though quietly as he noticed his two friends seemed subdued and drowsy.

“Okay then.” Sapnap groaned, laying down and resting his head in George’s lap, who had apparently already fallen asleep.

Dream nodded in response before slipping away, sneaking a final peek and smiling fondly at the two asleep heroes bathed in a soft sunset afterglow as the sun itself slipped behind the horizon.

He needed them, needed them in his life just as much as he needed Drista. 

Dream saw them as family. Close family. 

(He’d die before he’d let any one of them get hurt).

                                                                                 — — —

Dream leapt across the alleyways from above skillfully, stopping only to intervene when a crime (like a mugging, most likely) was being committed.

It’s very late in his patrol, and he’s slightly deeper into East End than just the edges near downtown when the definitive sounds of a fight make him stop and change direction, running towards the origin of the noises.

Eventually, this leads to him perching beside a large skylight on an abandoned-looking building, watching the scene unfold below him.

There are six guys, he notes quickly. One of them has a crowbar, another a hammer. Another has a shovel.

There’s one gunman. Pistol.

On a table behind them are several (four or such) black briefcases. A stack of cash sitting outside.

Then, he spots white feathers and a red jacket, with the matching silver half-mask, and he realizes what’s going on here.

Theseus must be stopping an illegal trade of–something, and these guys must be the buyers, or sellers. Stopping them.

Well, it did make sense. Right about now was prime vigilante hours, where there were typically less heroes and villains but the same amount of crime.

Wait.

If Theseus is here….

Where’s Drista?

A sudden, fearful panic seized him, and he had to physically take in a deep breath to calm himself, clenching his fists before relaxing them as his heart pounded rapidly, shoulders tensing.

She is alright. Drista is fine. She is fine. Drista can take care of herself. She’s responsible. 

She has to be fine.

There was no use jumping into the fight without knowing anything beforehand. It was reckless, stupid, ultimately (and probably) useless self-endangerment. 

Dream, while reckless, wasn’t exactly stupid.

He’d just have to ask Theseus after these thugs were beaten.

He turned his eyes back to the battle.

“-Bout after we pummel the kid, we can give ‘em to ya employer, eh man? Avians make a lot on the market.” The one wielding the gun said, grinning with a malicious smile.

At the gunman’s comment, Dream narrowed his eyes in renewed anger. 

There were your typical drug traffickers, and while they were certainly terrible people, hybrid traffickers were by far much worse.

This solidified the idea that he was going to most certainly jump in. 

He’d just wait for the right moment.

Theseus, in response, tilted his head, seeming calm. The hidden tension in his shoulders and stance said otherwise.

“First of all, not a kid. Also, come on guys, do we really need to fight? We could just talk this out like normal, responsible adults. Kindness is forever, am I right?”

Theseus dodged a sudden swing from the crowbar and then created a red lightning shield to stop three bullets that would have killed him otherwise.

“Woah! Okay then, looks like we’re not going to talk. Fine with me.” 

The vigilante threw his shield at the guy attempting to sneak up behind him holding a crowbar, and the thug screamed, collapsing to the floor as he was caught in a net of electricity. Quickly though, the man passed out and the net disappeared and returned to Theseus’ hands, dancing between his fingers.

“Alright then.” Theseus smiled, the gesture itself speaking reckless and excited. 

“Who’s up next?” 

Dream silently watched as the two unarmed men attacked Theseus, swinging their fists. While most were initially dodged, the teen eventually was slugged forcefully in the stomach and it knocked the wind out of him. 

Theseus had potential, Dream noted. Lots of it.

He just needed a tutor, a guide, a teacher of some sort to direct that potential into a result.

Dream suddenly had an idea. 

Here I go again. Being stupid. 

But I could help him, and Drista. Keep them from killing themselves, at least. Her friend would be a good hero, and of course I’m helping my own sister.  

As the kid winced in pain, he backed up and shot a retaliating beam of lightning, his attacker going down easily.

“Not very talkative, are we folks? What, too scared of me? I understand. I’m a very scary person.” Theseus rambled as he flapped his pure-white wings to escape a heavy swing of a hammer.

“The only one who's scared here is you, vigilante.” The hammer-man attempted to hit Theseus again, but the blow was swooped under, albeit messily.

“Really?” Theseus said in a faux surprised tone. “I didn’t notice.” 

Another beam of light was shot and this time dodged by the remaining unarmed man, swinging another punch which was sidestepped as Theseus landed.

He then grabbed the man’s wrist and quipped, “That wasn’t very poggers, innit?” Then, he proceeded to electrocute the thug until he was unconscious.

Dream widened his eyes and flinched as two bullets were shot at the vigilante, one caught by a rope of electricity but the other grazing the kid on his arm. He heard a startled yelp.

“Ah, fuck.” Theseus swore, kicking the hammer wielding man in the head and knocking him to the floor out cold.

Dream noticed the hidden fear and apprehension in his face.

The teen backed up once again, the gunman raising his pistol with the man’s eyes narrowed. Behind the kid was the one that held a large metal shovel, right underneath the skylight Dream was silently perched upon.

It didn’t take very much to make the simple decision.

Dream crashed through the window, raining shattered glass on all three people below, making the person below him shout in surprise, fright and alarm.

He caught Theseus’ startled gaze as he descended, landing on the poor man below and instantly defeating him. The shovel dropped to the glass-ridden floor with a loud clang.

He turned, bo staff in hand as the gunman desperately grabbed Theseus roughly by the arm, which elicited an angry, “Oi, bitch, get your hands off me!” but did nothing to deter the man. 

“S-Stay away, XD, o-or the kid gets it!” Saying this, the thug pressed his pistol to the teen-trapped-in-his-arms’ temple, and the vigilante froze, true fear glancing through his expression.

Dream forced an exasperated, almost bored tone as he replied.

“How original.” He drawled, and with one point and a click of a button, the gunman went down with a shriek as a beam of electricity, similar to Theseus’ ability, rattled through him. 

The criminal dropped, gun left spinning onto the concrete.

The man’s clothes smelled faintly of smoke.

“You okay, kid?” Dream asked, turning his gaze, and was met with a burst of red energy which he neatly ducked.

“Woah! Easy. I won’t arrest you.” 

“How do I know you aren’t lying?” Theseus bared his teeth, untrusting, spreading his wings and raising them to make him seem larger than he was.

Dream tilted his head. “Cause you’re young. I’m not jailing a minor. And anyway, where’s your partner?” He sounded nonchalant, but inside a storm of worry was still rapidly swirling, refusing to die down.

“Not. A. Kid.” Theseus hissed. “And she’s not here. I’m… by myself.” 

He trailed off at the end, looking as though he was suddenly starting to regret all his life choices, staring at Dream with wide eyes.

Meanwhile, Dream exhaled a soundless breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Drista was fine, because that nervousness on Theseus’ face couldn’t possibly be faked.

Now he had to focus on convincing him to agree to Dream’s (stupid, so stupid) proposal.

“Huh.” Was Dream’s only response, trying not to freak out the kid.

Shift his focus.

“What was going on here?” He asked, striding over to the table and inspecting the briefcases that lay innocently on it. For all he knew, there could be anything concealed within them.

Theseus narrowed his eyes at him, but apparently found the question harmless to answer.

“There’s a new drug that’s been taking over the underground markets recently. I think… they’ve named it Blue. Presumably because of the color it is.”

Dream hummed. He then switched out his staff for Nightmare, and pretended to not notice the awe the vigilante’s eyes portrayed as he instead swung and broke the lock on the closest briefcase, carefully and cautiously using his other hand to open it.

He sucked in a breath, and he heard Theseus do the same from behind him.

Inside were at least twenty-five sealed vials all brimming with an eerie, bright, bubbling liquid that was indeed slightly glowing with an unnaturally deep shade of cobalt.

Blue. He’d never heard of it before, which must mean that it was quite early in its development, which was good. The bad part is, well, if it was already so popular within the first stages of development, who knows how strong it already was, and what it could evolve into. 

Dream gingerly shut the briefcase again, staying quiet while contemplating.

I’ll have to specifically call my team to extract this and bring it to Hero Central. I don’t trust anyone else.

But that’s later.

Right now…

“I just want to say good job, Theseus.”

The vigilante blinked at Dream before shakily replying, “W-What?”

Dream shrugged, his dark forest-green armor clinking quietly.

“You beat six guys, four of which were armed, almost entirely on your own, with no training as far as I can tell. You have potential.”

Theseus gave XD a bewildered look.

“....Why are you telling me this?”

Dream smiled, and strapped his axe back onto his right hip without looking down.

“I have a proposal for you. Extended to Puppeteer, as well.”

“Which is?”

“Well,” Dream said matter-of-factly, “There are many things you two could improve on, sparring-wise. Stance, reaction time, strength, stamina, accuracy. The list goes on. You’re not exactly great, is what I’m saying. You’d probably die in the first ten seconds if you met The Blade, or anyone in The Syndicate, for that matter.”

“Wow. Thanks for the great vote of confidence, XD. That totally wants me to agree to your probably shitty proposal you–”

“I want to train you two.”

That apparently finally shocked Theseus into silence, opening and closing his mouth with no sound coming out. 

Finally, he managed a, “R-Really? Me– I mean, us? Vigilantes?”

“Yes.” Dream responded curtly.

Silence.

“And this isn’t some ploy to arrest us, is it?”

At this, Dream snorted, saying, “If I wanted to, I would’ve already arrested you and your partner the first time we met, you know. Besides, I already said that I’m not throwing minors in jail. I think you guys have potential, and I want to harness it. Too many good kids have ended up dead because no one would do that for them. I want to do that for you, and for her.”

This seemed to render Theseus speechless once again, spinning him into deep thought. 

“Then, umm, I guess I’d have to discuss this with her? I need some...time. To think.” The vigilante said uncertainly.

“Of course. Just remember that this is a one time thing.”

“Y-Yeah. Sure.”

Then, Dream had a sudden thought and blurted, “What are you doing out here on your own, anyway? It’s dangerous.”

At this, Theseus stared at him, casting him an offended glare. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m the biggest man ever, and nothing is dangerous for me! And, anyway-” His tone took a bitter dip, “I had a fight with my family. Needed to leave for a bit.” 

Dream felt a pang of pain for the kid before him, surveying the hurt but angry expression on his face.

He knows he’d hate it if he and Drista ever fought. Really fought.

He could also practically sense the upcoming downward spiral that was bound to happen, judging by that look alone. 

Dream came up and put a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice. “What was it about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Dream knew this fact– bottling up your emotions was never a good idea.

Theseus hissed in anger, lost in his thoughts. 

“ About. Of course I don’t mind you asking. XD, a practical stranger, cares more about me than my own family. What a fucking joke.”

That’s right. Just let it all out. I’m here for you.

“I know they don’t really have time, being so busy with their- jobs,” He spat out the word like venom, “But could they at least spare some time for me? Just a little? They’re never home anymore, and they never show up. Not when it really matters. It’s why I started being a vigilante in the first place. So that maybe they could notice me. But they don’t . They didn’t . And they probably never, fucking, will.”

“They care. I know they do, because they mother-hen me every time they see an injury of mine, and that feels great, but that doesn’t really happen anymore. They’re around, just… not enough. It feels bad, to want them, but I do. I know I deserve them, so why aren’t they here for me? ”

“They always have excuses every time. And every time, it’s because the answer is ‘no’ or ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘stop bothering me.’ ”

“I just want them to care again. Is that too much to ask? And I have friends, and they care, so why am I making such a big deal about it?”

“I just wanted to tell someone. To ask someone to care. To pay attention to me. Because I need them, I deserve to need them, and I want them too.”

Theseus made a sound akin to sniffling. “And now I’m ranting all my shitty sorrows out to the #1 hero of the city, XD, of all people, who could arrest me in two seconds if he wanted. God, I’m so fucked up.” 

Dream stayed silent, feeling the same sorrow for the kid as if he was Drista. No one deserved to be forgotten, or neglected, regardless of anybody’s intention. Especially not this kid, who was just so genuinely kind if it was a tangible thing it would be able to knock Dream over in an instant.

He stepped in front of the vigilante without a second thought and hugged him, wrapping his arms around the kid and embracing him with an air of warmth and care.

This stopped the sad-angry rant the kid had been on and instead, he hugged Dream back just as tightly.

“It’s funny.” Theseus said in Dream’s shoulder. “How you somehow care more than they do.”

“I think I just understand how you feel.”

Theseus sniffled again. “Thanks, by the way. I needed that, even if it was a bit weird-champ, how you knew it.”

“I’m just someone who knows things.”

“....You’re such a bitch, you know that too?”

Dream chuckled. “Yeah. I do.”

“...Good.”

Theseus then pulled out, grimacing (as though he hadn’t enjoyed it, Dream could tell) and prepared to leave when a loud, sudden ringing pierced the air, originating from one of the vigilante’s pockets.

“Oh, I’m fucked, aren’t I?” Theseus muttered to himself.

“What?”

Theseus bit his lip, though slightly humorously. Dream was just glad that that light-heartedness a minor his age should have had returned.

“I’m not supposed to go out without Puppeteer, or at least without notifying anyone. Wasp is going to kill me. Metaphorically, of course, he realistically couldn’t hurt a- bee, haha- but that doesn’t make it any less scary.”

Dream blinked. “Who’s Wasp?”

“Just my man-in-the-chair.” Theseus waved him off with a hand before using the same hand to cautiously take out a small earpiece and hold it up to his head. Almost instantly, a loud voice burst out from the small device. 

Even though Dream was far enough that he couldn't pick up whole sentences, there were words he could still hear.

“DO…….ANY idea……worried…..BEEN? If you…..AGAIN….kill you…sure. I’m….this time. You didn’t even…. ALONG. To-”

“Uh, bossman, pogchamp, before you say anything else, I kind of, sort of have, uh, company?”

The voice stopped abruptly and when it presumably continued, it was too faint for Dream’s ears, no matter how keen they were, leaving Dream to overhear a one-sided conversation.

Suddenly, a loud ‘WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!’ made Dream wince from underneath his porcelain mask.

“Don’t scream in my ear! And uhh… XD is here? And he saved me from a gun-wielding prick? And he’s, umm, standing right there? I said that, right?”

Another few murmurs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you. There’s something real crazy, too. Uh huh. Umm, please don’t? Right, okay.”

Theseus turned to Dream. “I need to get going now, or Wasp will raise the roof on me.” Saying this, he flapped his wings and looked up at the broken skylight.

“And, uhh… thank you.” Theseus gave him a small smile. “For… listening. To me.”

“No problem.”

With that, Theseus took off and left Dream alone with the unconscious men and the briefcases filled with Blue.

Now I just call this in, and then I can go home. Back to Drista.

Drista. Puppeteer. Theseus.

Oh, what have I done?

                                                                                 — — —

Dream adjusted his black hoodie as he knocked on Drista’s door.

“Come in!”

He pushed it open to see Drista sitting at her desk. Her monitors were turned off, and she was busily scribbling away on a piece of paper. Beside, an alarmingly large stack of papers sat on the floor, with binders and folders thrown haphazardly around.

“I take it you’re busy?” Dream asked amusedly, pulling out a stool and sitting beside his sister, who offered him a quick smile.

“I’ve got assignments to finish, presentations to practice, charts to study, books to read, and finals are coming up in two weeks. So yeah, busy.”

“And you don’t need any help, do you?”

Drista scoffed. “Course not. I need to beat your score, after all. Fair and square.”

Drista attended the same university that Dream had attended back when he was fourteen years old and older. He’d managed to achieve the highest grades in the university’s history, and considering it was the top ranked in the city, that made Dream’s scores the one to beat. So far, no one had even come close to surpassing his almost perfect grades except his very own sister.

Dream smirked. “Okay then.” He then glanced at her bed which was big enough for five people to sleep on it comfortably, examining the neat blankets which looked like they hadn’t been disturbed in days, even going so far as to gather a very thin film of dust.

He turned back, a tone of slight worry in his voice. 

“How long has it been since you last slept?”

Drista waved him off, not looking away from her paperwork. 

“Sleep is for the weak, Dream. You know this. Besides, you can’t be talking. I’ll be surprised if you got any more than two hours last night, or day, or whatever. My point still stands.”

“I’m older than you.”

His sister scoffed. “Only by like, five years. How much difference could that possibly make?”

“Almost six.”

“Again, how much difference? ”

“A lot, surprisingly. You can take a rest. Sleep is the bare minimum. Your work isn’t going to grow legs and walk away while you sleep. The sun is literally about to rise in like, an hour. Have you been up the whole night?”

“But work can hit a deadline.” Drista ignored the question. “Besides, again, once you stayed up for a whole week straight.”

“And passed out a second after! For like, a whole day! That wasn’t on my own volition, either. I’m also, again, older. Go to bed .”

She groaned, huffing in annoyance. “But–”

“Nope. Not budging. Not even a little.”

His sister eyed him with an irritated expression, and Dream regarded her in the same fashion, concerned at the large eyebags he saw. 

“ Fine. ” She gritted out. “This better not be sabotage, by the way.”

“Now why would I ever do that?” He teased as Drista reluctantly climbed into bed without even changing before moving to sit cross-legged in front of her.

“Idiot.” She threw one of her multitudes of pillows at him which he dodged, grinning. 

“Missed me.”

“I hate you. I hate you so much. You’re so annoying, and I hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

Drista just lay back, closing her eyes.

“Whatever. I’m too… sleepy to deal with this.” Her voice took on a drowsy feel.

“Huh. This is…. really soft.”

“Good for you.” Dream answered quietly as Drista fell asleep almost immediately, watching her with a sense of protectiveness and familial fondness.

He soon left silently after drawing the curtains and setting her alarm clock.

Dream accepted that unlike his sister, he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep tonight. He was still jittering with energy with no respite to release it, practically ready to bounce in every direction.

Maybe going outside would be a good option.

Then, remembering everything that had happened thus far whenever he did go outside at night as Dream the civilian, he decided that perhaps sitting in the living room and reading was a safer option.

At least then he wouldn’t encounter any villains, he foolishly believed.

Dream was just about to find out how wrong he was.

Chapter Text

Soon, it was figured out that Dream had no more books to read, so he decided to go to the library to pick out a new one.

Mistake #2.

He walked through the halls, randomly jumping and occasionally even skipping as Dream gradually made his way to his library.

His library, yes. Two floors, hundreds of books, and a reinforced glass ceiling that gave you a great view of the night sky while reading.

What he did not expect, however, was for when he pushed open the grandiose wooden doors, was that there would be a villain lounging on one of the sofas, reading one of Dream’s books.

Siren looked up with surprise, away from his book.

Of course, Mistake #1 was ever associating with villains in the first place.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were here.”

Dream didn’t even try to hide his irritation.

“What do you mean, ‘I didn’t know you were here?” Dream made air quotation marks with his right hand. 

“This is my house! I live here!”

Siren simply shrugged.

“I mean, you’re not here during the day at all . You leave really early in the mornings and return really late in the nights. Yesterday, you didn’t even come back.”

Dream huffed. “That’s because I have a job. Like almost everyone. And I usually come back, it was a special ca– wait.” He stopped. 

“How did you know that? Have you been spying on me?” He demanded.

Siren just snorted, which annoyed Dream a little more. 

“Nah. The Blade and I just hang around here a lot, and we just noticed this stuff.”

“Huh.” 

Then Dream reviewed the sentence in his head. 

“You hang around my house? While I’m not here? A lot? ”

Siren stared at him. “Uh, yeah. Only in the library, though. You have some great books. And don’t worry so much about it. We haven’t been seen by your sister, or anyone else for that manner.”

Dream huffed.

Siren just grinned, “You can stop standing at the doorway. Come sit down. I promise I won't bite.” Saying this, the villain opened his mouth to expose his sharpened teeth, courtesy of his (presumed) partial Merling blood. 

He eyed the villain instead of rolling his eyes like he would’ve if he was XD, and shut the door before slowly making his way over to Siren, sitting down on the couch, next to him.

“Are you just here because you want to be?” Dream asked.

Siren suddenly seemed as though he had a faraway look on his face, but of course it was hard to tell because of the fact that he couldn’t see his eyes. Even with Angel, you could sort of see it on his face, but Siren? Nada.

“I’m… having some issues at home right now.”

Dream snorted. “So what, the big bad Siren had to escape his own house because of an argument or something?”

Siren didn’t reply, setting down his book and sighing heavily.

“No, wait, seriously?” 

Silence.

“... Yeah.” The supervillain finally responded forlornly. 

Of course, Dream really didn’t know how to react to this information.

On one hand, he could comfort him. Though Dream still sort of held a grudge against Siren for almost killing him, but the villain in question had apologized. Sincerely.

Oh, fuck me. What has my life come to?

Dream edged a bit closer to the villain as he inwardly cursed himself, asking in a softer, somewhat kinder voice, “So, what terrible thing could have possibly happened to make the rank #3 villain in the city look so blue?” 

Siren exhaled, laying his head back.

“I– my family and I– had a fight with my… little brother. The thing is, we haven’t been around for quite a while, and well, usually he’s okay with it to some degree, but today we forgot a promise we made to him. An important promise.”

Dream, instantly reminded of Theseus, felt a pang of empathy for the villain in front of him which he quickly attempted to discard, but failed miserably, and just decided to lean into it.

“So he was mad.”

“ Really mad. Though, can you blame him? We’ve been putting off spending any sort of time with each other for so long. I mean, I barely take this thing off anymore.” Siren gestured to his costume.

“But, well, and I’ll admit, I don’t take getting yelled at very well. Te– my other brother does, to some degree, but not me.”

“So, I’m guessing you made things worse.” Dream inferred. 

Siren made a saddened groan. “Tell me about it. ‘Course, my dad and other brother tried to diffuse it, but my little bro isn’t one to give up very easily, and he was mad. It didn’t help that he was mad at all of us, either.”

“And how did it end?”

“With him storming up to his room and locking the door. We figured my dad would have the best luck trying to talk to him, but he didn’t respond at all, so my dad decided we should leave him be. My other brother left the house to do…” Siren snorted, but there was no humor in his voice. “What he does best.”

It was, admittedly, weird to think that The Siren had a dad and two brothers, but it was easy enough to get over with. 

It also sounded like Siren’s family was very, very emotionally constipated. Except maybe his dad, a little, but still. 

Dream felt bad for Siren’s little brother. 

“First of all, I have some advice for you, if you’re up for it.” 

“Go ahead.” 

Dream sighed, scooching closer. “He just wants to spend time with you, ya know? But it sounds like every time he asks you, there’s always something more important, and then you’re gone again. It would make him feel abandoned, at the very least. Unimportant. You’re not exactly being a very good sibling , is what I’m saying.”

Siren didn’t even seem to react, instead replying miserably. “Yeah, I know that.”

“Instead of moping by yourself, I suggest finding your brother and moping with him. That would solve a lot of your problems.”

Siren stayed silent, which was funny, to a degree. The man usually loved to talk, per his villain name.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you should just try and open your eyes more and realize what he’s thinking. You’re the apparent manipulative member of The Syndicate. Use those skills, would you?”

Siren remained quiet.

Dream went on. “A large part of your problem with your brother is that you’re not sticking to your promises, blowing him off, not being around when he needs you. Your brother must be thinking that you’ve forgotten him, or replaced him.” 

“And then,” He took on a serious tone. “Instead of trying to prove those thoughts wrong and spending more time with him, you’re in the house of your healer, doing almost nothing but brooding. Ask yourself if that’s going to help in any way.”

It’s unusual to be lecturing a supervillain, but it’s also not exactly common to be able to talk to them without dying immediately. Or at least getting injured.

The villain relaxed his shoulders, but bit his lip. 

“What if I make things worse? I’m not good at that kind of thing.”

“Don’t force yourself on him. Just make sure he knows that you’re there for him, and willing to listen. The first step, also, is always apologizing, no matter how meaningless it seems.”

The man beside him turned to look at him, studying. The gaze was prying, and sent a small shivering sensation down the back of his neck.

Finally, he looked away. “I can do that. Apologize.”

“Start with that, then.”

Siren took a deep breath, then exhaled.

“I don’t understand how you’re so good at comforting people. I came in here feeling terrible, depressed, and hopeless. Now I feel... a lot better.”

Dream chuckled, finding the action alien-like next to a villain but relaxed into it easily.

“I did practically raise my sister. The skill just comes with the title.”

Siren tilted his head at Dream.

“What about your parents?”

Dream scoffed, mixed feelings trying to arise and being forcefully shoved back down.

“They weren’t parents. Legal guardians, more like. Terrible people is another way to say it. Well, at least my mother was. My father just… wasn’t around.”

“Then it’s a wonder you turned out as good as you did.”

Now it was Dream’s turn to be confused. “What?”

Siren smiled, the gesture genuine and friendly, another foreign thing to happen tonight. 

“You’re such a good person, Dream.”

Funny. Ponk had said the same thing to XD.

“I– Thanks, but I’m just like anyone else. Well, other than this whole thing, but hey, that was just luck.”

“Oh, come on.” Siren was incredulous. “No way.”

“No way what?”

“Are you playing dumb?”

“...I’m not following.”

Siren scrutinized him intently for a long minute, before eventually sighing.

“You really don’t know.” The villain eventually concluded, words dripping with pure disbelief.

Then, he began mumbling. “Well, I suppose that to be truly good, you can’t know that you are. Oh, what a main character.”

Dream, who hadn’t caught a single word Siren had said due to the fact that they were said quickly, unclear, and mixed up, just blinked. 

“That makes him a prime target for Dadza adoption. Oh fuck, we’ll have to convince him that he’s already an adult and that he’s too old to be–”

“You’re mumbling, and I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

Siren stopped, and then said sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“Would you please explain to me what you meant?”

“Well, I guess,” The villain trailed off for a second. 

“I’m just really grateful for you saving The Blade.” Siren grinned to himself.

“Even if he’s all sarcasm and annoying, witty quips most of the time… I don’t know what I’d– what we would’ve done if we’d lost him.”

Siren smiled at Dream again. 

“I just… want to say thanks. Really. No one I’ve ever met listens to me like you do, either. You’re a good person.”

Dream opened his mouth the reply, but at that moment a quiet beep sounded from Siren, presumably his comm, and the villain grimaced, picking up the call with a, “Siren here.”

Then, Siren glanced at Dream before saying, “He’s right here with me.” 

“What?”

The supervillain leapt up from the couch in an instant, gasping in alarm which made Dream leap up in apprehension.

“Where? How?” Siren made the impression that his eyes were widened beneath his mask before turning quickly to Dream.

“Someone’s hurt.”

At this, he tensed, eyes widening. His right hand twitched.

He agreed to the proposal, and this is exactly what he gets for doing that.

“Who?”

Siren swallowed, averting his gaze. “Lethe. And badly, too.”

Dream took a deep breath. 

Lethe, ranked #8 on the villain chart. Until now, no one other than the villains themselves knew if he was associated with The Syndicate or not. 

He’s young, Dream remembered. He couldn’t be older than twenty years old. In fact, Dream betted that he was exactly that. Of course, other people doubted this, but he knew he was right in this.

The young man’s height was certainly deceiving, but Dream had a knack for this sort of thing.

“Let’s go then.” Dream thought of his black hoodie, which he quite liked, and would prefer if it wasn’t soaked in blood. Thinking this, he pulled it off to reveal his long sleeved white collared shirt, rolling up the sleeves to above his elbows.

Siren said, “They’re due exactly south of here.”

Dream turned to him, sensing something. “And?”

The villain smirked, though with an urgent undertone hidden behind it, before suddenly scooping Dream up in a princess carry, ignoring Dream’s surprised jolt. 

“We’ll get there faster if we take the rooftops. Gosh, you’re heavier than I expected.”

At this, Dream pulled up whatever lingering fear he had of the man and froze in a realistic terror.

“R-rooftops?”

Siren hopped onto the second floor before leaping onto a bookshelf, jumping and landing onto the roof, sliding down to the grass, turning a blind eye to Dream’s rigidness and panicky breaths whenever he jumped.

“If it scares you that much, you can just close your eyes.” The supervillain sounded amused.

“Oh, like that’ll help at all.” Dream quipped with a good amount of nervousness as they made their way east, presumably going the route around downtown.

“Maybe it will! You never know. That’s why you should try it.” Siren teased, leaping across an alleyway.

Dream huffed in annoyance, which earned a snort from Siren.

It feels like only a minute later when Siren eventually drops down from the rooves, the sound of the ocean’s breaths on the beach in the backdrop.

“Hey guys!” Siren calls, finally dropping Dream. He surveyed his surroundings.

The alleyway he was in had a fire escape, the worn-down and rusted ladder missing several rungs. No dumpsters, but litter such as scrunched up paper and stained cardboard occasionally crossed into his sight. Otherwise, it was clean, like the rest of West End’s streets.

Now, there was a deep red spread across the pavement breaking that image.

The first person he noticed was The Angel of Death, a stricken, worried look adorning his face, wings tensed. Both calmed slightly, however, when he spotted Dream and Siren.

“Dream! You’re here!”

“How bad is it?” He looked behind Angel to see a crumpled figure, laying on the ground. There was a crimson red puddle gathered around them.

Angel stepped aside.

First, there was Lethe. The man, head upright against the concrete wall, had his eyes of green on the right, red on the left shut tightly, seemingly passed out cold. 

The most noticeable feature of the young villain was his multi-colored skin, a dragon hybrid with half albino blood. His right side, split perfectly down the middle, was a pitch black. 

Lethe’s other side was pure white, and his hair reflected this, though each side’s color was inverted. His tail, the same alternating colors, was long and had an end covered in spines. On his head was a set of black and white horns, pointed and sharp.

Lethe didn’t have wings, however, for some reason. Dream believed it was likely due to wings perhaps being a submissive gene, though there was no way of knowing for sure.

His black suit with purple detailings, complete with a red tie and collar shirt underneath, had a gaping slash wound on the side of his abdomen, deep and red and angry. 

The wound, which stretched even to the villain’s back, spilled blood and stained the alley floor an eerie scarlet. It went right through his torso, and Dream wondered what could’ve possibly caused a wound like this .

Red. 

Everywhere.

It looked so bad. 

Maybe even worse than that time Angel blasted me with his light magic.

Dream gasped in alarm, rushing forward immediately.

When he got closer, he noticed The Blade, knelt down beside Lethe, whispering, “Don’t die on me, will you? You can’t die. You’re the protagonist, the main character, it’d be too cringe if you died.” Pressing a piece of cloth– his cape, Dream realized – on the slash.

The #1 villain looked up as he approached, eyes glinting with an indistinguishable emotion.

The Blade said nothing, as well, as Dream knelt beside Lethe on the opposite side where the other villain was.

Then, Dream realized something that made him jolt.

“He’s… he’s missing a whole section. ” Dream’s horror was apparent.

“How bad will you be afterwards?” The Blade bluntly asked, not taking his glowing? red eyes off of Lethe.

Dream studied the wound for as long as he dared. 

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything as bad as this.”

Lies. The voice whispered. Lies, lies, lies.

You’re lying. You know the truth.

“Heck , it’s even worse than yours that first night.”

The Blade grimaced, finally glancing at Dream. 

“Alright.” The villain fixed his gaze onto his. He got the sense that the man in front of him was…worried?

Weird.

“Save him for me, will you?”

He nodded, pushing down his nervousness with second nature, and pressed his hands onto the injury, lighting up with a bright green light.

Dream carefully let in his energy, watching as the flesh slowly began to knit itself together. His vision began to darken at the edges.

When the slash finally sealed together, leaving not even a scar, Dream vision had almost completely darkened, and as he pulled out his power, a sudden, forceful pain made him reel back, unsteady. 

The headache that came after was just as bad, if not worse. He sucked in a quick breath as it hit his skull repeatedly, vision swimming and blurred. 

“Dream?” He heard someone far away, but couldn’t distinguish who it was.

He felt… sleepy. Drowsy. And he really wanted to close his eyes…. 

Just for a second.

“Dream!”

He let his eyes drift shut as Dream collapsed to his side, the ground rushing up to meet him.

                                                                                 — — —

“Oh, mate, I think he’s coming to.”

Dream awoke, opening his eyes before closing them again when met with bright, fluorescent hanging ceiling lights above him. He blinked blearily as he squinted.

He registered the soft fabric he was lying on, and the warm, weighted blanket overtop of him, and these odd details gave him enough motivation to completely open his eyes.

The Angel of Death was sitting beside what he now knew was a white bed where he was lying, watching him with relieved eyes.

Dream winced as a strong headache became apparent to him, and he heard the villain say, “You okay? Does anything hurt? You worried us for a while there.”

“Correction.” Another voice which Dream identified as The Blade’s sounded from across the room. He was lounging on a tall chair, legs crossed, looking as poised and royal as ever. His red cape was missing, and his pink hair was in a neat, long braid. He didn't have a blade of any sort, either.

“You worried Angel. I was seventy percent sure you’d be completely fine.”

“Seventy?” Dream sat up, taking in the room. With its multiple large, clean beds, bright lights, cabinets and spotless white tiled floors, it reminded him of Ponk’s medical branch back in Hero Central.

That’s what this is.

An infirmary. 

“What about the other thirty percent?” 

The Blade shrugged. “Well, I mean, The Blade never dies, but I can’t necessarily say the same for you. Fighting skill wise, you kinda–”

Well it seemed as though The Blade was back to his normal self again.

“ Blade. No harassing any patients, nevermind the man who saved Lethe ’s life , might I remind you.”

The Blade scoffed, but didn’t say anything else, leaning back in his chair lazily. He seemed more amused than annoyed.

“Whatever ya say, Angel.”

After this, the villain closer to Dream gave him a small smile, turning back to him.

“How are you feeling?” He inquired kindly.

Dream sighed. “How I usually do after healing someone. Like shit. Though,” Dream added as Angel gave him a small chuckle, “I’ve never healed anything that has directly caused me to pass out before.”

The villain in front of him tilted his head. He was reminded of Sapnap.

“Siren told me you passed out after healing me for the first time.”

Dream pursed his lips in slight frustration. “Not because of the wound itself. Rather, because of Siren’s idiocy, I used a lot more energy that I needed to heal the original wound.”

The Angel of Death caught on immediately, nodding. “By the way, I was thinking we could discuss payment–”

“Sorry, but I’m just gonna stop you right there.” Dream cut in. “Let’s be straightforward: I don’t want your money.” Which is also very likely to have been obtained illegally. Not that that’s why. Still though…

The avian stared at him with an air of great surprise. His ebony wings, larger than Sapnap’s even, raised ever so slightly. The villain opened his mouth, presumably to attempt to argue.

“This is non-negotiable. I’m not doing this for the money, anyway.” Dream quickly added. 

Then what are you doing it for? Yourself? To save you from the unavoidable guilt?

“Who really are you, Dream?” The hissing voice of his past, from his memories that don’t seem so far away, return again. 

“I don’t know.” Is the reply.

“Selfish…” The voice hisses. “You always have been. Stop pretending. Stop lying to yourself.”

Selfish.

Angel smiled, huffing with an undertone of deep kindness. “If you insist.”

“....Where am I, anyway?”

“You’re in–”

“One of our safehouses.” The Blade interjected from across the room. 

The Angel shot the other villain a glance that Dream annoyingly, due to his painful headache making it difficult to focus, couldn’t decipher. It went without saying that he couldn’t read the look Blade returned, either. 

“Huh.” Dream rubbed his head as he pulled away the warm blankets, sitting at the edge of the bed. There’s a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Dream.” 

He jumps, startled and snaps out of his momentary trance to see Siren before him, grinning.

“It’s good to see you’re awake.” The #3 villain studies him for a second. “Not feeling any pain or anything, right? Anything serious?”

“Yes to feeling pain, no for anything serious. I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s good.” Siren retains his cheerful aura as he slides off the bed. “If you’re up for it, I’d like to show you around.”

Dream blinked. “Show me... around?” 

“Yep!” The villain replied, popping the ‘p.’

They don’t see me as a threat, judging by how relaxed they seem to be. Well, of course they don’t; Dream is nothing but a kind, compassionate healer who doesn’t care about heroes and villains, only the people behind them.

And the thing is, none of that personality was ever faked, because it was real. Every persona he had was. Dream, XD, it didn’t matter. All of it was him, some way or another.

Dream was the younger, softer, most trusting side of him. The one who believed in the good, who had seen the worst of what the world had to offer and decided that it wasn’t going to define him as a person. 

Dream genuinely cared for people, capable of ignoring society’s labels in favor of something far more important. He was the side that was grounded, understanding. This was someone who made you want to protect him with every fiber of your being.

XD, on the other hand, split into two. The first was his public persona, a shining beacon of the best of the best, heroic, brave, reckless. Noble. A leader. Someone who you could trust to have your back to the very end. He’d rush into a burning building, jump in front of a bullet, leap into danger to save a life. This was a man that could protect you. Someone everyone revered from the bottom of their hearts.

The second part of XD was his more… dubious side. The dangerous one, known only to those of high political standing who seeked to control one of the most powerful figures both with and without a sword. This man was cunning, always seeming to have a plan, difficult to catch off guard. Knew things that he shouldn’t. Someone who had no difficulty controlling people, knowing their limits, having exactly the right knowledge to know what made people snap, and how to make them do whatever he wanted. This was his… temperamental side. Unpredictable, uncontrollable. 

It didn’t reveal itself often, preferring to dwell deep within Dream, only surfacing when he was particularly emotional or more often or not, angry. This persona seeked only to protect himself, follow his own agenda, regardless of anyone else. 

It was this side of him that Dream feared most. 

His dark side.

What am I doing? These villains… if I keep this up, what will happen?

I admit that I’m beginning to care for them. At least a tad. Could I hurt them, if the situation calls for it? I believe yes. But do I want to?

No.

“Uh… hello? Dream? Ya there?”

“Bruh. Siren, I think you broke him.” The Blade’s monotone voice breaks him out of his deep thoughts. 

“W-What?” Dream shook his head, blinking.

“Did I really shock you that much?” Siren’s voice was laced with amusement.

“No.” Dream defended. “I was just… caught off guard, is all.”

The black-and-gold clad villain looked over to The Angel on Dream’s other side, reminding him of the other two people in the room. When he followed Siren’s gaze, The Angel gave him a calming, warm smile which Dream genuinely returned.

“Okay then.” Siren clapped his hands together. “Ready to go?”

Dream stood up, prepared to follow him when a sudden thought struck him. “Wait, what time is it?”

The Angel replied. “Dunno mate, ‘bout 9:00 or so. Give or take.”

His eyes widened. 

“Fuck… Drista.” Dream quickly felt for his phone in his pockets, found it, pulled it out, and sent a text message to his sister apologizing for not being there in the morning and explaining that there was some urgent work-related business that he had needed to sort out, lightly referencing something to do with heroes.

Dream breathed a large sigh of relief when she sent back a simple thumbs-up emoji. He tucked it away.

“Alright.” He followed Siren’s apparently overjoyed steps, practically bouncing, out of the room.

“Siren’s going all hardcore–” The Blade’s voice gradually faded out of earshot as they moved out of the room.

The hallway contained tall, pristine, gold-veined white marble walls and silver-flecked black floors. Every once in a while, they would pass a differently designed chandelier hanging from the ceiling far above, though all were equally as stunning to look at.

“–And this is the weapons room!” Siren declared rather dramatically and suddenly after he had been ignoring the villain for the most of their trek so far. 

Dream took one peak into the room and reacted the way a civilian who had never so much as seen so many blades in the same place would.

“So you just have a room filled to the brim with illegal weapons, like swords, and axes, and bows, and guns . Very, uh… Villanesque of you.”

Siren snorted, black-with-gold-detailings trench coat fluttering as he stopped. 

“I keep forgetting that you’re not a villain.” His words were a tad breathy. “It’s a welcome change after this last week, I guess.”

Dream smirked. “What, are the only people you’ve interacted with for the last few days either murderers, terrorists, criminals, or all three?”

Siren shot him an amused smile, showing off his perfect pearly whites. “Yep. Villains make such great company, I know.” After which he continued on, Dream trailing behind.

It turns out that the next thirty or so rooms (turns out, despite initial appearances, this place was absolutely massive ) were just simply composed of multiple storage rooms and bedrooms, the former of which were composed of neat, organized filing cabinets or stacked cardboard boxes. The latter were lavishly decorated in fine silk drapes and fabrics on large four poster beds. 

“This is a lot for just a safehouse.” He comments, catching up to Siren quickly. Dream thinks back to Angel and Blade’s short interaction, and wonders.

“It’s just for appearances.” Siren commented quickly, a flash of something– once again , for god’s sake – unidentifiable on his face.

Ugh. Headaches. I hate them, so much. They make things so terribly, unnecessarily, inconvenient. I can’t even focus on anything without a hammer of pain smashing my skull.

 I feel blind . 

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, deciding that it would be futile trying to puzzle together anything while this pounding ache in his head was present, instead filing away all the looks into his memory for later.

“Actually, now that I come to think of it,” He began after a short while of silence, “The first time I met you, I was convinced you were nothing but a idiotic, annoying moron.”

Siren slowed, cocked his head and gave the impression that he was raising an eyebrow under the blindfold and teasingly asked, “And now?”

Dream did nothing but smirk playfully. “I mean, my opinion hasn’t exactly changed –”

“Fuck you, Dream.”

He laughed, smiling. “ But I’ve decided that I’m going to forgive you for almost murdering me. Sort of. What I’m saying is, we’re getting there. And that you’re not so bad, after all.”

He was certainly— surprised when Siren turned and tackled him into a tight hug, ruffling Dream’s hair a slight bit and exclaiming, “I knew it! I knew it! I know you like me, underneath all that unnatural maturity of yours! Admit it!”

He was instantly, again, reminded of Sapnap and George. And their antics.

Dream replied, relaxing his previously stiff body into the embrace. “Sure.” But his tone was carefree and amused. “And what do you mean, unnaturally mature?”

Siren didn’t release him, however, he did loosen his hold. “Dream, you have the same level of maturity as The Angel sometimes, and he’s like, old. Maybe double your age, old.” 

The villain muttered something under his breath that sounded a bit like ‘ldza’ but he wasn’t completely sure. His headache must be messing with his senses.

“Huh.” Is his so eloquent and graceful response. “Okay, then.”

“Also, can you, uh, let go of me now? Please?”

Siren finally released him, though retaining the same grin like an overexcited puppy as Dream combed through his hair with his hand, straightening the golden locks.

I’ve never seen this side of him before. He’s acting.. childish, almost. Certainly not like someone you’d expect to have 60+ murder charges and countless other serious felonies under his belt.

“Out of the three leaders of The Syndicate, you’re the one I’ve spent the least amount of time with.”

“But I’m your favorite, right? Who’s your favorite villain?”

He blinked. Favorite villain? None of them were really his favorite, but…

“If I had to choose, it’d be The Angel of Death.”

Siren stared at him with a deadpan expression before throwing his hands up in the air in a gesture that screamed, ‘seriously?’

“Really? Angel? Bird guy? Old man? I’ll admit, he’s cool, but I’m cooler. Right?”

Dream crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Can you knock out people by touching them? Do you have wings? Are you the only villain thus far who has actually been respectful to me? All the time?” At Siren’s stare, he added, “Didn’t think so.”

Siren deflated, but perked up again right after. “Who’s your second favorite, then? It better be me.”

Dream just sighed. “Didn’t you have a tour to finish? We’ve only gone through a few rooms.”

The supervillain just waved him off. “We don’t need to rush. After all, this is quality bonding time!” The words echoed throughout the vast halls.

“If you were any bit louder, I’m sure the entirety of the city could hear you.” Dream deadpanned.

Siren simply ignored Dream’s sass and nudged him. “You’re one confusing man, Dream. I don’t mind though; it’s fun!” He continued walking, inquiring, “Are you coming or not?”

Dream blinked. “Uh.. yeah?” Jogging to catch up to Siren.

“What’s your favorite color?” The villain beside him asks out of the blue after another few minutes.

“Green.” He answers with no hesitation.

“Hobby?”

This one Dream had to think about. After all, he didn’t really have that much free time, and when he did, that time was usually spent with Drista.

“Reading.”

Siren snorted. “Figures. You do have a whole two-level library in your house. But anyway, I just wanted to tell you: we’re introducing you to The Syndicate today.”

“I-Introducing me?” Dream made sure to push fear, uncertainty and slight anxiety into his voice.

Siren surveyed him for a moment. 

“You’re scared. And apprehensive. Why?”

Despite the fact that that was what Dream had wanted Siren to pick up from him, he still cringed, unused to having people spelling out his emotions so easily. It also happened to a perfectly normal reaction, so he went with it.

“The reason we’re introducing you is so they don’t accidentally murder you or break your conditions, if that’s what it is.”

Dream simply said nothing.

“And, well, it’s not really introducing, per say, because you’ve already met all the members that’ll actually be there. After all, Gambit virtually never shows up, and Nuclear can’t.” Siren rambled on.

“Nuclear’s part of The Syndicate?”

The villain fixed him with a humorous look. “At this point, Dream, almost everyone affiliated with villainy is part of The Syndicate one way or another. But, well, you wouldn’t know that, civilian .” He says that last word teasingly.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“In my books, it most certainly is.”

“So you’re telling me that not causing multiple crimes, including murder, on a regular basis is a bad thing? ”

Siren grinned. “Yep.” 

Dream sighed. “Why do I even try.” He muttered, which earned a snicker from the man next to him.

“The only villain you haven’t met is Vulpix, anyway, but he’s harmless.”

Dream raised an exasperated eyebrow. “Do you really expect me to believe that any villain is ‘harmless’?”

“His only abilities are super speed and invisibility. What could he possibly do? There’s no reason to be concerned about him.”

“For you, maybe. Me? I have the right to be nervous about a guy that could punch you after running 50 miles an hour.”

Siren laughed in the face of a very confused Dream, saying, “You worry too much. It’ll be fine. Do you not trust us?”

“Can’t say I do too much.”

The supervillain, as dramatic as he was, clasped a hand to his heart, gasping as though severely wounded. “You pain me, Dream.”

“How terrible.” He deadpanned.

Siren opened his mouth to respond, but then straightened as they passed a large, carved wooden doorway, exclaiming “Finally!” 

“This is the meeting hall.” Siren added. “There’s no one here at the moment, though some familiarity for you would probably calm your excessive nerves for a bit.”

“I don’t have excessive nerves. Villains simply have no sense of self-preservation. At all.” Dream snarked, but was slightly distracted by the wondrous room he was in.

The initial thing he noticed was the table; the edges of the large rectangular thing were blue-ish green, with a strange void-like square pattern following the edge. The rest of it was made of a dark teal wood, with the three chairs on every side (except the one facing the entrance, in which there was only one) an ordinary oak, carved and designed with beautiful curves and most noticeably, names, on the back of each of them.

Dream spotted The Blade, Siren, and Angel of Death on the three seats situated at the head of the table, at the back. Beside them on the left was a chair labeled Vulpix with Nemesis one farther down, all carved and inlaid in the wood with a dazzling pure gold.

The table itself was on a dais made of a darker colored wood in the center of the room. The walls were now a dark black, the arched ceiling holding a singular, draping chandelier of dark teal and black crystals, which glittered despite its color.

“Wow.” He breathed. While not as high-tech as hero meeting rooms were, it certainly was just as, if not more, gorgeous, despite both themes being the exact opposite.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Siren’s tone was smug.

“It’s what I’d expect from an overly dramatic villain organization.” Dream retorted, though with no real focus on his words, preferring to let himself be distracted by his surroundings, ogling everything around him. 

At the back of the room, behind the top three villain’s seats, was an entire wall of armor stands. Hanging on them were various sets of costumes all shimmering with a peculiar purple sheen.

“ Overly dramatic? We’re dramatic, I admit, but it’s for intimidation! You can’t possibly tell me that you weren’t scared of us when you first met us! Though,” Siren stopped, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t judging by how you act around us.”

Dream turned and fixed Siren with a judgmental look. “I am scared of you. I’m just very good at hiding it.” Effectively dodging the question with ease. (And anyway, he was technically only half lying)

“Also, I’m not scared of you ‘cause of your villain dramatics, I am scared of you and was scared of you because 1, you can murder me, 2, I thought you were going to murder me. Mainly The Blade, if we’re gonna be honest here.”

“The Blade? Why would he kill you ? You’re literally as helpless as a puppy.” Dream bristled at this, turning and glaring at Siren from where the villain stood, leaning against the frame of the doorway.

“I am not helpless. ” 

Like, really not helpless. The living antonym of the word, in fact.

Throughout all my life, even when I was five years old, I have never been helpless. I’ve never been able to be helpless. Never been able to let my guard down around anyone but Drista.

I learned that lesson the hard way.

Siren smirked at him, which made Dream narrow his eyes. “Sure you aren’t, civilian.”

Dream grumbled but said, “To answer your question, the night I found The Blade covered in his own blood for a change, I healed him, and got a version of ‘thanks’ that includes being thrown against a brick wall headfirst and then scared out of my wits as he basically interrogated me.”

Siren laughed, and Dream crossed his arms, frowning. “Why are you laughing? That was not a fun experience.”

The supervillain continued to chuckle as he replied, “No, no, of course it wasn’t. It sounds like something Blade would do.”

Oh, The Blade.

Dream could remember the way the previously stoic and emotionless villain had looked as he kneeled beside Lethe’s injured body. The worried and panicked (and glowing) eyes, the tentative press of his cape against the younger villain’s side, the soft, almost kind whispers. 

“Save him for me, will you?”

He remembered the broken, saddened tone Siren had taken as he told Dream of his family troubles, his utter cluelessness on how to care for someone he really loved.

“What if I make things worse?”

The Angel. Who had been nothing short of caring since the second he’d talked to the man. Who had revealed a hidden power to heal his bullet wound, flying him home, giving him the one thing he needed to feel safe.

For my promise.

Were villains truly as evil as he’d thought?

Today was just going to be revelation after revelation, wasn’t it?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Dream uncrossed his arms and stood beside where Siren was leaning against the huge doorway.

“What even happened to Lethe in the first place?”

Siren winced, shoulders tensing. “That’s um, a complicated story.”

Dream raised an eyebrow, “We’ve got nothing to do.” 

Thank god I have a night shift today.

But I have an interview. Today. As XD. How could I have forgotten? I never forget anything. The healing side effects are messing with my head.

When was it?

Dream sifted through his memory quickly as Siren strode over to the back of the room and sat down, presumably in his own chair as it was one of the ones at the head of the table, trying to ignore the thrumming, consistent pain.

Ah, right. 3:45. I need to be out of here by 2:30, at least. It’s probably about 10:00 right now, so that gives me plenty of time. Thank goodness.

Dream followed and sat down on the seat on the opposite side of the three at the head, leaving the middle as a space between them.

“First of all, the short version is that, well, Blade stabbed him.”

This short-circuited Dream’s already overloaded head. “Wha- huh?” 

Those eyes… can’t have lied to him. Unless he was somehow imagining things.

Siren sighed. “You see, a side effect of Blade’s ability is that he sometimes has– episodes when he’s particularly emotional. The voices in his head don’t exactly help. If anything, they make it worse, not better.”

“What could’ve made him so emotional though? And what do you mean by ‘episodes’? And.. voices?” For the two years he had fought against the villain who was his match in every way, he had always come across as emotionless, sarcastic, and deadly. Then again, hadn’t Dream had just been thinking about how those thoughts weren’t true?

Siren scratched his neck, cringing awkwardly. “Eh… family issues tend to do that to you.” Skipping past Dream’s other two questions.

Dream connected the dots quickly. “You mean the same family issues you have?”

“.....Technically, the family issues all us top three villains are having.” And then, Siren pursed his lips like he’d something the supervillain wasn’t sure he was supposed to say.

Meanwhile, that exact same sentence had managed to make Dream freeze, blinking in disbelief. 

“Wait, you’re saying… you’re related to The Angel and Blade?”

The supervillain nodded, another cheeky smile resurfacing on his face, presumably to distract Dream. “Is it really so hard to believe?” Then he paused. “No, you’re totally right. It is.”

“...You were saying?”

“Ah, right!” The man snapped his fingers. “Anyway, he tends to get a bit– murderous in his episodes, glowing eyes and all, and he can’t really control it, nor recognize friend from foe. Lethe tried to calm him down, the poor kid, and got a sword to the side as a result.”

“The Blade pretends to not care about him, and he has a great poker face, I’ll admit, but don’t let it fool you. He’s really just–”

“What am I ‘just,’ Siren?” The Blade’s deep voice carried a rare, genuinely amused tilt to it, and both of the other occupants of the meeting room jumped a little.

“Blade! Funny to see you here.” The other villain chuckled nervously. "I was simply explaining to Dream…” Siren trailed off, looking to him for support. He jolted, unexpected to see both villain’s gazes on him so intently.

“Oh, uh, how Lethe got hurt. That’s all.”  

The Blade huffed. “Oh, I’m sure that’s all. Now, can you get outta my chair?” 

Dream blinked, glancing at the inscription and instantly standing up. “Right. But then… where do I sit?”

“The one right next down, mate.” The Angel of Death shook his wings out as a small breeze blew through the large room, walking inwards.

Taken aback, he managed to stutter out, “Y-You have a chair for me?” Before promptly noticing that the chair, beside The Blade’s, on his right, had no inscription.

The Angel beamed at him. “ ‘Course. We didn’t know if you wanted a code name or not, so we didn’t engrave it, but it’s yours.”

“O-Oh.” He sounded lost.

All three villains present started laughing (or, in Blade’s case, chuckling lowly) and felt his cheeks heat a little. Realizing this, he immediately wrestled his right back embarrassment down.

“What’s he doing here?” A feminine voice made them all turn.

Nemesis stood at the doorway. A second later, Thunder appeared behind her, adjusting his red and blue glasses. 

“He saved Lethe’s life and passed out afterwards.” Siren said, and Nemesis scrutinized him for a moment before turning to Dream, who secretly studied her right back.

She wore a loose, long-sleeved red top with black ends, tucked into black pants with red lines leading down to her kitten-heeled black shoes, complete with a gold belt and accessories. What really made her stand out, however, was the white cape which faded into a shimmering, crimson blood-red halfway down. Nemesis’ long, loose pink hair (what was up with villains and pink hair?) had a singular braid, with the rest left unbraided and flowed halfway down her back.

The villainess used a red cat’s eye domino mask, the edges lined with a black on one side and gold on the other.

“Among other things.” The Blade added, slipping into his chair and putting on a bored expression. Angel followed suit, which prompted Dream to sit in his chair as well, feeling slightly out of place.

I have done something I will never come back from.

Nemesis huffs, moving to her own chair with Thunder getting seated beside her. 

Only a second later, Lethe decked out in a new, fully mended suit strolled into the room and froze a little when he saw Dream, but easily moved past it. It was when the man passed him did he realize that the dragon hybrid was tall. Really tall. About 6’6, if he had to guess. He knew of the man through reports, but had never seen him up close before.

It also turns out that the young villain’s designated seating was beside Dream, who faked not noticing Lethe’s curious stare.

Ten minutes passed in perfect silence with only the occasional shift or huff.

“I’m guessing Gambit is a no show again. And we’re still waiting on Vulpix. Again. For a guy with speed power, you’d think he’d be early.” Thunder threw his head back, collapsing backwards in annoyance.

“What a surprise.” The Blade rolled his eyes. 

“No need to get impatient.” The Angel of Death chided and started, “We can start the meeting without-”

“Without little ol’ me?” Vulpix skid to a stop, smirking as everyone turned to him with varying looks, though none truly negative. More rather, it was of annoyance and exasperation. Dream thought Siren seemed endeared.

The man met eyes (or masks) with everyone in the room, faltering with–what was that? Confusion? – when he ended with Dream, staring at him for a long time. Eventually, Dream broke eye contact, beckoning discomfort and a splash of fear to the surface.

Vulpix moved to take his seat directly across from Dream, still studying him, albeit less directly.

Angel shook his wings slightly, smiling. “Alright then, mate. Good to see you.” 

“Get on with it, old man. Nuclear isn’t coming, isn’t he?” Siren chirped, maintaining a witty grin when the avian glared at him.

“Stop stallin’ already. Chat’s gettin’ restless.” The Blade inexpressibly, waving a hand before sneaking a quick glance that had been missed by everyone except Dream to Lethe.

Chat? The heck is that?

“Alright, alright,” The winged man held up his hands in the gesture of surrender.

“Let the meeting commence.”

Chapter Text

“Okay then. First of all, who’s the guy?” Vulpix asked, gesturing to Dream, who froze.

“Actually, that’s the first thing I wanted to address today.” The Angel spoke up.

“This is Dream, our new healer. In fact, Vulpix, you’re the only one who hasn’t met him yet, save for Nuclear and Gambit, of course.”

A beat.

“How the heck did you get your hands on a healer?” Vulpix asked. “They’re so rare, and always snatched up by HC before we even know about them. Did you threaten him? Also, Dream? Like, Dream Hunter, owner of Hunter Industries, Dream?”

Dream huffed. “Don’t talk like I’m not right here. ” And subsequently flinched a bit when everyone’s eyes turned to him.

Vulpix winced, scratching his neck. “Right. Sorry.”

Dream crossed his arms. “You can ask me all the questions you want, directly, to my face. Thank you. There is also no guarantee I will answer. Won’t lie, though.”

The fox hybrid blinked. “If you say so. First one: How does your power work exactly?”

Purposely ignoring the other villain’s stares, especially The Blade’s curious one, he answered, “Energy transfer. I can heal almost anything, but the cost is my own stamina. S’ why I passed out,” Dream added, turning to Lethe before the three villains at the head of the table, “Because I needed to recover the energy lost.”

Vulpix nodded, accepting. “Second: Are you really Dream Hunter, the millionaire?  Do you have any other powers?”

“Yes. And no.” And that I may have lied when I said I wouldn’t.

 Nemesis piped up. “Why are you even doing this in the first place? As I see it, you have nothing to gain.”

Dream, taken aback by the bluntness in her tone, answered by saying, “Because you villains have no self-preservation skills and I think I’d blame myself if one of you died. Especially if I could've stopped it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring with an untrusting expression, and Dream, sensing danger, backed off immediately, pushing up discomfort and unease into his body language, though subtly.

Is it just me or has Blade been eyeing me for a while?

Thunder nudged Nemesis and whispered something, which caused her to turn her venomous glare to him. The villain known for explosions simply smiled, shaking his head as she mouthed angrily to the other villain, we’re talking about this later.

“Are there any other side-effects of your power that we need to know about?” Lethe inquired, and Dream instinctively relaxed at the softer voice. 

“Sort of. The bigger the wound, the worse the aftereffect. And that I don’t have necromancy powers; if you’re dead, you’re dead. And…” He trailed off for a second, feeling foreign about admitting this so freely.

Oh, whatever . I already told Angel, there’s no point hiding it.

“I can’t heal myself. Just because of how my power works.”

This raised a few brows, but no one said anything.

“If that’s all the questions, I have a few words to say.”

Dream naturally tuned out as Angel explained his rules, reasons for calling him, and other details but kept on an attentive expression throughout, absent-mindedly filing away all the information he heard but not processing it.

He snapped back to attention, however, when he heard, “ You? Who could’ve possibly been able to sneak up on you?”

The Blade sighed. “I was just getting to that, Vulpix.” 

He proceeded to explain how the night Dream had found The Blade half-dead and lying in a pool of blood, when he had dropped into an empty alleyway, someone tried to stab him from behind. The Blade had managed to twist away from getting impaled straight through the chest, but had still gotten injured badly and passed out shortly after.

“Dream, could you describe what the slash looked like?” Siren asked him, and he nodded.

“It was a long gash stretching from the midchest to the right side of the waist. Seemed to be caused by a tipped weapon of some kind; it was darkened and almost purple in color.”

The Blade hummed. “Lines up with the passin’ out so quickly.”

“Did you catch a glimpse of who did it?” Nemesis leaned forward, looking at Blade.

“Dressed in black and red. Wore a large cloak, but unidentifiable with anyone, vigilante, villain, or otherwise I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

“Oh please.” Thunder said. “We all know the obvious answer, right? It’s gotta be XD. He’s the only one who has the skills to injure Blade.”

Most of the villains nodded, acknowledging the truth in that statement, and Dream shoved down his impulsive desires in order to maintain a neutral face.

“Believe me, I would think that too,” The Blade said, “If it weren’t for the fact that I witnessed the guy melt into the shadows with my very own eyes. I mean, I’ll admit, XD’s good, but he’s not that good.”

“Why not?” Nemesis sat up, eyes calculating. “We’ve long since suspected that he has abilities that he either doesn’t use or hides very well. Why stop now?”

I do a bit of both, actually. 

“We all know what happened when we assumed that the first time around. I’m not making the same mistake twice.” Siren commented. 

Nemesis simply scoffed. “Like I said, he could just not use them.”

“Either way, XD’s still a very large threat, whether he did stab Blade or not. We all know we have to eliminate him.” Angel sounded darker than he usually did, and that unnerved him. Dream shuddered at the ‘eliminate’ part, not suppressing it because it fell into a normal reaction for a civilian.

“Angel, if it were that easy, he’d already be dead. XD’s like a cockroach; you can never get rid of him.” The Blade huffed.

“It’d be easier if we knew his identity,” Siren added, “But we’ve got no leads, no connections, whatsoever. The most we know about him is that he has brown hair, and about 6’3. Human. That’s it . It also describes about 50 percent of the male population in this city.”

The Angel sighed. “We’ll come back to XD later. For now, we need to discuss the new drug on the scene, Blue, and the rising organized cult threats…”

Dream zoned out again as they began talking about seemingly mundane criminal things such as toppling rival groups, etcetera etcetera (which would be concerning to anyone else, but he was still reeling from the fact that they were planning to kill him and/or unmask him).

There’s that drug again. Blue. I don’t know much about it, surprisingly enough. Maybe I should ask Warden or Coder to pull up some files for me to look at. Where did I last hear of it? Right, Theseus.

Is he thinking about my offer? He better be; I’m taking so many risks for that. Then again, nobody save for the President himself can actually do anything about it, even if they did find out. A Diamond Council member would try to hold it over my head, but I’d just unleash my ‘scare tactics’ or whatever Sapnap came up with this time on them.

Oh, poor Sapnap. I hope whatever interviewer we have is less prejudiced this time. Last year was terrible. 

And Hero Day is just around the corner. Come to think of it, every annual celebration we had last almost always went south. Then again, we live in a city where there’s a whole supervillain organization, so I guess that’s to be expected.

Organized crime has been on the rise lately. Reports describe a cult of some sort, and an Egg or something? It’s creepy, for sure, but I haven’t paid much attention to it lately because of this whole thing. Maybe I should also look into that along with Blue.

“Meeting adjourned!”

He snapped out of his thoughts abruptly as Angel’s voice echoed through the room, the villains standing up to leave, Lethe in particular simply disappearing from sight.

Lethe’s ability was that he could teleport to any location he wanted, presumably within a radius that no one had figured out yet, in less than a second. One moment he’s there, the next he’s not. It made him a tough adversary for anyone over-reliant on their sight, but that could be substituted for a good reaction time and reflexes.

I’m feeling a lot more spaced out than usual. I blame it on the headache. It’s ruining everything for me.

Dream, at a loss for what to do, only stood up out of his chair.

“Blade, could you get Dream back to his house?” The Angel of Death asked after all the other Syndicate members had left (with Nemesis shooting Dream a poisonous glare that had scared him a bit) and the man in question blinked.

“Heh? Why do I have to do that? Make Siren do it.”

At this, Siren chuckled suddenly, backing up with a fake smile plastered on his face. “About that, I need to… uh… meet up! With.. someone! Right now!” Saying this, he practically ran out the door, which made Blade huff in exasperation. 

“Nevermind, I forgot he’s a loser. Angel, why don’t you do it?”

Angel shook his head good-naturedly. “Sorry, mate. I need to check up on–” The villain discreetly eyed Dream for a second, “You know who. We still haven’t talked to him. I’m… worried.”

Do they mean Siren’s– well, technically The Blade’s too– little brother? There’s no way Angel’s the same age as Blade.

….Does that mean Angel’s a dad? 

The Blade groaned, but he managed to catch an underlying emotion flit through his eyes as he got out of his chair, stretching his arms. “Fine. Get lost, old man.”

“You little shit. ” The Angel’s voice carried fondness as he opened his wings. “Call me if you need anything, ‘kay mate?”

“Yeah, yeah. Get outta here.”

The avian flew out of the room with a small gust of wind, leaving Dream alone with his arch nemesis.

“So, are you gonna…” He said awkwardly.

The Blade shrugged. “We need to find a codename for you. Any suggestions perchance?”

Dream stared at the villain. “I really don’t care about what it is.” 

I let the media name me after one of the three deities of the world, after all. XD, the supposed god of the living, chance, survival, and defense. 

I’ve personally never believed in the gods.

The Blade strode over to him, gaze thoughtful. “Asclepius.”

 Greek god of healing and medicine. Former Greek hero. Fitting, I suppose. 

And what is up with people naming me after gods? Please, at this point the world will end before someone comes up with a normal name for me.

“Sure. Whatever. Can I go now?”

The Blade donned his signature smug smirk. 

“Why the rush, Dream? Do you have somewhere better to be?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

Dream just groaned. “Are you really just gonna be annoying this entire time?”

“I ain’t annoyin’. That’s just a matter of personal opinion. I, for instance, find myself a rather amazin’ person.”

“You’ve just got bad taste.”

“Maybe you’re just bad. Ever think of that?”

Dream spluttered. “W-Well, no! ‘Cause I’m not!”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that. Actually, on second thought, don’t. Lying to yourself isn’t healthy.”

“Why are you like this.”

“If you mean why I’m so amazin’, it really comes down to–”

“Oh my god, Blade!”

The Blade chuckled as Dream pursed his lips at him in frustration.

“Can you just get me back home already?”

“...Ehh, nah. Too much work.”

Dream threw his hands in the air. “What do you mean, too much work ? You can’t just leave me here in your little secret villain base where you plot evil things and deaths of heroes forever!”

“I kinda can, actually.”

Dream grumbled. “You are so annoying.”

“I sincerely beg to differ.”

“What do you want ?”

The Blade tilted his head. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” He replied in an even voice.

Dream scoffed. “You only ever annoy me, or like, talk to me when you want something. What is it?”

The red-eyed villain looked into his own emerald-green ones for a moment, which creeped him out only the slightest bit.

“ I want to know,” The Blade eventually said, “What you want.”

He blinked. 

Not this again.

“Seriously? This again?” Dream asked incredulously, echoing his own thoughts, just barely letting an ounce of annoyance bleed into his tone.

He stepped back on instinct as The Blade suddenly approached him.