Chapter Text
“Motherfucker- ” Skeppy yelled, slamming shut the hardcover book he had previously been engrossed in with an enraged huff. A much younger version of himself would probably mock him for being so invested in a book that he actually got mad when something happened to a fictional character, but he couldn’t help his emotions getting away from him right now.
He huffed and stared down at it’s cover, he couldn’t believe he spent thirty-eight fucking dollars on the preorder, hardcover of the newest book from his favourite series, the one he’d been waiting to come out for years now, just for some new protagonist to show up out of nowhere to steal the spotlight. By chapter thirteen, the hero, Dream, was barely more than background character, for god’s sake!
Embossed onto the front cover of the book was one bold word: Manhunt, the name of the series.
Before this new addition, it had meant the world to Skeppy. He was never much of a reader in his youth, books never had half the appeal the internet did to him. At least, not until he was sixteen, perpetually bored, and one day, a piece of fanart one his friends drew caught his eye. It was a man with a smiley-face on a mask, holding a sword up, Legend of Zelda style, in a forest, and it was just about interesting enough for him to ask who the character was. As it turned out, it wasn’t the most well-known series, but it retained a small, yet fiercely loyal, fanbase, which Skeppy encountered the minute he googled the series.
Apparently it was set in some fantasy realm, and the characters seemed to be as interesting as the world they were set in, so the next time his mom went to the library, he tagged along, surprising her quite a bit, considering he spent most of his time in his room on his laptop. It had taken him ages to navigate the library’s winding shelves, but just before he was about to give up, he caught sight of the exact title he’d been looking for, Manhunt: The Mask. It was obviously well worn, it’s plastic sleeve had gathered dust and a few of the first pages had some faint stains on them, but Skeppy couldn’t put it down from the minute he got through the first chapter.
All his friends had all been equally surprised to see him walk into school with his nose buried in a book, but he ignored their joking taunts easily, getting lost in forests full of monsters and towns of demons and magic; the writing style drew him in like no other work ever had, immersing him so heavily that it was almost disorienting when he was interrupted and brought back to the real world.
Manhunt was told from the perspective of Dream, a mercenary whose life fell apart after an encounter with an Enderman went horribly wrong. It left him infected with a dark magic, the likes of which he’d never seen before, turning the area around the wound a dark purple that just kept growing, and plaguing him with visions of a dragon, that left his head pounding and his throat raw from screaming. During his research, Dream found it went by many names, and had many powers- but it was known by most as the Ender Dragon, a beast that corrupted the mind, and slowly turned anyone who she deemed a threat into lifeless, empty shells who bent to her will.
The first book consisted of his travels when searching for knowledge, as he began donning a simple, enchanted mask to hide his eyes, due to the fact that the infection caused them to shift from a dull, moss green, to a glowing purple surrounded by a sickly pink. All the while through the journey, he reminisced and mourned the loss of his teammates, who he’d left behind on his most dangerous mission yet, without a word.
The last chapter had ended on a cliff-hanger, revealing that the friends he had been missing had become possessed by the Ender Dragon, to a much greater extent than himself, and were attempting to kill him.
Skeppy remembered the exact feeling and setting when he finally finished the first book. He had been sitting cross legged on his bed with his mouth hanging open, the light from his lamp was the only thing keeping the room lit, as it was about half-past one in the morning. He’d ended up reading the last chapter over and over again, to stop himself from bursting into his parent’s room to beg them to take him to the library to get the next book, even though in hindsight, it definitely would’ve been shut at that hour.
He didn’t get much sleep that night, his mind whirring with thoughts of these new characters and their dramatic entrance, replaying the moment Dream realised that these were no longer the people he knew so well. The dawning horror of knowing he had to fight the people most dear to him, for his, and their own, survival and freedom.
After pestering his family all of the next day, eventually, he convinced his sister to drive him back to the library, to get the second book and return the first. The idea was to borrow the whole series, but after tenuous searching, and even asking a librarian, he found out they only owned the first two.
Manhunt: The Hunt Begins, was the title of the second book in the series, and it was even better than the first. The ‘hunters’ were all remarkably unique, and they were explored much more throughout The Hunt Begins. George was a human, raised as a knight in a land far away, who ran away from his Kingdom as a teenager, Sapnap was a fire mage who was raised in the Nether, but was exiled from his community due to a horrible misunderstanding, and lastly was Bad, a demon without a summoner or a pact, which meant he was free to roam the Overworld and do as he pleased.
Glimpses of the life Dream used to share with them from the beginning of the first book, and flashes of past memories, revealed how close they’d been; travelling from kingdom to kingdom, on dangerous quests that lasted months at a time. Yet, they had come through every challenge smiling, stronger than before, and Skeppy would’ve gladly read a dozen more spin-off books of their past ventures.
There was only one catch: the series was unfinished.
Skeppy had long since caught up on the books the library didn’t carry, shortly after finishing the second book, by ordering them online and waiting restlessly, until the day they arrived through the mail.
At this point he had the whole series lined up neatly on a shelf in his room, the third and fourth books were paperback, and the first and second he’d bought later on were hardback, with space left for the final book that had yet to be released. The title had been leaked a few months prior, and ever since, Manhunt: The End, was on his mind most of the time. With such a simple, yet powerful title, there was no doubt it was the last book in the series, which was equally heartbreaking and thrilling.
On one hand there would be no more anticipation, no more adventures, no more Dream; on the other hand, it was always inevitable that the hunt would end, Skeppy would finally have the ending he’d been waiting on since he’d read that first chapter all those years ago, back when he was only sixteen, reading by lamplight when he had school the next morning.
Now he was twenty three, living with two roommates, and working from home. Throughout the years, his interest had faded and piqued at times, some months went by where he buried himself in work, or tried to find a new series based on recommendations from other fans, but nothing stuck, and eventually he’d find himself back on twitter scrolling through fan-art and complex theories.
Recently, with the closing in release of the final book, he’d been practically glued to his laptop screen, energised by the spike in content and hype surrounding the new book. A few people he’d seen discussing the new book were a little dismissive of the latest edition, saying that no matter what sequence of events happened, Dream was going to beat the dragon either way.
Honestly, Skeppy was a little inclined to agree: Dream was going to fight the dragon and he probably was going to win, but just because the ending was somewhat predetermined didn’t mean it wouldn’t be amazing. Because it would be, Skeppy knew it would be.
How could it not be when there was still so much to see, to learn?
Take The End dimension, for example. Time and time again, it was speculated what exactly it looked like, as other than the few visions Dream got of an endless starry sky, and pillars of dark, purple stone, it was still highly regarded as one of the series most prominent mysteries. Not to mention, no one knew what would happen if he actually managed to kill The Ender Dragon, would he be cured from his infection, or was he doomed from the start? If The Ender Dragon had created The End Realm, would it simply cease to exist if she was gone?
God, he’d had such high hopes for the final book, only to be greeted with this mess.
It was only two hours ago that it had arrived in the mail, and it was like Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one. He’d pre-ordered it three months ago, and throughout the week before today, his roommates, friends and family had to deal with him rambling about how many days, and hours left until it arrived.
The minuet he had the package in his hands he had to stop himself from squealing like a teenage girl who just got asked out to prom, but he couldn’t contain himself from running to him room, slamming the door closed behind him, and ripping into the package as quickly as he could without actually damaging the book inside.
From that moment, he hadn’t moved an inch or shifted positions from where he sat cross legged, as soon as he had the book firmly within his grasp.
It had been going beautifully at first, it was all he’d hoped for, and then the new characters showed up, and he felt confusion and doubt build as the story continued with them becoming more and more involved.
Listen, he had nothing against this new character, he was awkward, but endearing and courageous, as well as holding a heavy element of mystery and intrigue about him. He’d probably be a fan favourite, if he hadn’t taken centre stage and veered the plot wildly off course in doing so.
Along with this new, mysterious protagonist came a whole crew of characters he’d brought with him, so many, Skeppy could barely keep up. As it turned out, this new ragtag group were also on their way to The End portal- something to do with an out of control Enderman problem in some far off Kingdom. Skeppy was pretty sure the author was trying to link the new character’s backstory to The End and The Dragon, but he wasn’t paying too much attention to any foreshadowing this time.
After a tense meeting, Dream was welcomed into the team, and formed a tentative allyship and trust with them (to which Skeppy internally screamed about how out of character it was), as they neared the portal. The new protagonist had taken the place of the narrator, and Dream was betrayed by them. He was left barricaded out of the stronghold, after a fight where he refused to take off his mask, and the rest of the chapter took place in the ruins of the temple leading to the portal. When any mention of Dream, or any of the hunters, had failed to be mentioned once, Skeppy lost it.
This wasn’t the Manhunt he knew- this was some shitty lead into a new franchise the author was trying too hard to promote and lead into. At this rate, Dream wasn’t even going to make it to The End, and Skeppy would have to see it for the first time through the eyes of a stranger.
Skeppy would be half-tempted to throw the book across the room, if it hadn’t cost so much.
He wished there was some way he could change it, somehow shoo off this new cast and set the story straight, set it back on track. He even missed the hunters, despite them being the main cause of trouble for Dream, they completed the story, they were the whole reason for the name of the series. He’d been hoping after the Ender Dragon had been defeated, he could see the hunters for who they were rather than the possessed, single-minded killers they played the roles of throughout the story.
He especially had a fondness for Bad, whose backstory was by far the most interesting to Skeppy- and even whilst possessed he often seemed hesitant to hurt Dream, and had been referred to many times in regards to his skill in healing, despite being a demon. Not many physical descriptions of him were scattered throughout the books, and he was mostly up for artistic interpretation throughout the community. Most based their drawings off the basic canon knowledge, that he had pitch black skin and glowing white eyes, as well as being exceedingly tall with a large set of wings, but other than that, the artists in the community had free reign, and they went wild.
Horns, tails, feathered or leathery wings, Skeppy had seen it all; but his favourite depictions were those when Bad was out of of hunter-mode, where instead of being a terrifying spectre of death who shot through the air with his signature trident, he was a gentle giant in reading glasses, a mother-hen of the team with an awkward smile and a calming presence.
He seemed like he’d give good hugs.
But now Skeppy would never find out, never see the hunters for who they were, never see Dream free of his curse, free of his mask, and finally happy again, or be immersed in tense battle sequences and heart-wrenching conversations as Dream was forced to push past the cries and calls of a malicious force, wearing the faces of those dearest to him.
Skeppy felt robbed, and was only mildly comforted by the knowledge that every other fan probably felt about the same. He stared down the cover of the final Manhunt from where he’d angrily snapped it closed and traced the words with his fingertip. It was late, and he didn’t want to finish it, to be let down so devastatingly and then have to sleep with it on his mind.
He’d finish it eventually, maybe tomorrow, but now he just wanted to go to bed, postpone the inevitable.
He sighed and placed the book on his bedside table, rubbing his eyes, he wondered just what the hell happened to throw everything so off track. Had the author just wanted to keep writing and profiting off the world of Manhunt, even after it was over? Or had he simply lost interest in the same characters he’d been writing for so long, and decided to fabricate completely new, ‘more interesting’ characters?
It just didn’t add up. Skeppy wished there was some way to change it, he would’ve gladly read a separate book about them, but their presence ruined the epilogue Dream had been chasing for so long, reducing him to a minor role in his own story.
Maybe Skeppy had just been getting ahead of himself, Dream had to come back eventually, perhaps this was just another roadblock for him to cross, to intensify and switch up the ending they had all been expecting.
Skeppy lay back in his bed after switching off his bedside lamp and stared at the ceiling, his mind occupied on the book less than a foot away from him. He fell asleep to dreams of swords, forests and demons flying overhead, but despite how its contents might seem alarming to others- it was a good dream.
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When Skeppy woke up several hours later, the settings of the dream hadn’t shifted away to his reality, to his bedroom, where he’d fallen asleep.
Even before he opened his eyes, he could feel wind against his face, and instead of his mattress, he was cushioned by grass and dirt. When his eyes shot open, he was met with a vibrant blue sky, so bright, it made him wince. The sky was framed with leaves of surroundings trees, leaves much bigger than he’d even seen on a real tree- and it was at that moment that he asked himself, where the fuck was he?
When he inhaled, the air was fresh and sweet, the faint scent of honey hung pleasantly around him, swaddling him like a blanket, and melding with the warmth of the sun he was bathed in. He sat up, and noted that his clothes had changed along with the scenery.
Instead of the hoodie and shorts he’d fell asleep in, he was instead dressed in clothes he’d never seen before: a white button up shirt that was far too big, with billowing sleeves, a navy vest, embroidered around the edges with a bright blue thread, and grey cotton trousers that only reached his mid-calf, he was also wearing somehow perfectly-fitting leather shoes, the design of which wouldn’t look out of place in an antique shop or a museum. Skeppy curiously ran his hands over the fabric of the vest, it felt something like silk, but coarser, and the stitching seemed to be hand sewn.
The question was: what happened? Who had put in the effort to tailor an outfit for him, put him in it so he was dressed like someone from a renaissance fair, and leave him stranded in the middle of the woods? This had to be some kind of fucked up joke.
Sunlight was still pouring down, far too glaringly, and he brought his hand up to shield his eyes as he shakily made his way to his feet. He shifted slightly in the leather shoes, making sure they weren’t uncomfortable to walk in, and when he deemed them good enough, he made his way into the shade of the trees. It was still warm, but the shade was much cooler, giving him time to try and collect his thoughts.
Right, if he was going to get home, he probably first needed to figure out what exactly happened that landed him here. He squinted up at the sky to try and estimate how long he’d been asleep for- but the sight that met his eyes floored him.
There were two suns. One hung in the middle of the blue sky, exactly the same as what he was used to and had been expecting, and a little further away from it was a smaller ball of light, with an orange tint to it. Skeppy had remembered waking up on the grassy floor, and everything felt so vivid, but once this sight registered in his mind, he knew he must have still been sleeping.
Would it be stereotypical if he pinched himself?
He was genuinely considering it, when a yell and a series of crashes sounded in the distance. His head whipped in the direction it was coming from, and for a moment, he was frozen.
It sounded...dangerous, whatever was happening, and he was disoriented, lost and completely defenceless. But it meant there were people out there, people who might be in danger, and although he doubted he could do much (or really anything at all, realistically) he was already sprinting off into the forest before any more doubts or logical reasonings could keep him rooted to the spot or stop him. Besides, if everything worked out, maybe they could help him figure out where he was, and what was going on. It was a much better option that just trying to figure it out himself, and wandering around aimlessly.
Below him, tall grass and weeds whipped at his uncovered ankles as his shoes pounded down on the soft, undisturbed dirt below. Wherever this forest was, it definitely wasn’t somewhere people frequented, the tree’s branches hung low, making Skeppy duck under them, and stagger to the side to avoid patches of unruly brambles and thorns.
The noises grew louder and more discernible, the closer he got, but remained muffled by the sounds of his own heavy breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. The sounds were sharp clashes and heavy thumps, accompanied by voices calling out, yelling and grunting, it was without a doubt a fight- a battle, even.
When Skeppy was finally close enough to see flashes of movement, he ground to a halt, suddenly hesitant to get any closer, as if he was approaching a wild animal. But he had gotten this far, he had to know what was happening.
He crept through the underbrush, the voices became more clear- the words were familiar. He frowned thoughtfully as he tried to figure out where he’d heard them before, and as he peeked out from behind a truly massive tree, the events taking place before him were almost as shocking as looking up to see two suns.
A lone, masked man stood with his feet planted firmly in the ground, holding up a shining sword in defence in one hand, and a heavy-looking wooden shield in the other, as two figures raced towards him. One of the two made a move to attack, raising a similar looking sword of their own, that clashed against the masked man’s weapon with a clang that made his ears ring. At the same time, the second figure raised their hands, and before Skeppy could process what was happening, a ball of flame shot out his bare palms, scorching the shield of the masked man, but doing no visible harm to him.
Skeppy’s breath caught in his through- he’d never seen anything like this, it was like something out of a book or movie, but nothing he’d even read could ever compare to this, not even the most immersive scene in Manhunt.
Wait a second, Manhunt...was that…?
Skeppy leaned further out from the tree he was hiding behind and squinted at the figures, and when the masked man whipped around, and for a second, Skeppy caught sight of the mask’s design: a simple, crude smiley face. Dream’s mask.
If that really was Dream, the other two must’ve been Sapnap and George, their outfits were far from the fanart he was used to, but he was surprised to see that their faces were recognisable, at least enough for him to draw conclusions and similarities. Sapnap’s hair was much longer than fans often depicted it as, it was currently tied up by a white cloth that matched the one around his forehead. He had a pained expression on his face as he hurtled another fireball towards Dream, like he was the one being hit; but that didn’t make sense , because other than exhaustion after frequent use, magic like that shouldn’t have any effect on the caster.
George on the other hand had a stone cold, expressionless look, but if Skeppy recalled correctly, he apparently always deadpanned whilst fighting, even in mock duels and friendly sparring. His eyes were covered by black and white goggles that looked far more rustic and practical than the stylised ones he was used to.
“Just give up, already! We don’t have to fight, Dream! We can help you!” Sapnap cried, and that’s when it hit Skeppy. Those shouts from before were so familiar because he already knew them, he had already read them.
This was a complete replica of the fight scene from Manhunt: the End, chapter four he'd read just last night, but witnessing it through him completely off guard, other than the physical actions and words, it felt nothing like the fight scene he had read last night. That plea Sapnap had cried out, it had been described as taunting, a siren’s call to give in, give up and let the infection take over. They were supposed to be sweet, yet laced with poison, but that sounded nothing like the speech that had just resonated in Skeppy’s mind.
Sapnap sounded desperate, hurting, his voice cracked on the word ‘help’ in a way that made Skeppy’s heart hurt, even though he knew it was all an act, that they were mere puppets right now, and they were actively trying to kill Dream.
In a flurry of movement, Dream swiftly aimed a silent kick that sent George spiralling back and to the floor, and Skeppy was suddenly hit with the realization that he knew what would happen next. If things were playing out in the same sequence as they did in the book, Bad’s trident would come sailing down from the sky, where the demon had been circling, and strike Dream in the calf while he was distracted fending off the fire attacks from Sapnap.
Shit, shit, surely there was something he could do. How could he just stand by when he could actually make a change, and help his favourite character?
His eyes roamed the ground below, before they landed on a small pebble, a little smaller than his palm, it was big enough to make noise, but not enough to hurt if it hit someone, at least, not with his strength. Making sure he was still hidden by the shadows, Skeppy lent down and snatched the pebble from the dirt, his eyes locking onto a branch hanging almost fully above where Dream and Sapnap were fighting.
Skeppy prayed he would hit his mark, and, rearing back, he threw the stone as hard as he could at the leaves above. Thankfully, it had its intended effect, as it ricocheted off the branch with a rustle, and instantly, Dream’s head snapped up, just in time to see the trident come hurtling towards him from above.
He side stepped it easily, and it embedded itself firmly in the ground below where he had been previously standing, before throwing Sapnap back with a violent shove of his shield. His masked face briefly turned to where the stone had been thrown from, and Skeppy held his breath. The unreadable, smiling face only skimmed where he was still mostly hidden for a millisecond, before he turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, disappearing into the wilderness in the bat of an eye.
Skeppy let out the breath he had been holding, and unballed fists he hadn’t even registered clenching. He couldn’t believe he actually did that, he had witnessed, and changed the outcome of a fight from Manhunt, and even if this was a dream, it still made his heart race in his chest with the thought of what he had done would spiral into in the long run.
Would this change anything, or would the book continue as before? Skeppy didn’t think the wound he had prevented had any major significance in the book, but then again, he hadn’t finished it yet.
In the clearing ahead of him, Sapnap wandered over and extended a hand to George, softly muttering a few words too quiet for Skeppy to hear, before helping him off the ground and...hugging him? Skeppy furrowed his brow as he stared at the gesture, confounded as to why they needed to seek comfort after a lost battle, when they were mere shells for The End Dragon, as they had been described as, and proven to be, time and time again.
Just as he stepped back to ponder this, a loud rustling of leaves, accompanied by a loud gush of wind disturbed the silence behind him. Skeppy froze, as the sounds of multiple branches breaking followed it, too scared to even breathe as large, heavy sounding footsteps neared him.
They stopped, and Skeppy reluctantly, slowly, turned around, to come face to face with a tall, winged demon, whose glowing eyes glared down at him, enhanced by the shadows of the trees surrounding them. His appearance would have been much more interesting to Skeppy, who would’ve probably tried to soak in every detail, if he wasn’t 99% sure he was about to be ripped to shreds.
“Hello,” Bad spoke plainly after a moment of tense silence, and his voice was a lot less gravelly than Skeppy had been expecting, but in this context, it did not make him, or his greeting, any less ominous.
More silence filled the space between them, and only after about thirty seconds, did Skeppy realise Bad was waiting for him to say something. What should he say in this situation, or more importantly, what could he say in this situation that wouldn’t get him immediately killed?
“Hi, Bad,” the words left his mouth before he even knew what he was saying, shocking him as equally as they seemed to stun the demon before him, whose glowing eyes widened dramatically, before narrowing even more than before.
“You know me,” he growled, in an accusatory tone, and Skeppy could do nothing but nod hesitantly. He’d already fucked up and revealed that, yes, he knew exactly who they were- and if they knew that, they were going to want to know the truth about why he had interfered, there was no getting out of it.
Before Skeppy could work himself into a further spiral, he was suddenly grabbed firmly around his waist, and his world blurred as he was slung over the shoulder of the demon he had been reading about for years now. He blinked a few times, and attempted to orient himself, but found it extremely difficult as Bad strode into the clearing, jostling him from side to side.
Bad’s wings lay folded up behind him, right in front of Skeppy’s face; they were leathery, like a bat’s wings, but less boney and thin, with little points at the top of them, they looked like it would take quite a bit of damage to tear them. Skeppy always preferred this design over the feathered one, it just made more sense, with Bad being a demon and all.
Being thrown over the demon’s shoulder meant he couldn’t make out too many details, but Skeppy did take note of a tail swinging lowly just above the ground. Instead of being thin with a stereotypical spaded tip, the closest thing Skeppy could compare it to was what he imaged a dragon's might look like, it seemed to be the same leathery material of the wings, with points running along the top.
Maybe if Skeppy had a little less self preservation, he could’ve tried to reach down to touch it.
...This was going to be an interesting dream, wasn’t it?