Chapter Text
Endermen were dangerous creatures.
They were, of course, peaceful if not threatened, but that was easily changed.
Ranboo felt the blindfold from his eyes crumble onto the ground below him. He knew what he had to do. He didn’t need to remember things to know he had to fight. He heard the rustles of feet behind him leave, only leaving him in a small arena with another competitor. It was only a split second of eye contact, Ranboo had a feeling he knew them, but he couldn’t remember them, all he could remember was the screams and cries that fell soon after the eye contact. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. He had to do this. He was sorry. He wasn’t supposed to be, but he was.
There were cheers and disappointment through the crowd. His fights were never long. He was a Sweeper. If there was a tie, then he was to fight both opponents. Ties were not allowed in the arena. It was either someone lived, or someone died. Those were the rules.
He was forced to put the blindfold on. He could still feel the blood dripping from his claws before he was forced to clean them. He hated the water. He hated it. But he had to use it. He wanted to scream out in pain, but that wouldn’t do anything. They’d laugh at him. He bit back any cries of protest and allowed the water to flood over his hands, cleaning him from any blood that didn’t belong to him.
“How many?” He was questioned. It was the same question, but he always had a different answer to give.
“78” was the new answer.
Ranboo was sent back into his cell, one that he shared with ten other people. He’d never seen their faces. A part of him hoped he’d never have to see them.
Ranboo was quiet. He preferred to listen than to speak, and he always listened. He couldn’t see, so he preferred to hear with his ears. He was lucky his ears were as good as they were.
“Did you hear the rumours?” A boy spoke, his voice only a whisper.
“Which ones? The ones about the thing that happened in cell 21? Or the bullshit ones about people coming to get us.” A girl spoke, her voice strained and venomous.
“People are coming. I heard about it.” The boy said, voice still low. Ranboo knew that they didn’t like it when the cells were loud. It caused issues. And issues led to death.
“Who the fuck told you that you dumbass? No one’s coming. They haven’t for years. Stop having hope.” The girl hissed.
“I heard that a boy in cell 17 was saved.” A new voice, an older boy’s voice, spoke. It seemed to have bitter hope.
“They were killed. Not saved.” The girl retorted.
“No, someone from cell 15 saw it happen. They said they saw it. Two men came down and killed some of the guards. It was why we were on lock down a while ago.” The older boy snapped. A bit loudly. Silence returned to the cell. Ranboo turned his head slightly towards the bars that held them all in the space tightly. He could feel their eyes on him. He hated it.
“No one’s coming.” Ranboo whispered. His voice was broken and raspy. He didn’t use it often. He didn’t have to. He felt more relaxed when the eyes looked away.
“Everyone knows that cell 15 are full of weirdos.” The girl whispered.
“It’s true. They’ve developed a cult, so I’ve heard.” Another girl put in her piece.
“All cells develop a cult at least once, it’s not that weird.” The older boy retorted.
Ranboo thought the topic was useless. They weren’t getting out of here, so why even bother talking about it. He didn’t even know their names. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to recognize the names of people who were going to die. He didn’t even know their faces. Thankfully. He wondered if it was sad that he never wanted to see someone’s face.
“Quiet.” Ranboo’s voice clicked through the cell, he had heard footsteps. The cell knew that they were to be quiet if Ranboo said. It was painful to know just how much they trusted the Sweeper.
The footsteps were light. There were two sets. One was softer, the other heavier. Probably a new cellmate. They don’t usually get new cellmates. Those mostly went to cell 17 or cell 21. The cell door opened, and Ranboo heard the thud and scratching of a person hitting the concrete floor.
“Fuck you!” Ranboo tensed as he heard the new person speak roughly to the guard. The new guy was lucky he was new, or else they’d most likely get beat.
It seemed like ages, before the guard left. The guard was most likely counting, to see if all the cell kids were still there. As if they could even leave. It would be nice though, but it’ll never happen.
Ranboo listened as the newcomer flung himself to the bars, screaming out protests. It took two others to calm him down. Screaming wasn’t good. If there was screaming then they’d all get punished.
“Shut up!” The oldest of the boys hissed, “Keep yelling and we’ll get punished dumb shit!” He growled. It took a few more moments before the others were able to get the newcomer to quiet down. Ranboo disliked the newcomers who made too much noise. It was useless to protest, so why bother. It was morbid, he thought, that he preferred the quiet ones, but that was how he was. It was still morbid.
“I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.” The newcomer started to cry, it was a natural response. Ranboo knew that one of the girls would let the newcomer cry on their shoulders. Ranboo never got that. At least, not from what he could remember.
“What’s your name?” One of the boys, a more silent one, had asked. Ranboo knew this voice had always stayed in the corner.
“Jason.” The newcomer said, voice muffled. There came a laugh from the silent boy.
“Welcome to hell Jason, hope you enjoy your stay.” It was a sadistic laugh, the boy usually laughed that way. He had a morbid sense of humour.
“Gray, knock it off.” The older boy growled.
“Fuck off Bar.” The corner boy growled right back.
They weren’t a family in this cell. They were supposed to be enemies, children who should be fighting at all times.
“Who’s that?” The newcomer, now named Jason, as if Ranboo would remember, asked. Ranboo felt the sting of eyes on him. He hated it.
“That’s the Sweeper. He calls himself Ranboo, but he doesn’t talk much. Got good ears he does, so when he tells ya to shut up, you shut up.” The older boy, Bar. Yeah, his name was Bar. Why did Ranboo forget that?
“He’s gross looking.” Jason piped his opinion out. Ranboo felt his tails flicker.
“Then stop looking.” Ranboo growled. It wasn’t supposed to come out as threatening. But it did. Ranboo felt bad. He just despised the eyes that were layered on him.
“Why’s he called the Sweeper?” Jason’s voice seemed to be higher, almost as if he had a voice crack. Ranboo hoped the newcomer wasn’t afraid of him. That’d make Ranboo feel horrible.
“He takes care of all the ties essentially, all cells have one. Kills the leftovers.” Bar answered, the fact that it was said so easily was something that shouldn’t have to happen. But it did.
“Y-You kill people?” Jason asked, in shock. The eyes wouldn’t leave Ranboo.
“We all do. You will too.” A girl shrugged.
“You people are crazy.” Jason hissed. Low laughter muffled through the cell, even from Ranboo.
“Not as crazy as the Cult Cells. Be lucky you weren’t new meat for them.” Gray laughed. It wasn’t loud. They weren’t allowed to be loud. But it was bright.
“Why does he wear a blindfold?” Jason asked, his voice seemed angry. Ranboo doesn’t blame him.
“Don’t fucking touch it.” The playful scenery changed quickly as Bar spoke. It became tense. Ranboo knew why. He wished he didn’t.
“I wasn’t gonna touch it I’m just-”
“Drop it. Please.” Ranboo asked, voice as quiet and raspy as ever. He could still feel a piece of flesh in his jaw.
It was silent for the rest of whatever day it was. The girl left. She didn’t come back. Bar had left. He did come back. He was one of the few that always came back. Ranboo didn’t have to leave again, thankfully. Jason stayed. Newcomers always stayed for the most part. Gray never left. He was smart and hid in the shadows.
When the guards passed through, commanding them all to sleep, it was only then that Ranboo knew it was night. Sometimes the guards didn’t come through and he’d stay awake for days. He didn’t really need sleep, but he knew it would make his cellmates more comfortable if he did.
“Hey.” A low whisper came from the newcomer. Ranboo turned to his direction.
“What are you?” Jason asked, voice low. Ranboo shook his head. They shouldn’t be talking. In the day they can talk, quietly, but at night no talking was permitted.
“Stop talking.” Ranboo gave a low growl, “Go to sleep.”
The command must have been effective, considering Ranboo didn’t hear anything else for the rest of the night.
“What kinda slop is this?” Jason exclaimed, much quieter than the day he had arrived.
“Don’t think too much about it, makes it easier to digest.” Bar said. In just these two days, it had become a bit more conversational. Ranboo guessed it was because newcomers always had questions, but Jason always had more. Ranboo wondered where he could have come from.
“Shit, I want to go home, at least we had actual food there.” The cell froze as Jason spoke. Ranboo gently looked up, he couldn't see anything of course, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t look in the direction of who was speaking.
“You’re from the Overworld?” Bar asked, voice gentle, almost out of fear.
“You mean I was raised in an actual fucking house and not this shit hole? Then yeah.” Jason replied. Ranboo could tell he was confused. “Weren’t you guys?”
Wasn’t that the question of the century. Ranboo wished he was. And if he was, then he wished he could remember. Gray laughed gently from the corner he had practically grown into.
“That’s cute. Thinking we’ve seen what it’s like up there.” Gray’s voice rippled through the air.
“We didn’t even know anything existed up there until a girl came here saying it was. We don’t really get Overworlders in this cell, most go to the others.” Bar spoke.
“You’ve never seen the sun before?” Ranboo noticed the gentleness in Jason’s speaking. Ranboo shook his head, and he could only assume the others did as well. “That’s sad.”
More silence as the day continued on. Their small cell wasn’t interacted with, which Ranboo was even a smidge thankful for. It meant he didn’t have to up the number. And it meant that Jason would have longer to live.
“You never answered my question.” Jason spoke, the eyes that Ranboo could feel meant that the question was directed at him. Ranboo shrugged, his head leaned against the wall that was the closest to the bars. He didn’t dare touch them, fearing that if any guard who came by would beat him.
“What are you?” Jason asked. Ranboo didn’t mind the questions, but he did mind it when they were directed at him. “Because you look like an Endermen, but not really.”
“Leave Ranboo alone.” A younger girl spoke, “He isn’t gonna answer any of your questions.”
“It’s a harmless question.” Jason replied back, “Besides if we’re all gonna be stuck here might as well get to know each other.”
“I’d rather not get to know the person I might have to kill.” Ranboo retorted. It’s why he didn’t let names into his memories. Of course, a few snuck in. Like Jason. But the rest of the time the names would only slip through the cracks of his mind before disappearing.
“Who’s to say you’ll kill me?” Jason asked, his fear was obvious and not well hidden.
“Them.” Ranboo gestured towards the outside of the bars. He didn’t know who ‘they’ were specifically, but he knew that they were the guards and the people in charge of their torture.
“Why would they even want to kill us?” Jason asked. It was a common question, no one really knew the exact morbid answer to it, but it was usually summarized in a simple word.
“For entertainment.” Bar growled, bitterness and resentment clear as day in his voice.
“That’s fucked.” Jason croaked. There was silent agreement.
“Aren’t we all just fucked.” Gray gave in his piece of mind with his morbid laughter.
Ranboo didn’t know how long it had been since Jason arrived, but he did know that he had watched them all sleep at least thirteen times since then, so he could only assume it had been thirteen days. He didn’t remember when he had learned how to count, but he guessed it had to do with the question he was always asked after sweeping.
Jason had wedged a small spot in the cell, it wasn’t a large one, not something like Bar’s, but it was certainly there. Ranboo could tell Jason was closer to Bar and the oldest girl than anyone else. Ranboo understood that.
So, when Bar left, and when it had taken longer for him to return, it sent Jason into a frenzy.
“He’ll come back right? You all say that he always comes back.” Jason whispered; he’d gotten used to that.
“Shut up Jason, just shut up. Stop worrying. That gets you killed.” The oldest girl snarled.
“Fuck you Roc. Fuck you. You said he’d come back, he said he’d come back!” Jason went on. Ranboo heard footsteps.
“Quiet.” Ranboo demanded. The cell grew silent. The footsteps were heavy. They were alone too. Only one person.
“Sweeper. There’s a tie.” The guard commanded. Ranboo felt his heart lurch. He had a feeling he knew who had tied. As Ranboo stood up, he felt the burning eyes that were on him. For once, he was able to feel the hatred that came with the eyes. Everyone in the cell knew.
The guard led Ranboo into the usual chamber that led to the arena. He heard the distinct yells and chants of the crowds that were awaiting for death. Ranboo hated it. He heard the metal door open, and soon enough Ranboo was ushered into the arena.
The blindfold fell as he entered. As he glanced around, he noticed that he’d have to fight two this time. Strange. He usually only had to fight one at a time. Perhaps they wanted a show.
“Sweeper time!” A yell came through from the crowd. The crowd roared in excitement. Ranboo glanced up to the first kid. He looked mangled. Scars all over. They made eye contact. There was screaming. Then nothing. It was clean and swift. He wondered how there had been a tie in the first place. He wondered how ties were even started.
“Damn, they really sent you huh Ranboo?” Ranboo knew that voice. It was Bar. Bar was here. Ranboo knew Bar would be the tie. Ranboo didn’t look at him. He couldn’t bring himself too. All it took was simple eye contact and there’d be blood.
“Why’d you tie?” Ranboo asked, he knew he couldn’t talk for long. But Bar always won. He always came back.
“Got tired.” Bar admitted. Ranboo could understand that. Ranboo could understand a lot of things.
“Jason misses you.” Ranboo told him.
“He shouldn’t. I told him I’d die one day.” Bar laughed. The crowd was pouring with ‘fight him’ and ‘kill! Kill!’.
Ranboo lunged. He didn’t look though, he wanted to keep talking more. He wanted to keep Bar alive for just a little longer. He hated this.
“Come on Ranboo, we’re both tired. Just look at me.” Bar seemed to plead, but Ranboo could hear the smile in his voice. “It was my time anyway.”
“Why?” Ranboo screamed. It hurt him. It hurt so much. His throat wasn’t used to this much pressure.
“The kid you just killed was my brother Ranboo. I couldn’t kill my brother. I knew you could though, you could do it for me. Then you can off me too.” The words that spilled from Bar’s lips caused Ranboo to freeze.
“I’m sorry.” Ranboo mumbled. He shouldn’t have froze. Bar might’ve still been alive had he not froze. Who was he kidding? Of course not, Bar would have been dead anyway.
Ranboo felt Bar pull him to the ground.
Their eyes made contact.
“Tell Jason I said sorry too.” Bar hummed, tears painfully in his eyes. But Ranboo wasn’t listening. Ranboo looked into Bar’s eyes, and for once he didn’t hear screaming.
Ranboo roared into the arena. He knew who he was digging into. He knew whose flesh he was consuming, but it didn’t stop him. He wanted to stop.
Please stop.
Please just stop.
Please.
PLEASE! STOP!
The blindfold was back on, and the water pouring on him was painful. He was growling, almost like an animal. He hated this. The water continued, and it wasn't until Ranboo felt the pain on his face did he realize he was crying. It hurt so much.
“How many?”
“80” was the new answer.
“Where’s Bar?” Jason was the first to speak when Ranboo returned. Ranboo didn’t answer him, and instead secluded to his space by the bars. The bars where Bar got his name. Almost got his arm cut off trying to escape, since he had been so small once, so when he got stuck the name stuck as well.
“Leave him be Jason.” Roc, the girl, the oldest girl, spoke. Her voice was shaky. Ranboo wondered if she’d been crying.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” Jason growled; he was raising his voice. Ranboo didn’t want to get in trouble. “You fucked up bitch, you killed him!” Jason screamed. Ranboo couldn’t hear any footsteps, yet. But he knew they’d be coming if Jason kept screaming.
“Jason shut up!” Roc croaked out. Jason didn’t seem to listen, because Jason had grabbed Ranboo by the collar of his dirty shirt, pulling him close. Ranboo tried to scramble out of Jason’s grip.
“Let go of me.” Ranboo hissed. Ranboo knew he was taller than Jason. Ranboo was taller than everyone. It was why they had made him a Sweeper. And the fact that he was a monster.
“You fucking killed him. He was our friend!” Jason continued to scream. Ranboo didn’t realize how strong Jason was. Perhaps that’s why Jason was taken down here.
“No he wasn’t.” Ranboo retorted, no one was friends down here. Friends were dangerous to have, because just like today, they’d die. No matter what someone tries to do to stop it.
“Yes he was! Why are you fuckers so fucking depressed!” Jason cried out, “I bet you don’t even need that stupid fucking blindfold! I bet you just have it, so you don’t have to deal with everyone else!” The words processed too late, and Ranboo felt hands on his blindfold.
“Wait- stop no!” Ranboo tried to protest, but it was too late. Ranboo ducked his head down, refusing to make any eye contact.
“Holy fuck, Jason stop! Stop!” Roc screamed; she didn’t usually scream. Ranboo heard more screaming. This was all too much. It was too loud.
“You dumbass! He’ll kill you if you look at him!” Gray yelled.
“I don’t care!” Jason screamed. Ranboo glanced towards the walls, noticing all the others were pressed against them. They all either turned around, or were forced to look away. He got a good look at the other children in the chamber. Their hair was all mangled, there were scars, some of the boys didn’t have shirts, scars plastered all over. How had Ranboo survived this? Ranboo stared down at his own hands, noticing how dirty they were. Mismatched skin filled with both scars and blisters. Blood still seemed to be stitched into his skin. It made him sick.
Ranboo could hear the footsteps now. There were many of them. They heard the yelling. They knew a Sweeper was in the cell.
They knew a monster lived inside the iron bars.
A hand grabbed Ranboo’s chin, and he was forced to look up. He saw Jason now. He had gray eyes. The grayest eyes Ranboo had ever seen.
The screams started to get louder.
“You piece of shit! You monster! You monster!” It must have been Jason screaming. Ranboo bit into him. It wasn’t his fault. It was eye contact. It wasn’t his fault. They warned Jason.
Blood was splattered against the walls. Screams echoed. Ranboo thought he heard the cell door opening. Ranboo looked up from the muddled corpse of the dead newcomer. He locked eyes with someone else. He attacked. It was horrifying.
He hated being locked in his mind, only to come back with corpses at his feet. He roared out in anguish. He felt pain. It was water. Water was splashed on him. It caused him to scream. Ranboo didn’t mean to. The eye contact must have been affecting him too much. He lashed out at anything that came close to him.
He shouldn’t have.
Roc wouldn’t have been injured. Gray wouldn’t have such a gurgled, broken laugh.
Ranboo woke up in a new cell. It was cold. There was no one in it. Ranboo scattered to the corner of the room. He didn’t have his blindfold. Where was his blindfold? He needed his blindfold. He could see now. He heard the guards shuffle away, muttering to themselves.
Ranboo was too focused on himself to care about what they had to say.
Too focused on how he was going to calm himself down.
It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Why did Jason have to react so badly? Why was it Bar who had to die? Why did Bar have to be paired with his brother? Why did they make family fight?
“It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.” Ranboo could hear himself speak. He was trying to cement the phrase into his mind. Because it wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t have been his fault.
The jolt of pain he felt when he felt his tears prickle down his face was horrendous. He hadn’t cried in ages before today. He didn’t remember the last time he did. But he didn’t remember a lot of things. He wished he could forget today, but he knew he wouldn’t. The unsettling thought dwindled in him as he realized he could still taste Jason. He could still taste Bar. He could still taste Bar’s brother. He didn’t even know Bar’s brother’s name. He didn’t know Bar had a brother.
He wanted to cry out to anyone, but he knew no one would be there for him. If he screamed he’d get beat. He was surprised he wasn’t beat for killing outside of the arena. Maybe they did. He didn’t feel any pain, but perhaps he would later. Or maybe he’s just numb to it now. He didn’t know how long he'd been here. It could have been for years, could have been for a month, he didn’t know. He didn’t remember. All he knew was that the number was up to 80. Or was it up to 83 now? Did he kill three more? Or did he only kill two? He didn’t remember. He didn’t know. That was bad. Did these even count? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. Why didn’t he know?
“Pitiful.”
Ranboo shot up to the voice. He didn’t recognize it, nor did he know where it was coming from. He remembered the fact that he could see, and cowered into his knees. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
There was laughter. It was bright.
“You don’t need to hide from me, I won’t have any effect on you.” The voice was calm, almost soothing. But there was something unsettling about it. No one was ever gentle here.
“Where are you?” Ranboo asked. He was isolated in this cell. No one was in it, except from him.
“Anywhere where I’m needed.” That didn’t sound menacing in the slightest.
“Then why are you here?” Ranboo asked.
“Because you need me.” The voice replied as if it was simple.
“I don’t even know you.” Ranboo hissed.
“I know you.” The voice chuckled, “I know what you’ve done. I saw it happen. It’s why you need me.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” Ranboo mumbled, voice low.
“Of course it wasn’t.” The voice comforted. He didn’t remember the last time he had been comforted.
“What do you want.” Ranboo spat. He didn’t mean to be rude, not when he was being comforted, but he was exhausted.
“I need a host. You are strong, but broken. I want to fix you. Help you.” The voice was blunt with Ranboo, which Ranboo was thankful for. He had to do a double take at the voice’s words. Ranboo wasn’t broken. Was he? He could very well be, he didn’t know. But to give himself up as a host? He barely even knew what that meant.
“What does that even mean?” Ranboo questioned, not understanding anything. The scenario made him feel like he was part of one of the Cult Cells. The Cells who either started to Worship an outside deity, or a fallen comrade who became a god in their eyes. He knew Cell 15 worshiped the outside deity of the Blood God. He only knew that because Gray used to be a part of the Cult Cell before he was moved. It was why he was crazy.
“It means I would like to distribute some of my power for you, in exchange for a physical form. You would have complete control over your body, but I would be a part of your consciousness.” The voice was calm towards him. There was no ounce of irritation or anger in it’s voice. That caused Ranboo to distrust it.
“What sort of power?” Ranboo was on a questioning spree. He needed more information. Then again, for all he knew, this was all a hallucination his mind was making up. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“I could let you look at other people’s eyes without killing them.” It was that sentence, that simple sentence, that Ranboo realized he couldn’t refuse this offer. If he could look at people in the eyes, if he didn’t need that stupid blindfold anymore, then he wouldn’t have to kill. Ranboo looked up, knowing that he wasn’t going to find anything that belonged to the voice.
“What?” Ranboo asked, confused.
“I could help you as well, get revenge on the people who’ve hurt you. That boy, he didn’t have to die. Those brothers, they didn’t have to die, no one had to die. And you could save them. I can give you the power to save them. All these children, these people, they don’t deserve the treatment they are receiving. And you could save them from it. All you have to do is repeat the phrase, I allow Dream to enter, and you could become my host. I promise.” The voice was prominent. Ranboo wanted to listen. Perhaps it was a mistake, perhaps it wasn’t. All that he knew was that he could be able to look at people’s eyes, and that he could get vengeance for the people who caused his cellmates to die. It was their fault. Not his.
“I allow Dream to enter.” Ranboo whispered, his decision was already made when he heard he could see eyes.
At first, Ranboo felt nothing. Then he felt everything. All at once. He felt pain, he felt comfort, he felt numb, he wasn’t too sure how to feel. His body crumbled to the ground, the intense feelings causing it to break. He let out a silent cry, nothing left his mouth. And just like that, he felt normal. He didn’t feel good, he never felt good, but he felt normal.
“That wasn’t so hard.” The voice sounded different. More put together. Ranboo glanced up, to see a strange creature. It was pure white, besides for the black smiley face it had plastered on it’s circular face. It had a strange cone-like body, but more circular.
“Who are you?” Ranboo whispered, his voice felt strange. It felt as if all the dust and damage that it had sustained over the course of Ranboo's life just... Disappeared.
“Probably should have asked that first.” The strange creature laughed, but it’s permanent smile didn’t change. The creature sounded trustworthy, but not. The creature was small, perhaps as big as Ranboo’s forearm, but nothing more. The creature floated down to Ranboo’s eyeline.
“My name is Dream. And you, Ranboo, are my host.”
He didn’t know how he had gotten out. He didn’t hear anything. It was strange, to not hear anything. He thought he heard screams, thought he heard shouts, but nothing really came to his memory. He was walking idly through the halls, lost in the spiral of tunnels that led to different cells. He glanced around, looking at all the people who crashed against the bars. The eyes didn’t bother him as much as they used to.
“The Sweeper.” Was murmured throughout the halls. They became chants. Ranboo didn’t mind it. He’d come back. He couldn’t save them now. He was too weak. He knew that. But he would save them. He promised himself he’d come back.