Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the day he would graduate. Sapnap was shaking with anticipation. He had to hide it, for fear that the trainers would think that he was scared. He was burning with energy. He wanted to grow up faster. He didn't understand his fellow trainees, shaking when they saw blood. He didn't understand, because if they didn't grow out of it fast enough, they would be all too familiar with the sight of blood – but the blood wouldn't be on others, it'd be on themselves.

Sapnap could never understand why they were scared of blood. It tasted like iron, and it was warm before it dried. It wasn't anything remotely terrifying. The feeling of fire burning their skin wasn't terrifying in the slightest. Sapnap didn't understand why the newcomers winced. He didn't understand why they were expressing the pain they felt on their faces. Didn't they know it would only end in more pain?

He was graduating today, from this training. It was time for the newcomers to learn the methods that their betters taught them; it was time for Sapnap to leave the newcomers behind. And like others before him, Sapnap would finally learn something else other than fighting (and burning, in his case – being a pyromaniac). The trainers told them they would be learning about the world they would serve, learn about the Association – and learn everything they needed to know.

Graduation meant they had to win in a one versus one, and winning during graduation meant to kill.

His opponent was a boy his age, who had also grown up in this training room. Callahan was his name, but they both knew they only knew the other's names out of formality. They were rivals in every way, one-upping the other endlessly but no matter how strong he was, Sapnap would always do better.

Callahan's body was scorched to non-recognition that day. When Sapnap glanced at the trainer, he looked pleased. So Sapnap allowed himself to smile proudly.

"Come, Sapnap," the trainer ordered him, "you have graduated to school." Sapnap didn't know what that meant, not really, but he would learn soon. With a simple nod of respect and understanding, the boy followed the trainer to a new room. A new trainer stood at the forefront, with children – his age and older, gathering up in complete silence. White walls contrasted the wooden desks that each child sat in.

More children, some that Sapnap recognized and some that he didn't started to be escorted to this room until every seat was filled. The new trainer at the front smiled a deadly smile, one that Sapnap knew meant nothing good but he knew not to vocalize his concerns.

He would die if he did.

Once Sapnap asked how old he was, but the only reply he got was a punch. He had just wanted to know. He was so short compared to so many of his fellow trainees. Even the girls were taller than him, and they hadn't been there as long as he had. Sapnap's face stung upon contact for the next week, and despite injury being such a day-to-day occurrence, no one could look him in the eye… especially the taller ones who hadn't been there for as long as Sapnap had.

Questions and concerns weren't worth it.

Sapnap never learned how old he was.

The woman stood at the front, leaning on a cane as she surveyed each child. They were all dressed in all gray clothes, each pair the exact same, non-blinking as they paid attention to the new trainer that they would have to please, in order to survive another day. "Welcome, graduates, to school," she said, surveying the kids who either were confused or recognizing what it was. "Today, we'll be erasing the looks on your faces. Emotions are a weakness. Never forget it."

Sapnap never would.

—

For the first time ever, Sapnap felt like a failure. The trainer, who called herself "Teacher" and instructed everyone to call her so, only looked at him with a cold, calculating gleam in her eyes before she deemed that he was too easy to read. He wasn't the only one, but it was the first time that Sapnap had failed. He'd always been good. Always.

Everytime that Sapnap expressed anything – whether it be proudness or glee, she wouldn't hesitate to slap him. It wasn't as bad as training, when he failed against larger and bigger opponents than himself, but the fact he failed stung more than anything else. 

Teacher recognized the hurt on his face, because the next thing she did was call the guards– and Sapnap hadn't felt genuine true fear in such a long time, because he hadn't failed in so, so long.

"Your deadly precision is the only reason you aren't dead," Teacher told him with a smile that didn't feel reassuring in the slightest. "But, my dear Sapnap, if you don't clean up your act quickly, you may join your brothers and sisters in the afterlife." Sapnap didn't know what the afterlife was, not really, but he knew it was the place they went when their bodies stopped breathing and the blood in their veins stopped pumping.

It was a threat, not even veiled slightly, but at least Sapnap had the opportunity to be good. Even if he knew where they were taking him, even though his throat burned at the prospect of going back there. Even though–

They dragged him to the Room.

He didn't know how long he had been there. No matter how much training he had to endure – to deal with the pain, it was as if every time he entered the Room, he would discover yet another version of pain that he had never experienced. He hadn't gone here since he had cried when a trainer hit him when he had slacked off in training – when he had gotten cocky. He'd gone there enough to know that it was a punishment. Sapnap didn't– he never wanted to go back, so he tried to school his expression whenever a new wave of pain shattered his mind. He tried so hard, but his body betrayed him no matter how strong his willpower consumed him.

Screams and whines came out of his mouth without his say-so, and he knew that it would only serve as fuel for the Room's Resident, who always had a glint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes.

He didn't know how long he had been there, but his voice had become hoarse and his eyes were glazed over as he stared at a wall. He hadn't screamed for what seemed like forever, and everything that was hurting just seemed far away.

Everything hurt. Everything hurt, but Sapnap needed to be good. He didn't want to go back.

He learned he had missed a whole day's lessons, but it hadn't mattered because he had learned to shove those pesky, evil emotions down where they would never see the light of day again.

That day, he learned that he would be a hero. Teacher had said so. That day, Teacher told the class that only two thirds of the class would make it. And if you made it through class… and if you weren't good enough, you wouldn't be a hero. And Sapnap decided that day that in order to be the best, he needed to be a hero.

—

The Classroom didn't mean that they were allowed to slack off. Their bodies had to remain in top shape, even if their minds were bombarded with information every waking moment. There were other classes, not just his own, because he'd find other trainers that were called Teacher by their students, but they weren't Sapnap's trainer. Perhaps it was because the best recognized the best, but a much taller blonde-haired, freckled boy locked eyes with Sapnap's.

Even without the teachers prodding them, they simultaneously moved to the mat. Without someone watching over them, they bowed their heads. 

10, 9, 8…

It was a show of respect for their opponent.

7, 6, 5…

It acted more as a buffer, for when they were allowed to attack and defend.

4, 3, 2…

Both boys tensed as they counted the last number in silence; the only noise they could hear was the other children fighting.

1.

The freckled boy – a speedster – attacked first with a narrow uppercut to Sapnap's weaker side. Schooling his expression, Sapnap's entire being sparked in glee in finding someone who had immediately recognized his weaknesses without so much as a blink. He didn't miss a beat. Fire burned inside of Sapnap's skin, and when the boy hit contact with Sapnap's ribcage a burning fire appeared moments before contact and it swallowed his opponent's hand.

The speedster easily retreated to the other side of the room, eyes twinkling with something that Sapnap was all too familiar with.

The feeling of being challenged.

The air between the two changed. They were no longer testing each other, but surviving – but aiming to kill. Sapnap wasn't as fast as the speedster, so he never directly attacked him first. He waited, like a hunter watching its prey. His opponent didn't even take a blink to appear directly in front of Sapnap, and clench his fists and punch. Sapnap moved his arms to counter the speedster, using his fire to act as a shield between himself and the fist. For a moment it felt like they were at a standstill, before the speedster moved away. Sapnap could hear his own breath in the crowded room, filled with sounds of skin hitting skin and the smell of burning flesh.

Sapnap could hear the speedster's breath behind him.

Instincts overtook him, and Sapnap ducked before using his elbow to jab the speedster in the gut. He hit his mark. Using the shock from the contact, Sapnap twirled on his heel for his own eyes to meet green. Sapnap summoned fire to his hands as he clenched his fists, ready to make a defeating blow.

The speedster recovered in record speed and dodged it, making his own move to jab Sapnap's gut – unarmored and cooled compared to the heat gathered in his arms and the fire scorching his hands – and yet, his flesh stayed unhurt. It was the benefits of having an elemental power, Sapnap knew. He could never be hurt by burns.

Sapnap felt the wind get knocked out of him, and before he could react, the speedster used the momentum from his successful attack to trip Sapnap onto the mat. It took seconds for the speedster's hands to make their way to Sapnap's neck in a position that Sapnap knew would take him to the forever-sleeping-place (or the afterlife). Sapnap braced himself for a moment, thinking that he, too, would have lifeless eyes dulled as he rolled onto the floor.

I lost, Sapnap thought to himself, but he didn't feel bad – no, if anything, he felt invigorated by the loss.

The Teacher stopped his opponent from erasing Sapnap's life with just a simple flick of her wrist. Sapnap already knew they didn't want to lose him, not so soon into the Classroom, but it was different to know that Teacher stopped his opponent from killing him compared to the other students who were never given the order to release their opponent from certain death.

Sapnap felt the speedster's hands loosened immediately and retreated to his own person. Sapnap breathed, one masked as the desire to gather oxygen, but in reality – it was a breath that almost felt like relief.

A masked twinkle in the speedster's eyes met his own, and he said, "I'm Dream. And you?"

"Sapnap," Sapnap easily gave him. "Again?" A curt nod and his opponent reached the other end of the mat as they both bowed once again. 

10, 9, 8…

Sapnap felt respect, and felt respected.

7, 6, 5…

This time Sapnap was sure that training wouldn't be easy anymore – this time, Sapnap was sure that he'd enjoy training more than he ever did.

4, 3, 2…

Sapnap was more than willing to take on this challenge.

1.

Their bodies clashed once more. This time, Sapnap was even more determined to win.

Chapter Text

"Today," Teacher told her class, "we will be learning about stories."

Sapnap, on any other day, would've been ecstatic, like the other children in his class who – after careful consideration – he figured had come from a world where stories were normal. Stories, however, weren't typically good things here in the facility.

"Let me tell you a story, dear," the Room's resident offered with a sick grin, as he trailed fingers down every bleeding injury on Sapnap's skin. It took all of Sapnap's remaining willpower not to scream or cry at the contact, but it wasn't like Sapnap could scream anymore. His voice was hoarse and he felt so thirsty. His body wanted to crumple itself into the floor and sink into it, but Sapnap– he would never accept that.

"As members of our beloved Association, you will all have to be familiar with childhood fairytales and popular TV." No one questioned why. And if they did, they didn't dare to. Sapnap learned it the hard way, just like so many of his peers.

A finger poked at a fresh cut that the Resident had made moments prior. "A tale, as some would say, of Pinnochio." Sapnap didn't know who that was – what that was, or even why he had to learn what it was. "Not the disgusting, childish version that the media created – but of the true story, of a very… very bad boy."

Phantom limbs seemed to want to pull him away, his consciousness distancing itself from the lesson no matter how hard Sapnap fought against it. He needed to learn. He didn't know why he had to be– be like… that , whatever it was, in order to learn. He didn't feel like himself when his mind pulled away. He didn't like it.

Sapnap cried out when he felt a stab of a knife into his shoulder blade, right where it hurt like– like nothing else. His throat protested at the cry, and he struggled to stop a sob from falling from his lips. It only served to make the Resident smile more devilishly than he already had.

The Teacher stared all of them down with a chilly smile, one that made each boy and girl stand on edge. "I hope," she said without even a shred of compassion, "that you all will enjoy the next few days."

Sapnap hadn't known at the time that they would be covering each and every fairytale. Sapnap, at the time, hadn't known that Pinnochio was one of them. He didn't understand– not, really, as he instinctively wanted to run and hide as each piece of dialogue fell from the screen, as he watched what was "childish" and "disgusting." He wasn't a coward – in fact, he was the strongest of his class. He excelled in physical activities and didn't have the top score in the Classroom, but it didn't matter. He would be the best and he never shied away from a fight, so why did his body want to shy away from a screen on a wall?

It was wrong. It was so wrong .

"And you're just like him – Pinnochio, sweetheart," he cooed, cupping the boy's cheek, "only very, very bad boys come into this room." A pause. "But, you're certainly one of my favorites." A cup of cold water was held to his mouth, and Sapnap drank. There was a pause as he felt a needle pierce his arm, and suddenly everything became heavy.

He was being bad. Sapnap was being bad if his body betrayed his feelings. He hadn't been more thankful for his consciousness to pull away from him, his mind forcing his body to become stiff and still as Sapnap mindlessly inhaled every word and action on the screen before them.

Sapnap wasn't bad. He wasn't. He didn't need to go back to the room. See? His body is trained, and so is his mind.

If the Teacher noticed his struggles, she didn't comment on it. Sapnap knew that she hadn't– because if she had, Sapnap's gut told him he'd go back there – back with the Resident, whose expressions were malicious and full of sadistic pleasure. He'd go back there, where he couldn't fight back as knives punctured his body and as liquids were injected into his veins. He'd be left with a smile that made Sapnap want to run-run-run , but never could since he was left helpless on a table as he "played" with him–

So, the Teacher hadn't noticed that Sapnap had almost done something wrong. Sapnap, now, was good .

The hand on his cheek left, and Sapnap ached in pain in every crevice of his body. He felt a cold sting on every injury of his body – first aid, he knew – before he heard the metal door creak shut, before he knew his inevitable fate awaited him. And Sapnap knew that he'd be left restrained and helpless, as his eyes slowly started to drift shut.

Sapnap just needed to watch and listen. He needed to learn. He would be their best student, their best child – and one day, Sapnap would become the best in the facility and become a hero. Just like they wanted, just like they said he had the potential to be.

For he'd be damned if he gave up, he'd be damned if he failed one day and he wasn't only sent to the Room, but sent to the place of no return, with his numb, lifeless body being dragged on the floor by a compassionless trainer who would disappear, only to return empty-handed.

He fell asleep with his limbs being caressed in ways that felt so inherently wrong , but he couldn't do anything– because he was given the shot to make him sleepy, because he was restrained so that he wouldn't be able to harm the Resident even if he wanted to. Unconsciousness stole him from reality. One day, Sapnap would be the best and never have to come back. One day. One day.

Don't make him go back.

…but that was how you survived here.

You had to be the best.

—

Bodies told a story of their own. The way that maneuvered and reacted to the sting of pain told Sapnap more than enough. Dream, despite having so much natural talent, hadn't grown up here like Sapnap had. From a lucky single hit from Sapnap's fists clenched with scorching heat, the speedster had been rendered on the mat as a contorted pain met Sapnap's own. Even when Sapnap used the opportunity to attack the speedster, Dream didn't sit there and simply take it.

Dream moved skillfully out of the way, gracefully – as if he was destined to be here, and in such a way that Sapnap felt envy curse his emotions. Sapnap stomped it into nothingness before it could have a hold over him, 'else he would be sent to the Room again. His breath heaved heavily as he dodged a swift sweep of Dream's legs.

They both retreated for a moment, to breathe – to analyze. Sapnap felt a strange feeling of pride mixed with guilt when he saw the burn mark on his opponent's side, but Dream hadn't moved to touch it or to even end the match. He stayed alert and ready, as if Sapnap could attack at any moment.

He wasn't wrong.

The moment that Sapnap spotted an opening, he darted to the speedster's location even though he knew that Dream would be able to dodge it easily. Rather, he felt the heat in his veins spread to his feet and a circle of fire surrounded him and when Dream attempted to attack him, Sapnap could see the flames threatening to be snuffed out. When Dream attacked, Sapnap countered. When Sapnap attacked, Dream countered.

Teacher was more than pleased with their expertise of physical prowess and control over their abilities.

Yet, Sapnap felt an incoming sense of doom as his opponent, even while injured, sped around the circle of fire and it slowly but surely started to go out. Sapnap forced out more flames to counter it, but the lack of oxygen seemed to have done the fire in, as smoke reached the ceiling before covering the entire room. Despite his lightheadedness and gasping for air, Sapnap continued to stay alert, waiting for the predator to strike its prey.

In the middle of the black fog, Sapnap felt a tackle from behind and he narrowly managed to catch himself before faceplanting into ashes.

Dream teased quietly, "Gotcha," as the other students and even the Teachers did their best to get rid of the smoke encasing the entirety of the training room, perhaps even the facility.

Bodies told a story. Like how Dream's hands had callouses, yet seemed so gentle despite being forced to fight for his own life. Bodies told a story, like how his sparring expertise was honed and trained so he'd be beyond recognition. Most importantly, as Sapnap flipped himself around in the middle of the gray smoke shrouding them from peering eyes, the scars on his body told a story.

Dream had not a single new scar. Sapnap didn't either.

Before they had met each other, no one presented a challenge to them. Their bodies had gone through rigorous training, but they had long past the skill levels of their trainers as they fought for their lives in an unforgiving environment. Sapnap– he didn't know any difference, but for some reason as Dream held out his hand to help Sapnap up, he figured that this was considered a forgiving one.

"You're dead next time," Sapnap swore, ignoring how his face struggled to contain his teasing smile in return. Yet, when the smoke cleared, their faces were stripped of any previous emotion and they went back to being obedient soldiers.

Freckles – caused by the sun, proof that Dream was an outsider. Kindness – something that anyone who had grown up here would be incapable of. A smile – one that they secretly shared from the rest of the world. And if nothing else, the pair had a connection that would never be severed so easily, even if their bodies became worn and bruised beyond recognition. It was theirs, in a world that snuffed out any individualism.

This was more than enough for Sapnap to start to see Dream as more than a rival he needed to defeat. Softer emotions that he had sworn been hidden away emerged from the corners of his mind. Sapnap couldn't figure out what he felt towards Dream, not really, but it was a positive feeling.

And despite his better judgment, Sapnap started to look forward to sparring every day.

He looked forward to seeing his friend , as he had come to learn after going through rigorous training of the outside world. A friendship in the midst of chaos was supposed to be doomed from the start.

Fast forward a few years, and nothing changed between them. Fast forward a few years, and their stories were intertwined as surely as rain fell from the sky. Fast forward a few years, and he was Sapnap – a hero – partnered with Dream. Fast forward just a few thousand days and they would be fine.

But right now? At this current moment? They were anything but.

Chapter Text

Day to day life remained mainly the same. Sapnap hadn't messed up horribly since the first days of being under Teacher's tutelage. He learned, he worked, and the only thing he ever looked forward to was sparring. It was the only time he could see Dream, and even if they had to mask their emotions perfectly in front of their bette– superiors, they had always without fail met each other on the mat.

Each time, Sapnap would have improved and found a new strategy that he brainstormed in his miniscule freetime only to have his ass handed to him yet again. No matter how much Sapnap thought about it, Dream was a natural. He picked up every martial art, every jab and skill with his gift of speed, faster than he could run. It was almost like Sapnap was chasing after a dream, literally and figuratively, unable to beat him – but constantly improving at the same speed as his opponent.

It had gotten to the point that they could predict each other's movements despite each new tactic that spewed from their brains.

Sapnap hadn't thought that the Teachers were too invested in their spars, but he had been proven wrong when they had both been brought over to the side. A new teacher or trainer appeared before them with a cold, fake smile that Sapnap had learned was crafted perfectly just like how he was taught to fake the flicker of happiness in his eyes but every piece of him wanted to reject it. Whomever was before them had failed what Sapnap had completed, but it didn't change that his very aura screamed at Sapnap to cower – to listen, to obey.

"My boys," the man greeted, putting a hand on both of their shoulders. Sapnap used every bone in his body to resist flinching from the touch, and he succeeded.

"You're my favorite, darling. Your screams, your body–"

Sapnap didn't dare to even breathe wrong, because he knew that he'd be forced to go back there if he– if he did something wrong again, so his body didn't flinch or react. It didn't even jolt at the memory passing through the preface of his mind. Ignore it. Expel the memory from your mind , Sapnap told himself immediately, narrowing onto the words falling out of the elder man's mouth. He couldn't afford to think about the Room or its contents, not in front of a very important man in front of him.

The stranger was overly physical with them, as he patted their shoulders more than necessary. But Sapnap didn't move, not once.

"Your teachers have told me that you've both been exceptional in class, and your fighting styles both clash and meld well together. The Heads have decided, after seeing a video of your progress, to ensure you both become heroes once you graduate – and you will be partners. Instead of sparring against one another, you will be fighting as a team from hereon forward."

Sapnap dared to glance at Dream, who gave a stiff nod to the stranger. Sapnap followed suit, and the man was pleased. They were dismissed, and Sapnap's lungs felt oddly strangled as he let out a breath (that he hadn't realized had become so shallow) in the presence of that man, the man that only told him to run.

The Teachers ushered both of them back into the sparring room. He– Sapnap hadn't realized he was clenching his fists as hard as he was, as he loosened his anxiety and Dream took the chance to tap his index finger twice on his side, their signal– the one that they had figured out how to use in front of the teachers when their attention was off of them for a moment, whenever Sapnap's fire shrouded the room with smoke. "Are you okay?" was what Dream was asking, and that was when Sapnap had realized. His fists were clenched. The fingernails on his fingers broke his skin and blood was loosely dripping from his hands.

Sapnap tapped his thumb once for yes.

If he wasn't fine right now, he would be eventually.

After all, he had just been confirmed that he would become a hero– with his… comrade(?) no less. He should be excited, even enthused about knowing he would fly the coop. (They had just learned idioms three days prior.) But all he felt was emptiness and longing, as if he wanted to stay.

Sapnap shut it down immediately.

If he couldn't understand why he was feeling it, he didn't need the risk of losing his hold over his emotions in front of someone that would use it as an excuse for him to enter the Room. He didn't want to go back there, and he never would. He couldn't.

That was why he took that fear and put it in a box, and locked it. Even so, it seeped out of the box like water, threatening the life that he had become comfortable with. The punishments were less and– and he had something to look forward to now. He didn't need memories haunting him without his say-so, and he couldn't afford how he tended to shake and struggle to breathe whenever those memories entered his mind–

Phantom hands trailing down his body as his eyes unwillingly lost their will to fight.

He shut it down, but it wasn't quick enough. His hands were shaking, so instead of having his hands at his side,he brought them behind his back, making sure that neither his posture nor any of his facial expressions showed he was hiding something.

Sapnap always wanted to be a hero. He told himself that it would be freedom from the facility, even if he felt home here. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go as soon as he could. So why? So why did he not feel even slightly excited at the prospect of being a hero, like he had been a while ago, yet he felt so incredibly happy– yes, happy… at the prospect that he'd be spending his days with Dream, his best friend, by his side?

Everything was screwed up and Sapnap didn't think he minded it.

—

Teacher was disappointed that day. Not Sapnap's teacher, but Dream's. It was the first time that Sapnap hadn't seen Dream at training, and the next day he was covered in injuries. Dream – he was never injured, not once, that hadn't been caused by Sapnap himself. Even then, the injuries were never life-threatening because Sapnap lost every one of their spars without fail – and ever since they became a duo, they had consistently wiped the floor with their opponents. 

It was time to bow.

10, 9, 8…

If Sapnap hadn't had restraint over his curiosity, he would've immediately broken the persona he had to show the trainers. If he hadn't had the will to resist asking if Dream was alright or how he got those injuries, every secret they shared would be torn into a million pieces. They only could see each other during training or mealtimes – and very rarely, they'd be able to be alone in a place where eyes were always on them.

7, 6, 5…

But that wasn't the point. The point was that Sapnap had never felt so helpless in his life. He could endure the pain and the humiliation. He could take it. He was wrong and he was bad, so he deserved it. But Dream? Dream was the only good thing here, who was perfect in everything he did. He had natural talent and knew how to steal moments with him just for a conversation that lasted seconds.

4, 3, 2…

Dream thought through everything, almost obsessively, and he would've never gotten caught doing something bad. He didn't do things wrong.

So why did every wound mirror the scars that Sapnap had?

1.

It took all of his self-control not to demand what Dream had done to warrant the worst punishment you could get. Yet, his emotions told him a different story. It told him not to blame Dream. It told him to worry and fret, and hope he felt better. Sapnap felt angry – furious even, and it was to such an extreme level that he hadn't even realized that he had started to subconsciously summon flames to cover his fists.

It took all of his willpower to suppress the instinct to incinerate everyone in the vicinity.

And it was only through surviving through this hellish lifestyle that he had turned his rage and fury and used it against their opponents.

A swift punch landed on this poor trainee, who didn't even make a sound at the contact of flames meeting their skin. Sapnap didn't care though. He had little worry for a bug that he could squash at any moment.

Sapnap grit his teeth, trying to keep calm. One day, he'd burn every single person who even thought of hurting his best friend, but for now, he had to keep calm. For now, he could use this sparring opportunity to vent out his anger. Dream was hurt, and Sapnap couldn't do anything about it. His hands still shook when he thought about that place, but it was unacceptable for Dream to go there too.

Sapnap was the fuck-up, not Dream. And he had to pretend to be loyal to those bastards, even if his loyalty would forever lie with Dream. He had to– he had to fake it until they got out, just until then. Maybe once they got out of this brick four-walled home of theirs, they would be able to make their own decisions. 

Until then, he'd be their loyal mutt. Until he knew that both of them could be safe, he'd let them think that he was still the emotionless puppet that they created – even if he was a puppet whose strings had been cut by Dream.

And honestly, until he saw the fresh wounds covering his best friend's body – he hadn't even known he had felt this way. For Dream, Sapnap thought that maybe – just maybe, he could look the Resident in the eyes without trembling. Maybe.

The deciding blow against his opponent met their jaw, and Sapnap ignored the crack of their bones as his flaming fist made contact. Sapnap ignored how there were burns covering their opponents.

Most importantly, he ignored how he had one-sidedly beat two trainees into a pulp with barely any assistance from his friend.

Chapter Text

The evaluation was upon them. Sapnap didn't know how many days passed, or years for that matter. He lived day to day, surviving day by day. He knew it was the same with Dream, because before they knew it – they had an entire secret code hidden from the Teachers. And before they knew it, they grew taller and their voices deepened. Before they knew it, they were known as the aces of their group. That was when their schooling abruptly came to a stop. And Sapnap, with his entire class, made their way to a brand new room.

It was white, as most things were. The ground was concrete, gray-colored, and on the other end were three people – all of whom Sapnap never met before, sitting at a desk.

The students, including Sapnap's class and Dream's as well, lined up straight against the wall. They were stiff and unfeeling. If they were nervous, they dared not to show it. This wasn't a time to press their luck either, so Sapnap didn't even entertain the thought of glancing towards Dream. It was guaranteed that they both would make it, seeing as they were the first and second best.

Still.

It wasn't worth the risk.

One of the three strangers called out names. Those names, some of them Sapnap had fought – burned even, attacked and defended against each other with an instinctive urge to live and survive. For they all knew deep down, if they failed this evaluation, they wouldn't be given a second chance. This was it.

Those who died in sparring didn't deserve to be here, just as those who failed the evaluation didn't deserve to live.

Sapnap mostly tuned it out, not paying attention to the fights, as they were dogfights – desperate to live, desperate to survive another day. Besides, the evaluation didn't fail both parties most of the time. If you were inadequate, they failed you. It didn't matter if you win or lose, you simply need to fight.

In the midst of heavy breaths of the previous fighters, Sapnap heard his own name called.

"Sapnap," the evaluator called out, flipping a page. "Dream."

Ah.

They both hadn't fought against each other in so long. They had partnered together during sparring for what seemed like forever. Sapnap and Dream knew each other in such a way that Sapnap didn't know if he'd win or lose anymore. Their movements were in sync during battle, but they hadn't battled against each other since their voices were higher pitched.

They stood on opposite sides of the room.

It was an official match. They had no need to count. They would be told when to begin.

"Begin."

For a moment, it was just them two. There was no evaluation, no Teachers. They weren't in a room of concrete, nor partnered together as a duo in their daily sparring session. It was them, when they were younger – when their feet danced together in a symphony as they fought with every fiber of their being.

It was them, when Sapnap felt the undeniable urge to beat Dream.

Sapnap had long given up on the title of number one. He'd be happy with number two.

It was like a spark reawakened in both of them, as Dream's superspeed shot him next to Sapnap's jaw – and the speedster's fist attempted to land against Sapnap's burning skin. His opponent's punch was matched with his arm, injured from the punch – yes – but the flames that poured from the coat of his skin damaged Dream as well. The Teachers would apply burn salve on it later, but for now–

Sapnap felt guilty.

He couldn't show it. He would die if he did.

Dream retreated from Sapnap's figure and they stood there for approximately two seconds before Sapnap charged at the speedster, fully expecting Dream to dodge. He did. Dream whirled around Sapnap and tore off a piece of the mandatory uniform from Sapnap's figure, before the flames could devour his hand.

Sapnap felt the blazing fire in his veins begging for release, so he did just that. He released fire from his person – as his entire body was not only encased in fiery heat but in fire itself. It was serving as a state of armor, if it wasn't for the fact he was specially provided with a fire-proof version of the uniform, he would've been left naked. The fire left him as a dark figure in the middle, and Dream had almost started to use his speed to put the fire out when–

"That's enough," the evaluator said, and Sapnap was no fool to have allowed himself to tune them out during battle. One important skill was awareness after all. Sapnap's flames died down, and he was left in the center of a scorched mark in the concrete. "That was acceptable. You pass," the three said in unison without even needing a moment to confide in each other – as if it was predetermined they would pass. "You will be assigned as heroes in L'Manberg."

The two were escorted out by a trainer and a guard. In what seemed to be a garage, they entered a van where only seven other full graduates were. They were sleeping, laid in a sitting position. They did not protest when a needle was poked into their arm, nor when they started to drift off into unconsciousness.

No matter how much Sapnap wanted to.

He couldn't.

If he revealed he felt emotions, he knew that it'd be too late at this point – because he'd die.

—

The blackness was almost welcomed. It wasn't– not really, but at least the guards didn't get… handsy, and Sapnap drifted off to sleep innocently without anything more happening. It felt like he had been asleep for seconds when he awoke. It was a room, not white or made of concrete – but with colors that Sapnap thought only happened in cliche movies.

Groggily, he took in his surroundings – only to be pleasantly surprised that Dream was in the room with him.

"Morning," Dream greeted, unlike himself – and from the nervous twitch of his fingers, he had been wanting to say that to Sapnap for a very long time. "I checked already. There's no surveillance in the room." Oh. Well, Sapnap was a bit too sleepy to have thought that far ahead yet. Though, if Dream had approached him when he was waking, Sapnap may have scorched him.

Sapnap nodded even if the drugs were still slightly potent in his body. He trusted Dream's judgment, especially considering that Dream looked perfectly fine and awake.

It was that goddamn speedster metabolism, wasn't it? It nommed through the drugs as if they never existed.

Sapnap mumbled something that even he couldn't hear, and he didn't know what he mumbled either. Maybe it was just noise to fill in the silence since they didn't have to be silent anymore. Sapnap loosely lunged for Dream and trapped him in a hug, one that they both knew wouldn't have happened if Dream wasn't okay with it. Sapnap had waited so long, so long… to embrace his best friend like the ones in the movies that they were forced to watch. He had waited such a long time just to be able to touch his best friend without it having to be in the midst of a spar.

"If I knew you were cuddly, Sappy Nappy, I'd have woken you up earlier," Dream teased, but his body welcomed the contact. He even pulled Sapnap closer, if that was possible.

Sapnap regretted many things in that moment. He didn't know Dream was going to tease him and he didn't know that he was going to give him that horrendous nickname. But Sapnap wouldn't let this just be a regret, no, he would shoot back in full force with the limited knowledge they were provided. Not right now though. He's a bit comfortable here.

"Shut up, Dream."

This was the longest conversation they had face-to-face, not using their code – or the two sentences they could spare during spar to forge their code every day. They were using their voices to talk to each other, and even if Sapnap was being extremely embarrassed by his best friend, it didn't hit very hard when they were able to talk to each other without someone breathing down their neck, prepared for them to make any mistake and punish it tenfold.

"You love me."

"Unfortunately," Sapnap muttered.

Dream wheezed out a laugh. "I love you too," Dream honestly replied as he showed his affection so openly that Sapnap may have been jealous in the past – but he's grown up now, he doesn't have an inferiority complex against his one and only friend who may also be his best friend. He doesn't– okay, maybe a little, but Sapnap was going to be better about it.

There was a short break as their limbs started to untangle from their impromptu cuddling session.

"They left a note," there was an unsaid acceptance of who 'they' were, "and a binder. The binder contains all the information we need to memorize about our identities, as heroes and as civilians." They were both far too calm about all of this, even if they were going in mostly blind. They knew they had to act, and they knew they'd have some freedom – but they also knew they'd still be leashed like animals. "Our debut is in a week. They left us both a phone, civilian clothes, and they said our hero outfits will be done soon. Our masks will be outside our door when we hear four knocks out our door. That's when he can leave." Dream glanced while Sapnap stared at the powered off phone, and Dream was a sly motherfucker as always. "Shut it down when you want to talk about something without ears. There isn't a bug in the phone, but they can still listen in." Sapnap hummed, not getting up from the comfy bed.

It was no surprise they had no say in what they wore, let alone anything else.

But Sapnap was more than surprised by how fluid Dream was with every movement, as if he had done this before – been here before, especially when he exchanged numbers with Sapnap. Because even if they were taught how to use the latest technology in class, they were never taught much above what they needed to know. They powered down their phones and Sapnap had the courage to ask – out of curiosity, something he hadn't dared to do in so long.

All because he trusted Dream like he was Sapnap's own beating heart.

"How do you know all of this?"

Dream's face contorted into a frown. "I was taken when I was ten. My brother was too, but we got separated. He was five, but he was really into technology – really smart, clever and a smartass. I ended up having to learn so I could teach him and not accidentally get the FBI raiding our house," there was a lengthy pause, and Sapnap felt like he treaded into territory he shouldn't have. "And judging by the date, I'd be sixteen now and he'd be eleven. Though, he might be dead now."

Sapnap was honestly bewildered. Not because of Dream's past, but because of how short his training period was. Sapnap had no idea how old he was because he grew up underneath the Association's gaze, but he understood the passage of time… and if Sapnap had to guess, he was a teenager like Dream.

Dream had accomplished so much in half of the training time that Sapnap had. He didn't even want to think about the day they met, because chances were Dream had mere years of training under his belt while Sapnap had nearly a decade. Not to mention, any late admissions into the training program almost never survived.

"Your brother should be fine," Sapnap reassured, putting his hand on Dream's shoulder – something that they were taught was considered a comforting gesture. It was something they needed to know as heroes, but Sapnap hadn't known it'd be useful now. "Out of the ages I've learned from the Outsiders, none of the ones that die are under eight years old."

Dream noticeably relaxed a bit, even if the tension was still there. After all, Sapnap was told that his brother would be eleven. That would mean that Dream's brother had been at risk of death for three years.

"Did you ever meet anyone by the name of James?"

Sapnap unwillingly snorted at Dream's naivety, even if Sapnap understood that it was from hope and worry. He reminded, "Your civilian names are stripped from you, I thought you'd know that by now. Who you were doesn't matter anymore."

There was a hum of acceptance, and Dream fully relaxed. They both knew they had no way of knowing the truth, and they would just have to live with it even if it was shitty. "When were you taken?" Dream questioned, pulling Sapnap back into a cuddling position.

"I grew up here," Sapnap replied.

"You're joking."

Sapnap turned to look Dream dead in the eyes. He deadpanned, "Do I look like I'm joking?"

It was then that Dream fired off questions one by one, as if he wanted to learn about who Sapnap was – as if Sapnap had an identity outside of the one the Association forged for him. It was painful to see his face slowly drop as each answer fell out of his mouth.

"How old are you?"

"Don't know. I'm in my teens probably."

"Did you have parents?"

Sapnap scoffed and countered, "Did you?" There was a silence as Dream didn't answer. Instead, he continued. God– Dream was avoiding the question, wasn't he? Dodging it like his instinct as a speedster in battle. Sapnap tried not to chuckle at his own joke.

"Siblings?"

"No idea."

"Please tell me you at least have a favorite color," Dream practically begged, as there was something in his hero partner's eyes that Sapnap had only seen in movies or in the acting portion of class – sympathy, empathy… pity, worry.

Sapnap gasped in feign offense. "I do have a favorite color, thank you. It's green." 

Specifically the color of Dream's eyes, but no one had to know how… sappy he was being right now. Dream had saved him from becoming an emotionless robot, a rabid dog that would answer to only the Association. Dream was Sapnap's savior, and maybe his identity was completely dependent on Dream… right now, but just like in the movies…

He'd have a makeover or whatever, and emerge from his cocoon as a wonderful, beautiful butterfly and do that fated walk and tumble.

"Oh. Mine too. I really like neon green. Which shade is your favorite?"

Sapnap rolled his eyes. "Dude, I grew up in the training facility. Do you think I know what shades are called?"

"Touche."

Besides, Sapnap had a favorite movie already. He was spreading his wings already.

…even if the movie he watched was during his stay in the facility, but that wasn't relevant to the current situation at all! Like, it isn't Sapnap's fault that what he was exposed to was severely limited.

…

…

…

Okay, fine– if you really want to know. His favorite movie is Legally Blonde.

Chapter Text

How did it come to this?

Sapnap was sat flat on his ass after accidentally bumping into someone and was, somehow, pushed onto the floor by a man with a really stupid mask (he looks like a knockoff supervillain with those goggles) that was shorter than him. Sapnap's mask, and new costume (because holy shit, it took them merely days to make it) were so much better than this weirdo.

C'mon now. This was an insult to Sapnap's entire existence.

To add salt to the wound, the little shit just passed by him. Didn't even offer to help Sapnap up, or offer an apology. Sure, this was the Association's property now but the facility taught them that they would have to have their acting mask up permanently the second they graduated.

That meant that the rude shortie either had a rude persona or wasn't working for the Association, and this deep into the headquarters? He doubted it was the second.

Dream said that it would be a good idea to get reconnaissance but this was just bullshit.

See? Sapnap was getting into character already. Hotheaded, impulsive hero ready to throw hands at any moment. A hero known to crack jokes and gave off either best friend or big brother energy who'd do anything for people he cared about. That was his part to play. Sapnap also may be a bit peeved, but that wasn't relevant. He was acting. That was all it was. Acting . It wasn't anything else.

Grumbling to himself, Sapnap got himself up and continued walking around. He needed to gather information like Dream said. But also, Sapnap needed to know who that rude shit was and subtly scorch him alive.

He turned a corner.

Why was literally no one in these hallways? The only person he met was the rude asshole. Maybe it was time to go door to door. He didn't dare to show his emotions on his face. After all, the Association could be watching. He couldn't let down his guard now, just because of a mask hiding his features. He couldn't let his guard down now because anyone could be loyal to their cause, even if Sapnap wasn't anymore.

As someone who had grown up in their clutches, he knew better than anyone how easily it was to become dependent on them. He would've been a dog, wagging his tail to superiors whom he'd never meet. He would've done everything he was told without question. He would've reported any signs of straying from the ways they were taught without even a remote tinge of regret. Or maybe, he would regret, but he doubted that his emotions would've survived so long. He would never know now, but what he did know was that he would've been loyal.

But Sapnap met Dream, and that fate was no longer his.

—

Sapnap slammed the door into their dorm room. Dream didn't flinch, as expected as the top student of the facility, but Sapnap knew Dream better than even he himself knew. Little things their teachers and trainers never noticed never escaped Sapnap's watchful eye, because Sapnap could even recognize Dream was stressed, or worried – or perhaps both. It didn't escape him because he had to pay attention to everything; just in case Dream gave him a signal.

A younger recruit headbutted into Dream's ribcage, and Sapnap saw red. He hadn't realized he was angry, nor did anyone else. His anger was almost as quiet as a fire, consuming everything in its path. Perhaps that was why he was born to be a pyromaniac – but that was only what he observed of himself.

The next day Sapnap noticed the weakened breathing, and one Teacher stood in front of Sapnap's only light in his home – he never knew another home – and analyzed him. He would find fault with Dream's slightly hunched figure, as he was almost wheezing with every breath. Yet Dream was trying so hard to pretend like his ribcage wasn't hurting, and he could only imagine that it was broken or cracked. 

Sapnap's every survival instinct told him that Dream was in danger of being hurt, so Sapnap pushed one of his other recruits to the floor.

She, the other, saw it happen. Sapnap was dragged to the Room, yes, but at least Dream wouldn't.

Better him than Dream.

Dream's breath was forcefully exhaled at an exact pace. Three seconds between every inhale and exhale, even if they weren't deep breaths. His fingers were clenching the binder in his hand roughly, but not enough for anyone who knew him to realize that he was being rough. It was the muscles in his fingers being strained that gave him away, and no one but Sapnap cared enough to look that deeply into every single piece of body language of Dream. They both were always underneath a watchful eye, but the Teachers always looked for the obvious signs, never the subtle ones. They had too many children to watch and couldn't spare the in-depth analysis of every single trainee.

Body language was also taught to them, so they knew what to avoid. Yet, most of the ones who stayed there for more than a year already knew what parts of their bodies expressed which emotion, and that emotion could never be expressed. They never expected it to be erased from their eyes – the window to their soul – but they did eventually erase the life in them.

False emotions formed in their eyes, their bodies – and to everyone but themselves, it looked real when it wasn't. It was a part of training.

But there were some habits that an Outsider could never fully break, and that was why Dream being the top student only solidified his ability to fool everyone.

Everyone but Sapnap.

"Dreamie-poo," Sapnap cooed without a semblance of embarrassment in any of his words, "what's wrong?" On instinct, his finger tapped his thigh. It was their secret language, one that escaped the Association's eye through rigorous trial and error… mostly on Sapnap's part. Dream was far too perfect to get caught.

Sapnap was bad, Dream wasn't.

"How did you–?" Dream questioned in awe before giving a sigh of resignation, his hands leaving the binder on the desk. "Nevermind. You were the second best for a reason, I guess. But I was first place for a reason. What are you so pissed off about?"

"Some rude asshole pushed me in the hall," Sapnap casually confided, his anger seemingly evaporating into nothing as worry encased his emotional capacity. "Now tell me what's up with you?"

Dream's hands ran through his hair. Ah.

It was bad.

Really bad, if Dream was letting his guard down when they weren't both suffering from minor effects of the drug. Yeah. The next morning when they both woke up, they had never separated from each other so quickly because everything they were doing went against protocol and what if someone walked in?

They both didn't hate it – Sapnap could tell from the redness on his former rival's cheeks, a sign of unwilling embarrassment and well, Sapnap knows himself better than anyone gave him credit for… or at least he thinks he knows himself well. Who knows? Maybe he's just a fucking dumbass.

"The binder says that we're not just partnered with each other, Sap," Dream mournfully revealed. "We're going to be a trio."

Sapnap blinked.

He asked, "Why's that bad?"

Staring Sapnap dead in the eyes, Dream said, "We don't know if they would turn us in if we even show a single sign of deserting," okay, Sapnap hadn't thought that they were going to desert the Association, but if Dream wanted to, he definitely would, "or even– fuck, even showing a semblance of genuine emotion, which means we'd have to go back to being cold to each other when we aren't in front of the press because we're expected to show the public that nothing's going on behind the scenes–" Dream's breathing seemed to become uneven, and Sapnap hadn't realized that his hand had already moved to make soothing circles around his best friend's back.

"...Sap," Dream croaked through miniscule teardrops, "I'm not sure I can go back to pretending to be cold to each other again, not when– not when I've had a taste of what it'd be like to not be. Not when everything feels normal again."

Ah.

This is why Sapnap was the second best, wasn't it? Sapnap was never as clever or quick-witted like Dream was. Dream knew how to read the situation, and that's why he never got caught. Sapnap? It took him so many trips to the Room to learn how to be discreet, because every time his finger tapped his thigh they had thought it was a nervous tic. Sapnap never caught on quickly unless it was in combat, and he always lost to Dream regardless. 

To be fair, a speedster who could run extremely fast wasn't a great match for someone who was a walking torch. It was like asking for the flames to be put out. Though, wind too – it could raise the flames higher and better than it had ever been.

"...I don't think I could either," Sapnap murmured mostly to himself, but it seemed to relax Dream as well. So that was a plus. A major plus.

Sapnap glanced at the page that Dream was stuck on. At the very top in bold letters read: YOUR PARTNER, but that wasn't what caught Sapnap's attention. What caught his attention was the fact that he had met the partner in the hallway that day.

It was the rude-goggles man.

Fantastic.

"Dre, I know that rude motherfucker." Dream immediately turned to look at Sapnap. "That's the rude asshole that ran into me today and didn't even apologize!"

Sapnap knew that his hold on emotions around or involving Dream were pretty thin already, and he had struggled the past while to hide the bursting emotions, but the second he gets drugged and gets drug-cuddly, he just doesn't know how to control them anymore around Dream? He already knew he was bursting at the seams and his own excuse was flimsy at best, but at least he could somewhat believe it when it was internal.

Now he was outwardly expressing his distaste, exactly like he shouldn't be. And it wasn't even fake. And all of this because he trusted Dream enough to let down his guard after a singular drug-induced happy state? He spent his entire life hiding his feelings and it was drugs that pushed them to the surface.

How was that fucking fair?

God? Are you trying to make my life harder? Sapnap internally screamed, even when his expressions slowly reverted to the one they were taught to maintain in the Association. It didn't matter, considering the mask still donned on his face, but he still put forth the effort. The Association's habits don't break that easily, even if the fucking drugs seemed to do that just fine.

—

With newfound access to the internet, Sapnap found news articles the most thrilling. The gossip magazines about celebrities seemed to find the most ridiculous things to comment on, like this random girl's bath water being sold for a million dollars. It also constantly made up theories about heroes, and there were even news sites dedicated to finding the secret identities of heroes.

People made up theories and shipped, and even argued with each other on the validity of the informations that others gathered.

Sapnap originally decided to research the internet about their new partner, 404, to see how the third member of their trio was supposed to act in front of people. There were many theories, but the persona that 404 fed to the masses was an aloof, yet perfectly capable young man. The public sentiment leaned more favorably, but there was a massive portion of that sentiment that did not like him at all.

"404'S PARTNER REPORTED DEAD AFTER A FIGHT WITH THE SYNDICATE" was an article that garnered quite enough people to it, and its origins weren't even in the city. It was across the country, and yet they were reporting news about 404 like it mattered to them. Yet, Sapnap wasn't a fool to trust everything people said but he wasn't naive enough to not take it into account.

Comments from the people all seemed to be split. There were avid fans, but also avid haters. Sapnap's stomach felt almost squeamish at the thought of being under so much pressure and hate, but he wasn't supposed to be– he didn't have the right to be squeamish. He ate what he was told, he did what he was told, and his feelings didn't matter. That was what he was taught. That was what they were all taught, and yet– here he was, breaking those rules embedded into his very being and plotting an escape with Dream.

Not yet.

It would be foolish to try now, not with the lack of intelligence about the enemy.

"404 saved so many people including my sister. Although she's still recovering from her injuries, she's grateful and so is my family for 404 taking the time to rescue her from a collapsing building when she was running away. We will forever be indebted to the heroes of our nation, and I am very sorry that Quake passed. May the blessings of Prime be with you."

"dam can't believe that ur a primer"

"dude… our currency is named after prime"

"Can we not? This is a serious post about a tragedy and even if I'm atheist, I'm not heartless enough to troll on someone because of their beliefs."

"no need to get ur nickers in a twist lol"

"that's not even how you spell knickers????"

…

"is no one gonna talk about how Quake is the fourth partner of 404 to mysteriously die?"

"It's so suspicious, right?"

"no one asked for your opinion lol"

"idk if 404 is an evil mastermind or a really unlucky guy but hero theory makes a really great argument in his series that he's evil…"

"ok matpat simp"

"stfu"

…

"heroes <3 edit: why the fuck is there 3000 thumbs up edit 2: wHY IS THERE 6000 NOW!??! edit 3: mom im famous its 10k now"

"wHy iS thERe-"

"omg shut up rude fuck let them be happy"

"omg is that... gender neutral appreciation??? thanks your majesty the ruler of appreciating the nonbinaries 👑"

"wait for the op to edit the post with pronouns.

oh, and btw he/him and im just doing a basic courtesy as a respectful human being"

"lol gay"

"Prime loves you all"

"there's always that one person shoving their religion down other people's throats"

"as an atheist, this is kinda awkward fam. imagine being a primer. couldn't be me"

"as a primer, i can vouch that not all of us say prime loves you all on every fucking thing we read"

…

The comments of the article all seemed to agree on one thing. This wasn't the first partner who died within months of being partnered with 404, and it also wasn't the quickest. 404's partners all seemed to die; and some called it a curse, while some called 404 doing it on purpose. And yet, people were quick to poke holes into it, because how could the amazing, never-wrong, perfect Hero Association ever have a murderer working for them under their roof? That was ridiculous!

Sapnap almost laughed at how ridiculous it was, but he didn't dare to change his expression even a miniscule amount. Like Dream had said, even if there weren't bugs in the phone, the Association was more than capable of hacking into their phones and keeping an eye on them whenever they stayed on. It was expected, at least, for the Association not to give full and complete trust to anyone. They never had before, and they would never in the future.

One thing Sapnap was certain: 404's partners never lasted past a year, if all of these reports were to be given any credit. 

Sapnap didn't know if this man would be a danger to them, or if they would have to strike first to survive.

Powering off his phone, Sapnap joined Dream in their temporary resting place and crawled into a bed. He'd tell Dream what he had discovered in the morning; for now, they both had to rest. It took barely a minute to take Sapnap into a deep slumber, but he hoped he didn't dream. He hadn't dreamed in long enough. It was just enough that the Association deemed him fit not to be a nuisance or danger to their cause, and Sapnap hoped that tonight, too, would be a dreamless sleep.

It was dreamless. It had to be – because he didn't remember dreaming.

And yet when he woke up, sweat dripped from his forehead, the feeling of phantom hands crawling on his skin. He wanted it off. He wanted it off. Off. Off. Off. Off– and no matter how much he rubbed and hit, the feeling remained. He didn't understand. He left the Room behind entirely. He didn't have to be scared of going back, because graduates never returned. He didn't need to remember or fear going back.

Sapnap doesn't need to be scared, not anymore. So why? He's safe now. He's out, and he and Dream will figure a way to escape the Association and that's all he needs. He will be fine. He's safe.

He's safe. That's what he tells himself. He repeated it in his head like a mantra, trying to stop his hands from the subtle shaking. He's safe, and he has to keep telling himself that. It has to be enough – because if it isn't enough, the dam that he spent so long trying to reinforce would break, and his fire would be doused.

He's safe.

Both his mind and heart agree that it was a lie.

Dream stirred, mumbling a sleepy good morning that Sapnap knew would soon become more normal than the strict schedules and white walls he grew up in. And just like that – from a single greeting, Sapnap's heart calmed.

With Dream, he was safe.

Chapter Text

With Dream, Sapnap was safe, but that didn't mean that Sapnap could rely on his friend all the time. Dream had started his own reconnaissance (to understand their location, of course) and Sapnap did too. It took no time at all for Sapnap to track down the training room, where familiar techniques and fluid movements held no real malice. It looked like this center wasn't as rough as the facilities, because serious injuries were prohibited.

It literally told you on the sign on the entrance door, and that door was massive.

Either way, Sapnap had managed to befriend a couple of heroes, Halo and Diamond, who seemed to be hero partners. Befriending people, in a sense, was simply a way to see if your personas had chemistry with one another. Or at least, that was what Sapnap thought when Halo started to scold Diamond for saying a curse word when his opponent on the mat (Amethyst, Sapnap later learned) had managed to get a good strike into his gut. It was nothing fatal or serious, and any self-respecting graduate would agree. Still, that would hurt… but the instinctive reaction to pain was dulled in their bodies.

Training did that to a person.

Still, everyone here wore a mask. He didn't know if any of these people had graduated with him, nor if they were from a different batch of graduates. He didn't recognize their voices, but he didn't really pay attention to their voices before in the facility either; he didn't care enough to listen. Sapnap didn't care, since he couldn't afford to care about them when he already had his hands full with Dream. 

He didn't need to care about them because they wouldn't care about him either.

Sapnap's fiery, hotheaded personality managed to scare off enough of the veteran heroes, who Sapnap had seen in news articles. And yet, Halo and Diamond still came up to him to crack jokes or to simply try to lighten his angry mood. Their personas were just like that.

He could tell they weren't genuine.

Only those who lived the life they did would understand it wasn't genuine.

The crinkles around the eyes through their mask were too practiced to be genuine. The lighthearted banter they had seemed to be scripted, as if they had done it every day. And they did do it every single day that Sapnap woke up and came to the center.

Still, Halo and Diamond despite their true colors being hidden behind fake personas that the Association wrote for them, Sapnap was hardly in a position to blame them. He stepped into the shoes of his own persona, of who he was supposed to be. No one here was blinded by false promises of friendship and comradery. It was a world where they had to struggle to survive even if this was extremely lax compared to the facility.

The pair still helped Sapnap. They gave him information.

The dorm of which they were staying was for new heroes. They typically stayed there until their first three official missions. Official missions, Sapnap learned, were missions that the public were aware of. He didn't pry too much into those, because Halo's tone became more clipped and forceful whenever he did. This time, he knew it was genuine – and Sapnap knew, but he didn't know why and didn't dare accuse Halo of being genuine. The slight difference flickering in his eyes was enough for Sapnap to pick up on it, but Sapnap owed them after they went out of their way to help him.

He could read Halo and Diamond's distaste for unofficial missions without any prompt. (He had a feeling he'd also dislike it. After all, birds of a feather flock together.)

Sapnap knew that the teachers and trainers, and any supervisor that looked at them, would think that this whole interaction was an act. Everything here was an act because they deemed it so, so they would never suspect – and if they did, they would do something to them.

It was the unknown, and that was more terrifying than the Room could ever be.

Sapnap didn't hide the smile in his voice as he continued his lengthy commentary about one of the other spars, making witty remarks and dramatic retellings of the fight in front of them. They laughed, and he knew some part of them were amused – but most of it was forced, as if they knew if they didn't laugh, the consequences could be dire.

Instinctively, Sapnap knew the sincerity of their words – the genuine emotion in their eyes, the realness of their laughter.

He didn't know why.

And still, he could feel his fire burning underneath his skin, threatening to break free. He didn't let the fire consume him. Sapnap let it burn; Sapnap let it burn him from the inside out.

—

One of the benefits of the past week of waiting for their hero costumes or whatever was that Sapnap had so much free time – Dream too, of course, but he found it more fun to stay by Sapnap's side rather than do nothing. They had done all the sneaking and learning that they could ever possibly do, so Sapnap decided that they would spend all of that free time in the training room. He challenged anyone and everyone, and had thought:

"These are full-fledged veteran heroes. Surely they can beat me."

Dream just watched like the fucking weirdo he was. He was truly going through an edgelord phase from the way he leaned against the wall like some wannabe gangster. Still, Dream wasn't the one who had this insatiable need to win. He was competitive, yes, but Sapnap sought out the danger while Dream waited. He always waited for the perfect moment to strike and let his enemy dig their own grave.

Sapnap burned.

It was sparring, and Sapnap almost torched the first person he fought and accidentally sent him scattering away from him as if Sapnap was the worst opponent he had ever faced. At first, Sapnap didn't hide his frown because they couldn't all be that weak, could they? 

The next came to the plate, and despite no trembling from anyone in the room, he had also retreated as Sapnap's flames roared into existence and threatened to swallow him whole. No serious injuries were permitted here and once again, his opponent almost got turned into ashes because Sapnap didn't know that they weren't a match for him… at all.

Shit, Sapnap realized as he pulled his flames back into himself. They're all weak.

When Sapnap whirled around to find another opponent, everyone avoided his eyes unless they were already in a match with another hero. Feeling slightly peeved that the so-called heroes that were supposed to only be the top of their classes weren't fighting with him, Sapnap had opened his mouth to cuss them out.

He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. It was the only hand that didn't leave Sapnap fighting his primal urge to flee. 

"Wanna play?" Dream suddenly asked.

Sapnap laughed at how Dream worded the spar. Of course, this was child's play in comparison to the life or death situations in the facilities since the Association had that stupid rule on the door – which Sapnap couldn't understand for the life of him. What was the point of that? Honestly, this would make them all complacent as heroes and their skills would become dulled.

Eh, not his business.

"Sure," Sapnap agreed easily, shaking hands with Dream.

Sapnap told himself that it was all just a part of the play they were practicing. Even among other heroes, they had to act. It was how it was. This persona they had? It was an intricate part of their being now. There was no going back. None.

After the countdown ended, they both fought fiercely. Sapnap didn't worry that he'd seriously hurt Dream, and Dream didn't worry either. They both knew the other's limits, and with each day they spent fighting others or just simply each other, they always improved. Sapnap knew that Dream would never do something that left Sapnap hurt with more than a few bruises. Dream knew that Sapnap's burns would be ones that wouldn't even leave a scar.

They coexisted in this twisted play. Their characters were forever tied to each other, and their movements could only ever be called a work of art. When Sapnap went to strike, there would always be a dodge or parry. When the fires surrounded him and Sapnap made each particle of it do only his bidding, Dream dodged every fiery projectile thrown at him. Sapnap's body moved instinctively to dodge the feints and tricks that Dream always seemed to have. Dream never ran out of them and Sapnap never stopped avoiding them.

They both retreated for a moment in a stalemate as they caught their breath. They circled around their arena, thinking and plotting. Sapnap's face probably had a crazed warmonger's grin, just as he had when he had first started to train under the trainer's tutelage – the one he didn't dare to bring out until now, because his persona would allow the genuine feelings to bleed from him. It didn't matter a whole lot though, considering he had a mask covering the majority of his face.

Dream was as stony as ever.

Their lives – the heroes' lives – were a play, and Sapnap in this fight didn't care if he was the main character or not. This time, he swore he'd beat Dream. Each of their movements were filled with such lethal precision that only they could dodge, Sapnap could've sworn the small audience on the sidelines had started to only pay attention to them. It just hit him how both of them had managed to capture the full attention of heroes when Dream and Sapnap were both complete newbies.

Time was running out and it was just a game of who made a mistake first. Their breaths were both uneven. Their bodies screamed at them to take a break. Whomever made the first mistake would lose, and it was like a silent agreement when they both pulled their attacks from being quite possibly lethal to only damaging. 

Sapnap lost with a sweep of his legs and a swift secure of his neck from Dream the second that the top student – well, former top student – finally got an attack that landed. Sapnap barely managed to dodge where Dream originally aimed which probably would have broken his ribcage if Sapnap hadn't tried to move away. 

He expected to lose, deep down – but he would never, ever stop trying to reach the goal of besting Dream. Sapnap would never stop trying, not just because he needed to win and wanted to be the best – but because his impulsive persona he was so graciously gifted could let himself express his competitive and his anger without even a glance in his direction. No one would bat an eye if he exploded, because everyone would think it was a part of the act.

And if his urge to win was his real feelings, nobody needed to know.

"Dre, get your slimy ass hands off of my neck," Sapnap complained, choosing to ignore the fact that Dream did have him in a chokehold. It was enough pressure for Sapnap's air to be subtly stolen from him, but not enough to strangle him or pass Sapnap out. And yet Sapnap did not feel even the slightest bit panicked or scared. Perhaps it was training that drilled it away, but Sapnap wasn't stupid enough to believe that lie (even if he believed so many others). He still had to hide his trembling hands when anyone but Dream touched him.

He hadn't realized that the other spars had long since ended, and the entire room seemed to be holding their breaths except for the two of them. The only two brave enough to approach were the two semi-friends Sapnap made, Halo and Diamond. Everyone else dispersed the second that Sapnap tried to make eye contact.

Cowards.

Then Diamond spoke. "Shit, Halo– they could probably beat 404."

Both of their heads snapped at the mention of the hero of which they would soon be partnered with. 

"Language!"

Yeah, Sapnap knew that it was definitely scripted. This was not the first time Halo had said that, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Secretly, Sapnap didn't mind it – but his hothead persona meant that he probably would find it annoying. Still, he was the big brother type of character according to the file he was given, so he didn't act upon his hotheaded tendencies.

Sapnap was a really good actor, really. You should bow before his acting prowess.

Dream was the first to speak as he casually asked, "404, the guy with the goggles?"

"Dude, don't tell me you've already met him," Diamond groaned.

Sapnap snorted. "Fucker's an asshole–"

"Language."

"–but we've been told that he's going to be our partner. We'll be known as the triangle team. Because triangles have three sides."

Dream didn't hide the snort that came from his nose. "Sapnap, that is the worst  team name I have ever heard." Sapnap shrugged dramatically and hung his arm around his friend's shoulder, even if the height difference was getting more and more obvious as time passed. (Seriously, Dream was getting too tall.)

Both of their faces turned into pity. They didn't seem genuine about it, but nothing anyone ever did here was genuine… most of the time, at least. Sapnap could just tell they weren't sincere. He didn't know why. He didn't care to know why, but his instincts never steered him wrong before.

Halo sadly said, though it was very obviously fake, "No heroes normally last long partnered with him. No one's ever been able to keep up with him, but if it's you two? You could."

Sapnap decided to ask the questions that burned in his mind. "Do you think 404 would… uh, get rid of his own teammates?"

For just a moment, Sapnap felt bloodlust directed at him. It wasn't even a second. It wasn't even a tenth of a second. It was so short that Sapnap didn't know if he had imagined it or not, but he just knew he felt bloodlust – and from both of them. Still, they were trained by the Association. Dream didn't react, and no one else did. And Dream, despite his calm, collected ruse… Sapnap could see through him if he wasn't calm or collected, which meant that either Dream was confident he could beat them in a fight or he didn't notice it.

"No way," Halo countered. "He's a good person behind that rough exterior. He may be a little rude sometimes, but he wouldn't do something like that. The public just like speculating."

Diamond added, "He's an asshole, but he's not an evil one."

"Diamond, for goodness sake, language !"

Sapnap didn't pry further. He knew when to stop prying, and– yet again, he could just… tell. Just like when Halo and Diamond told him the intelligence he needed, he could tell that they were being honest and truthful. He didn't know why. He just knew.

Just like he knew that they seemed almost proud, or defensive of 404.

He couldn't guarantee that anyone here wasn't pro-Association. He just knew that emotions being exposed like that meant that they both had even a semblance of rebellion in them, and that was all Sapnap needed to trust them. If he showed that he felt for even just a second, he could be in danger.

If anyone noticed, he'd be in danger.

Dream replied coldly. That coldness seemed to fall into place with his persona or something, because Sapnap's best friend then said, "Thank you for the information, Halo and Diamond. I'm a bit hungry now, so I'm going to go to the dining hall." For just a moment, his cold exterior cracked and Sapnap hoped that it followed the persona he was assigned because he didn't want Dream to get in trouble. Dream moved to the exit before turning around with an expectant look in his eyes because, yes, masks have eye holes. "Coming, Sap?"

"Yeah," Sapnap said easily. He glanced at the pair. He heard the door shut behind Dream. Dream just expected Sapnap to follow, which wasn't wrong. Still, he didn't follow Dream immediately.

Sapnap owed Diamond and Halo for all the information they gave him. If he was in their position – he'd have used the information to get a favor from them later. Sapnap knew, though, that he didn't want this to bite him in the ass. He needed to repay this debt, even if it wasn't that big of a deal right now. 

Sapnap decided. So before he followed Dream out the doors, he whispered, just loud enough for them both to hear, "You both need to mask your emotions a bit better. That bloodlust was pretty intense and the Association has ways of knowing shit. Just, be careful." He didn't stop to analyze the genuine shock that he just knew they were feeling. Sapnap didn't say anything else.

He shut the door behind him and ran to catch up with Dream.

Food was waiting for them.

And if Dream's arm swung around Sapnap's shoulders wasn't an act, nobody needed to know.

—

The first thing Sapnap noticed when he and Dream arrived in the training center the next day was the familiar asshole's goggles standing off to the side. Alright, most of that was in fact a lie because the first thing he noticed was actually this poor guy who Sapnap hadn't learned the name of being absolutely demolished by Halo. It was a scary sight for the few seconds Sapnap had his eyes on it, and yet still, he bet Dream could take everyone in the room blindfolded.

He wished he could exaggerate on the blindfold.

"You will learn how to fight in any situation, my students," her voice said in the same faux, happy tone that she could emulate despite the absolute coldness her eyes revealed. The walls felt so white, and suddenly everything was black. Sapnap was trapped. He was trapped. He doesn't know where the enemies are supposed to be. He doesn't want to die.

He doesn't want to die. He wants to live. Help. Help. Help.

(He hadn't realized that he had turned all of his opponents into nothing but ashes as the fire raged outside of his body, protecting him like a shield against the rest of the world.)

His fire gave him an automatic upper hand because he could feel it. He could feel the fire close to him, and the fire he created. He knew if his fire kept burning or if it was put out. He could burn everything he wanted, and there were few things he learned he could not burn.

They had to make a special uniform for him, so he wouldn't torch his outfit every single day he was training.

Sapnap saw Dream stare at 404, and he assumed that the pair made eye contact, but the goggles weren't transparent in the slightest, so they both would never know. Still, the second that the pair entered the room, the controversial hero (that may be a villain, the public said) approached them without care for the rest of his surroundings. He stood in front of Dream.

They were at a standstill, daring the other to speak first. 404 broke first.

"Spar with me," the asshole stated as if it were a fact, as if he would actually do that.

Dream evaluated 404. Sapnap just watched and if Sapnap knew anything about Dream and his new persona, it was that this was a fight he would not pick. Because even if Dream's created personality was a kind leader with a soft side to innocents and his comrades, he was cold to everyone else unless they were proven to be worthy. It was the exact opposite of Sapnap's new personality. He was hotheaded and passionate. Sapnap would have to care– pretend to care, he means, about everything and everyone as if his life depended on it.

It did.

He can't breathe. The water is burning his lungs. Let him up. Let him up .

"No," Dream dully replied, setting himself against the wall. He was brooding like a teenager in those teen movies again, and Sapnap stifled a laugh. That was a quirk of his that he knew, instinctively, wasn't a forced reaction.

(He didn't know how he knew and once he realized he didn't know how he knew it never left his mind. He wanted to know and he didn't know… it's driving him half-insane .)

"Fine," 404 said in a clipped tone. "You." 404 pointed rudely at Sapnap who 404 had not even acknowledged until Dream rejected him. "Spar with me."

Sapnap burned.

His body was hot, but he didn't let the flames consume him nor escape him. He had long since had masterful control over the flames under him. He felt like he was in a crucible, being molded into something that he didn't know.

Sapnap felt anger. He hadn't felt anger since he passed their acting classes. He hadn't felt such pure, seething rage at anything in such a long time that he almost forgot what it felt like. It wasn't frustration or annoyance that he had felt the first time he met 404, when the asshole bumped into him and didn't even apologize. It was so foreign to him that he almost feared he forgot what this anger felt like.

Honestly, Sapnap feared that he wouldn't be able to play his role. He was so scared he'd fail. He couldn't make a misstep here, not anymore. He didn't know what they did when heroes stepped out of line. He didn't know, and the not knowing made it all the more terrifying.

At least in the Room, he knew. He knew. The hands that trailed down his legs, the knives that slit every nerve, the force of his hands keeping him under the water mercilessly when Sapnap didn't do anything right. At least there, he knew what would happen if he didn't do it right, if he didn't please the Resident enough with his screams and sobs. At least there, he knew what would happen to him if his superiors thought he needed discipline. At least there, he knew what the Resident would do to him.

Sapnap was angry. And he was angry because he was tossed away like he was mere second choice, yet again. He was the scraps. He was always the one that was overlooked because he wasn't the best. He loved Dream; he wanted the world to bow down before Dream's feet if Sapnap had the power to even make that happen, but he knew that the jealousy curled around his heart. It threatened his relationship with his best and only friend, and that was why Sapnap could never act upon this envy-fueled rage.

If 404 wanted to see how the discarded second choice fought after the clear rejection from Dream, Sapnap would let that happen.

"You're on," Sapnap almost snarled. He needed his head to be clear for the fight, but he could relish in the angry emotions that filled his heart, if only for a moment. He would never be able to be the best, but he would be damned if he didn't keep his spot as second best.

He was so angry.

He was so jealous.

His fire licked at the flames of anger inside of his heart, and it fueled it to be even stronger.

Sapnap hated himself with every fiber of his being, for feeling such traitorous things towards the only kindness he knew. He couldn't do that to his only friend, but he didn't know how to get rid of it. He wanted to get rid of it. He didn't understand. He wasn't taught how he was supposed to handle it except to push it away, and he didn't know how to push it away after he let it float back up to the surface.

Sapnap stood on the opposite side of the mat to 404.

He vaguely registered Dream watching him and talking with Halo and Diamond.

404 lunged. He glitched each limb that was hit by fire projectiles and Sapnap knew that the asshole hadn't gotten a single hit on him, but he also hadn't managed to get close enough to hit Sapnap.

Sapnap burned.

This time he allowed the flames to consume him, to create a shield of fire that encased him like a cocoon. If Sapnap wasn't in the midst of a battle, he would've relished in the warmth that only he could touch – the warmth that only he could feel. He allowed for the burning fire spread around him like an impenetrable shield that only ever Dream had broken through.

Sapnap burned.

404 never stood a chance, not with his fancy glitching. He could never fully erase himself. No power was invulnerable. No power could ever be unbeatable. There would always be a weakness, and not even Dream was exempt from that rule. Sometimes, Sapnap would come unbearably close to winning, and each time, he'd lose. Sapnap could see the weakness, but he didn't have the power necessary to exploit it.

That was why he was always second.

(It was infuriating. He wanted to win.)

Sapnap may not be the best, but he would always keep his spot next to Dream – in second place. 

(And he'd ignore the snake of jealousy strangling him, offering a hand that Sapnap would never take.)

Sapnap won. He knew he would. It was written in the stars that he'd always stay the second best. It was as sure as the rising sun.

Chapter Text

404 fell down. 

The room seemed to be still in the early hours of the morning and Sapnap's fire slowly extinguished. It was obvious the outcome of the battle was a clear win from Sapnap, and 404 even knew. Even as he lay on the ground, groaning from the onslaught of fire that didn't give him horrible burns (because serious injury wasn't permitted, but 404 would certainly suffer from minor burns), 404 tapped the ground thrice, a habit that Sapnap had learned from watching others spar.

Tap out. That was what it was called.

Sapnap didn't hesitate to approach the fallen figure of his would-be partner in heroism. The goggle-wearing menace did not look like he would get up on his own from the looks of him, so Sapnap offered his hand to let him up. The world around them seemed to freeze even though the world was anything but frozen. The world burned; his skin burned. He could sense the flames threatening to overwhelm the world, and those very same flames bowed to Sapnap's every whim.

No matter how much of an asshole 404 had been, Sapnap didn't harbor any ill will towards him. It was more of a subtle dislike because 404 was an asshole, but there was this feeling – a gut instinct that screamed at him – that told him that the heroes here had to adapt to their stories, to their fake stories and personalities. They couldn't be the selves that they wanted, and Sapnap had no doubt that over half of them were truly loyal to the Association if they had stayed a hero for so long.

(They had to be loyal; even if they were faking everything in front of those they didn't trust. They had to be loyal, because there would be no other explanation as to why they stayed.)

"Good fight," Sapnap told the downed hero, who had yet to do much other than seemingly stare at something or another. Sapnap couldn't tell what he was looking at with the goggles clouding, being as white as a cloud the view to his eyes. There weren't even slits on the sides of the goggles. 

404 had to be loyal too, because he had been a hero for eight years according to every single report out there. Eight years wasn't a picnic; eight years meant that he was loyal because there was no possible way that if he wasn't, he had stayed so long without even a whisper or a rumor in the hero rumor mills. Halo and Diamond told them so much useless information about weather cycles and cafeteria food, but Sapnap picked up the subtle coded messages in their words. 

They had been taught how to figure out even the most obscure types of codes.

It was almost obvious that they would learn how to make their own, especially if only the best and brightest ever became heroes. Only the best fighters, the best actors, and the best overall trainees ever became heroes even if they passed. They lorded it over the trainees; the Teachers and the Trainers all told them that only the best got to leave and have even a semblance of freedom. He didn't know why they told them it, or even if they were instructed to tell them it or if they weren't supposed to tell them.

All Sapnap knew was the hierarchy. It had been ingrained in him since he could walk or talk. He didn't know if he had been born in the depths of this hell, or if he had simply been forced into it before he knew how to do more than babble. 

What he did know was the hierarchy. He knew that they were pushed into a deep, dark hole – a hell on earth, if earth couldn't already be considered a hell.

They climbed the rope that they were given, and that was it – that was all. Sapnap was the same. He pushed others off the rope, shook it in hopes that others would perish and give him a greater chance of hanging on without the cord breaking underneath all of their weight. Sapnap thrashed and pulled others down so that he could walk over them, and the only person he had ever met who he couldn't step on was Dream. The speedster fought him, and Sapnap lost. He hadn't lost in so long, because Sapnap fought with every bone in his body to kill and maim. He needed enemies that were weakened in the fight because it would guarantee that Sapnap would live another day. It was how he survived because he used to be struggling to even grab the rope – let alone hold it. He had to resort to dirty tricks to survive.

He used to be the smallest, until he became the biggest. And once he had attained a hold, he only found someone stronger than him (Dream), who had somehow always stayed a step ahead of him (Dream), who had been at the top of the rope for as long as Sapnap had known him (Dream). 

And it was because of Dream that Sapnap stopped trying to climb the rope as violently as he did. It was because of Dream that Sapnap stopped and focused on his own progress, because the ones weaker than himself were always doomed to fail. Sapnap (and Dream too) would always have a hold on the rope. They never had to worry, because they were the best. They had no reason to climb over others to reach it because they belonged there. 

Sapnap would never be the best and he had come to terms with that. He had. He had come to terms with that. He would always be number two, and he knew it. The trainees knew it, the teachers knew it, and even the heroes that saw Dream wipe the floor with Sapnap knew it.

And yet, the little insane fucking bastard snarled, "Piss off," and got up with his own volition. "You obviously cheated."

The world around them resumed normally, but Sapnap was preventing the urge to massacre everyone in the room because of this asshole's smart mouth. Sapnap already knew he didn't like 404 the second that they passed in the hall, but this was asshole-ery to a level that made Sapnap want to strangle him.

God, Sapnap was so lucky that the personality he was assigned blended so well with the one he was struggling to hide.

"Don't be a sore loser," Sapnap snarked, feeling the burning rage threatening to spill over the cup that he had been trying to stop from overflowing every single time he saw this little bastard. "I won despite your fancy schmancy invisibility trick?" Sapnap couldn't help but leave the last bit as questioning.

404 seemed to be less of a spitfire when he replied, "They call it glitching. I can temporarily render a part of my body, or most of my body. I turn invisible and can move normally underneath the glit–" As if realizing who 404 was talking to, he suddenly stopped. Sapnap felt a feeling of sheer dread radiating off of the hero, and Sapnap knew that it wasn't the fake dread that they learned in acting class. 

404 was almost… excited to talk about his glitching thing. Oh prime, 404 was a nerd!

(He still doesn't know how he knows this. He doesn't even know if he wants to know how he does. He simply… knows.)

"Hey," Sapnap said in a voice that he was certain that no one else but 404 would hear because, well, there were other spars going on and those were somewhat loud. "I won't report you for breaking character."

404 immediately flashed him a distrusting look, but he didn't really have a choice. "Somehow, I sincerely doubt you. How do you know I won't report you for saying that?" 404's words fell from him in a drawl. Sapnap stilled for a second, thinking about all the mysterious deaths surrounding his partners and considering for just a second that maybe they weren't accidents.

Sapnap mentally shook his head. Every gut feeling in his body was telling him that 404 was bluffing, and Sapnap's instincts never lied to him. Not once.

(It was almost like he was a hunting dog, relying on the instincts that naturally came to him.)

"I don't think you will."

Something flashed in 404's eyes that was too quick for Sapnap to pinpoint before 404 pulled Sapnap by the scruff of his neck. 404 hissed, "Meet me at your dorm at 1100. Don't be late." Sapnap registered in his peripheral vision that Dream got up and his hackles were raised, waiting for 404 to do something.

And, really, if 404 did something, Dream would be able to get there quick enough to at least prevent Sapnap from certain death. Worst case, he would be permanently crippled by 404 – but Sapnap's instincts told him that this wasn't that sort of situation.

"Can't you be normal and just say 20 minutes? Nobody can even hear you but me." Sapnap hissed back, almost teasingly. 404's mouth turned into a scowl but Sapnap didn't dwell on it because Sapnap just knew that 404 wasn't an enemy, but Sapnap didn't know if they were allies. They were neutral, for now, and Sapnap was almost glad that 404 was naturally an asshole because Sapnap had always thought that it was genuine asshole-ery, not the acting kind.

"For fresh blood," 404 almost kindly (which, really, was not kind at all – it was just the nicest that Sapnap had heard 404), "...you're breaking an awful lot of rules." 404 finally let go of Sapnap's collar and stalked off with this confidence that Sapnap envied. Dream's hackles relaxed but he still approached, using a small bit of his superspeed even though he wasn't in any rush.

"What did he want?" Dream asked, and if Sapnap didn't know Dream well (or maybe it was that instinctive feeling that kept telling him information that he didn't doubt yet seemed to come from nowhere), he wouldn't have recognized the worried tone in Dream's voice.

Sapnap felt almost giddy. They were about to tread on unknown territory, but this may make or break how the next while of their lives were going to pan out. 

—

Dream was leaning against the wall in their dorm, without his awful smiley-face mask, and seemed to have a frown the entire time that Sapnap had debriefed him.

"You can't be serious," Dream almost snapped. Sapnap knew it was out of worry and fear, but it was still something that Sapnap didn't appreciate.

"I'm dead serious," Sapnap replied.

"You're trusting him on basically a fucking whim, Sapnap!"

Sapnap threw his hands in the air as if it would prove his point. "I trusted you on a whim too, Dream!"

Dream seethed ever so quietly. Sapnap wasn't, uh, familiar with Dream's anger considering that they spent so long pretending like they didn't feel, and the few moments they ever got to spend together, they had to fight as if they were trying to kill each other. Anger wasn't an emotion that they were allowed to feel, and Sapnap had never felt angry at Dream (maybe for Dream… okay, definitely for Dream) just as Dream had never felt angry at Sapnap.

Honestly, Sapnap didn't like it. He felt like he was under scrutiny.

"Sapnap, we don't even have news coverage to protect us! If 404 reports us, the Association will have us disappear," Dream hissed angrily, almost like a cat would. "He could be bringing them now to dispose of us right now! Fuck– this is definitely the stupidest thing you've done since covering for me when I had cracked ribs." Sapnap avoided eye contact. To be fair, the pyromaniac had never thought that Dream noticed that. "Yeah, you self-sacrificing idiot, I know why you did that."

Sapnap cleared his throat. "My gut has never steered me wrong," he paused for dramatic effect, "ever."

"Not to mention, 'Mond said something extremely fucking creepy to me during your spar," Dream said too. "You're getting into too much trouble."

Sapnap paused for a second. Dream had a nickname for Diamond. This was– this was something. That was a surprise. This caught him completely off guard. But that wasn't the issue at hand. "What'd he say?" Sapnap pointed at the masks on the desk. It was getting close to the meet-up time, and one of the so-called mandated rules was wearing masks around other heroes.

(Which was very weird, but whatever.)

"He said 'Tell your partner we need to talk' and honestly?" Dream gave him a glare. "I have no fucking idea why, but it sounded remotely threatening and I'm surprised we aren't dead already."

There was a knock on their door.

Sapnap hissed quietly, so that no one could overhear. "Look, we'll talk about this later – but just know I'm not taking risks for nothing."

Before Dream had the chance to retort, Sapnap opened the door to goggles standing there with his arms crossed impatiently.

"Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Sapnap could feel Dream's glare searing him through the mask.

Chapter Text

404 immediately came in without invitation, which only proved both of them that 404 was truly an asshole and it wasn't just a part of his persona. He then pried Sapnap's hand off the door handle without a second thought and shut it behind him. Sapnap didn't even try to fight it because, well, they did need their privacy.

"Nice to meet you officially. I'm 404. I did not expect you," a vague nod towards Dream's general direction, "to be here, but I will work with it since we're going to be partners," 404 rudely introduced, speeding through it like he was a speedster. "You're Dream, and you're Sapnap. Now, let's get down to business."

"Excuse me?" Dream sputtered, being taken aback by the hero's brashness.

404 clicked his tongue. "I'm trying to keep this timely , Dream. Especially considering your partner, Sapnap here, is an absolute idiot." Sapnap didn't even have time to protest this. "For one, he needs to stop whatever… whatever he's doing. He outed himself to me and he didn't even know if I was a dog or not." Dream hummed in what seemed to be agreement, on the idiot comment.

"...uhhh… You're obviously not a dog?" Sapnap asked without even thinking to censor himself.

This was exactly why he landed in the Room so many times. He didn't have any self-control, and the minimal amount he did have, he threw out the window the second he found himself having freedom.

(He was getting drunk off of this feeling. Freedom.)

404 sighed and rubbed his forehead, despite the goggles being quite inconvenient. "A dog means loyal to the Association. Use context clues, idiot." After answering Sapnap, 404 continued without even a pause to breathe, "And I don't know how you pegged me as one of the circle, but if you do this to every single one of us, you might find yourself in an accident. You're going to die if you keep poking because the circle doesn't trust easily."

Dream stilled as if he was in deep thought. As if he was contemplating all the information that 404 was giving them, there was almost a tense silence. Sapnap was about to say something to lighten the tension because he… was trying to get in character and definitely was not starting to panic because he might've killed Dream (and himself, but that was irrelevant).

Sapnap felt a smack from Dream's hand to cover his mouth. "He's an impulsive idiot," Dream apologized. "But I have to ask why you're telling us this."

404 hummed for a second, seemingly staring at them but again – no one can tell through those goggles. "It's honestly very disconcerting, but I have this feeling that I can trust him."

"That answer is about as stupid as the one that Sapnap gave me," Dream said as his hackles started to raise. "Why should I believe you?" There was a silence and Sapnap didn't know why he hadn't said anything throughout this. Honestly, he felt like he was a side character in a movie who was just there for plot convenience.

(Well, Sapnap didn't think it would be the end of the world if he was. Main characters always tend to go through some shit. Side characters normally just vibe.)

Dream took a threatening step forward. 404 didn't even flinch.

404 evenly replied as if he wasn't being threatened at all whatsoever, "As someone who relies more on logic than emotions, I can see why you are doubting my intentions. I cannot say much else. It's the feeling that let me trust him." Sapnap felt Dream's gaze linger on Sapnap for a couple seconds before it returned to 404. In those few moments, Sapnap felt like he was under trial. He did not like the feeling he received when Dream glanced at him. "Though, if it's any consolation, you both are obviously combat prodigies and none of us could hold a candle against you alone." 

Sapnap felt heat rising in his body. His face felt like it was on fire. Dream just scoffed in reply to 404's explanation.

Sapnap interrupted awkwardly, "Uh– if it helps any, 404 is on our side, Dream."

"And how the fuck would you even know that, Sapnap?" Dream snapped in a fashion that Sapnap very much did not like. Sapnap hid his shaking hands behind his back. He didn't like this. He did not like this at all.

Sapnap didn't believe in lying to Dream though. Besides, the few times Sapnap tried to hide his injuries and lie about them, Dream caught it so easily. "I honestly don't know how… I just… know ." The pair of them seemed to accept the answer, and Sapnap felt Dream's gaze glowering into him. Sapnap didn't know why. What did he do? Why? Dream had never, in all of their… years(?) together ever doubted him, and this was doubt.

(He could tell. Why could he tell?)

404 snorted, finding Sapnap's answer somehow amusing. "I can't believe he managed to graduate. He should be dead. Too many feelings."

"I agree. His acting skills are rudimentary at best, and his lying skills are horrible. We're lucky that he passed in the first place," Dream agreed and Sapnap saw Dream almost relax with the same person that he had been criticizing Sapnap for trusting moments before. All because they both liked to make fun of him.

"I'm right here," Sapnap pointed out.

And yet, they simultaneously snapped their heads towards him and replied, "I know." They looked back at each other, and the tension that was there before seemed to dissipate into nothingness as amusement flickered in Dream's eyes and a soft smile briefly fell on 404's lips. It was actually disturbing to see them both seem so relaxed when 404 had been issuing a challenge to spar in the asshole fashion that he originally emulated with every word that fell from his mouth.

This was so disturbing.

It almost felt wrong, honestly, because wow – they were getting along. It had to be a trick or some sort of otherworldly power that was making them act like this. They were literally glaring at each other moments before.

But what they were feeling was genuine and Sapnap knew that even if he still didn't fucking know how he did know that. It was driving him insane at this point. Once he noticed it, he couldn't stop pointing it out. It was impossibly weighing on his mind.

Sapnap didn't know what was happening, but he was surer than anything in his life that they were either having a conversation with their hands and eye signals, and somehow having an entire conversation without Sapnap being able to pick up on whatever they were saying.

The two of them immediately jumped the gun afterwards and talked about Sapnap and how he was being generally an idiot. Dream was fretting like the mother hen that he ended up being, which wasn't strange to Sapnap considering the fact that Dream had normally initiated contact in their smokescreen moments. 404 was more surprising, and Sapnap didn't know why 404 had fallen into the dynamic as if he had been there for years already.

Sapnap didn't know if this was as good as he initially thought. His mind told him that 404 was acting suspiciously (Dream was too, but Sapnap didn't want to doubt his best friend without much else than the fact that he didn't seem like himself but how could Sapnap even know that because he had his first hug with his best friend mere days ago), but his heart told him differently – his instincts, he means. They tell him a story that 404 can be trusted, and it's something that shouldn't be there.

There were zero records of any powered humans having more than one power. It was impossible, but Sapnap didn't know why he felt like there was something else in the mix. Maybe they were drugged, or there was an Association member who was manipulating their emotions or relationships. 

All of them were trusting too easily, and the friendliness that Dream once had towards him turned into doubt… and Sapnap knew what he knew, but he didn't know how he knew and he didn't know why he was being doubted. Then there was 404 who slipped in so easily. It was… too easy. It didn't play out like this except in the movies, and Sapnap was taught this during training. The world wasn't fairytales and rainbows.

His mind was fighting against his instincts.

Sapnap's instincts had never worked against him, but… his mind did constantly.

Trailing hands. Seering cuts. He can't breathe– he's drowning. Help. Help. Help.

But he knew it wasn't real. His mind played tricks on him, so the doubts he was having were unfounded. His gut was never wrong.

So why did he think it was wrong? It almost felt wrong, but it couldn't be a feeling because his gut feeling also told him to trust 404. Sapnap felt wrong to feel safe yet in danger. The emotions clashed with each other as if it were an epic between hero and villain, and it almost made Sapnap want to retch his guts out from it. It was too much. 

(He didn't even know why he knew these things. He didn't know the how or the why, or when he first started to notice that he was noticing too much about the world around him. He doesn't understand. He doesn't fucking understand and he's going to go insane.)

Sapnap forced himself to smile, even if neither of his hero partners could see behind his mask, and started to whine and complain about the two of them teasing him.

(He didn't like this. He didn't like this, but he also knew that whatever it was, it was right.)

(He doesn't understand.)

—

The second that 404 left was the second that Sapnap decided that he would like the earth to swallow him whole. The second that Dream's mask left his face, the blank, emotionless face appeared. They learned that in the facility and they had to look like that. They had to, to survive. And Dream had not once, not when it was just them two, gone back to that.

Sapnap was in deep trouble and he didn't even know why.

"...am I gonna sleep on the couch or something?" Sapnap muttered mostly to himself, but from the look that Dream gave him, Sapnap wasn't as subtle as he thought he was.

"That could have gone disastrously, Sapnap," Dream said. It was calm. It was emotionless. It was exactly how they were taught to do in the facility. Dream wasn't acting like he was supposed to. He wasn't like this. Why was he shutting down his emotions like that? They had been open with each other since they had been thrown into a sparring match on that fateful day. They had been even more so when they lived in this shabby dorm room. 

Wrong. It was wrong. It was completely wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Dream was doubting him. Sapnap knew that for sure now, and Dream was making it known that he was doubting Sapnap. This was wrong. This wasn't okay. He– Sapnap didn't deserve this. What did he do to earn Dream's suspicions?

Sapnap almost felt like crying. Which, he hadn't done since he was fresh in the training room. The response of crying was practically trained out of him. It wasn't perfected until he graduated the first time, and it was absolute by the time he graduated from the facility. Crying wasn't something that they did unless they were in acting class, and Sapnap wasn't in acting class.

His heart burned. It felt like something was breaking inside of him.

It was always Sapnap and Dream, Dream and Sapnap – and now his partner, his best friend – the only person in existence that Sapnap would always trust, suspected Sapnap for something that he didn't even know. Dream was shutting down on him.

"Why are you–?" Sapnap managed to croak out, feeling choked up despite tears not even threatening to fall. He only felt like he would cry.

Sapnap almost laughed when Dream's schooled expression cracked ever so slightly when Sapnap asked him that question. Instead, his best friend only said, "You should know why." It was short and yet every word that fell from Dream's lips felt like they were crushing his ribcage.

"Actually, I don't," Sapnap replied evenly, trying to keep himself calm. It succeeded. He was very calm. He was the calmest person in this room. He wasn't struggling to keep his breath even. Not at all.

"Sapnap," Dream caught Sapnap's attention easily, and his casual admittance was even more easy than catching his attention – but that didn't make what he said next hurt any less. "I can't trust your judgment. You could've gotten us killed . We still don't know if you've gotten us killed. Prime– this is by far the most idiotic, impulsive thing you've ever done."

Sapnap flinched away like he had been physically hit by every word that criticized him. The silence was deafening. Sapnap felt his hands shaking, so he moved to hide them. It didn't go unnoticed by Dream, because his eyes narrowed into ones of concern. It was the last thing Sapnap really registered before his mind went back to the too-white walls with concrete floors. He could swear he could see Teacher standing off in the corner of the room, a smile wide and fake with words about sending him to the Room. Again and again and again, because Sapnap never learned and he always needed to go back to the Room. 

Pins and needles felt like they were crawling up and down his body and he almost felt like he collapsed on the ground. He didn't though. His legs hadn't hit the cold concrete. Though he didn't know if that was worse. He was going back to the Room because he was stupid and never learned. Be the best, he told himself like a mantra, but it never stuck. It never stuck. His breaths were even and controlled, because losing control of how your body reacted to anything was a sure-fire way to fail and get expelled permanently and he knew his throat would soon become hoarse from screaming because the Resident always found a new way to make him feel like his body was on fire even though he was a pyromaniac with fire obeying to his every whim.

And the Resident was going to– no. No, Sapnap's not there. He's not. He's not. He is far away from the Room and the Resident. He is fine. He will be fine. He will make sure he's fine. The too-white walls started to meld with the gray walls in their temporary home, and he saw a fake house plant sitting on the desk with a binder closed shut. There weren't rows and rows of beds, or rows and rows of desks, or rows and rows of mats with blood-stains. The floor was carpet, not concrete. He wasn't there. Sapnap was not in the facility.

(Why did he need to tell himself that? This has never happened before. It shouldn't. He's losing control of his emotions. He's going to die if he loses control over his emotions. He doesn't want to die.)

Hands reached for him, and for a second all Sapnap could think of was the hands reaching down– and he flinched. He flinched, and he interrupted the even, controlled breathing that he had done so well to keep up forever and always. His breath hitched and all he could think about was the Room. He fucked up. He was bad. He was wrong. He needed to be punished. He was bad. He was wrong. And that second that felt like an eternity from the millions of thoughts flooding through his head when all he could see were those calloused hands undressing him.

The second was over in a blink, and his breathing continued as normal, and his body untensed as best as Sapnap could manage. He saw Dream being the one who reached for him, and he saw his best friend's hands tentatively pulling away after Sapnap's violent reaction and Teacher would've never accepted this reaction. He saw Dream's mouth form a twisted smile as something seemed to click for him.

Sapnap was too scared to learn what that something was – especially when Dream was looking at him with something that made him feel like squirming. There was the anger, there was the hurt, and there was the worry– but there was something else, and whatever it was, it felt like Sapnap was put on trial with every second that Dream's gaze lingered on him. Dream was upset. He got upset because he was worried all the time, when Sapnap needlessly got hurt for him and Dream never hesitated to let Sapnap know with a subtle glare shot at him from across the room. But this? This wasn't the upset that Sapnap was familiar with. This was anger, this was fury, and this was a side of Dream that had never, ever been shown to Sapnap, not once in their years (probably years, at least) together.

Dream tried to reach for him again, and Sapnap pulled away again – luckily, not flinching away this time.

"We need to talk this out, Sap," Dream told him seriously. "I can't– I need you to promise me that you won't do this again." Dream looked at him, scrutinizing every judgement call that Sapnap ever made – or at least, that was what it felt like. Sapnap knew he wasn't the brightest. He also wasn't the best (that title was Dream's), but this was– this was different. Dream couldn't possibly understand what Sapnap saw, what he felt, what he knew. Trust was a two-way street, and Sapnap was the only one giving it right now.

Sapnap didn't even hear the words falling from his mouth when he had said them. "I can't promise that." 

"Unbelievable," Dream practically scoffed, and Sapnap saw his friend, his best fucking friend, pull away from Sapnap entirely – and maybe it wasn't what Dream had meant to do, but all Sapnap could feel in that moment was sheer disgust (at himself), guilt (he shouldn't be), and most importantly, hurt (because Dream pulled away, and he had never done that before). Prime, he was feeling and every bit of training he had grown up with screamed at him to stop feeling, so he did.

Sapnap stopped.

And the  damage was done.

Before either of them could say anything else, Sapnap rushed out of their room, not caring if the slammed door behind him echoed in their too-empty halls.

Sapnap was wrong. Dream wasn't just doubting him and his decisions. Dream was angry. And Sapnap had never seen Dream angry.

Unknown consequences of his actions dangled above his head and Sapnap would rather find himself back in the facility. At least there, he knew what to expect. At least there, Dream never got angry with him. Dream worried, and he got upset, and he fretted over him in the only way they could express it then. (Subtly, under their eyes.)

Sapnap found himself in the middle of an empty hallway, corridors away from his own room. He didn't know if he passed anyone, and he hoped he didn't. It was obvious he was in distress and– and he didn't know what would happen if someone saw his distress.

Fear pooled in his stomach when he realized that he left the dorm room and what about my mask and costume I don't want to die before he remembered that the mask still was on his face.

He breathed. He kept breathing. He would always keep breathing, even and controlled, for as long as he lived.

Sapnap needed to get himself together.

(If he didn't want to die.)

—

They shouldn't have taken everything for granted. They had thought that when they would be found out that they would die. This was worse than death. They didn't have enough tears to cry nor enough energy to even struggle against the chains restraining him against the wall. They couldn't struggle whenever the– the interrogator added more scars to their body. They couldn't do anything but scream until they were hoarse. Even when they couldn't even make a noise due to their lost voice, they didn't stop. Even if they wanted to tell them everything, they couldn't because they had no voice.

It wasn't an interrogation. It was just torture for the hell of it. They knew that, but they still left that spark of hope of freedom in his mind. They knew it was freedom that landed them here in the first place. They knew that it was because of their foolishness that they were caught. It was just them in this dark room unless the interrogator decided to grace his presence.

(They acted on freedom. They had found themself happy for a while, feeling like they could express themselves without the looming threat of death. The circle supported them in every way. They could be who they wanted behind closed doors, even if it meant he still had to follow the Association's every rule for heroes.)

The room was pitch black. Chains rattled in the darkness. Whenever they shifted even slightly, pain spread throughout their body. They wanted to give up. They wanted to die. The Association found him. They found out, and it was inevitable. They still fought. They still struggled with every laceration that landed on their body. It hurt so badly, and they struggled until all of the fight left them – they struggled until they didn't have energy to do anything but breathe, until they passed out from the pain.

They knew it wasn't ethical, but they also knew that nothing the Association ever did was ethical. They had found so much incriminating evidence because the heads trusted them, even when they shouldn't have. They knew too much and the Association looked at them too closely, and now they were stuck in a cell in a prison that they didn't know. They heard the screams from the woman in the cell next to them, but couldn't hear why the Association were torturing her the way they were. They couldn't care though, because they were subject to the same screams of pain until nothing but coarse air fell out of his throat.

It was monotonous. Everyday was the same, but it was also different. Sometimes someone would come in to spoon feed them water and food. There was no rhyme nor reason to how the shifts went, no matter how many times they tried to count between the intervals. It was easy to get lost in time, and it was even easier to ignore the poking and prodding from labcoats – doctors or scientists, it didn't matter. The Association sent the labcoats and it was enough to think that there would be nothing good.

(The labcoats movements were familiar. They had also gone through training, but it seemed they were more recruited for their mind than anything else.)

And honestly, they didn't want to know why they tortured the woman in the cell over. They didn't care. They used to, when they were first thrown into this prison, but they don't anymore. They didn't know if they cared enough to listen to what the labcoats were saying to each other. They tuned out, trying to heal from wounds that seemed to appear most every day just when the last ones were cleaned up and disinfected.

It was practically cruel. The labcoats' hands were never harmful towards them. A few of them were almost kind. They didn't hurt them, and they held their hands against their face, their side – even if it meant that they'd inject them with some unknown substance every now and again, it was almost worth it just to feel them touching them.

(No human being can survive without touch. They don't know how long they had lived in here, only ever feeling the sadistic hands of the interrogator. They didn't know.)

They started to heal. The interrogator stopped coming. They lived on fumes. They always felt hungry and thirsty. Even if they wanted to fight, they couldn't move without seeing spots in their vision. Even if they wanted to speak, the only thing they'd ask for was food or water – and they had learned that asking did nothing else than waste their already miniscule energy.

"Give up."

They didn't want to. (They did. They gave up. They let themselves comply with every command.)

"I'll give you water if you tell me what you know."

They didn't want to. (They told them everything they knew. They weren't proud of it, but they needed to. They wanted to live. They wanted to live so badly.)

"Tell me if you feel anything different."

They didn't want to. (They did. The injection made them feel stronger, even though they had no food nor water in their system. They told them exactly what they were feeling. The labcoats gave him more food and water. They ate it hungrily even if they were being spoon fed by the labcoats. They didn't feel humilated. They had gone far past humiliation.)

The Association took them away from their cell when they were too weak to even protest. They put them on a metal slab that froze them to their core. They wanted to struggle. They couldn't. They didn't bother with anesthesia when they cut into their body and messed with everything inside them. They could feel every single sensation when they cut into them and when they put something inside them. They screamed.

They couldn't scream for long. They couldn't even move a muscle even when blinding pain threatened to push them into unconsciousness.

When they woke, there were no restraints locked against their wrists. There wasn't even a chain locking them against the wall. It was their room. They knew from the pitch darkness and the stench of their own sweat.

"You were promising," someone told them in the pitch darkness. "We were right."

Someone told them to stand. They didn't stand.

Pain convulsed through their body for what seemed like forever. Their legs felt like putty and they couldn't get up. They couldn't. They couldn't get up.

The relief from the pain felt like it was far too short.

Someone told them to stand. They didn't. They couldn't. The pain didn't wait to wreck their body from the inside out.

There was a pause. They could only try to catch their breath.

Someone told them to stand. This time they did. No pain shot through their body.

"Experimentation Subject #E437 is a success," someone said in the darkness. Their legs wanted to crumple underneath them. Their legs did.

No one told them to stand.

They could still hear people talking. They didn't care. They weren't chained anymore, and that was all that mattered – even if their body was crumpled from misuse for however long they had been imprisoned, it didn't matter. They were free. They were free.

—

Sapnap got himself together. He had to. He couldn't run away forever, not when Dream was going to be his partner. Not when Dream was his best friend. Not when Sapnap knew that he wouldn't survive a day without Dream by his side, or at least seeing him. That didn't mean that he couldn't avoid him for as long as he could. He spent his time training, finding out when their hero debut would be (for the millionth time). It was still a week until their first patrol, and that would be when they showed themselves to the world as the partners of 404.

They were going to be a trio. Dream was angry with him all because he trusted his gut, which had never steered him wrong. Sapnap wanted to be angry back. He wanted to defend himself, but when he found himself back in front of the dorms ten minutes before lights out for heroes who lived in the tower, all of that anger dissipated. It was like seeing Dream's ragged appearance as he obsessively flipped through the binder the Association provided them had grounded him into reality.

No matter how angry Sapnap could be with anyone else, he knew that he could never argue with Dream. It wasn't even something he knew until he saw his best friend fretting over their future together, and trying to keep them both safe.

Next time (if there was a next time), Sapnap would consult Dream before doing anything like that again.

(Even though he knew for a fact that Diamond, Halo, and 404 were all trustworthy, he knew that Dream didn't know what he knew. He knew that Dream couldn't trust Sapnap's word alone. Even if that hurt, Sapnap understood. After all, Dream always knew how to act in these situations. Sapnap was only here to protect.)

Without thinking, he shut the door behind him. Dream looked at him for a moment before forcing himself away from Sapnap's body. Sapnap went to their shared bathroom and changed into something that wasn't his hero costume, the one that they were required to wear in front of everyone else. While he was there, Sapnap decided to take a quick shower. It was different, for sure, to be able to feel hot water against his skin when the facility only ever had cold water in their fossetts.

This was the reward of being the best. They got perks, and Sapnap didn't regret a single moment he worked so hard to get here. He worked so hard to become a hero so that he would get even a semblance of freedom, because they trusted him. The Association gave him a reward after surviving as one of the top dogs of the facility. He worked hard, and he deserved the warm water that fell from the showerhead.

(He knows that the movies depict that hot showers were normal. He knows that their lives were far from normal. He knows that this is a privilege that the Outsiders took for granted. He knows that the civilians take it for granted. He knows that if he hadn't grown up in the facility, he would know what it would feel like for hot water to feel against his skin far sooner than when he arrived here.)

Sapnap messed with his hair in the mirror, finding it almost strange to have complete control over his own wardrobe and appearance. It wasn't the hero costumes that he had freedom with, but his hair and how he dressed as a civilian – when they earned having an apartment outside of the dorm rooms. (Sapnap knew that they already had guaranteed that Sapnap and Dream would have their own apartment soon, just for the two of them, but Sapnap had to earn that first. That was how it worked. It was how it worked. Nothing was for free.)

Dream didn't even glance at him when Sapnap shut the bathroom door behind him. Dream only hummed in acknowledgement when Sapnap wrapped his arms around Dream from behind, even as he was sitting down in a chair. Sapnap saw a droplet in his hair hit Dream's shirt.

"Sorry," Sapnap said, but they both knew it wasn't an apology for getting Dream wet.

Dream hummed and patted Sapnap's arm. "It's fine, Sap," he said, "I– just don't do it again. I can't lose you, and if you keep trusting anyone who's even remotely nice to you," it was so rare that Dream's voice sounded choked up– and actually, it was probably one of the few times Sapnap could now that they weren't being watched by the trainers every second, now that they were free to curl up next to each other whenever they wanted, "...the Association will find out and– and something is gonna happen, and I can't lose you. You know that, right? I can't."

Sapnap realized in that moment when Dream's hand practically squeezed Sapnap's arm that Dream was scared. Dream, who had blankly stared at a wall whenever a hand was raised against him. Dream, who had never lost a fight since Sapnap had known him. Dream, who stubbornly stood in the line-up when his ribs were broken. Dream, who never broke his mask in front of anyone but Sapnap.

Sometimes, he would ask if Sapnap was fine after a visit to the Room, but that was worry, not fear. No one died there (unless it was by accident), and the Association liked them to at least stay fighting fit. Dream had never been scared before – worried, sure, but he had never been scared, because no one was better than Dream. The Association didn't throw out useful tools like Dream.

Dream didn't feel fear. He faced death. He had been an Outsider, who experienced all of the things in the movies, and he still adapted perfectly to the facility. Dream had never been scared since Sapnap had met him.

And the very same person who Sapnap had never seen fear anything in this world wasn't scared for himself, no.

Dream was scared for Sapnap.

Somehow, Sapnap found that he didn't mind. After all, if Dream was Sapnap's weakness, then it was only fair that Sapnap was Dream's. And this world didn't do fairness and here they both were, saying fuck you to the world that deemed this world to be irredeemable. Here they were, contradicting everything they knew was wrong in this world. Here they were, breaking the mold.

Here they were, finding themselves off-road. Off the road that the Association paved for them, the road that they were supposed to go down. Sapnap found that he'd rather crash his car into a tree than follow the predetermined fate that the Association would have for him (for them both).

Sapnap wouldn't fuck up so obviously, not when it could sacrifice them both.

But more than anything else, he knew that Halo, Diamond, and 404 were all worthy of their trust – no matter how much Dream wanted to say otherwise.

Chapter Text

Sapnap wondered why they had been so rigorously trained when hero patrols were probably the most boring thing that Sapnap had ever done. He even had to watch the entire Twilight saga, and that was more entertaining that patrolling was. Dream and 404 were so scarily in sync and so effective that Sapnap rarely had to raise a hand to help them apprehend a couple robbers or a mugger. Once, Sapnap rescued a cat from a tree that didn't even need any rescuing because that was how bored he was.

For a first patrol, this was very unexciting.

"Hey, 404, what's your favorite color?" Sapnap asked over the comms. Sapnap had long since stopped pacing on top of the roof, the highest one in the area, to survey for any crime. Dream and 404 were in similar positions, just in different areas. They were in the same sector, as they were a team, but they still didn't have an eye on each other from this distance unless they had eagle-eye vision. So they couldn't have conversations without their tech either.

404's static voice replied on the comms, "Blue. I'm colorblind, so most of what I can see is blue, from what I'm told." Sapnap hummed. That was information that wasn't in their little binder that supposedly told them everything they needed to know.

"Oh, cool. If I had to choose, I'd say like… green, or an orange. It reminds me of my fire, and fire really comforts me, you know?"

"No, I don't know," 404 sarcastically replied. "Fire has only been a hazard to me, Sapnap. It's one of the biggest reasons people die in Manburg."

Sapnap snorted to cover his laugh and said, "Man, that sucks. Fire doesn't hurt me, but it absolutely destroys my clothes. They had to make custom fire-proof ones at the facility because I'd constantly have to get mine replaced."

404 sounded almost nostalgic when he recollected his own time at the facility. Sapnap could almost hear the smile, which– in most circumstances, Sapnap would've thought he was insane for missing the facility, but Sapnap also knew that 404's partners had systematically always died… and Sapnap wasn't planning for Dream or himself to be on that list, but he figured that 404 had been lonely without a stable friendship in his life.

"...I used to have a bunkmate, Wildfire, and she also was a pyrokinetic like you, Sapnap. She was really the only trainee there that challenged me. I always lost, of course, because there were limits to my glitching especially against something like fire, but she managed to control the heat of her fire to burn me a little, but not enough that it would keep me from training the next day."

"Oh, really?" Sapnap was excited, honestly. He hadn't known of another fire hazard like himself, who could control the flames at will. They weren't in his class or in the training room when he was, at least. "I can do the same thing. Controlling fire at will, even fire that wasn't my own, was something that the trainers really pushed me to do."

It was left unsaid that Sapnap had been left in high stakes situations where his only escape would be to command the flames around him, the flames that weren't his own. Just like how Dream would have to outrun a bullet before it hit him on the leg, or how– you know what? Sapnap had no idea what other trainees did, just Dream. He had enough conversations with Dream about their time in the facility by now. They both didn't have many good memories of the place, and Dream was haunted by nightmares more frequently than Sapnap was.

404 continued to talk about his old friend, "She used to be a hero too. My first partner, actually, but– uh, she didn't make it. The media overlooked her death because we weren't very popular at the time, and there were other big names that didn't make it that day."

Sapnap didn't know what day that they were talking about, but he figured that it had something to do with the Syndicate – the big, bad villains who had killed civilians who were caught in the crossfire, and many heroes that they were meaning to target. Sapnap, in all honesty, had no idea why anyone would live in the midst of all of this bloodshed, but he also knew that from reports, the civilian death rates were criminally low (Ha, get it? Criminally?) compared to what the Syndicate could do if they really wanted to cause real damage.

"No one after her was able to keep up with me, until you two," 404 admitted, "and she was better than I was."

"Well, buddy, I'm sorry for your, uh, loss. I don't know what I would do if I lost Dream." Sapnap couldn't bring himself to make a quip, or make the conversation lighter when it came to death. Even though he had long since figured out that the afterlife meant death, he also knew that death was a one-way ticket. If Dream took that ticket, Sapnap would probably just say fuck it and burn the entire world to the ground. If he had the ability to, of course, but he wasn't that strong. "Actually, Dream's favorite color is really shitty, like, neon lime green. When he showed me the color, I actually wanted to barf."

Dream was uncharacteristically quiet during the entire conversation, until that comment. "Fuck you, Sapnap. Your favorite movie is Legally Blonde ."

"It's a classic!"

"You didn't even consider Star Wars, like a fucking lunatic."

"Star Wars is just space incest."

Dream let out an offended gasp. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

404 interrupted, pretending like their bickering wasn't even happening, "Again, I'm colorblind. I don't know what the color green looks like–" Sapnap honestly barely paid attention to what 404 said, opting to argue with Dream instead. 

"I WILL NOT! It's space incest! Like Luke and Leia kissed ! It's canon! It's SPACE INCEST!"

404 continued, still ignoring the argument happening on the comms. "...I'm actually not sure if the color green is yellow, or the color yellow is green. The shades–"

Dream defended his case not-so-calmly, "They didn't know that they were siblings at the time! They were raised by different parents! It's not their fault!"

"–don't make it any easier, because it all looks like the one color and it's hard to figure out if it's green or yellow when it's all one color with different shades…" 

"Really?" Sapnap countered with a disbelieving snort, "Because I bet if Han and Leia didn't have that make out scene , Luke and Leia would've fucked each other!"

"Ew," 404 finally reacted to their conversation, sounding disgusted and mildly irritated. "That's not a great mental image, Sapnap. Please don't put that in my head. The kissing scene between them was bad enough." Sapnap could imagine the shudder going down 404's spine, because the same shudder was happening to Sapnap that very moment.

Dream started, " Well –"

"Shut up, Dream," 404 commanded in a tone that neither of them had really heard before. "My capacity of listening to the space incest trilogy has reached its limit."

Sapnap felt his lips stretch into a big grin. "Ha!" Sapnap bragged childishly to his best friend. "404 agrees with me. Take that major L." Dream let out a noise of frustration, but neither of them had a chance to retort.

404 more or less snapped, "Sapnap, I said I can't listen to any more of this. Please shut up before you need to keep one eye open at night." Dream stopped fussing and Sapnap closed his mouth. Sapnap would bet money that Dream was thinking the same thing he was. Even though 404 was definitely weaker than them in terms of combat, he was one scary-sounding guy when he got upset. Sapnap silently swore up and down that he would never piss off the guy. "Anyway, as I was saying– because I'm colorblind, I…"

Sapnap and Dream quietly listened to 404 whine about the woes of being colorblind for a painfully long time. Sometimes, Sapnap would take a second to take care of a mugging that didn't require additional backup from his team. Sometimes, 404 would request for some help taking down a group of thugs because 404… as good as he was, couldn't, take on twenty men all at once without getting shot at least once. Dream never called for help.

Overachieving bastard, Sapnap thought to himself fondly.

When Dream finally asked for help, they both knew that it wasn't going to be a cakewalk. Dream piped up on the comms saying, "Guys– uh, I think we have a major problem," that both 404 and Sapnap knew that something was up, "there's… a really big fire on the west side. You'll be able to see it once you get over here."

Without a word, Sapnap made his way as fast as he could to the west side of their sector. He knew for a fact that 404 was rushing towards the same place at the same pace, if not faster, since he could phase through fucking walls — and Sapnap was over here having to run on his own two feet without superspeed or being able to basically be a temporary ghost.

Damn speedsters and glitchy boys. 

—

When the three of them arrived on scene, Sapnap learned that the first responders were slow. He also learned that Dream decided to run headfirst into danger without consulting 404 or Sapnap. Because he had grown up next to Dream, he could see the small signs that he was running about. It probably also helped that Dream was carrying civilians out of the fire. Sapnap was a little ticked off that Dream decided not to talk to the man who could literally control flames, but pop off, I guess. (Shit, reading all of those comments and memes were getting to him. He really needed to stop going on social media.)

404 didn't take long to follow Dream straight into the fire.

As soon as he got close enough, Sapnap felt the presence of the flames. He couldn't pinpoint where the fire started exactly, and he resigned himself to realizing that there was no single point of origin. Something, more like someone, purposefully started the fire. He'd have to deal with that fact later. For now, he needed to douse the flames.

Sapnap knew that the only way that he could get rid of fire was to soak it in himself. The fire in his veins already threatened to burst at the seams constantly and there was a part of him that was scared that this amount of fire would push him over the edge. The rational part of him, the part that the Association molded, knew that he would contain the fire within him regardless of fear. He had hidden his fear for a long time. He pushed away the fear for longer. It was simple. He would not let the fire push him over the edge. He would not let the fire inside him overflow.

It was simple.

And just like every single time that he soaked in flames that were beyond his capacity, Sapnap felt the tingling sensation underneath his skin morph into a constant, painful buzz. He did not wince. He did not dare to, not when people were watching and if people were watching, he knew that the Association would catch wind of this.

(He knew that 404 and Dream weren't concerned about the comms earlier, because they had both checked it out and were satisfied with the results — enough so that they didn't mind acting like a human. Sapnap also knew that he would be the last to know, every time, and would keep following their cues.)

Once every civilian was out of the building, Sapnap found Dream next to him. He hadn't realized when the speedster had arrived, but he also knew that his mind automatically forgot to register Dream as a threat in his head. Dream, if he wanted to, could sneak up on him and kill Sapnap outright. Sapnap's every atom trusted Dream completely and Sapnap knew that it could be considered weakness, but he only found himself relishing in the complete trust he had in his friend.

The remaining few flames in the building had to be forced underneath his skin. It hurt, but this was nothing in the grand scheme of things. He had experienced worse before. The Resident made sure that every trainee that entered the Room came out with a hoarse voice and a bloodied body. Sapnap was not exempt, even if the Resident had always whispered into his ear that Sapnap was one of his favorites.

"Dream," Sapnap managed to get out, as the last fires disappeared. The panic started to make his hands shake, and he didn't have the self-control he needed to stop shaking. The amount of fire buzzing underneath his skin hurt. It hurt so bad, and he didn't have the self-control he needed to stop panicking.

His friend was in sync with him, more than anyone had ever been. Dream looked Sapnap straight in the eyes, and their conversation was not held with words, but with their eyes.

Calm down, Dream told him. Or you'll get us caught.

It was ironic, really. Sapnap couldn't control his body when it came to his own survival, but when it came to Dream, the sheer force of will to keep him safe overrode anything his body wanted to do, like panic.

When they both turned away from the charred building, they were met with wide-eyed citizens. Suddenly, the quietness of strained breathing and coughing erupted into cheers and thanks. Sapnap bowed jokingly without even considering any consequences, and Dream rolled his eyes but followed suit. 404 scoffed at them both, but followed suit in the bow — as if they had just completed a performance.

Technically, Sapnap mused, they did complete a performance.

These weren't their real personalities. This wasn't their reality. This wasn't— Sapnap was a fake in every way. He didn't even have a real name, not really. His personality wasn't his actual one – and most days, he didn't think he had a personality, not when he had to squash all of the emotions that threatened to spill out of the bottle he kept it all in. All of this was fake.

Everything they did was a performance. From the way they walked, to the inside of their own facilities. They were taught to be nothing, to feel nothing. And Sapnap knew that the feelings that curled inside of him weren't supposed to be there. It was why it was hiding from the eyes of people who would use it against him. Sapnap also knew that he was glad that he learned to let himself feel.

Because then, he would be a puppet. His strings never being snipped, and his every action being one of the Association and never of his own will.

After what seemed to be an acceptable length of time for their bow, Sapnap stood up straight. Even though he stood in front of a crowd, pretending like his performance was over — there was no way that he wasn't aware that the performance was never truly over. It didn't surprise him when his mouth formed a cheerful smile without prompting. 

Sapnap still had uncut strings controlling him.

—

The next day, headlines spoke of 404's new partners arriving at the scene of an apartment fire, with not a single lost life. The news said, and Sapnap quoted the paper directly, "Clem Fisher, age 56, has been reported as the victim with the worst injuries from the fire. She is currently recovering in St. Soot General and her prognosis will most likely have her discharged within the next week."

Dream barely paid a glance to the article. Sapnap kept reading until the very end. He learned of the fates of some of the victims. There were statements to the press from a few of the residents who had been saved. The younger women who were saved gushed about Dream's abs. It was weird to read, but they also said that Dream was a capable speedster. 

Sapnap had expected this, but he had been put on the backburner compared to his friends who had gone into the fire and brought people out. They talked about how he extinguished the fire, but they did not know Sapnap.

"Dream and Sapnap, 404's new partners, seem to take their work seriously, but once the job is done, they seem to want to keep things light-hearted. Witnesses claim that our new hero, Sapnap, bowed as if completing a performance before the crowd after they erupted in cheers. Dream joined him on their make-shift stage soon after. Their silliness seems to have gotten to 404, our resident critic and beloved grumpy hero, because 404 bowed with them."

Sapnap's single mention (that didn't involve him being a glorified firetruck) only said that he was a funny guy. When he scrolled down to the comments in the article, he found it flooded with comments about Dream and 404. The few comments he found about himself seemed to be from people who were actually there, who had said that they hoped that they wanted to learn more about Sapnap because he was barely mentioned in the article.

The crawling feeling of jealousy started to grow, but he quickly stamped it out. He was going to be happy for his friends.

(Even if that meant he'd always be second-best, even if that always meant he'd always not be as important.)

Sapnap didn't realize he considered 404 a friend until the day after he had commented on it internally.

He didn't even know how 404 earned the title of "friend" — not even when Sapnap wracked every memory he had with 404 to figure out what had earned him trust. There was no real moment, he found. He had trusted 404 innately, even if he was an asshole. He trusted 404 innately like he had with Diamond and Halo.

It didn't take Dream telling him that Sapnap was being an idiot for trusting someone without a single shred of doubt on their character. Sapnap had always known he was a compulsive idiot — and somehow, even after all his idiocy, his gut never steered him wrong.

Sapnap trusted 404, and he started to think that maybe Dream trusted him too. He saw how Dream relaxed ever so slightly when 404 would come to their dorm room. He saw how Dream started to converse casually with the other hero. He listened, and he chimed in, and they bonded. Dream though had been an Outsider from the very beginning. Sapnap had grown up in the facility and so did 404, from the looks of it, because 404 guided Sapnap to the subtle things, the things that made Sapnap realize why Dream fought so hard for this little bit of freedom.

Ice cream was really fucking good, okay? Don't get him started on video games. He already talked about warm showers and how good they were, but Sapnap was really starting to understand why the movie characters were always so engrossed in ice cream and video games after experiencing it for himself. He understood why the Outsiders, er, regular civilians loved those things too. He understood the desire for friendship, for love, for safety. It didn't mean that he was allowed to desire these things. At least, not outwardly. At least not where the Association could see.

The Association could see their friendship. Sapnap didn't know if they were being lenient or didn't know the sincerity behind their friendship. 

If the Association knew of the trio's friendship, they didn't do anything about it. 

(Sapnap knew there weren't any cameras, but Dream's paranoia seemed to be getting to Sapnap too. The Association knew. They always knew. There were no cameras. There were no bugs, but the Association always knew. So they weren't doing anything to prevent their bonding. Right? Because there was no way that the three of them had gotten underneath their radar.)

—

It started like this.

404 slid a note to them during patrol a couple weeks after the fire. Sapnap wanted to laugh at the irony that the Association had taught them how to be stealthy and subtle, and now 404 was using the same tactics to give them something right underneath their noses.

"Level 4B, no elevators. No cameras in stairways. Room 45. Midnight. No tech. Eagerly waiting. -4"

Sapnap didn't know what it meant at first. Dream figured out in seconds.

He, Sapnap, had thought that Dream would've been more wary, more uncertain, about the implications behind the note. But no, Dream jumped in headfirst despite the tension that didn't leave the speedster's shoulders, not once. Sapnap thought that they'd wait, gather intel about what it meant, but Dream barely even blinked. It was as if he expected the invitation (of sorts). Instead of freaking out like Sapnap had thought his friend would do... that evening, when they got off patrol, he gave Sapnap a small smile and told him that they were going to go. And Sapnap knew that no matter what Dream did, Sapnap would follow him to the end. If Dream wanted to go, then Sapnap would go with him.

This, Sapnap was certain, would never change. Just like the sky would always be blue, Sapnap would always follow Dream.

Dream and Sapnap ditched their technology. Their phones, their comms, and ditched the suit. Everything but the mask, and Dream had already gone through the masks to ensure that none of it had any bugs or cameras. Sapnap didn't think they would have it on the masks, considering that the Association would've busted them for not "following the rules" a long, long time ago. (They might know of their genuine friendship, but Sapnap hoped that the Association thought that the friendship was faked, like everything else about their life as a hero.)

By midnight, they made it to the designated room where there were other heroes casually lounging around, as if this wasn't a suspicious meeting that they learned from a fucking note slipped to them underneath the slit of their door. Dream was still tense, ready to run at a moment's notice. Sapnap couldn't blame him for it. He grew up Outside before he was shoved into this life. He knew what the world was like without the Association, so everything related to the Association was probably seen as a threat.

Even as someone who had grown up inside of the facility, Sapnap was wary of people affiliated with the Association too.

(Sapnap didn't miss the way that the speedster instinctively stayed in between Sapnap and the heroes in the room. He didn't miss the slight twitch of Dream's hand, as if it wanted to grab Sapnap and hightail it out of the area.)

Sapnap thought Dream hid his surprise well enough when both of them noticed Diamond and Halo being among the heroes there. Well, it was hard not to notice them, considering…

"You're being a muffinhead. That isn't possible!"

"You're a muffinhead. It totally is! I'll prove it. Just give me thirteen bags of marshmallows, and I'll show you."

"I'm not going to give you thirteen bags of marshmallows!"

"I'll order sixty-nine pizzas to your place again. Don't think I won't."

Most heroes here were heroes that he saw in the training room or that he read about online. Fox, a fox-shapeshifter hero, stood next to Captain Puffy (their local telekinetic) who was the current fan favorite hero, outside of 404 and Sparklez. Leaning against the wall and in an intense sounding conversation was Rose (their garden hero — or she could spontaneously create plants of her choosing, and always seemed to have flowers on her person always, and the current situation wasn't an exception) and Punz (able to summon any weapon he wants; which seems useless, but if you think about it, anything could be a weapon) , heroes that frequently collaborated but weren't officially partnered together.

While Sapnap visibly relaxed when he saw everyone here, Dream did the exact opposite. He was a paranoid bastard, but he was Sapnap's paranoid bastard, so he'd get a pass on this one. Even so, Sapnap didn't sense any ill intent in the room.

Sapnap grabbed Dream's arm and tugged him towards the area that Halo and Diamond were in, and the pair didn't even bat an eye when they saw them both join them. Instead, they continued to bicker like an old married couple. Sapnap didn't tune into the argument, like everyone else from how they were in their own conversations except for Dream and himself.

Dream was being his standoffish, emo self, so Sapnap doubted he'd get more than a hum of acknowledgement if he struck up a conversation. Dream was too absorbed in narrowing his eyes and glaring at everyone in the room, as if they would spontaneously turn into bombs and explode.

404 got to the meeting place too, followed by a shorter figure. The figure had a mask that Sapnap recognized as the simple mask of someone who was on the other side of the building — Those people didn't have masks, not really. The heroes had designs on their masks, but all of those people had the same plain white mask that hid everything but their eyes and mouths.

The Association really liked white, and keeping everyone exactly the same unless they needed otherwise.

Dream, however, relaxed at the sight of 404, which Sapnap was definitely going to tease him about later. (Especially since he was adamant that 404 couldn't be trusted not so long ago, and now he was relaxing around him–) Sapnap hid the laugh that almost bubbled out of his mouth by coughing. Dream tossed him a glare, but didn't do anything else.

"Everybody's here," Punz announced the obvious, and Rose rolled her eyes. "404 invited the two newbies to the meetings, but I'm sure everybody's heard of them already."

Sapnap choked on air. He didn't know that they were being gossipped about, what the fuck? Dream didn't even flinch – so he knew, and didn't tell Sapnap. Wow. Rude. 

404 addressed both Dream and Sapnap, despite Sapnap, y'know, choking in front of all of them, "I assume you know everyone here already," a brief pause, "and if you don't, that's your own problem."

Fox interrupted, "They wouldn't know anyone from the second division. They haven't been able to go over there yet." Sapnap didn't know what the fuck the second division was, but from the deep sigh that vibrated from 404, it was knowledge that they didn't have.

"You're right," 404 grumpily receded, "they haven't gotten beat up enough to have to go over there." Sapnap heard a snort from one of the other heroes, but he didn't catch who did it.

"Ignoring Mr. Grumpypants and his posse," the shorter boy gave them a bright smile, one that the Association wouldn't have stood for, and chirped, "I'm Tubbo. Nice to meet you! I'm the only one here from the second division. Everyone else is too brainwashed, I think." That was strangely bubbly, considering that this meeting was ominous and secret.

Oh, well.

There was a tense silence, which was interrupted by the clearing of the Captain's throat. "Thank you, Tubbo. Now, onto the order of business… I've found a kink on my end. All exit points in the city are Association controlled."

"Fuck, there goes that plan," Punz muttered under his breath, but the swear didn't escape Halo from the glowering look that he got from the hero. Punz shrinked underneath the gaze, but didn't apologize. "I'm still working on the media angle. The only place that looks like it hasn't been touched by the Association is SlimeTime, but…"

Rose jumped in, "Punz and I checked it out together, and it looks like the Association has a backdoor on all of their servers. There's no way we can broadcast anything without closing the doors."

Tubbo raised his hand, similarly to how they would do in the classroom back in the facility. Unlike the classroom, he was waving his hand wildly. "I can hack it and close the doors. I'll just have to find a time where I'm not being monitored."

"Thanks, Tubs," Punz fondly said, reaching out his hand to ruffle the shorter's hair. Sapnap almost blanked at the obvious display of affection. It was something that they didn't need to do for publicity, or to act, or to do anything. It was just done. Like it was that easy to break out of their training, of never showing emotions or weakness. It looked so smooth, as if they had done it a million times. Sapnap couldn't even get himself to sling an arm around Dream's shoulders without it being a part of their facade or unless it was only the two of them. 404 wasn't an exception, even.

"I'll try to make it to the next meeting, if I can. But no promises. You know how it gets," Tubbo continued, the cheerful tone in his voice not even slightly dampening. Sapnap had to hand it to the guy, he was very cheerful — more cheerful than Sapnap could be in this situation.

They were literally planning to escape(?) from the sounds of it, and maybe get slaughtered if they failed, but they were still smiling and ruffling each other's hair.

Diamond continued the conversation, "Uh– not to break anyone's juju, but the media plan is a no-go. Halo and I found a stash of explosives in one of the storage rooms and I don't doubt that the Association would make the whole city go kabloo-ey if we decided to go public."

"They can't explode the whole world though," Tubbo said. "If the broadcast is international, the Association can't do anything about it."

Captain Puffy interrupted, putting a placating hand on Diamond's shoulder, "I'm sure that the explosives being there at all is a concern. We shouldn't do anything rash, even if they can't, indeed, silence the entire world. They may be planning to do something else, and do any of us want to risk it? We may not have asked for this life, but innocent lives could be endangered. I would rather be safe than sorry."

There were murmurs of agreement, and Sapnap felt really out of his comfort zone but joined in the murmurs. Dream had been silent still, eyes flickering between hero to hero. It seemed like, just like Sapnap, he was figuring out what was happening here. They had known that this Circle of their's had been a semi-rebellion against the Association, but it sounded like they were trying to find a way to desert.

"Well," 404 said, "I haven't made much progress. I've been a bit busy with my new partners," there were nods in acknowledgement from the group and a shy wave from Sapnap, which wasn't in-character at all (so was that Sapnap? Just... Sapnap?), "but I have found a couple places in the city without any cameras. We could start meeting during patrols." Tubbo pouted, which only earned him another hair ruffle from Punz. "Sorry, Tubbo. We'll try to get the new information to you when we can meet here." Right, second division – whatever that meant.

Sapnap really felt like he didn't belong. Dream still hadn't done anything... said anything , but Sapnap didn't do much either. He didn't really contribute to the conversation. The most he'd done was introduce himself and listen. He was gathering intel, like they were trained to do, before acting. Dream was probably doing the same. Sapnap, unlike Dream, didn't think shit through... so he'd leave the acting to Dream. Sapnap would keep his mouth shut until then.

"Any other reports?" Captain asked the group, and everyone seemed to shake their head in unison. Captain Puffy grimaced. The sentiment was shared with pretty much everyone else in the room. "We should think about our next move then."

"Why are we even bothering anymore?" Fox grumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear and it was like he didn't care that everyone heard. "We've scoped out every single possibility. It isn't like we're going to find anything else that won't end up with something going wrong, or innocents being caught in the crossfire."

Captain Puffy whacked Fox over the back of the head and Sapnap winced sympathetically. That had to hurt, especially when it came from the Captain — who, so far, seemed to be their largest voice of reason in this group.

Fox's voice went up a few octaves as he rubbed the back of his head. "Hey! I'm just stating the truth!"

The familiar timbre of Dream's voice echoed in the room for the first time, properly. "The Association is just as capable of making mistakes as we are. We aren't perfect, and neither are they. No matter how much we all would like to pretend. If we go over all of your past so-called failures, we might be able to find one of those mistakes." That… was surprisingly deep. Well, Dream was easy to read for Sapnap, but everyone else was surprised. "They made a mistake somewhere. We just have to find it. Losing hope now is pointless. We haven't gone through hell and back to give up now."

"That's easy for you to say," Fox snapped back. "You're fresh blood."

Sapnap found himself saying something before he could control himself, "We're fresh blood, sure, but we also have fresh eyes. We might find a mistake and exploit it. Besides, Dream is the most intelligent person I know and if he can't figure it out, then we're fucked."

Everyone was staring at the pair of them in a tense silence and then Halo muttered out a, "Language," which didn't do anything to release the tension, but the thought was there. Diamond patted his friend's back comfortingly.

Tubbo gave them all a tense smile and said, "Well, they do have a point. We've all been going over the data obsessively. It won't hurt to give them a chance to see it under a different perspective. I'll get a file to you by the end of the week. 404, the usual route?" 404 gave him a terse nod, and the meeting abruptly came to an end.

Out of all the endings the meeting could've gone, it wasn't the best — but it could definitely have gone worse. He bet that they gave the impression to everyone else that they were cocky newbies on the scene. It wasn't necessarily wrong, considering that Sapnap already figured out that Dream and himself were both in the handful of the top combatants in hero society. Still, they probably wouldn't have been given a chance at all if it wasn't for Tubbo who was in the second division, apparently. (Sapnap didn't even fucking know that there was a second division before now.) Despite his obvious youth, Tubbo's words seemed to carry weight during these meetings. If it weren't for him, Sapnap bet that their suggestion would've been shot down without a second thought. So yes, it could've gone worse.

(And that's not including the theory that this was just a plot from the Association to weed out traitors.)

Well... at least no one was trying to kill them for expressing their thoughts.

That was a plus.

Chapter Text

Dream and Sapnap, unfortunately, had not been able to get into physical contact with 404 for multiple days after their… disastrous first meeting with the "Circle" — and that was a very ominous name, now that Sapnap thought about it. 

Whatever.

404 handed them a USB drive subtly. By subtly, Sapnap meant that he slipped it into Sapnap's pocket on live fucking television.

It was reverse pickpocketing, in plain sight. They smiled in front of the cameras and hung their arms around each other's shoulders, making their first official statement as a hero trio. H-TV (H, standing for "Hero" and the Association's personal media liaison) had interviewed them, and Sapnap had memorized the script minutes before they ended up on stage. "We're going to be live," the director said behind the curtains, and even though the man's smile had no real tells, Sapnap could sense the chill.

Unspoken words that if they did not complete this mission perfectly, they would suffer the consequences.

When they emerged from behind the blackened curtains, there were civilians gathered in a crowd, cheering and Sapnap heard wolf whistles and saw the flashes of camera phones. They laughed and they smiled. Sapnap laughed and joked, told stories (that were far from true), and he showed off his prowess with fire. Dream softened around his teammates, but kept an air of mystery for the camera. 404 was sleepy, aloof, and grumpy. These were their personas, and they played them well. When asked about their favorite things, they lied smoothly just like they were trained to do.

("What's your favorite color?" They asked. "Yellow," Sapnap had answered, explaining that the color reminded him of sunshine. "Green," Dream said, and it was a half-truth — a truth that no one would be able to see, when Dream lied that he liked the color because it reminded him of nature and loved gardening. Dream, the real Dream, hadn't touched even a blade of grass since they had left the facility. It was his favorite color, so it wasn't too much of a lie — but if the Association knew that Dream actually liked green, he would suffer the consequences. Sapnap had never touched a blade of grass. "Me too. Green," 404 said, and that was the biggest lie of all. These were all lies. This was their script.)

The live interview had become a city-wide hit, and it was already starting to blow up nationally. It was the perks of associating with 404, who had become famous and infamous simultaneously. Dream's mask already had a smile drawn on it (which was slightly creepy sometimes) and it was hard to see through the filter around his mouth, but his eyes looked kind or something, according to the masses. 404 still had the same exact reputation that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Sapnap didn't know what the public thought of him, unlike Dream and 404 who had both been on the front page news during the fire. Sapnap was a footnote, and barely anyone paid attention to him then. Sapnap was already dreading the fact he would soon rise in popularity, just from being in 404's general vicinity.

He's not good enough. He's not good enough. Why isn't he good enough?

("Yeah, we're good friends behind the masks," Sapnap told them. "Dream and I grew up together, but it feels like 404 has always been there." There was a pause, before he pretended like he had an epiphany. "Speaking of, have I told you that 404 is like a massive cat? I've seen him fall asleep on top of the fridge before. I'm not even kidding." Lies. Lies. All of it. Lies. They didn't even own a fridge. They were reading from a script — reading off of fucking cue cards. "I don't even know how he got up there! I couldn't even wake him up! He sleeps like a rock.")

He hadn't known how they were supposed to get the Circle's information…

Until Sapnap found the USB drive slipped in one of his many pockets (only when they returned to their dorm room). The USB fell out of his pocket when he was changing into something more comfortable, and Sapnap had been immensely grateful that it didn't fall out of his pocket on live television. (How would anyone explain– how could anyone explain what it was, what was in it?) Then again, Sapnap hadn't realized that it was in his pocket — so maybe 404 had given it to Sapnap just before they split up.

Regardless of how subtle 404 was, they were still stuck in the middle of enemy territory, with a USB drive that, if found on their person, would sentence them all to a fate worse than death. (Or maybe it would simply be death, but Sapnap doubted that the Association would be kind when they could make an example out of traitors.)

(Dream was getting antsy. Heroes normally had to keep up a civilian identity, in the event that they become unmasked. They had yet to have a civilian identity. They had yet to have a civilian home, civilian parents, civilian siblings — all of which hadn't been given to them properly. The Association didn't have it prepared for them.)

(And maybe, Sapnap was getting a little anxious too.)

404, fortunately or unfortunately, still did not live with them or could hang around them. Perhaps it was the Association's doing, ensuring that they no longer fraternized any more than they already were. It was unnecessary, considering they continued to banter on their comms during patrols. They followed their personas, of course, but Sapnap also knew that bits and pieces of their true selves were sprinkled within it too.

(The best lies always have a shred of truth.)

Who told him that?

It took a while for Dream to deem their Association-approved laptop as safe enough to plug in the USB drive, and flick through every single one of the Circle's failed plans.

There were exactly 113 of them. All of them failed, or weren't worth the risk of putting innocents in danger. Some of them were borderline insane. There were at least a dozen plans that involved explosions for fuck's sake. Sapnap's veins may burn with a destructive fire, but even he wasn't that hell-bent on destruction. There were logs, letters taking the place of operatives' names — in the event that the USB drive ever got into the wrong hands, it seemed — and Dream's clenched fists as they read through the first fifty reports said enough.

"Fuck," Dream cursed quietly, and Sapnap could only stare at all of the information in a shocked stupor. If it came to it, he knew he would be able to move as normal, but for now, he just wanted to let himself absorb the information in a healthy way (which, how does he know how to be healthy anyway?). 

It wasn't much, but being in the safety of their own space let Sapnap relax in a way they never got to outside of their miniscule reactions covered in the smoke-filled air back at the facility. They were freer now – not by much, of course, but they were freer than they were before.

So far, it looked like the first letter of the hero's name was used in place of their full hero name. Considering how many heroes there were over the years, there was no real way to tell the difference between all of the different letters. Most heroes, from what Sapnap could tell, weren't even involved in this… rebellion of theirs. Besides, there were multiple heroes with the same letter starting on their name. For example, multiple S's would be called S2 or S3.

The simple fact that numbers existed spoke volumes. It was a silence that was only interrupted by the clicking sounds of the mouse.

"Fuck," Dream once again muttered under his breath, and Sapnap shared the sentiment.

It practically screamed many heroes had filtered through, who had all tried to escape and who all had failed. All who had died before managing to get out.

And if that many people had tried and failed, what were the chances that Sapnap and Dream would be able to get out?

—

Sapnap's legs hung off the edge of the roof. He probably shouldn't do this, considering he had no powers that would break his fall if he did fall, but he found that he didn't care. One of the only things that fueled him for years was the fact that once they got out of the facility, they would be able to get out. And now Sapnap was faced with a reality that maybe there was no possible way out.

Not without hurting innocent people, not without breaking his moral code.

Patrol was dull, as usual. 404 was off doing his thing in his sector. Dream was too, but just like Sapnap, he seemed distracted. It was funny, really, how easy it was to fall into the routine of heroism. It was hilarious that Sapnap had grown used to going out every day at the exact same time. It was downright laughable that the only reprieve that he had in his life was working for the fucking Association by doing exactly what they wanted him to do.

It was especially laughable since he had been given orders, electronically (though it would be stupid to ignore it regardless of where it came from). He was being ordered to assassinate some poor family after patrol, and there wasn't a damn thing that he could do about it. He couldn't even find it in himself to feel too torn up about it either, because with their deaths, his life would be preserved. Dream's life would be preserved. 

Sapnap didn't tell Dream about the orders, and he didn't know if he should.

He didn't know if he could .

Some part of him wanted to leap off of this building. Some part of him thought that maybe it would be worth slipping and falling, if it meant that innocent people would continue to live. And he knew that if it wasn't for Dream, he wouldn't be feeling so shitty. He knew that if it wasn't for Dream, he wouldn't be feeling at all. He loved Dream. He did. But Sapnap also sometimes wished that he was mindless and emotionless.

The guilt was threatening to swallow him whole.

Before, Sapnap wouldn't have blinked at crawling over someone's life to get a better chance of being at the top. Before, Sapnap wouldn't have minded pushing someone off of the rope they all had to climb to just get the chance of getting out of the endless pit they were all thrown into. But now, the thought of pulling someone down and watching them fall to their deaths made him so incredibly nauseous.

His lunch might no longer be in his stomach if the nausea kept up.

It had been so long since he had held someone's life in his hands and even then, the people that he eliminated weren't angels themselves. They killed, too. They all had killed in the facility — it was a rite of passage. At least there, Sapnap could make excuses to himself that it was kill or be killed. But out here? He was a wolf in sheep's clothing. They were all so weak compared to him.

Weakness was something Sapnap couldn't afford. Out here, they could show as much as they needed — as much as they wanted. It was unfair that Sapnap, who was leagues above anyone out here, was going to hunt them down like an obedient dog. The worst part about all of it was that he had no feasible way he could… not complete the orders. It was him or them.

And Sapnap was oh-so selfish.

He'd always choose himself.

So he swallowed the bile in his throat and got himself back up on his feet. He had some petty crime to stop. Maybe if Sapnap did enough good on patrols, he could… he could earn his forgiveness, even if there would be no one to forgive him — since they'd all be fucking dead.

"Sap, did you see the articles on us?" Dream commed him. Sapnap forced himself to sound as happy as he could muster, which was enough for no one to see anything was amiss. 

"They're saying you have kind fuckin' eyes, Dream," Sapnap teased. "You already have people simping for you."

There was a part of him that knew that if he was in the facility, he'd get sent to the Room for his poor acting skills, but Sapnap could scrape by well enough. He didn't know if Dream knew that he wasn't as chirpy as he was. If Dream knew, he didn't say a thing.

"Shut up ," Dream complained. Sapnap could imagine the eye roll. "I've seen the thirst tweets about you."

And for that, Sapnap was grateful.

404 cut in, not even bothering to mask the amusement that the goggled bastard was feeling, "Girls, girls, you're both pretty." Sapnap guffawed and Dream sputtered over whatever he was going to say next. 404 simply laughed at their reactions and Sapnap couldn't help but smile too.

Sapnap could pretend for a little while that he didn't have blood on his hands. Sapnap could pretend just for a little bit more that innocent blood wouldn't join his red ledger. And he'd keep pretending that it was okay for as long as he needed to.

He'd do anything to preserve the little peace that he'd found himself, the peace that Dream and 404 brought him in their simple bantering and bickering on patrol. There was no way that the Association didn't know that they were letting their true selves through a few cracks, right? There was no way they didn't fucking know. They had to be letting this happen.

(Some part of Sapnap hoped that the Association didn't know. Because that would mean that the Association wasn't as infallible as they once thought.)

The next mugger he found in his sector was subdued with his fists rather than his fire. He didn't opt to use his fists because he needed to feel his cracked knuckles. It wasn't because he needed to see blood stains in his hands like the blood stains that sometimes he swore were on himself. It wasn't because he needed to know that it wasn't all in his head. It wasn't because he didn't know who he was without the ever present stinging pain.

It didn't take a genius to know that everything he just said was a lie.

—

Sapnap read his assignment. A simple text message was sent to him with the details. He already read it, but it was always good to rejuvenate the mind.

The mission was simple. Elimination of targets. The youngest daughter and infant son were to be taken to a second location. He kept his breathing steady. The bile in his throat seemed to disappear into thin air. He felt empty, emotionless. He didn't dwell on the feelings. He had a job to do.

He breathed.

...

Sapnap assembled a gun.

It was provided for him.

He breathed.

...

Sapnap made sure that Dream was sleeping when he closed their dorm room's door.

The weight of the gun was unfamiliar. He hadn't touched one of them since their last crash course. His specialty wasn't long-ranged weapons. It was fire. It didn't mean that Sapnap didn't know how to use the gun resting in its place on his utility belt. As his hand patted the gun on his hip, he told himself that it was for them .

He breathed.

...

The city was quiet. The traffic was slow compared to the day. Streetlights made most places visible.

Sapnap knew how to lurk in the shadows. This was a part of their training, and all of their training was easier than breathing to him. He tried to shake creeping thoughts screaming at him to stop , to disobey. He succeeded. If he fell to the whims of his emotions rather than to the whims of the Association, there would be a different body sent to the morgue.

He breathed.

...

The family home was on the better side of town. The rich, the 1% — whatever you wanted to call them, lived in the area. There wasn't a single neighbor for miles. Their security system was mediocre compared to the training that Sapnap had ingrained into his being. Not even the squeak of his shoes sounded in the quiet of the house.

Steady and slow, he creeped up the stairs. Some doors were closed. Some were left ajar. Sapnap made his way to the master bedroom. He heard snoring.

He didn't dare to breathe.

...

Even silenced guns made noise. The wife woke up after the first shot, but she had barely had time to open her eyes before she joined her husband. They had twinning holes in their foreheads. Sapnap didn't dwell, moving to their kids.

The eldest son had hidden in his closet. Sapnap made quick work of him. He wasn't supposed to be spared. The first-born daughter had climbed out her window and had nearly made it across. It was useless against a gun. Her body toppled over, shingles embedding themselves into her clothes and skin until she finally tumbled off of the roof and onto the concrete below. There was red. There was a lot of red. He thought that maybe some of that red was on him. He felt a warm substance on his body. It was red.

He kept breathing. He needed to keep breathing.

...

The youngest daughter was cowering under her bed. She was shaking with sobs wracking her body. From the wide-eyed look on her face, she had seen her sister die from her window. Sapnap didn't dwell. He pushed down on the girl's pressure point, rendering her unconscious. He heaved her up and carried her like a sack of potatoes.

He made it to the nursery. The baby was sleeping soundly. Sapnap picked up the family's infant son. He cried. Sapnap shushed him, humming a lullaby he had learned from a movie. It didn't take very long for him to settle.

He breathed.

...

Sapnap left the pair of siblings at the rendezvous point. Someone dressed like Teacher met him there. They put both children into the van. Sapnap tried not to think about the other five children crammed in the vehicle with them. He tried not to think about the future that awaited them, the future that Sapnap had already experienced himself.

He held out the gun he disassembled to her. She gave him a fake smile and accepted the gun.

It was only until she had gotten into the driver's seat and driven away that Sapnap allowed himself to breathe.

...

If Dream noticed the eyebags under Sapnap's eyes, or the emotionless glaze that Sapnap could even see in the mirror, he never said a word.

He crawled into bed, and he wanted to cry, but he didn't. Crying was a weakness. It was a miracle he had gotten this far showing so much weakness.

Sapnap breathed, even if he didn't deserve it.

—

Sapnap forced himself to get out of his bed. He had to get up. His near-comatose state wasn't a part of his assigned persona. Dream helped. He hadn't asked why Sapnap had struggled to get up, to even make his way into the mess hall. Still, his best fucking friend was there for him. Sapnap couldn't be any more grateful. Dream got him to get up. He helped Sapnap choose a civilian outfit. He helped Sapnap tie his mask onto his face.

Still, Dream never asked.

The bile wasn't stuck in his throat. He didn't even know if he was feeling guilty anymore. He just felt empty , and the emptiness scared him.

This feeling of emptiness was reminiscent of the emptiness he had felt in the facility, when he survived day to day — when his only drive to succeed was the ingrained instinct to survive. The survival instinct that screamed at him to be the best so that he would never be killed, never be expelled, never go back into the Room. He only succeeded in two out of three of his goals.

Still, the emptiness had mostly disappeared when he met Dream, when he found a purpose outside of surviving day to day.

When he looked in the mirror, he was still Sapnap. He didn't know how to be anyone else. He didn't feel nauseous. He didn't see bloodstains on any part of his body. He looked normal, for a hero. The mask on his face obscured most of his appearance. He stared into his dark-colored eyes with an intensity that could rival Dream's brooding. His lips were resting in a frown. 

Sapnap forced a smile on his face. His eyes held a spark of happiness that he forced to the forefront of his heart. It hid the dull ache of nothing behind it. HIs smile showed just enough teeth that it would seem like Sapnap was perfectly fine.

Sapnap looked normal.

Last night, he killed two parents, two children, and kidnapped two others to be resigned to the exact same fate as he.

And Sapnap looked normal.

His fist clenched at his sides, and he resisted the urge to punch the mirror. He had no business breaking character. There was no reason for Sapnap to be this angry, even if he was a hothead. He would just have to wait for the opportune moment where he'd have the excuse to punch something, and punch that something hard.

Sapnap's smile did not once fall from his face. There wasn't even a twitch of his lips. It just stayed still, just like he was in a photograph.

When he left the bathroom, he was met with Dream waiting for him. He did not ask, but Sapnap answered anyway.

"I was sent on a mission last night," Sapnap told him. Dream just hummed in acknowledgement. Sapnap didn't know if being seen and heard was worse than being ignored, but he certainly felt like he was drowning. Sapnap didn't want to be seen for the cruelty that he was about to confess, but he couldn't live with himself if Dream never learned what he did. "They sent me to kill a couple, two of their kids, and take the other two kids to a teacher."

The confession weighed heavily in the room. Dream just hung his arm around Sapnap's shoulder, regardless of whether or not Sapnap thought he deserved it.

Dream's only reply in words was, "I'm glad you're still here." Sapnap wished that he could promise that he wouldn't do it again. But Sapnap couldn't promise that, not when he was still here.

Their lives were truly so fucked up if he found comfort in Dream's response.

—

Going through each of the Circle's failed plans took much longer than Sapnap had expected. He had a feeling that Dream hadn't expected this much work dumped on their laps either. It didn't matter that much though. Sapnap was never a planner. He jumped into things head first. Dream thought things through. It was part of the reason that they had their argument in the first place. (Their only real argument — bickering didn't count.)

Sapnap went through the data simply to distract his mind from everything else going wrong in their lives. It was easy to forget that last night he had shot up a family home because the Association simply wanted him to.

And he obeyed, like a goddamn dog fetching a stick.

Sapnap watched as Dream poured every single spare moment into finding a way to escape this hell. He watched as Dream forgoed meals. He watched as Dream sat at the desk at dusk, only to find him still there at dawn. He watched as Dream did the bare minimum to keep suspicion off of his back.

He tried. Sapnap, honest to god, tried , but his mind couldn't stay focused on the information no matter how much he wanted to. He was too paranoid that Dream would get caught. He was too scared to touch it, because what if he was the one caught.

(He was a selfish coward. This wasn't new news.)

The public didn't know much about their team yet, much to Sapnap's relief. He didn't know what he'd do if he started to get stalked by a crazy fan, or what he would do if he became so much of a public figure that the Association couldn't just kill him off easily anymore. He knew the latter was a good result, but he didn't– he didn't know if he wanted it.

He had never been in a position where he didn't have to be scared that he might die at a moment's notice.

Well, other than patrol, of course. Patrol was like a walk in the park, really. It was almost mindless. Sapnap could take down any of the thugs on the street without killing them with just his pinky. He supposed that was a perk of constantly challenging himself to be better (to beat Dream).

Patrol was supposed to be easy.

The crackle of his walkie talkie (because there was no way to sugarcoat it; it was just a walkie talkie) signaled to him that Dream or 404 was about to speak. He heard the static voice of 404, "Just got a report from HQ. There was an anonymous tip that the Syndicate broke-in at one of our labs. Triangulate my position. I'm going in."

Dream was quieter for longer than Sapnap thought was normal. Sapnap got why, really. The Syndicate was quickly rising as one of the biggest threats against the Association, and by association (heh, funny pun), the heroes were sent to deal with the threat… only to come back heavily injured, close to death, or as a corpse.

404 had been reported to have fought the Syndicate on multiple occasions, but it seemed like there was a reason that the Syndicate didn't bother to kill him every single time… a reason that 404 didn't divulge, because he too did not know why.

"Copy that," Dream said after a while, "don't die."

"No promises," 404 quipped back dryly, before the comms went dead. Sapnap hadn't even replied yet, and the pair were off being heroic and shit, but Sapnap also knew that the comms had to be dead out of the necessity of stealth. He'd only use it in an emergency.

It took him a couple seconds longer than Sapnap wanted for him to triangulate the position of 404's tech. He already knew that Dream made it there, and 404 was inside already. There was no way that a hero that could glitch through walls and a speedster wouldn't be there before Sapnap, who was not only the farthest away from it but had to get there like a normal person.

Well, if you counted someone sprinting in spandex across the city a "normal person" that is.

—

Just as he suspected, the comms hadn't once crackled to life. He didn't smell or see any blood, but it was the fucking Syndicate.

They could have a decapitated head waiting for Sapnap the second that he walked in through the front doors. He didn't know if he should go through the front doors, but some part of his brain told him that the Syndicate probably expected heroes to come in through the back doors, windows… pretty much anywhere but the front door.

And you see, Sapnap was an impulsive idiot. He had been called that on many occasions, and he had only been an officially debuted hero for, what, four weeks? Hell, even Twitter was starting to call him a hot-headed, impulsive idiot (mostly because it was a funny pun; but it was also true).

Sapnap straight up walked through the front doors, not very quietly at that. He had expected at least a decapitated head or something. He had heard (and saw crime scene photos) about the horrors that the Syndicate left in their wake, but there wasn't even a drop of blood.

…did Sapnap maybe get the wrong address? (He hoped not. The Association would punish him for the imperfection.)

He had mourned some part of his sanity that would get stolen by the Association for his misstep, before he saw Dream literally being flung through a metal door. A metal door. A fucking. Metal. Door.

Sapnap immediately went to his friend's side, but not before registering the menacing steps of the villain that he could only recognize as the Blood God himself. Worry wrecked Sapnap for a moment as he wondered if Dream had died. He instinctively checked Dream's pulse, feeling the tension in his shoulders release once he heard the steady beat of his heart.

Dream definitely had a concussion, a couple broken bones, maybe even internal bleeding, but he was alive.

"Hullo," the Blood God greeted casually once his menacing steps stopped just after he stepped over the rubble that used to be the metal door, as if there wasn't blood staining his villain attire (Dream's blood on his villain attire)... as if he wasn't a villain that was definitely going to kill Sapnap if he didn't do something about it. 

Sapnap let his flames escape his body, releasing the constant pain of keeping it underneath his skin. He knew he should've learned how to ignore the pain by now, but he was hyper aware of everything happening to him — especially after he started to make his own decisions, form his own opinions. Still, his flames were a part of him. They bended to his will.

The Blood God was an opponent no hero wanted to face. He knew that his chances of making it were even lower than Dream's, considering that Dream was a better combatant than Sapnap was… and Sapnap was doing it alone.

"You're the green teletubby's partner, right?" the Blood God casually said.

"Green teletubby?" Sapnap repeated incredulously, not even trying to stop the laughter (and a couple snorts) falling out of his mouth after the initial shock left him. The Blood God didn't make a single comment, nor moved a muscle. He didn't know if this was a good or bad sign. Instinctively, Sapnap flexed his fist — summoning his flames to burn even hotter than it already was. (And he'd lie if it didn't feel good, to let out the fire.)

"Hm," the Blood God questioned, "how can you consistently keep the fire running without a fuel source?"

Sapnap blinked. The Blood God blinked back (probably; Sapnap could barely see his eyes through the boar mask, but he thought he saw a blink). "I don't know, man. I just… use it."

"Hm."

"Are… are you going to fight me?"

The Blood God tilted his head slightly to his own right, studying Sapnap for another split second. "Nah," he casually remarked, "you actually cooperated, unlike green teletubby." Sapnap snorted again. The Blood God's gaze on him felt almost suffocating, but he didn't know what that really meant. He just knew that he was spared from fighting the Blood God for at least today. "Your stance is acceptable."

"Thanks?" Sapnap startled, jerking his head backwards. "Wait, what did you mean by–?"

As if on cue, Sapnap saw 404 glitching through the adjacent wall, soon followed after the Angel of Death and Siren. But, fuck, that was the Angel of Death. 404 was somehow alive. He looked heavily injured, but he had seemed to manage to dodge the deadliest strikes. The problem was that the Angel didn't look like he was taking any of this seriously, and Siren was simply strutting past as if none of this concerned him.

"Blood, why is, uh, Sipsip still alive?" Siren asked, not even hiding the disdain he felt towards Sapnap.

Also, rude. That wasn't his name. "My name is Sapnap," he bristled, only to earn a dismissing wave of Siren's hand. Sapnap hated his life. It wasn't like he was in any position to make demands, not when Dream was unconscious behind him, 404 was injured and being beaten into a corner, and there were three villains, not even winded or out of breath, and only one of him and an injured 404.

Blood God answered simply, "He answered my questions."

"And that's the only reason— you know what," Siren exasperatedly complained, "I'm not going to ask."

The Angel of Death simply pushed 404 into the same corner that Sapnap was in, using strategic swipes of his feline-like talons (because the guy could just pick-and-choose what animal traits he wanted; lucky bastard). He had been silent thus far, but the sound of his wings moving him back a few feet from the three heroes was pretty hard to miss.

Sapnap risked taking a look at 404's state, only to find that he was bleeding a bit much… and that was probably not good, at all. Dream was unconscious and definitely had a concussion. He'd be surprised if Dream didn't have one, actually.

The Angel of Death said something, too low for Sapnap to hear, but Siren and Blood God definitely heard him. The Blood God looked slightly annoyed, if that was possible. Siren audibly groaned, turned to Sapnap, and said, "Stay where you are."  

Sapnap's body was struggling against itself, as the fire in his veins burned in retaliation to the command. He wanted to move, but he felt like he was underwater. His body wasn't listening to him. He didn't know why he needed to stay where he was until he saw the Blood God throw a sword in Sapnap's direction. It felt incredibly fast, yet slow. He hadn't even completely registered the sword being thrown until he looked down and saw a small pool of blood forming where the sword had impaled him.

Oh. Sapnap thought hazily, just before the pain kicked in. This is inconvenient.

He felt his body collapse backwards, shifting the sword a little in his stomach. It didn't feel very pleasant. He heard something in the distance, maybe sirens, and he remembered that Siren's outfit looked like it came out of a Hot Topic. He giggled, or he thought he giggled. He saw a few white-ish blurry figure above him. That was odd. The Resident really liked to stabby-stab him more. That's not right. The Resident is touching him, again. He can't do anything. How did the Resident even get here? Maybe he has magic. He giggled. The Resident has magic, like a fairy. Maybe the Resident can magic him a donut. He really wants a donut- oh, nevermind, he thinks that the sword inside him would make it hard to eat a donut. But he wants one. The Resident liked him. He said so, so he'd probably give Sapnap a donut if he asked.

At least the Resident wasn't actively doing the stabby-stabby like he normally did.

That was a plus.

The next thing he remembered was black.

—

Meanwhile, on the top floor, a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed boy knelt on one knee in a tall room with an echo chamber. It kept its head down, listening closely to every single command that the Association's representative was telling it. Failure was unacceptable. When it was permitted, it stood up and walked out of the room. It passed by a decorative side table, staring at its reflection for a momentary lapse of judgment.

In his reflection, it saw itself. It saw the hopeless, dead look in the same eyes that had been full of hope so long ago.

Freefall looked at itself in the mirror and wondered when it started not to care that he had blood on his hands, that it used to be a person but now was just a tool. It didn't know when it stopped caring about the boy in the mirror.

...

...

...

That was a lie. It knew exactly when it stopped caring. It was the day that they cut it open, the day that they tore open its ribcage to shove more metal inside of itself.

He had almost made it out of the facility, but almost didn't cut it. He failed, and now he wasn't even a them . He wasn't even a human.

Freefall didn't know where its traitorous thoughts came from. It forgot, again, that it isn't human. It was an it. It was a tool, an object. It must stop thinking on its own. It isn't supposed to think on its own. It must stop calling itself a him. 

He winced as his head felt like it was exploding. He faltered for a moment, shaking. He could barely stand it. He felt like his head was burning. It hurt so bad. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

It blinks.

It crosses the hallway to reach the elevator. It shall complete the task given to it. The Association doesn't condone failure, and it never fails. A knife forms in its hand, blood trailing slightly down its arm. It flips the knife in its hand mindlessly. It will kill.

It does not remember what it was thinking about.

Chapter Text

The next thing Sapnap remembered was bright lights overhead, only for it to sink back into blackness. It felt like no time at all when he opened his eyes again, but this time he was in a white-colored room with a bed mimicking the ones you'd find in a hospital. Sapnap's eyes blinked slowly as his mind took note of everything around him in a painfully slow way.

"Oh, you're awake," a voice to Sapnap's right said, and Sapnap subtly flinched away from the noise. It didn't help that his head felt like it was exploding. His reflex to wince had long since disappeared, so he just turned his head to whoever was speaking to him. He remembered being stabbed, but his stomach didn't feel as bad as he thought it would.

A black mask was covering the person on the cot. The person had a masculine figure and a cast on two of his legs. He looked adjusted to sitting on his so-called bed. Sapnap couldn't help but evaluate the stranger, feeling almost like a stray cat bristling whenever another stray cat encroached on his territory.

"Sapnap, right?" the stranger said with a smile — well, Sapnap could hear the smile, even if the black mask obscured the person's mouth entirely. Seeing the mask, Sapnap noticed his own mask on his face. The Association really took the always wear a mask policy to another level. Sapnap wouldn't be surprised if he had almost died. He certainly had never gotten that injured before, and he had been sent to the Room on many occasions.

The only thing Sapnap managed to do was clear his throat, attempting to speak but finding his throat a bit parched. Instead, he nodded his head a little bit to reply.

"I'm Royal. It's nice to meet you, roomie." His voice was a calming baritone. It didn't remind Sapnap of anyone in particular, but it was comforting nonetheless. It wasn't Dream's voice, but it was a comforting timbre still.

Sapnap slowly blinked, seeing an IV connected to his arm, feeding him something — probably painkillers, now that Sapnap was properly thinking about it. "Nice to meet you too?" he replied in more of a question, surprising himself with how hoarse he sounded. There was no real way for Sapnap to look around to see if there were bugs or security cameras watching, so he forced his hazy mind to continue playing his role, the characterization that the Association had given him.

"And I've been wondering, is that a stab wound? None of the doctors answer me when I ask," Royal asked him. 

Sapnap didn't trust his head to nod, not when he felt like his head was imploding. Instead, he replied, "Yeah. Got stabbed." Sapnap added after a moment of deliberation, "by the Blood God… and that sword hurts like a bitch."

"M'sorry that happened to you, Sapnap," Royal genuinely said, "If it's any consolation, the Angel of Death threw me off a four story building and that is why my legs are like," he motioned to his broken legs, " this . Well, I was more or less paralyzed a few weeks ago, so this is a huge improvement." Royal Sapnap couldn't help but laugh, even if his headache was growing and the pain in his abdomen was slowly increasing. He had thought that his use for the Association was over since he failed, but the Association still bothered to save him… and they saved Royal, who Sapnap had never seen in the news articles before… at all, and he'd been given the same courtesy.

Before Sapnap could dwell on his growing suspicion, the door slid open to reveal a familiar smiley face mask. Dream froze for a millisecond. It was such a subtle tell that no one else but Sapnap (who knew him better than the back of his own hand — he probably said this phrase more than he's even looked at his own hand, honestly) would be able to notice. With someone else in the room (and Sapnap knew that Dream couldn't reveal what he was feeling currently, but when his best friend came to his bedside and didn't hesitate to take Sapnap's hand to squeeze it, Sapnap knew that Dream had been worried. He probably either came as soon as he heard Sapnap was awake or this was a regular visit from Dream. 

At least they could still pass off this closeness as parts of their personas, but it was probably tiptoeing a very dangerous line.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Dream greeted him evenly, not betraying any tone that would indicate that he cared about Sapnap more than what he needed to give, with a smile in his voice that sounded fake and a look in his eyes that looked like it came right out of acting class.

"Thanks, Dreamy-pie," Sapnap said with a shit-faced grin on his face (which could look like a half-smile for all he knew — Sapnap knew he was on heavy painkillers, after all).

Sapnap tried to match the level of acting prowess as his friend, but the calming effect of his friend was probably too noticeable to be passed off as a part of the act. Sapnap hoped no one noticed. 

When Dream rolled his eyes and Sapnap dared to look like he found joy in annoying Dream. Sapnap tried to get Royal's reaction. Sapnap, and now Dream, were left vulnerable in front of a complete stranger who Sapnap was struggling to read, who Sapnap had never even heard of, who still needed to be vetted by Sapnap's instincts properly when he wasn't high on painkillers and his judgment was obviously impaired.

(All Sapnap could feel underneath the buzz of sleepiness and loopiness was an ever-present fear, the feelings of hands trailing up and down his body, the thought of being treated as less than human and being violated. The feelings that told him that he didn't like it, that he didn't want it, that his body was reacting to something he didn't want. He didn't know it was wrong. He only knew he didn't like it… until he watched the movies and found out that what he was experiencing wasn't good , wasn't normal , wasn't okay . But he wasn't in the Room with sedatives forced into his bloodstream. He was in– he was here. In a hospital. Like the movies. It was okay. He was okay. )

His best friend seemed oblivious to Sapnap's internal conflict. Dream continued without a care, "I was waiting for you to wake up to tell you the news. We've received an apartment. I'll text you the address when you get discharged. 404 and I have already claimed our rooms." Sapnap was about to have his eyes fall out and his jaw dislocate because he couldn't have been unconscious for long enough that they got an apartment . They had been heroes for barely any time in the grand scheme of things and both of them had been expecting a huge wait for that step. 

(Part of Sapnap thought that they'd just never give them somewhere else to live, to keep an eye on Dream and Sapnap.)

"How long have I been out?"

"Three weeks," Dream immediately replied. Sapnap laughed at first. Because it had to be a joke.

It wasn't.

Sapnap frowned at Dream. "Oh… you're actually serious," Sapnap said. There was no way that Sapnap hadn't missed a lot of things. Maybe Dream and 404 got closer while Sapnap was unconscious— maybe Sapnap was replaced entirely by 404 which could very possibly have happened because he didn't know how much he missed–-

S T O P .

He couldn't think like that. Dream was his best friend. His best friend wouldn't cast Sapnap aside for 404, someone they knew for a few weeks— but now Dream knew 404 for much longer while Sapnap was unconscious so they could be anything at this point and Sapnap wouldn't know.

Ignoring the burning insecurity bubbling underneath his skin, Sapnap plastered a smile that Dream immediately honed in as fake, or at least Sapnap thought that Dream figured Sapnap out considering the judgemental pop of Dream's knees when he shifted his stance. 

Sapnap felt scrutinized, but they both knew that they wouldn't couldn't get into an argument in front of someone else — not when it could get back to the Association. Sapnap doubted that they'd kill Dream considering that there was no real way to get him out of the spotlight with no obvious injuries, but it would be easy to make Sapnap disappear.

They could just make a medical excuse, like something went wrong in his recovery that the doctors could do nothing about and therefore had to retire early.

But the looming threat of death was like a knife to their throat, making it impossible for either of them to make a move even if they wanted to.

"I need to get on patrol. Glad you're actually awake this time," Dream told Sapnap, staring directly into Sapnap's eyes, almost begging for Sapnap to get some sort of silent message. Sapnap wished he could say that he knew what the message was, but he had no idea. He just knew that Dream wanted to say something to him without their audience. Royal didn't seem malicious and his instincts weren't giving him any warning bells, but Sapnap didn't know why.

It could be the fact that his body grew used to Royal's presence. Y'know, since Sapnap was unconscious and all.

(A new hero, maybe? It was always a possibility.)

Dream turned his back, shoulders tense and Sapnap had no doubt that Dream wasn't looking forward to leaving Sapnap's side. He never liked when Sapnap had gotten hurt when they were training, so Sapnap maybe-nearly-dying may have made his mother-hen instincts dial up to an eleven. Sapnap gave him a short wave with the arm that didn't have an IV sticking in it.

His best friend didn't see the wave, but that was hardly the point.

The door slid shut, and Sapnap knew it would probably be a while until he saw Dream again. They had to make it seem like they were close, yes, but they also had to make it seem like they didn't actually care about each other. The different layers of how they were expected to act completely contradicted each other, but it wasn't like Sapnap could do anything about it. There were subtle tells that they had to hide from the Association. 

Just in case they realized that the two of them weren't all they seemed.

He still didn't know if he could trust Royal or not. Every bone in his body saw him as a friendly face, but even with the heavy sedatives, Sapnap could only hear the voice in his head that told him not to trust Royal. It was a clash of the instincts that he had grown to trust. His body was tricking him, or his brain was — or maybe they were both right. Sapnap wasn't perfect. He was dangerous.

Sapnap was capable of a lot of things. He– he murdered a whole family and kidnapped children (like Dream, wide-eyed and scared, innocence wiped from their being because of blood on their hands) to live a life controlled by the Association. Sapnap was capable of it. It didn't mean he liked it, but he could do it. Royal could be the same way. Not good, but not entirely evil. Somewhere in the middle.

There was a large part of Sapnap that wanted to leave the evil behind, but everyone and their mother knew that the likelihood of Sapnap washing the blood of the people who were already dead to his hands was reduced to ashes. He didn't want to embrace the bloodshed, but there was no repentance for the evil he had committed to save his own skin. It was selfish, and it wasn't good — but he didn't go out of his way to kill, and that was something that he could acknowledge was in the area in between being good and being evil.

Sapnap's attention snapped to his roommate as soon as he heard Royal's intake of breath. "You guys got an apartment really fast," Royal commented as the monitors beeped consistently. "It took me almost half a year to get one."

So. Royal wasn't a new hero. Support team who got in the middle of a sticky situation?

(Honestly, he's pulling out these excuses from his ass. He had no idea what was actually the case. For all he knew, Royal was a hero-in-training, or at least that would be what the public would know them as. Maybe Royal was on a black ops team since those were in the movies and all? It could be so many different things. There wasn't one answer unless Sapnap got the guts to ask for one, and he didn't have those guts. Dream was the brave one. Sapnap had always been a coward.)

Something about this entire situation rubbed him the wrong way, but Sapnap didn't know what it was that was making his body tense and his mind seek out every exit in his vicinity, despite the fact he could barely move his body without wanting to wince. (They aren't allowed to show weakness.) Part of him wanted to summon a flame and kill Royal, because he knew that something about Royal's existence was a threat. 

"So what do you do for the Association anyway?" Sapnap dared to ask.

(There was a part of him that felt primal fear when faced with this nearly crippled roommate of his, but had a casual conversation with a villain, the same one who had almost killed him. He hadn't even felt threatened, not really. He only felt a wave of protectiveness as he did his best to shield his partners from further harm. He didn't feel scared, yet he could feel the goosebumps on his skin rise in the presence of someone who was, for all intents and purposes, incapacitated. Sapnap didn't know why he felt scared. The Association never accepted any fear. It was weakness. Why was Sapnap feeling weakness? He needed to stop before they sent him to the R–)  

He couldn't do the whole… murdering thing here though, not when they still abided by the Association's rules. They weren't supposed to kill each other — not like they were encouraged to do back in the facility. They were encouraged to spill blood. He was encouraged to scorch and reduce his opponents to ashes. If fire could turn into a bloody red, Sapnap's fire would've turned a bloody red a long time ago.

It made him feel sick to know that he had killed so many children like himself, whose names he hadn't even bothered to remember or take note of unless they were a threat against his spot as the best. Sapnap before Dream was an asshole, but he still didn't know, not really, if the Sapnap after Dream turned into something else. He still sacrificed every life to get himself and Dream to the other side  and the worst part of it all was that Sapnap didn't regret it a single bit. He would do it all over again if he had to.

Every drop of blood on his hands would permanently be etched into his soul, and he didn't even regret it. He felt sick and he felt horrified with himself when he thought about the night he murdered an entire innocent family, but he would do it all over again.

Sapnap was a horrible, selfish bastard. He didn't deserve to live, but he was too much of a coward to stop living. He was too much of a coward to do anything but channel all of his bravery into protecting Dream, into taking the hits and the beatings, to acting as a fiery barrier between Dream and the rest of the world.

It might be a bit fucked up of him to acknowledge that he wouldn't hesitate to lay his life down for Dream, but pull away from sacrificing his life for anything else.

He was a coward. He was selfish. Most importantly, the primal instinct that they could never quite beat out of him kept screaming at him that Royal was dangerous. More dangerous than any of the Syndicate, more dangerous than the Teachers, than the Trainers, than the Resident.

Sapnap didn't know why.

(The other part of him told him to spill out every secret that he had to a stranger. Royal's entire demeanor made Sapnap feel safe, and safety wasn't something that Sapnap felt often.)

"Mmm," Royal contemplated aloud with a hum. He answered carefully, "I'm a hero from the seventh division." 

(That didn't explain jack shit.)

Feigning ignorance to the confusion and dread pooling in his own stomach, Sapnap chatted with Royal for hours. They got along, surprisingly. It was easy for Sapnap to like Royal, even if he felt a sense of danger around him. Still, the easy-going nature of his assigned roommate was enough for Sapnap to feel a little relaxed, even if the part of his brain screaming danger out get out didn't let him relax fully. It probably didn't help that the flames burning underneath his skin were begging to be let out, feeling unstable from disuse — plus, even if his body was relaxing around Royal, his flames reacted to the tension and adrenaline-infused response that Sapnap felt. If he felt unsafe, the fire would beg to be let out to set the world aflame. If Sapnap felt safe, they would dial down to a simmer. It was probably the only reason that the fear response had never been fully trained out of him, even if he wanted it to be almost as badly as the Association did.

It took their many conversations to allow Sapnap's mind to come to the conclusion that Royal was safe (like Diamond, like Halo — and even they, unfortunately, weren't immune to the inherent distrust he had in everyone but Dream – even if the Royal situation was more out of fear than distrust). Slowly but surely, he had only enough tension in his body to excuse the instinctive drive to fight to survive, the instinct that was drilled into them from the first day they hit the mat.

Still, if Sapnap was attacked, he'd try to live. It was in his nature. He didn't know how to relax, to let himself be hurt. The only times he could think that he ever did was in the Room when he was drugged and helpless—

(His fire burned, screaming to protect Sapnap. But Sapnap could barely even blink without using all of the energy in his body. His fire burned, and his lungs filled with water as he was forced under again and again and again .)

Sapnap experimentally prodded at his fire, internally of course. It had been boiling over after the fire that the new hero trio had stopped just the… other day, or week, or month. (His sense of time is skewed, okay!) He had been gradually letting some of the flames out during patrol, but he couldn't necessarily go all out on a mugger who quivered at the very sight of a hero with gifts that could cause genuine damage, which was unlike most civilians and criminals who either had a mundane gift or none at all.

(Weakness is not tolerated. He could not show that his body was screaming in pain, from his fire being fueled overwhelmingly.)

Even if the Association sent him on missions to assassinate families, he could never be violent anywhere that the media or civilians could see him. They would brand him as evil, as unworthy of being a hero, and he'd be disposed of if he was no longer useful. He couldn't chase the high of letting free every subdued flame, no matter how good it felt. He wasn't a person, not in the eyes of the Association. Selfish wants had no place in his life, just like he could not — would not — lose his careful control over the fire bubbling underneath his skin. The fire was chasing him like a pack of rabid wolves, licking at his heels as Sapnap narrowly escaped them. Still, those wolves were Sapnap's wolves — the ones he tamed, the ones he loved. Those wolves were his. 

Urging the fire in his veins to calm, if only for a little while longer, Sapnap cracked a poor joke at 404's expense, earning a laugh from Royal.

All gifted humans had one common perk: they had accelerated healing. Some more than most, of course, but the general consensus was that they all healed faster than the ungifted, the normal citizens. Sapnap would be out of here quick enough, just like how Royal had jumped back from being nearly paralyzed entirely in a few months. (Sapnap wouldn't be surprised if Royal had actually been paralyzed, and his body simply stitched itself together during surgery or whatever the Association did to keep them all alive and well.)

He'd be able to light a flame soon enough.

Sapnap would just have to be patient. He could not, under any circumstances, let a single soul alive know that it hurt to keep the fire contained inside of him.

If word reached the Association, it was a sure death sentence. After all, they trained the pain response out of him when he was old enough to take down someone twice his size.

—

It was only another two weeks before Sapnap was well enough to be discharged entirely. Royal seemed a little sad, if not regretful, that Sapnap wouldn't be around as much anymore. Sapnap barely registered the fact that he said the words, but he offered to come around and visit if not to keep Royal from going absolute batshit insane without a single person to converse with. Royal just gave him a grateful smile, and Sapnap wondered how his body even registered Royal as a threat to begin with.

He registered Diamond, Halo, and so many others as possible threats — because he was a paranoid fuck, mostly because of Dream… and yet he also had this part inside of him that said to trust them, but that voice was nowhere to be found. He couldn't even reach out to find that voice, the instincts that guided him throughout his life perfectly. His body reacted to the probable danger, and his mind was overthinking as normal, but he couldn't find the voice at all.

More or less, it had been the strangest couple weeks of his life. He was without the instinctive gut feeling that never steered him wrong, and it hadn't even properly come back until he was around Dream and 404 again. It was almost as if it had taken a vacation, deeming Royal's presence as acceptable conditions to take a night off (it was more than a few nights, but you get the point).

Royal had been friendly, funny, and even willing to answer any questions Sapnap had for him. Sapnap, as a rule, didn't talk about the Association around anyone but Dream — and the Circle as well, he supposed… they did join the club of sorts after all. Still, there was plenty to talk about without the Association. Missions, likes and dislikes (even if Sapnap was sure that everything out of their mouths were fake, scripted, and in their files), and pretty much anything that wasn't Association-based.

Sapnap still had no idea what the big deal was with the divisions, but for the sake of his newest friendship, he didn't ask. He assumed that he was in the first division… if the conversation at the Circle meeting (also known as: the only time Sapnap wasn't in the hospital during one of their meetings) was any indication. Maybe he wasn't, but he never exactly had the time to ask. Sapnap would be sure to ask Dream all these burning questions once they were behind closed doors.

There were a few things that he knew about the divisions. He knew that the… the youngest one of them, Turbo (if memory serves him correct, that was his name), was in the second division. Sapnap had no idea what they did in the second division, but Turbo had implied (well, flat-out stated) that the second division as a whole was brainwashed. If there were more divisions, it would be safe to assume the reason that the Circle had none among them was because their brainwashing ran deeper.

It was that, or they were divisions that were too separated to be able to make any sort of plans.

…what was the purpose of the divisions anyway? To divide them amongst themselves, to pit them all against each other? Was it to control them? What was the reason that they had at least seven divisions?

Sapnap knew that the facility had been organized rigidly, almost obsessively. He had expected it to be the same when he got out, but he had much more freedom out here. Yet, the rigid systematic aspect of the Association followed them everywhere, didn't it?

"Sap?" Dream called out as Sapnap startled to Dream's hand warming his shoulder. Sapnap hadn't even realized that Dream had even touched him. That– that was concerning. Were the doctors sure that he didn't have any brain damage from all of the blood loss? "I lost you for a moment there. You can't get lost."

Forcing his gaze to meet Dream's, Sapnap swallowed any urge to make a snappy comeback as he did for years upon years. It was harder now, though — since now, he knew what it felt like to be able to make those remarks without being immediately backhanded.

He didn't say a word because Dream's eyes reflected worry. His words, though carefully chosen, presented the worry on a platter to Sapnap. 

No one simply zoned out from reality without consequences. It could get you killed, or worse… sent to the room. These were symptoms, no, these were reactions that had been methodically removed from their bodies through trial and error — through broken bones and bloodied hands. Reacting in the way that Sapnap had just done would've ended badly back in the facility. The ever-hovering fear didn't leave him (it never did), but relaxing the way that he had just done?

Sapnap was basically begging to get killed.

They weren't even, technically, out of the eyesight of the Association.

"I'm good," Sapnap replied, trying to project as much confidence and assurance as he could with his voice. "Just, my roommate. Gave me a lot to think on, that's all."

Dream's eyes surveyed him warily, as if he didn't quite believe Sapnap — but both of them knew better than to pry any further.

They'd get to it once they were safe in the privacy of their own homes, their own haven amongst the hell they called living.

—

The apartment was nothing special. They each had their own rooms, they had false identities with a civilian family that was very obviously Association-affiliated considering the meticulous way that the Association organized their entire operation.

Of course, people were flawed and the Association — as inhumane as they are, as inhumane they treat others — were no exception to the law of the world. People live, people die, and people aren't perfect. It's as written into the core of the world as gravity is on earth. The Association was flawed, and that was why the Circle managed to slip through the cracks.

(Maybe— maybe, maybe it was calculated by the Association, to give them all hope only to cruelly tear it away and leave them desolate, unable to escape hell. Or maybe they knew about the Circle and let them run around because it wasn't a threat to them, because they're confident that they could overpower hundreds of heroes scattered around the world.)

Sapnap had spent the first couple days going easy on patrol, careful not to rip any remaining stitches. At the very least, the Association had basically shoved him out of the hospital room and told him to not come back anytime soon for any reason. Sapnap didn't know how to do stitches on his own, even if it… looked easy enough — and he doubted that Dream or 404 could stitch Sapnap back together if he ripped any stitches.

At least most of the skin was healing together. That was the perks of the faster regeneration qualities that gifted people had. Even civilians with an innocent power like making water boil on command (and nothing else) had the benefits of faster regeneration, regardless of any outside factors.

It was probably why the hospital had less visits from gifted people than the non-gifted.

Anyway, Sapnap enjoyed the apartment. It wasn't grand by any means, but it was enough of a front that their neighbors thought the three of them were college students bunking together and sharing the rent. It probably helped that all three of them ordered take-out obsessively.

None of them knew how to cook. None of them had to learn. They weren't trained to cook, not like some of Sapnap's early classmates (before he was on track for heroism) who ended up going to a more… service based training, even if all Sapnap had to prove it was the fact that he swore that some of the people at Headquarters felt familiar to him. (Though, Sapnap is starting to think that maybe his instincts can be wrong. They seem to be getting wrong more often nowadays.)

On his off-hours (since they don't get vacation days, not like in the movies), Sapnap visited the hospital to see Royal. The hero was looking better and better each time, and Sapnap couldn't help but smile whenever the two of them got into another conversation. If Sapnap didn't know any better, he would say that Royal appreciated him being there — and Sapnap could swear that Royal did appreciate him being there, even if the signals were being crossed in his mind. One side argued with him, saying that what he was doing was dangerous and unnecessary while the other one just said that this was what friends did.

(One side told him that the Association was going to act if he kept doing this, and whatever they did, Sapnap wouldn't enjoy. The other side told him that they didn't care. This was the persona they were assigned, and they were never allowed to break character.)

—

It was a nice day. A great one, even. Sapnap had gotten the pizza from the delivery guy, gave him a stingy tip since their cover was, in fact, broke college students even if the delivery guy looked more and more ticked off every time he came by without receiving a good tip.

Sapnap was mid-bite of his slice when he noticed it.

404 looked as pale as a white sheet. Without those stupid goggles obstructing half of the guy's face, it was easy to tell that there was pure unadulterated fear coursing through his entire body.

All Sapnap had mentioned was the seventh division and Royal to receive the most extreme reaction that he'd seen from his normally clinically cold partner. Dream, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the turmoil that 404 was going through. In fact, Dream didn't notice to the point that he casually took the slice of pizza in his hand to his mouth for another bite.

Maybe Sapnap shouldn't have mentioned this when they were eating lunch because he was half-convinced that 404 was about to throw up.

"You… your friend was from the seventh division?"

"That's what I said," Sapnap repeated slowly, trying to understand what was so bad about it. He knew that there was some sort of purpose with the divisions, but he couldn't imagine what was worse than being killers for 404 to be petrified of the seventh division.

404 cursed under his breath which was very much unlike him – his persona's penchant for not cursing being applicable just as much to 404's actual habits, and Dream looked up from his food. "Should we be concerned, 404?"

"Sapnap," 404 said, ignoring Dream entirely which made a sick feeling of relief flood Sapnap's entire body , "you cannot be friends with someone with the seventh division."

No matter how numb he felt about all of this, Sapnap echoed the only question that came to mind, "Why?"

"The seventh division? They're known to be Hunters," 404 explained as if that explained the questions that were very evident on Sapnap and Dream's face. To be fair, no one talked about whatever the fuck the Hunters were. Almost too quiet to hear, 404 whispered hoarsely, "They hunt. They hunt, they kill, and their prey are the heroes that try to leave."

Nothing but the sound of the AC sounded in their apartment. It was as if time had frozen for all of them.

"Fuck." Dream heaved out what sounded like a bitter scoff, "Sapnap, you can't even heal in the medical wing without causing trouble."

Sapnap felt something that almost made him physically recoil, but he ignored it — because they were trained not to flinch, not to show an ounce of weakness. Rather than acknowledging whatever the feeling was, he exclaimed defensively, "Look, it's not my fault that the guy was actually nice to talk to!"

From the look that Dream gave him, Sapnap knew it was time to shut up.

As if the exchange hadn't happened at all, 404 took his non-pizzafied hand and ruffled Sapnap's head despite the fact that the height difference was barely there. (That's a lie, but let him believe what he wants, okay?) Sapnap wrinkled his nose in disgust and pushed 404's hand away. Dream rolled his eyes, and leaned against 404's side casually — as if the conversation before had never happened.

Unnatural shadows moved at the edge of his vision. He didn't know if he imagined it. He never does. 

He doesn't know if it actually happened, or if it was just a dream.

He bids his… friends goodnight and wills himself to sleep. He had to get good at it. The resting periods were never long in the facility and he needed every second he could grasp within his hands, even if now he definitely had much more time to rest than he did before.

(But he can't dilly-dally. They'll know, and they'll get mad. They always know. They always know and they put him back in the— no, these thoughts wouldn't put him to sleep. Think happy thoughts. Dream's wheezing laughter. 404's pouty face. Royal's light-hearted jabs.)

Sapnap woke up with a bedhead and the taste of morning breath. He saw rays of sunlight hit the carpeted floor of his bedroom. Almost on autopilot, he rose from the bed, made it to a standard that the Teachers would be proud of, went to the bathroom, and stared at the eye bags that seemed to be permanently etched on his face. 

He hadn't slept well. He never did, honestly — but he had long since suppressed the screams. He had learned early on that if he screamed during the night, it only ended in more of his blood being spilled on the cold tiles in the Room. For a second, all he could see was the maniacal grin of the Resident as he looked down on Sapnap. Sapnap remembered the too-white teeth and the feeling of paralysis after the telltale pinprick of a needle. 

(He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to go. He didn't mess up. He was good. He wasn't bad. He was good. He was getting better. Please. He doesn't want to go.)

Sapnap could've sworn he could see him behind him. 

(Hands. Hands on his body. White-toothed grins and lungs full of water. Trails of blood dripping. Dripping. Dripping.)

Out of instinct, his body tensed and he prepared to put up a fight even if he knew he would eventually lose. He pivoted, ready to put up a fight even if the Teachers and Trainers would have him apprehended momentarily. He swung at empty air and his fist hit drywall. 

(Put up a fight. One day you'll win. One day you'll be able to win. They like it when you fight. They're proud when you fight. They think that it means you're learning. You are learning. You're going to win. One day, you will win.)

Slowly blinking, he stayed as composed as he could manage before pulling his hand back. proceeded to rub his left arm on instinct.

He knew that there was nothing he could do about the faint scar lines on his entire body, but the Resident had specifically carved out a message on Sapnap's arm, one that he still didn't understand — one that still made no sense to him. It looked like nonsensical scribbles to him, but he remembered the excruciating pain and each deliberate slice in his arm.

(He can't even scream stop . He can't even move an eyelid to blink. He feels every single thing. He can feel the warm hand on his thigh even though the scalpel on his arm kept cutting and cutting and cutting .)

It was almost like he was back in that moment. Sometimes, if his eyes unfocused and he felt like he stared into nothingness, he would be able to see the sharpness of the Resident's tools glinting in the corner of his eye. 

Sapnap pulled his fist, he ignored the pulsing pain and just stared at the mess he just made for something that wasn't even real.

He didn't know what was real or not.

Maybe he should just keep ignoring it. It wasn't an issue. He could put it in the box in his brain and never look back.

(He already put it in the box, and it was back. It always came back. He should just get rid of the key, but the key always just ends up back in his hands.)

Sapnap wrapped his hands and wondered distantly if this was what the Teachers were warning him about, if this was the weakness they were trying to destroy. Sapnap almost wished it had worked; he didn't like the feeling of weakness.

Sapnap made his way to training (and the nagging voice of Dream's lecture about safety) and he ran away from it like he ran away from everything. He was a coward and he knew it. If whatever it was was never acknowledged, then it wouldn't exist. He forced himself not to think about anything but the adrenaline of fighting even if his opponents weren't that great.

There was one hero that put up a decent fight compared to the rest. Maybe it was the fact that her touch disintegrated Sapnap's training clothes, but Sapnap snagged her from her hero partners to have more than the single spar. He didn't know how long they sparred, and Sapnap didn't even know who she was — not really. He'd seen her around, but she didn't seem popular enough to be mentioned in any news articles that Sapnap had read in his free time. When Sapnap and his newest sparring partner finally fell to the ground in exhaustion, Sapnap had a small feeling of comradery with a kindred spirit, a spirit that kept fighting until all of her energy was sapped from her.

"I'm Ender."

"Uh– 'm Sapnap."

"No shit sherlock. Everyone knows who you are."

Sapnap laughed.

("They hunt, they kill, and their prey are the heroes that try to leave. ")

Turning his head to what he swore looked like 404, he blinked away the sweat that dripped onto his eyes. 404 was there, but he certainly hadn't said anything.

(Lock the box. Throw away the key.)

Chapter Text

Nightmares haunted his sleep. This was a fact. What was also a fact was that Sapnap knew that Royal was the enemy — yet here he was, congratulating him on getting out of the hospital when they passed each other in the halls. To be fair, Sapnap knew that the seventh division was looking into heroes that would try to flee, but actually seeing it and knowing how his peers very literally shied away from any outsider as if they were a predator had been such a telling sign. It made Sapnap feel completely blindsided and stupid. For someone who had survived by reading the mood of the trainers and stepping in when Dream was about to be chastised, he hadn't known at all that the existence of the seventh division was something to be feared. 

But today had apparently been a special day, one that Sapnap had completely missed.

New heroes were being introduced to the world. 

Foolish, who had the power to control the dead — or more specifically, bones — had apparently made a bold impression in training. Sapnap hadn't been there, but he had heard about it once he entered the room.

Frost was unsurprisingly an ice-based hero. Elemental gifts weren't very rare, but the hellish training in the facility was enough for Sapnap to know that anyone who had survived this long had both strength and control over their gift. Aimsey, who Frost and Foolish had asked about, had apparently been another new hero who hadn't been transferred to the same area. Considering how people of all genders gathered in this training room, it was obvious — at least to Sapnap who had met both the technology kid from the second division and Royal from the seventh — that Aimsey had been sent to another division, not the first like her comrades.

They'd be lucky to see each other, let alone speak.

Sapnap and Dream had already been incredibly lucky to be partnered together, and the only reason they had been was since a higher up paired Sapnap and Dream together. Frost and Foolish had both been assigned to different teams, but neither protested. They probably hadn't grown up side by side like Sapnap had with Dream. He would bet money that they fought each other most of the time, rather than fighting together .

He couldn't stop a wry chuckle from his lips as he thought that he had been in the new heroes' exact position not too long ago. Barely a few months ago, he had been in their shoes. He had been the one lost and confused. He had been the one asking questions and wandering around like a newborn foal. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone who hadn't witnessed or experienced the facility, but he knew from the subtle questions as well as the blatant ones.

It depended on the persona they were assigned, and Sapnap had been more than happy to answer the questions they had if they approached him. Of course, he refrained from seeming too friendly — in the event that any seventh division member regarded it as suspicious, or if the Association was watching.

(As long as he could remember, they watched. They never stopped watching.)

"Do you know where they'd take her — Aimsey, I mean?"

Sapnap shrugged nonchalantly. "Beats me. I just patrol and train. She probably got sent to another division, but I'm not an expert in what each division does. You'd be better off askin' someone else."

"...thanks, that's… you've been really helpful."

"No problem," Sapnap said with a toothy grin. He then quirked an eyebrow, despite the fact neither of them could see it. "Say, are either of you up to spar?" 

Sapnap couldn't slack off. They couldn't think that Sapnap wasn't listening to them, wasn't obeying their rules. He didn't know if it was against any rule to tell the newcomers information. It seemed like before, the heroes that revealed anything new to Sapnap and Dream had kept it hush-hush. To avoid the Association's eyes, or maybe to stay out of sight of the seventh division.

(Unfortunately, it seemed like Sapnap was cursed to always be in the thick of it all.)

Either way, it didn't seem like it was the best thing to be openly aiding and abetting newcomers. Sapnap didn't quite grasp why they tried to keep quiet about a lot of this information, but the senior heroes had survived this long for a reason. Sapnap would be smart to follow their example, even if it wasn't in the same way that Diamond or Halo had done for him. They had been subtle about it, giving warnings with their eyes to shut up at certain times, or maybe they just wanted Sapnap to shut up.

That could be the real reason, now that Sapnap really thought about it.

Besides, Sapnap wouldn't risk it seeming like he had helped them just to help them. Method acting was apparently the Association's expectation of them, and Sapnap's — his persona may be a protective older brother type, but he didn't know how far the line went inside the headquarters. They were expected to still have a certain coldness to their personalities when cameras weren't watching.

Besides…

They always knew.

Always .

(So why didn't they realize that Sapap wasn't abiding by the rules, not entirely?)

Frost's potent ice aside, it felt off being in the training room for some reason. He didn't feel wrong by any means. His body was in peak condition for patrol later. He had even won multiple spars against Ender after sparring the newcomers (and winning since Sapnap was just that great), though once they tied — which had been a relief more than not. Sapnap needed to have a challenge to keep his skills sharp. But none of this explained why everything around him felt less lively, as if something was missing.

Sapnap knew that something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. His fire continued to burn under his skin. He could still use his flames, but there was a certain emptiness and lack of warmth in it. Not to mention that it felt like people around him felt murky and foggy whenever he tried to focus on them.

There was something wrong, but it had only lasted for moments before it went away. His fire burned even brighter and he narrowly dodged another attack from his sparring partner. It was as if the cold fire had never been there to begin with, and Sapnap lunged forward like a wild animal fighting for its life like he always did.

It was odd, yes, but unless it happened again, it shouldn't be so worrying… right?

—

It wasn't the only time. He should've known the second he thought that it wouldn't happen again and he was worrying too much that he only jinxed himself. His fire felt frozen to its core a few other times, but it was sporadic and completely random. It could happen in the middle of a patrol, or when he was taking a shower. The worst part of it all was honestly the fact that everyone felt dulled whenever his fire fell cold.

Sapnap couldn't feel presence as well as he did before. It almost felt like he was sick, but he had no headache — no aches at all, actually. Plus, gifted individuals don't get sick easily. Sapnap wasn't sick. He knew that much. There would be more signs that his fire turning cold — and he never had his fire turn cold before, even when he had been sick.

(The fact that he knew how to fight while sick wasn't relevant.)

It felt like all of his strengths were being sapped from him. Sapped from Sapnap— heh, that's actually sorta funn— he should probably shut up now. His brain wasn't being very helpful in figuring out why this was happening. He had never been the brightest, and his stint as the best had been short. Ignoring problems and stepping in to take a hit was his area of expertise. He didn't know technology like Dream did, know people, know things in general. Sapnap only knew the facility. Dream knew more than that.

Fuck, he was getting way off topic. Maybe it was his preservation instinct of running that was taking over his mind. Or maybe he just couldn't stop thinking.

It was the middle of the night and he couldn't fucking sleep. His fire turned cold more than once, and it was becoming more and more often. The dulled presences were more concerning. He identified people around him by sensing them, and it was like his body and mind were too groggy to process their presences anymore. But he didn't feel tired, or off except for the fact that he couldn't use his flames.

They were definitely connected somehow, the fact that they both went missing for a short time, but Sapnap wasn't the smartest kid in the room, 'kay? He had a few things that were a bit more important than the possibility that he could be losing his powe— look, finding a way to escape proceeded any of his personal troubles. He always was the one to drag Dream down and he refused to do it again, and again, and again.

Sapnap deemed that maybe wandering around in the kitchen of their apartment wasn't the smartest move at 3 in the morning, but he couldn't sleep and he needed to stress eat. His fire could appear in his hand for no reason, but it did make his metabolism a bit higher than typical gifted. It wasn't like stress eating would make him less of a skilled fighter, or stop meeting the strength/body standards the Association set for them… but—

"Sap?" murmured a half-asleep voice that Sapnap had not been expecting at all. 404 rubbed one of his eyes, maskless as most of them were in the comforts of their home (after checking for bugs and cameras, of course). "Why are you up at the crack of dawn?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"...dreams?" 404 asked quietly.

Sapnap shook his head. "Nah, just a lot to think about."

"Don't hurt yourself," 404 said so genuinely that Sapnap felt affronted, violated, and like his entire bloodline was insulted — which didn't mean much since Sapnap didn't know anyone with his genetics except for himself. But still! The audacity of this little shit!

Sapnap stammered out something that sounded like, "You– I, I'll have you know. I–" and it continued out for a few more sputters until 404 started bowling over with laughter. Sapnap gasped, scandalized, "Stop laughing!"

"You're so stupid, Sapnap," 404 said, wiping a very literal tear from his eyes. "So stupid."

"You're stupid."

404 started to stifle more laughter and ultimately fell to the terrors of having laughed so hard your stomach hurt. Sapnap was glad that the little shit was in pain. Served him right for laughing at Sapnap for thinking thoughts , which is a completely normal human thing to do—

Wait.

That was a joke, wasn't it.

He was so bad at social cues, holy fuck.  

Dream decided that this was the perfect time to awaken from his own slumber, walk into the room, and have his face twist in confusion. He centered himself much more quickly than Sapnap thought he'd ever seen Dream do, and Dream simply said, "Did anyone make breakfast, or do I have to cook?"

"Ah, fuck, I knew I forgot to do something," Sapnap muttered to himself, though he knew that the other two could hear him. Dream swung an arm around Sapnap's shoulder, and he felt the fondness seep from Dream's body into his skin. 404 on the other hand was dying of laughter, completely and entirely.

404 managed to wheeze out, "Sap— Sap, were you…" wheeze , "were you angsting so hard you couldn't ma…" 404 stopped talking just to catch his breath, "...make any breakfast?"

Sapnap immediately wished that 404 hadn't said anything. The arm around his shoulder tensed ever so slightly, and he knew that 404 unlocked the mother hen within his best friend. It was bad in the facility — well, as bad as mother henning could be in that nightmare — but Dream had practically turned into a feral animal when it came to mother henning Sapnap. Dream was a literal nightmare, and he didn't mean that as a joke.

Dream started to worry and fret over Sapnap while Sapnap spewed out the same old "I'm fine" and "404's over exaggerating again" — and it took a good ten minutes of lecturing and Dream hanging a blanket over Sapnap's entire body for the overly worried best friend of his to stop it.

…yeah, Sapnap was definitely not going to mention that during the one-sided conversation since Dream didn't fuckin' listen to whatever Sapnap said that his blood turned ice cold, and the fire that kept him warm had escaped him for more than the few seconds that it had before.

If Dream knew, Sapnap knew Dream would just worry. And it wasn't that big of a deal, really. It was a recent development, and it was sporadic. He could figure it out on his own.

"Dream, he's angsting again—"

"For fuck's sake, 404! I am going to strangle you," Sapnap threatened without any real bite in it, and it seemed that the smugness on that face wasn't just for show. 404 knew Sapnap wouldn't actually do anything, that little bi—

—

Sapnap hated patrol. He didn't hate many things. He didn't like those disgusting things called green beans — he never had to eat them before he became a hero, and he definitely hated it when Dream got in one of his moods that shut Sapnap out. He also hated the Association, but not with the same burning passion that he did when it came to green beans.

Honestly, he learned more about himself as a hero than he had when he was stuck in a classroom with other kids that he would likely help kill.

And the teachers and trainers had the audacity, the gall, to teach them about morals so that they would know how to act like a normal person in society, as if the fact that they killed their friends and near family regularly wasn't traumatizing enough. It was like they were waving it in their faces that they were being molded for a purpose, and it was one that required mass brainwashing and striking fear into those that didn't truly believe in the cause.

Now, he hated patrol. It was mundane, boring, and overall the bane of Sapnap's existence only topped by the dreaded green beans.

The only real perk about patrol was the fact that this was the time that they were the least monitored. They didn't have cameras right outside their homes, or a bug somewhere on their suit which, honestly, Sapnap had thought the Association would do to them. Maybe they were overconfident about their abilities to keep a tight leash on so many of those who would defect, or maybe they weren't overconfident. Maybe they were confident since they could control so many heroes who weren't brainwashed, not completely — or at all.

(They had to know they all didn't believe in the Association and whatever their goals were. The Association wasn't stupid. They couldn't be. Sapnap refused to believe that they didn't know. Because if they didn't, what was all of this fear for?)

"Oh, it's Sapsap," a familiar voice chirped right behind Sapnap's ear. Sapnap jumped forward and into a barrel roll, twisting his body to face the newcomer. It was only until he'd been snuck up on that Sapnap had noticed it. 

Familiar irritation made his way to his tongue. "It's Sapnap ." It was like Siren was designed to irritate Sapnap by some miracle. He never had much of a temper before — or at least not one that people could see.

The fire in his veins was cold and he couldn't feel anything, or anyone around him like he normally could— and this was the worst possible timing. It wouldn't be a big deal if he was combating a mugger, but— 

"Thought we killed you to be honest. Nice to see that you're not dead yet." The Siren smiled at him through his half-mask, and it was honestly the most creepy thing to witness.

And Sapnap had witnessed Dream stumble around without coffee.

"I wonder how deep their claws are in you," Siren wondered aloud, which was definitely against some sort of common sense when talking to an enemy. Which Sapnap was, you know, Siren's enemy.

Sapnap tried not to flinch when Siren slid forward in a smooth motion, to get into Sapnap's face ever so slightly. He failed which Siren definitely noticed if the fact the smile widened was any indication.

"Blood said that you were the most cooperative hero that he'd met. That's high praise from him. He was actually even a bit sad when he had to stab you."

"Uh– thanks?" Sapnap said, too flabbergasted and out of his depth to even comprehend what the villain was saying to him. In fact, all of this seemed like a fever dream. There was no way that Siren was just chatting with him casually, as if their villainous, evil trio hadn't nearly murdered him not too long ago. It was a bit demeaning, the way that Siren was talking to him, but it also felt so oddly familiar that he felt comfortable.

His fire was still gone. It was still cold. His body was still cold and he couldn't feel everything around him like he should normally. It was definitely longer than a few seconds. It was almost a relief when he felt it return, albeit like a truck had come to run over.

But this was not the time to panic about the fact he had lost contact with what made himself… himself, or to show weakness that he had lost himself. Siren, as flowery as his words were, wasn't an ally. He was the enemy, and Sapnap would be right to remember that. But he also felt this ache of want when he heard Siren speak, and not because he was craving death as tempting as it was until he remembered that Dream would be all alone and that was definitely not something Sapnap would ever do. 

The ache of want was not anything bad. He was— he knew it wasn't that bad, even if it was damning if he ever echoed his sentiments to the Association. He wished he could have the freedom to be a villain if he wanted to be one. That was what these villains were, free. That was something that Sapnap had only learned to taste once he left the facility, and it still wasn't the freedom that was considered normal.

It wasn't like Sapnap wanted to be a villain or anything. He just wished he had the choice. Assignments weren't his to choose, nor were kidnapping children and sending them to a fate that he knew was worse than death — because he experienced that fate, he grew up in it.

Existential crisis aside, Sapnap felt connected with himself again. The fire was hot and burning him from the inside out. He could feel around him like he could before. All was well. It was all good. It was fine. He could talk to Siren now, even if he wasn't sure he'd survive. At least now he had a fighting chance if the villain decided to kill him. His body tensed more when Siren got even closer to Sapnap.

"Will you answer my question?" Siren asked again, pulling away from being uncomfortably close to Sapnap's face. Siren's smile dropped from his face, and Sapnap hadn't noticed it happened.

(He was losing his touch. He was losing his touch. He was losing his touch. This was bad. This was so bad. He didn't want to be punished. He could do it. He could do it, he swore—)

"...sure?" Sapnap agreed even if he felt confused and tense and so, so convinced that he might die, and he was half-convinced Siren would snap his jaws at Sapnap at any moment and swallow him whole, or at least take a chunk of Sapnap before diving deep into the depths of the ocean. The Association never told him he'd have full conversations with the enemy instead of being slaughtered in battle. This was definitely not mentioned in the contract. If he had a contract, that is.

"Why aren't you attacking me?"

Sapnap pointed his thumb behind him, giving Siren the most deadpan of stares he could manage. The prickle of goosebumps on his neck told him that his intuition was right. One of Siren's buddies, whomever it was, wasn't very far away and watching them. Sapnap had tried to point in the general direction he felt the— the presence, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was. He only felt his instincts screaming that whoever was watching him was a fight that Sapnap couldn't win, even if Sapnap tried. Siren's gleeful smile returned.

"Blood was right. Even if you're a hero, you're a lot more agreeable than Gogy—" Sapnap didn't want to know who that was, or how that nickname came to be. It had to be a nickname, right? There was no way that they named a child Gogy unless they grew up in the facility. "You're even talking to me! I haven't talked with a hero in ages. They just glower at me and try to kill me. But it's fine, I always try to kill them back. Fuck the patriarchy and all that."

This guy actually had a few screws loose. Sapnap had no idea what he was on about. Patriarchy? Killing? Gogy? He was probably high on cocaine or something. Siren was a villain. Sapnap honestly wouldn't put it past the guy to be on drugs, or dealing them.

"Can I ask another question?"

Sapnap nodded slowly, eyeing Siren as closely as he could without seeming threatening. He knew he would definitely be dead if he seemed like a threat.

"Why are you a hero?"

Sapnap felt like ash crawled onto his tongue. The practiced mantra should've been harder to say when cameras weren't surrounding them on all sides, but all he could think about was the fact that if it got back to the Association, he— he didn't know. He just didn't want it to get back to them. If they knew, they probably— he didn't know what they'd do. Sapnap hadn't fucked up majorly here yet. They didn't have the Room here, probably. He probably would be okay. Probably be— he'd be fine if he told the truth, but he couldn't risk it.

(He hadn't survived this long by taking unnecessary risks. He hadn't survived this long by putting faith in anyone but Dream.)

The words fell nonetheless. "I want to help people." If Sapnap didn't know any better, he'd think that the look on Siren's face turned soft, pitying and sympathizing. It was a look that screamed that he understood, but that couldn't be the case. For fuck's sake, Siren actively ruined lives — not helping them. Sapnap couldn't humanize his enemy. He wouldn't be able to fight them if he did.

(They weren't human. They weren't human. Cut. Slash. Burn. Shoot. Kill. Kill. Kill . Blood on his hands that he could wash off with a good shower, and faces that he would forget. He had to forget, to survive. He had to climb. Sapnap had to be the best. He wouldn't be one of the heads that rolled, or any of the bodies he turned into nothing but a charred corpse.)

"That's a noble cause," Siren complimented him. "I like you, Sapsap." Sapnap didn't bother correcting him at this point. Sapnap or Sapsap , Siren was still the enemy and Sapnap shouldn't care what Siren thought of him — but for some reason, he felt all choked up and— "Don't go dying on us now. And don't get in the way, and we won't have to kill you."

Sapnap knew he probably shouldn't have said what he said, but he said it anyway. He had a persona to uphold. (He had morals that he believed in.) "If you're harming innocents, then I will get in your way." He believed it. Sapnap truly believed it. He wanted to help people, to atone for the blood on his hands. It wasn't a lot, but it was a start. He was stuck under the Association's thumb and the blood would never leave, but at the very least, he could help someone from getting hurt or killed when he patrolled.

(But most importantly, he didn't want to think about the fact he had no choice than to face them. He already knew that their trio had taken the media and the world of crime by storm. He already knew that Dream was the only one who stood any real chance, and Sapnap by default, against a member of the Syndicate. He didn't want to think about the fact he managed to make someone, he was going to fight to kill, human in his eyes. It was easier to rely on the lies, even if he was aware it was a lie.)

Siren's malleable smile turned stiff. He said simply, "I see. That's unfortunate." The easygoing personality from before had disappeared completely. "I'll see you next time, Sapsap."

He didn't know how he did it, but Siren managed to leave in such a dramatic and mysterious fashion while doing the most normal of things. Just… walking away. Sapnap let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding when he felt eyes leave his body, and the feeling of aloneness in the vast city despite the hustle and bustle of the daytime.

The familiar crackle of the comms allowed him to relax much more than he probably should've. The familiar voice of his best friend was enough for him to forget about the encounter enough that the hand behind his back had stopped shaking.

(Dream's voice washed over him just enough that Sapnap almost forgot about the fact that he had been disconnected from… himself, for longer than he had ever been, for longer than he'd ever felt the chill in his veins.)

—

@404stanandproud

hey,, i wrote down the script for anyone who likes it. omg have i turned into one of those people who post lyrics in the comment section except i do scripts?????? like one of those crime guys who type everything happening in the court

K "Hi, I'm Karl Jacobs from SlimeTime News! Today I have a surprise for you folks! I have some very special guests. Please welcome to the stage, Sapnap, 404, and… Dream!"

AUD applause.

 D "Thank you for welcoming us so warmly, Karl."

K "Now, I know it's a bit sudden — but there's a few questions that I'm pretty sure all of the 'Berg has been dying to know the answers to. Why did you partner up with 404? Where did you meet? I know you and Sapnap are childhood friends and you've said that 404 has felt like he's always been with you, but we barely know anything about our rising stars!"

D "Honestly, HQ didn't want to send only me and Sapnap out alone. Since we're childhood buds, they didn't want us to be too distracted."

S "Ridiculous, by the way. We'd never get distracted from our job! Rescuing cats from trees is our thing, you know?"

4 "Sapnap, I think you're proving headquarters completely right."

S "Shut. What do you know, goggle-face?"

AUD laughter.

K "Oh, Sapnap, the people were also wondering where you have been for the past few months."

S "Ah. We had a run-in with the Syndicate. I just got the brunt of it. Nearly died for this lovable idiot here."

4 "Shut."

D "We didn't want to worry anyone. It wasn't as serious as someone is making it out to be."

4 "He's our resident drama queen. It was a little boo-boo."

D "It looked pretty nasty though. We waited for it to heal before he came into public view again. Too bad that he still looks nasty. His face is like a lizard on steroids." (I DIDNT NEED THAT IMAGE IN MY HEAD HELP)

S "I know where you sleep."

AUD laughter.

K "Speaking of the Syndicate, are you planning to take them down?"

D "Of course. They've hurt a lot of people, and many I know. Sapnap here is included. His family were victims to one of their attacks a few years ago. My family took him in for a while, so I— we saw first hand how they not only take lives, but ruin them. The Syndicate are truly monsters."

K "Yes, they are." to Sapnap "I'm sorry for your loss."

S "It's fine. I miss them dearly, but… I think that they would be proud of me if they were still here. The Syndicate have hurt so many people other than me. I have the fortune of having a best friend, but so many people suffer from the aftermath, and are still suffering. I'd rather you direct your efforts to helping those affected by the attacks." (omg this precious baby??? yall im gonna cry thats so sad)

4 "Sapnap, I didn't know you could actually say something sensical." (404 pls ur killing me here im tryna mourn rn)

S "I know where you sleep t… Read more.

Read replies.

—

Sapnap found himself following the news regarding the new heroes more than he expected he would. They didn't have a lot of PR as of yet, not like how their team (now deemed "Dream Team" by the media, which was honestly offensive — what about Sapnap & Friends?) had their PR happen near instantaneously by the industry's standards. Frost and his partner, Punz, were pretty popular pretty quick. Punz was known not to take many partners for extended periods of time, but here Punz was, getting buddy-buddy with Frost like they'd known each other forever. Foolish and his partners, Captain Puffy and Rose, were flooded with a lot of jealousy from fanboys. It was very pitiful. At least Foolish was getting fangirls?

Aimsey, the hero they had gone around asking about, hadn't been mentioned in the news or even in passing anywhere online. There was no information about her. Sapnap probably shouldn't have been searching for any traces of her so obviously, but the building sympathy from the mere thought of being forcefully separated from Dream was enough for him to search.

If the Association knew about his search, they did not stop him.

Frost had fit in really well with the heroes. His persona was crafted to be pretty quiet and chill, which was the exact opposite of Sapnap's. Foolish was, well, a bit foolish — and a little goofy. It would be endearing… both of them, if not for the fact that Sapnap could tell that every word that fell from their lips and every little movement their body made wasn't what they truly felt or even wanted for themselves. 

Honestly, Sapnap felt that the Association's insistence on method acting had essentially sealed their fate. Sapnap felt closer to the persona Sapnap than he did with the facility's Sapnap, or who— or just who Sapnap was. To be fair, he didn't know who he was, not truly, but he knew enough that he felt like he was drifting farther from who he had been, and being crafted into what ( what , not who — because Sapnap was a product they put on a shelf, all dolled up and pretty so people would stare) they wanted him to be.

There were things that Sapnap slowly realized the longer he spent as a hero. There were a lot of things he learned just from being forced to be a part of society, even just a little. In many ways, being given this opportunity allowed them to have a life, freedom even, but there were more parts that were owned by the Association than there were parts owned by themselves.

(He wondered, vaguely, how long the two had been in the facility. He wondered if they adapted into the environment like Dream, or only knew the concrete floors and classroom lessons.)

Sapnap didn't know why the world believed the Association to be such a place of sunshine and rainbows. He didn't understand why people looked up at Sapnap and smiled so brightly, praising them for their good work for the community. Kids walked up to him asking for a picture, or a hug (and Sapnap could only look at their small bodies and wonder how he had been that little, how he'd been so tiny and still managed to kill), and Sapnap always gave them a bright smile, posed for their cameras, and continued on pretending.

The Association puppeteered everything. Why couldn't the world see that heroes were only puppets on a stage? Why did no one look any closer and think just for a moment that the smiles on their faces were all fake? If only one person noticed… No, he couldn't say that. He knew how ruthless they could be. It'd be so easy though. For Sapnap to take out his phone, and just record a little video — and plaster it everywhere for the world to see. It'd be so easy.

But then again, Sapnap had only ever known the Association hiding behind manipulations and lies. If they were forced from the shadows, who knew what they would do? They could have a failsafe. If Sapnap hadn't grown up choking and drowning among cold-blooded killers and sociopathic teachers, then he wouldn't know that the Association wasn't one to go down fighting.

You either submit, or you end up dead.

If it took a year of injuries and torture to kill you, then it took a year. If it took a day, then it took a day. Sapnap had faith that he'd make it through every second he was in the Room, in the Classroom, in the entire fucking facility since he was strong. He wouldn't die. He refused to.

(Sapnap had spent so long only caring about himself. So many nights, so many agonizing screams, so many needles poking into his skin. Over and over and over. He felt every agonizing slice, every painful bruise, every shred of humanity being stolen from him with every life that he just took out. Over and over and over. Civilian children had their memories of family be of one with movies, of smiling, of outings. Sapnap's childhood was blood spatter and corpses dead by his own hand.)

"Sap?"

Sapnap quickly looked up. "Hm?" He almost forgot that this was their official day off, since nobody — not even gifted humans — could work every single day and not have their bodies break down. At least the Association knew that, even if they made them fight with injuries all over their bodies or when they were sick… at least they got a singular day off every week.

They didn't get one in the facility, but they got one out here — and that was what really mattered. The illusion that heroes had days off too, so that the people weren't worried about their heroes.

(So many lies. So many lies.)

Dream's face was twisted in worry. "That's the third time I've called out to you. Are you sure you're fine?" Sapnap almost felt guilty for continuously avoiding telling him the things weighing on Sapnap's mind, but he couldn't tell Dream… right? He couldn't understand that Sapnap felt like he was losing his worth as a hero, and he could very well be disposed of if even a whisper reached the ears of the Association. He was already lucky he hadn't been found out, even after so many different times where everything suddenly was swept away in a snap. It always came back before long, but it felt like the mere moments had turned into long seconds. 

It wasn't always as bad as it had been when he talked to Siren on that rooftop, but…

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Angsting," 404 corrected unhelpfully.

Dream wasn't as affected by 404's unhelpful interruptions about Sapnap's mental state, because 404 could definitely read what Sapnap was thinking; 404 totally was a mind reader. This time, thankfully, Dream didn't go into mother hen mode… but Dream's concern remained. Sapnap knew he was zoning out more frequently. He had more to think about, and people to watch his back if he wasn't constantly vigilant. It wasn't like he didn't have a way to think about shit safely when he was in the facility. He was, ironically, safer out here than he ever was inside those walls.

"Sapnap…"

"I've just been thinking a lot, okay?" Sapnap defensively repeated, not helping his case at all. But he felt irritated. He was being asked this question way too many times, and it was getting frustrating. It was— it wasn't respecting his privacy. He knew that privacy didn't exist before, but that was before. This was now — and now meant that he was entitled to not have to fear for his life for just being stuck in his head.

"...alright," Dream ceded, which was a relief since Sapnap didn't want to have to explain what he was thinking about. Part of the reason he was keeping it hush-hush was because he didn't want Dream to know. Dream was becoming less and less predictable for Sapnap to tell nowadays. He didn't want to feel so far away from Dream, but he never felt like he couldn't reach where Dream stood like he had now. Sapnap had always been second place, but Dream was always in reach. Now? It felt like Dream had ascended to godhood or something, because when Sapnap looked up to where first place should be — it was empty. "What have you been thinking about?" 

Sapnap definitely spoke too soon. The relief he felt seemed utterly useless now, since he just tensed back up. Dream wouldn't have pushed before — in the facility. He didn't even push this much directly after they were released into what Sapnap liked to refer to as the wild since, well, this was a bit of a jungle — life was a jungle.

Everything was changing and Sapnap didn't like it.

"Jus' escapin' and all that, ya know?" Sapnap explained poorly, even poorer than how he explained how his fire worked to the Blood God — and that was actually shit. "And the seventh division, Royal… just a lot."

Dream pat Sapnap's head in what normally would be perceived as condescending, but it felt more comforting than anything. "We'll be fine, Sap. Let me do the worrying, and you watch my back. Like always, yeah?"

"I thought you planned, not worried."

"Details, shmeetails."

404 interrupted like the absolute menace he was, "You two sound gay."

"You're gay," Sapnap snapped back.

"No, you're gay."

" No , you're—"

Dream sighed. Sapnap almost felt bad about it. Almost.

(But he couldn't forget.)

"Let's just say you're both gay, how about that?" Dream suggested dryly. Both Sapnap and 404 gasped in mock abject horror. 

"How could you even suggest such a thing?" 404 exclaimed dramatically, even making a whole show of fake-fainting onto the ground. 

(With every passing day, it was like the fire in his veins burned less and less.)

Then 404's phone made the tell-tale sign of a notification. He grabbed it, only to cuss under his breath. It was a move unlike his normal ones. Dream looked over 404's shoulder, casually resting his arm around 404's shoulders. Dream's face slowly turned white, and looked nearly nauseous.

"Fuck, get your masks—" Dream immediately ordered, and Sapnap, even if he had no idea why Dream told him to do so, didn't hesitate to grab his and put it on. 404 froze like a deer in headlights, only for Dream to manually put 404's goggles on his face. A knock sounded through their sparse apartment.

—

Hero Association Reveals a NEW HERO!

Fellow lovers of the hero community of the 'Berg, this year has been one of many new hero debuts. We've had Dream, Sapnap, Foolish, and Frost. Today, inside sources are whispering about a new hero being added to our roster. This seems to be the next generation of heroes! Specifics are yet to be said, but the rumors are saying that the new hero has been training in secret for years to be the Heroes' Association ace in the hole, to hopefully be the hero that finally takes down the menacing presence that has been haunting our community for so many years — the Syndica…

[Subscribe for more.]

—

It lingered outside of its new assignment. Infiltration and dismantlement of the attempt at rebelling. It was a simple mission. It knew that it would be able to complete it. It had to.

His head hurts. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to be a traitor. No, no, no. He wanted to be free. Free. He doesn't want to do this.

Its phone buzzed in its pocket. It took the device out to read it. Its expression was dead, emotionless, as if a robot. Instantaneously, a smile grew on its face in such a fashion that not even a lie detector would be able to detect the lie in every movement, in every expression. It did not feel.

It could not feel.

Pocketing the phone, the creature in human skin knocked on the apartment door of where he was assigned. The door opened to regulations approved heroes, masked among fellow heroes.

But it wasn't here to check up on their state. It was here to infiltrate and destroy, to manipulate and lie. Its lips started to move just as it should. "Hey, big men, my name is Freefall. I'm gonna be your new partner of your, uh, quartet or whatever the fuck ya call it.

He wanted to scream. He didn't want this. He wanted out. Out. Out. Out. He didn't want to do this—

It tilted his head at the trio, confused. "Aren't you gonna introduce yourself? It's not very pogchamp to not introduce yourselves to the new kid on the block."

"What the hell is a pogchamp?" the hero that it identified as fire hero Sapnap demanded.