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He recognised this dream.
Moe stood in the pitch black of night. The only sound was the wind, blowing harshly around him. If he squinted, he could make out the slight lines of a road in front of him, guiding him to nothing. If he looked down he would have seen his clothes- white gloves and a fancy patterned suit, the clothes of The Dynamoe.
This place was all too familiar to him. He had been having this dream for weeks now. If he had his way, he would’ve chosen to just stand there, and wait for himself to wake up. But he knew he had to start walking. The dream would never end otherwise. He would be back here tomorrow night, just like before. It wouldn't have meaning.
So he started walking.
His shoes were loud against the pavement. The wind continued to howl, but there was a chill that lingered the longer he walked. He pulled his cape around him, desperate for warmth, but the wind pierced through him. As he gripped his cape, he glanced at his gloves. The tips were smudged with blood.
He grimaced.
He had had this dream many times. He was all too familiar with it. It was always the same- he was The Dynamoe, he began walking, he would see a figure… and then he would wake up. Sometimes it would be raining, sometimes there was no sound at all, but it was always the same at its core- Moe was walking out to nothing. He had never reached the end of the road, no matter how many times he had had this dream.
The blood was only a recent feature to his dreams. Whose blood it was, he didn't know. Whenever it rained in his dreams, he would look in puddles to see his face- and every time, he was clean. No traces of injury. It made him uneasy. The Dynamoe was not somebody to turn away at the sight of blood, but… there was something wrong.
Everytime something new showed up, it always gave him more questions than answers. Whose blood was on his hands? Who stood at the end of the road? Why was he seemingly cursed to walk a never ending road of darkness whenever he fell asleep? And why did this place feel so sinister?
As he kept walking, the darkness evolved into a detailed street, with dim lampposts to guide Moe. Rain began to fall in a downpour, causing Moe to wrap his cape around him tighter. Every time he entered this dream, he knew something was wrong. There was something off. A constant, lingering feeling of unease and danger. And yet, he chose to pursue this feeling. Joy had told him that it was better to find whatever was at the end of his dreams than to live in denial. And he trusted her judgement.
Moe paused his steps. That was something else that was strange about this dream. Aside from that figure, he was alone. Whenever he did dream, Moe was always surrounded by people- or at the very least, he’d have his dog by his side. But the street he walked down was completely lifeless. Not even a light turned on in a house. He knew the street well too in real life- but here, it felt strange and unfamiliar. As if something had scared everyone else off. The buildings were all sterile and grey too, only adding to the lack of life.
Except for one. Moe turned to look at the house on his right. Joy’s house was the only one in pure colour; it was strange that it was only her house that was always detailed. Every house he passed was a grey block of blur except for hers. Her car was still out the front, the lawn was freshly mowed, and the food bowls for the stray cats were full on the porch. It was the only sign of life on this street. And yet he didn’t fully understand why it was only her house.
Maybe it was his brain trying to give him comfort. He liked that idea.
He couldn’t stand there forever though. He fought against himself and kept walking. He was soaking wet, and the wind was pushing against him, but he kept on going. If his memory served him right, he was approaching the end of his dream. He looked down at his gloves again. The bloodstains had gotten brighter, like fresh blood.
His walking pace sped up.
As he continued to walk, he could see the final lamppost at the end of the road. And there it was- a figure, standing underneath it. It was impossible to determine who or what it was from this distance. He felt around his belt for some device that would help him see further. Nothing. He seemingly never had them in his dreams. All he could do was keep walking.
He slowed his pace as he got closer. The figure was turned away from him. And despite being under the light, they were shrouded in darkness. It made Moe nervous. He stopped a few feet away, trying to make out whoever was standing under the light. Before he could speak, the figure went ahead and spoke.
"It's you."
Moe grimaced. "Ninjoy."
His mortal enemy. His arch nemesis. Of course. Just his luck too, for her to show up in his dreams.
“What are you doing here?!” Moe’s nerves had settled slightly upon realising it was just her.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Excuse me? This is my dream!”
“Is it?”
The entire time, Ninjoy did not turn around or even move. Her voice was dead and monotone, nothing like the usual over-the-top second-rate Batman impersonation that he constantly teased her for. That little detail made Moe’s nerves immediately rise again.
“I- Look, just tell me what the hell you’re doing here so I can get this over with,” Moe crossed his arms in annoyance. “Do you know how disappointing it is to see you here? Wondering all this time who could be here and it's bloody you?!”
Ninjoy didn’t react.
"What did you expect to find?"
“I-I don’t know!” Moe was starting to feel anxious. “Anything but you! What the hell are you even doing here?!”
Moe saw Ninjoy clench her fist, the first noticeable movement that she had done.
“Do you ever actually think about anybody except yourself Moe?”
Moe’s anxiety increased at her using his name. “W-What?”
Ninjoy snickered. “For someone who claims to be so smart, you sure are oblivious to what’s in front of you.”
The lamppost light began to brighten, pushing Ninjoy into the light. Even from behind, Moe could see that she was in horrible shape. Her gloves were gone, revealing deep, painful grazes and cuts along her arms. There were bruises all over her arms, ranging from light purple to dark, disgusting greens and browns. But the most noticeable injuries were the stabs. Someone had relentlessly gone after her; she was filled with so many wounds that she shouldn't be standing, let alone talking. Blood was dripping out of every wound.
She looked like a walking crime scene.
Something in Moe’s brain told him to run. But he couldn’t.
“W…What the hell happened to you?!”
“What a stupid question,” Ninjoy’s uncharacteristic snarkiness was starting to scare Moe. “You of all people should be able to answer that. Answer this for me instead.”
She turned her head to look at him. She wasn’t wearing her mask.
Moe's heart dropped.
Joy stared at him, no life left in her dull, green eyes. “What do you think I’m doing here?”
Moe felt sick.
“No-”
“Do you ever even stop and think about who’s behind the mask?” She stepped forward, and Moe stepped back in fear. “Whose life you’re constantly threatening? I’m trying to do something good you know, and all you want is to destroy it. To destroy me. In whatever way you can.”
“No- That’s not true!” Moe’s voice was shaking. “If I knew it was you I wouldn’t-”
“You may not ever mean to hurt me. But you wouldn’t hesitate to kill Ninjoy if you could.”
Moe couldn't breathe.
“Don’t lie to yourself. It’s pathetic,” An uncharacteristic smirk grew on Joy’s face. “You know it’s true. Just look at yourself.”
A sudden weight fell into his hands. He looked down in horror. A knife, drenched in blood. His clothes too, spattered with the blood of the woman in front of him. His gloves were nearly pure red from it. His hands shook as he took it all in.
Moe looked back at her, unable to say a word.
"I know you're going to kill me one day, Moe."
Joy looked back at him with her lifeless eyes.
"It’s only a matter of when."
°°°
Moe woke up unable to breathe.