Chapter Text
The pain is temporary…yet the hunger remains.
.
Sam couldn’t remember when it all went wrong. Perhaps, it was when they found out that Dream could resurrect himself even without the physical revival book, or perhaps it was all the way back when he agreed to let Quackity in. Or mayhaps, it was when Dream’s pleas turned into acceptance and the retaliation slowly drained out of the battered form.
He should have noticed the signs sooner.
It was just fine when it was just the two of them.
Sam was doing just fine when it was just the two of them. It wasn’t his fault. He was just trying to help.
“Sam! Sam! Help!”
It all went wrong so fast, like a space rock descending into the Earth. The drop was sudden, and devastating, rippling through the space, creating a crater in the once quaint land as it finally crashed through the ozone.
When the screams that breached the intercom ceased to be that of his prisoner, but of Quackity’s, Sam knew it had all gone wrong.
Quackity’s death was brutal; a snap of the throat as teeth ripped through his neck, tearing the tendons and bones apart. It was gruesome; the way red splattered across the cell as his head finally detached. It took another painstakingly long moment before the body finally registered its death, pinning once then disintegrating, signifying a canon death.
His prisoner’s hand remained in position as if he was still receiving the body. An intense green peered through the curtains of white hair. Something twisted and turned within him. It was wrong. Sam took a step back.
He smiled.
Sam ran.
.
The prison was in a lockdown.
No one knew exactly why but there was a sense of fear lingering in the air. Fear that was associated with the green horror; of rains of TNT and a song of destruction. Fear that followed just a step behind you. Fear that listened in the dark and stabbed you behind your back.
Punz noticed the signs when he visited the mainland. As if a blanket had been pulled over the land, the air was stagnant, the noises muffled, the light never quite reached the surface and the whole world seemed to drown with it.
Punz found Sam by the main entrance of Pandora’s Vault.
The warden was, simply put, a mess. His hair disheveled, dark circles evident under his eyes. He was pacing around the compound mechanically as if a clockwork machine; steps falling into a rhythm but without any purpose.
“Sam.”
The warden was startled. Eyes wild and his trident swung before him. Punz parried with his sword easily. Weariness that draped over Sam had made his movement sloppy. His body, however, remained tense even when his eyes focused and finally recognised Punz.
“Punz.” Sam greeted, withdrawing his trident as he attempted to stand straighter, only to be betrayed by the slight wobble in his step. “What do you need?”
“Did something happen?” Punz frowned, sheathing his own sword in return.
“Nothing.” The answer was too hasty, too defensive. Punz knew Sam recognised this too as the warden tightened his grip on the trident in subtle warning. Worry snagged Punz, but he had to remain calm. His alliance with Dream should not be exposed, not yet, especially not towards Sam, so instead he pursed his lips, firmly pressing all the concern out from his face.
“Is Dream still in there?” His tone was carefully indifferent, as if asking about the passing weather. Even when his heart raced involuntarily, Punz was relieved to find his voice steady.
“Yes, the prisoner is secured.”
Not well. Just secured.
“I heard that the prison is in lockdown.” Punz pressed, stuffing his hands into his hoodie to appear casual despite his mind conjuring the worst possibility.
“Yes. Visits are not allowed at the moment.”
Nothing more and Punz knew something was definitely wrong. Think. What would Dream do in this situation? The other was always more versed in communication, knowing exactly what to say to get the information he needed. Others said it was manipulative but to Punz, it was resourceful. So instead of insisting, he stepped back, allowing himself to relax further. Be harmless. To withdraw his claws. To bring down the wariness.
“Sam, are you okay?”
That snapped Sam back as if slapped. His shoulders subconsciously slumped forward. An immense heaviness seemed to seize him.
Just a little bit more.
“You look tired.”
And the dam broke.
.
Concern was not the first thing Techno would describe what he was feeling, but it was the closest. The first oddity he noticed was the tomato plants sprouting from where he had planted his precious potatoes. At first, he thought it was a prank but then other signs followed like a disease, from the rains that fell a bit too long and heavy, to the food that spoiled faster than usual. It wasn’t pressing, just small annoyances in life that he had learned to ignore and adapt to, but the unease carried over, slowly rolling and growing like a snowball in a storm.
Chat grew dreadful as well. The chatters sometimes skid to abrupt silence, as if seeing something, anticipating something. For the longest time, he didn’t know what to make of it. The wrongness etched even into the walls of his cabin. The howling winds spoke of an ill omen, the snow threatened to hide away any threat before they struck unexpectedly. It was a feeling Techno was familiar with, back when he was at war with the whole continent, when he was once the ruler of a world long left behind.
The unease was finally answered when someone came knocking on the door. He recognised Punz from the execution; the hooded figure that played distractions for his getaway. In a way, Techno was indebted to the blonde as well.
“I come here for a request.” Straightforward. Techno didn’t dislike that quality of his. The blue eyes were sharp, but they couldn’t quite hide the whirlwind brewing underneath. Techno regarded the mercenary in front of him, long enough that he knew the other was bristling underneath his calm facade until finally, Techno opened his door a little bit wider.
A quiet invitation.
.
When Punz left, it left a hurricane inside Techno’s mind.
Dream.
He covered his face. The constant gnawing finally had a name. Of course it was Dream. It had always been him. Last time he heard from him was the frantic messages that he didn’t think amount to anything serious. Then came the prison. He heard that Dream commissioned the building himself. A cage that ended up containing its own maker. It was poetic somehow, if not even more concerning when Punz revealed that it was all part of a plan.
A plan that only a mad man will participate in.
A mad man like Dream.
“Why reveal it now?” He asked Punz. Why specifically to him?
“You will know when you see him.”
Omnimous.
Techno sighed. The cups of tea had long been forgotten on the kitchen table, untouched. Normally he would be offended by the blatant disregard of hospitality, but now he couldn’t quite bring himself to savour even a sip of the beverage, not until he knew what had transpired inside the vault.
.
“Why him?”
Sam asked as soon as Punz stepped into the surveillance room. He didn’t answer straight away but allowed his eyes to rove over the monitors behind the warden. It was showing the feed from the main cell. The colour was so desaturated that you could almost miss the red etched into the obsidian. Its occupant sat by the corner of the cell, unmoving, scaringly still. The familiar rage threatened to take over, but Punz could overcome it. He had endured for so long. He could hang on a bit longer.
“Nothing is working. I think it’s time for a third opinion.” Punz crossed his arms.
“Why do you care?” Sam mumbled, but Punz heard. His grip tightened. Calm down.
“The server is acting up. It will only be a matter of time before…” He didn’t have to finish. Sam understood. The warden stiffened in the way that Punz recognised was defensive.
“I tried to fix it.” It was not his fault. Punz heard the underlying message but chose not to. Sam did try. If trying meant inventing a straitjacket that snapped together remotely with a flick of a button; if attempting meant installing dispensers that shot weakness potions at the first sign of aggression; if repairs meant avoidance. If Dream’s trust meant nothing to you.
Punz breathed out, then in once more. He closed his eyes and said nothing.
.
The corridor of the vault carried a sense of oppression. Though the ceiling reached high, the dark obsidian seemed to hunger and absorbed even the slightest light. Techno tried his best to follow after the surprisingly placid warden while noting the many hidden paths. Whoever designed this had paranoia written all over them. Oh wait.
When they finally reached the main cell, Sam paused, retreating to the side where a handle resided.
“Step onto the platform.”
“Do I get a safety belt on this?”
Sam didn’t laugh. He just stared unmovingly at him. Woah, tough crowd. Techno whistled to hide the awkwardness and moved onto the designated spot. Without another warning, the platform moved, slowly bridging him across the lava to the main attraction. The jaw of the beast. The heart of Pandora.
Dream.
As he stepped off the platform, his first impression of the cell was that it sucked. 10/10 would not be recommended. The ceiling hung much lower when compared to the rest of the compound and the floor was littered with rotten potatoes. Such a desiccation of good food. The constant dripping noises from the crying obsidian formed an echo chamber with the popping of lava. It was almost a sensory torture, so much so that Techno almost missed the figure by the corner.
The first thing he noted was that Dream was smaller than he remembered. Even when Dream was stalking his prey, his frame was always too tall, his presence too loud even in the sea of people. Now, Techno almost missed him. In a dark obsidian cell where he was the only speck of white, Techno somehow didn’t notice Dream first.
The next thing he noticed was the straitjacket. They put him in a straitjacket. Anger felt like a lunging beast, soaring within him. Techno balled his fists, willing himself to count, to ignore the implication of what was happening within the cell, to will away the foul stench of what he recognised as blood drifting in the air.
The last thing he saw was Dream’s maskless face, half concealed by his mop of white hair but Techno recognised him anywhere. They took away his mask; his last line of defence like a trophy they were entitled to, not unlike the beasts they hunted for sport. There were scars, more than he remembered. They were new, some older but never too far behind. They followed specific curves and forces, made with intentions, marked with repetition. Torture. Techno gritted his teeth. This was why he hated authorities.
“Yo, bestie!” Despite the turmoil of emotions he was experiencing, his tone was light as he greeted Dream, carefully pressing the edges out of his voice. Dream didn’t answer him. Not even a lift of his head to acknowledge that he had heard him. Oof, another tough crowd. Techno breathed out slowly and carefully dropped down to about an arm length away from Dream.
“Dream? Can you hear me?” Are you alive? Was what Techno wanted to say, but he hated to admit that he was scared of the answer to his own question.
“Dream? Is that how you treat your friend? I am hurt!” Just keep on talking. Techno can do that. Yeah.
“…friend?” A husky voice; a whisper that Techno almost missed but he caught it like the last saving straw. A sense of relief washed over him.
“Yes, it’s me, Techno. Sorry it took so long to visit.”
“Friend.”
“Yes, friend.” Techno reinforced.
“Oh no, the teletubby has a concussion?”
“Amnesia arc?”
“Something’s fishy.”
“I am on team beat-up-Sam. Who else is in?”
“Me.”
“Oh me! Me!”
Chat was being unhelpful as usual. Techno sighed, reaching over to pat Dream on the shoulder.
“Watch out!”
Techno fell backwards, rolling away just in time to avoid a sudden vicious swing. He glanced back to find Dream already up, caught in a half lunge position. In his scarred hands, something sharp reflected off the orange hue of lava. His eyes were bright in an unnatural shade of toxic green.
“Friend, no play?” Dream tilted his head, almost innocently, unable to comprehend why this self proclaimed friend had dodged his ‘welcome gift’.
Wrong. Everything that was wrong conformed into a singularity, honing into a point named Dream.
“Can we play another type of game?” Techno pacified. “Something that doesn’t involve sharp objects?”
Dream hummed, as if seriously revising his suggestion before falling forward abruptly. Techno reached, only managed to stop himself at the last minute when he remembered that the other was armed.
“What happened to you?”
Dream giggled as if he had heard something hilarious.
“Sir said friends play and make marks blossom all over.” Dream whispered; a look of wonder in his eyes as he traced the scars lovingly. “Sir stopped coming…but I did everything they asked me to.”
“Wait, hold on a moment. Who’s this ‘sir’ you are talking about?”
In the dark cell, Dream only smiled.
.
“Sam, what have you done?”
Powered by rage, Techno didn’t give the warden any chance to retaliate as he lifted him by his collar.
“N-nothing! It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t cause this!”
“Then explain. Explain why Dream is hurt under your care. Why is he in restraint? Why does the cell reek of blood?”
“I-I am the warden! You’re in no place to question me here!” Sam countered, reaching back to grasp his trident but Techno was faster, throwing him away from the weapon and into the wall. Sam coughed; his breath knocked out of him as the impact shook his entire frame.
“Do I look like I care about your position?” Techno snarled. His shadow stretched long by the light casted by the monitors. Sam cowered, throwing his hands in front of him in a last ditch effort to escape his wrath. Red, flashes of red invaded Techno’s vision. Like a tsunami crashing against his senses, the suppressed fury finally poured forward onto the land.
“It’s Quackity.” A cold voice interrupted. It was a douse of water onto the blazing flame. From the corner of his eyes, he could make out the silhouette of the mercenary; the one that tipped the info to him in the first place. Punz stood calm. An immediate contrast to the warden trembling on the floor.
“Why?”
“The revival book.” Power. Revenge and so much more.
“He,” Punz pointed to the warden who flinched. “Did nothing.”
He stood by when it happened. He allowed it to happen. He did nothing, yet allowed everything to spiral out of control.
“Agh.” Techno groaned, pressing his hand against his throbbing head. His mind slowly cleared from the chants of blood as he attempted to recalibrate his senses. He wanted to pretend that the rage was not misplaced, that in the darkest corners of his mind, a voice was not pointing out his failure for not stepping in when Dream was taken away to prison. He didn’t think to visit until something happened. He let go of a shaky breath. He had to focus. “And where’s Quackity?”
In the darkness of the room, Techno swore he saw Punz smirk. It was gone the very next moment, leaving Techno to wonder if it was all a flicker of his imagination.
“He will be unavailable for a while.” Punz said as he approached the control panel. A button was hit and the live feed of the camera was replaced by a recording. In the video, Techno could see Quackity towering over a kneeling Dream; his stance relaxed and confident.
“Why must you make things difficult?” A slap.
“Not that I don’t enjoy our bonding session, but I am very busy at the moment, and friends don’t inconvenience one another.” The shine of a pickaxe.
“Just give me the revival book.” The weapon raised in an arc. Through the blurry resolution, Techno couldn’t quite see Dream’s expression. He could, however, sense when it all switched. As if something primal had crawled through the seal, there was something unspoken, unseen, corrupting, consuming, devouring.
“Ok, I will even show you, friend.”
The recording glitched. Audio warped into a slow lull and the next second, piercing screams erupted.
“Sam! Sam! Help!”
More glitches. Paint of blood sprayed across the camera. In the red veil, a pair of toxic greens remained. They stared, they saw, they perceived.
The camera feed cut.
Silence.
That…that was more intense than Techno imagined it would be. He glanced at Sam who had huddled into a ball, still mumbling how it wasn’t his fault and could only sigh. It seemed like things could never be easy. Not with this server. He looked up into the images of the occupant in the main cell. Not with Dream either.
.
He dreamed of a long dream. In his dream, little lost sheep wandered. They bleated and were let in, then the sheep twisted into big wolves. They flexed their claws and sank their teeth into his flesh. Oh, lost ones, don’t be afraid. It didn’t hurt. You were here to take what was due.
Pain faded eventually.
Yet, the hunger remained.
Embrace.
Consume.
Devour.
Oh, lost ones, don’t be afraid. He is here to take what was due.
