Chapter Text
“I’m bored.”
“That’s nice, Tommy,” Dream replied without looking up from the coffee he was making.
Tommy’s expression shifted into a scowl. “You’re no fun.”
“Good. I wasn’t trying to be.”
Tommy tossed his arms up from where he was sitting on the counter with a huff. “Ugh, you’re the most boring-est person I’ve ever met. Seriously, do you even have a life?”
Dream finally looked up to glance at Tommy. “No, I don’t,” he said in the most deadpan voice he could manage.
Tommy stared at him for a second before scoffing and turning away. The 5 above his head flickered out as Dream looked away. “When is Ranboo gonna come? He was supposed to be here five minutes ago. Did he really forget the way here again? I swear, if he did I’m gonna-”
Dream tuned out the rest of what Tommy was saying, refocusing his attention on the drink he was making. As he finished it up, he glanced at the name on the paper Niki had given him.
Wilbur.
Dream didn’t think much of the name as he wrote it out on the cup in his messy handwriting. As an afterthought, he added a smiley face, because whoever ordered an espresso this late in the day probably needed a little positivity in their lives. He set the cup down on the counter.
“Order for Wilbur!” he called. A man wearing a beanie and trench coat (it was a bit odd of a fashion choice, but who was he to judge?) approached the counter. He had brown, curly hair and wore round glasses.
“Ah, that would be me,” the man said with a charming smile. His voice was smooth, like running a hand across satin sheets. “Thank you very much.”
“Of course, we’re happy to-” Dream stopped dead when he saw the number floating above the man’s head.
He must’ve noticed Dream’s abrupt stop in his sentence, because he tilted his head curiously and asked, “Are you good there?”
“O-oh. I’m fine,” Dream managed. He continued on, voice stronger this time. “Nothing to worry about.”
He would be fine if not for the fact that there was a 9 floating above Wilbur’s head. He blinked, trying to see if his eyes were fooling him. But no, the 9 remained unchanged, still staring innocently at him. What? How could this man, who had a strange fashion sense and ordered coffee at 6 PM, be that powerful? Wouldn't he be more well known and famous if that was the case? It didn't make sense (but then again, not much did in this world).
“If you say so.” Wilbur didn't seem to believe him, but he didn't say more about it. His eyes held such convincing concern that Dream wouldn’t believe this man could have a 9 if it wasn’t staring down at him at the moment.
Luckily, Tommy chose that moment to start insulting their customer, preventing further awkwardness between them.
“You look funny,” Tommy informed Wilbur.
Wilbur quirked an amused eyebrow. “How so, child?” Dream was relieved that he didn't seem to be offended by Tommy. He'd already scared enough customers away as it was.
Tommy glared at him with mild contempt. “I’m not a child!”
“Sure, sure,” Wilbur chuckled.
“You bitch!”
They continued bickering, arguing as if they were already familiar with each other. Dream didn’t know how he felt about Tommy talking to a man who hid so much power behind his charm, though maybe that was part of the reason why the number was so high. Wilbur could probably be a good politician if he wanted to.
He decided that this was too much to deal with and began preparing a beverage for himself. There weren’t any customers at this hour anyways, aside from Wilbur, who had already gotten his drink.
As he was sipping on his coffee, the bells on the front door rang, announcing the presence of another person. Dream heard Tommy yell out Ranboo’s name and figured he should go greet him. Ranboo was a good kid, albeit very shy and tended to be forgetful. He often hung out with Tommy and another boy, Tubbo, and the three of them were practically inseparable when they were together. Dream felt a smile forming as he thought of the trio fondly, walking over to greet Ranboo.
Ranboo stood in the middle of the cafe, listening to Tommy rant about his day. There was another man standing off to the side, listening in but not contributing. He seemed to be a piglin hybrid, with pink hair and pointed ears. To his surprise, Wilbur was chatting with the new man with a tone that suggested they were familiar. Dream glanced at the numbers that were floating above the group’s head. Tommy’s was a five, Ranboo’s was also a five, Wilbur’s remained a nine, and the piglin hybrid’s was-
The cup of coffee slipped out of his hand before he could react. The lid popped off as it hit the ground, hot liquid splashing on the wood floor.
What the fuck.
“Is that guy okay?” the man - Techno, if he heard Wilbur right - asked, looking at him funny. His voice was deep and monotonous, almost bored.
All Dream could do was stare in shock. He could hardly register Tommy, who had appeared in front of him and was waving a hand in front of his face, saying something that he wasn’t paying attention to.
Never in the two decades he’d been alive had he ever thought it possible for someone to be an eleven. He hadn’t even entertained the thought that someone could be above a ten, and even then, it was highly unlikely that he’d ever meet them in his lifetime. And yet here they were, a nine and eleven standing in the cafe he worked at.
What the actual fuck.
“Dream? Big man? You okay?” came Tommy’s voice. Dream finally tore his gaze away from the numbers and looked at him. His eyebrows were pinched in worry, which showed through even though he was trying to hide it. “You zoned out for a bit there.”
“Huh…? Oh, yeah, I’m… okay,” Dream replied. “I just-” he shook his head, “-nevermind. I’ll- I’ll go get something to clean this.”
He hastily scurried to the kitchen to avoid any more questions. He felt the pressing gazes on him as he fled, but ignored them as he searched half-heartedly for a mop. As soon as Dream was out of view, he took a moment to stand there and attempt to process what he'd just learned.
Okay. So. There were currently two new people that were very powerful and they knew each other. Holy shit. Had he just left Tommy and Ranboo and Niki alone with two dangerous criminals? But Ranboo came in with Techno, so they knew each other and the man probably wasn't a threat to him. Maybe they were government agents, or even a hero's civilian identity. Somehow though, none of them felt fitting to the people who'd walked into the cafe.
It was fine. As long as he acted like nothing happened, it would be fine. No one knew about his power, so they wouldn’t know why he acted that way. And whatever it was, he was determined to not get involved.
“Dream?” Dream raised his head at the sound of his name. Niki was peeking into the kitchen, a 7 hovering over her head (he’d seen her judo flip a robber before; if anything, the number should be higher). “I saw you spill your coffee. Do you need some help?”
Dream mustered a smile that felt about as strong as a paper straw. “No, it’s alright. I can clean it up. Sorry for spilling on your floors.”
“Oh, okay. It’s just…” Niki’s expression shifted into something vaguely threatening. “Are those people bothering you? I can kick them out if I need to.”
He quickly shook his head. “They’re fine. I don’t want you losing customers over something that doesn't even matter.” The offer to kick them out took him by surprise, but he was grateful nonetheless.
Niki was skeptical, but nodded anyway and left the kitchen. Dream picked up the mop and bucket and dragged himself out after her. Taking a deep breath, he carefully composed his face into something friendly.
Whatever this is, I am not getting involved with it.
Dream kept repeating that to himself as he mopped the floor, whispering it under his breath like a mantra. He pointedly ignored the glances that were sent his way in favor of vigorously scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain. He didn’t think he’d ever cleaned the floor so thoroughly until now. But somehow, he kept tabs on all the conversation going on in the cafe, cataloguing and filing away information he would likely never use.
Tommy left with Ranboo and Techno after a little while, with Techno muttering something about upsetting a Philza. Dream had waved goodbye absentmindedly, his thoughts focused somewhere else. From what he’d picked up, Techno was Ranboo’s legal guardian, adopting him some years back, before Dream had even met Ranboo. He was hesitant to let Tommy go off with them, but it wasn’t his place to make choices for him (after all, it wasn't like they were related). If anything, he’d be safer around such a powerful person…right? Tommy was a smart kid, he would know if there was something that would threaten his safety and hopefully stay away from it.
Dream decided not to think too much about it.
— — —
It had been about a week since the cafe incident when another problem decided to insert itself into Dream’s life. And this one was determinedly not one he could easily ignore.
On his way to the cafe for his shift, the subway station he was at exploded. There was a blinding flash of light and a loud crash, and suddenly smoke and shouting and sobbing filled the air. Dream’s eyes darted around, trying to take in the damage that resulted from the explosion. The exits had all caved in, and the train wasn't getting anywhere anytime soon. He, along with everyone else in the station, was trapped. And the most likely cause would be a planned attack by villains.
As expected, a figure emerged from the smoke, standing imposingly on a platform formed from the rubble of the collapse. Midnight black wings were spread commandingly, as if bearing a message from Death itself. It was quite fitting that the name Angel of Death was chosen, for he looked like he had been sent straight from the Underworld to deliver judgement.
Gasps echoed through the station as the rest of the SBI joined the Angel on the platform. The Blade and Siren stood on either side of him, and together they made for a catastrophic-level trio. Siren’s eyes scanned the people cowered before them. For a moment, his gaze locked with Dream’s and he could’ve sworn that there was something that flashed through his eyes, but he looked away before Dream could confirm anything.
“Everyone, do not move from the spot you’re in right now,” Siren’s distorted voice echoed. Dream abruptly had the compulsion to stay still, his mind fighting against the very notion of moving. “Behave, and you will be allowed to keep your lives.”
So they were hostages. Great, that was just what Dream needed. With nothing better to do, he watched the Syndicate, observing how they interacted with each other. There wasn’t much, just a few whispers and murmurs passed, nothing that majorly indicated their relationship with one another. However, Dream had a suspicion that they were closer than they let on; after all, they couldn’t have gotten this far without being at least somewhat close. The media liked to speculate about that kind of stuff, though most of it was largely unhelpful in the search of their true identities.
Eventually, Siren allowed them to move around a bit. It seemed that watching a bunch of people stand still was interesting for neither them nor him. He still kept a cautious eye on them in case anyone attempted something, and Dream had no doubt that if someone did, the second command would be worse than the first. He had no interest in finding out.
Most people tried to get as far away as they physically could from the villains, huddling in some corner and breaking down. Dream figured that nowhere would be that much safer in here from the top three villains in the city, as they could easily obliterate all of them here without a thought, so he decided to wander closer to the platform. Siren glanced at him curiously, but didn’t say anything, so Dream took that as an affirmative that he was not going to get his brains blown out for going too close.
Once he was within range, he took a peek at their numbers. Siren’s was a 9, which made sense for a villain like him. Dream shifted his gaze to the Angel’s, who was closest to Siren. For a moment, the number…glitched? Frenzied pixels danced above his head, uncertain, before rearranging themselves into a solid 10. That was strange. Glitching had never happened before. Maybe the system had to take more time to comprehend his power? It would make sense, with a power as complex as the Angel’s, and it was why no one knew for sure what his powers were. Dream didn’t want to get hung up on something that was probably trivial, so he moved on.
The Blade was sitting regally on a chunk of rubble, sharpening a diamond sword. The casualness in his movements had an edge to it that was reflected in his blood red eyes. His number was an 11.
The implications of that… he didn’t want to dwell on.
Abruptly, the Blade’s head snapped up and he looked sharply towards the collapsed exit. His ears were perked up, alert (Dream tried not to think about how similar they were to Techno’s-). The Angel and Siren tensed up and drew their weapons.
Two things happened at once. First, the rubble blocking the entrance started floating and heroes began pouring into the station. He recognized some of them from the news, like Captain and Pyro. Second, he felt someone grab him and the next thing he knew, there was a blade at his throat.
“You try anything and he dies.” The Angel shifted the knife closer to his neck, effectively communicating his point. Dream swallowed, eyes never leaving the gleaming blade.
Captain stepped forward slowly. “Stand down. We’ve disabled your bombs. If you release him, we will abstain from trying to apprehend you for ten minutes.”
“And what makes you think we can’t kill everyone here without the bombs?” Siren laughed mirthlessly (and oh gods, even with the voice distorter he sounded so much like Wil-). Dream very much believed that even if they couldn’t kill everyone here, they most certainly could kill him, and he would rather avoid that. Strangely, though, he didn’t feel overwhelmingly terrified as he thought he would be being held hostage. He had no idea why (because it’s the same people from the cafe, the ones who take care of Ranboo and by extension Tommy-).
This time, Pyro spoke up, “We have this area surrounded. You don’t stand a chance, but if you let the civilian go, you can get a head start.”
The SBI exchanged glances, a silent conversation only heard to those privy to it. After an extended period of charged silence, they seemed to reach an agreement, and Siren finally spoke up.
“Fine. We’ll release the hostage, but you give us fifteen minutes instead.”
The heroes hesitated, but Captain nodded. “Alright, deal.” Pyro looked entirely too unhappy to be making the deal, but he couldn’t argue against it. After all, civilian lives were more important than capturing villains.
“So glad we could agree,” Siren drawled, his tone all too cocky for someone retreating. Dream didn’t know their motives for attacking the station, but it seemed to him they were giving up too easily.
The Angel released his grip on him and pushed him away. He was left stumbling, off-kilter. Captain rushed forward to reach him, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder and taking up a protective stance. Dream turned around just in time to see the Blade pulling out a potion, lazily tossing it up in the air. It shattered on impact with the ground, splashing its contents on the three supervillains. Within seconds, they were gone.
All around, heroes were helping to escort the hostages out. Police had arrived on the scene and were now surveying the damage done. No one had been injured by the explosions, but the damage to the subway station was going to be expensive to repair.
Captain turned to him. “Are you alright?” When Dream nodded, she relaxed a touch. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner. I’ll have someone escort you back to your home if you’ll feel safer that way.”
“No, it’s fine. I can get there by myself,” Dream said. Niki would understand him not showing up to his shift.
“Are you sure?” Captain asked, unrelenting. “It might not be the best idea to be alone, especially after what happened to you…”
Dream would rather not have to walk home with a hero. That would bring attention to him, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that.
“Thanks for the offer, but I promise I’ll be fine. I don’t live very far anyways,” Dream responded. “You probably have more important things to worry about.”
She sighed in resignation. “Alright, just be careful, I suppose.”
“I will be.”
— — —
The first thing Dream did when he got back to his apartment was to take a shower. Unfortunately, that left him with nothing much to do but think, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted to be doing.
Inadvertently, his mind wandered back to the SBI. The matching numbers couldn't be a coincidence. Wilbur and Techno couldn't just accidentally match their numbers up with two of the most infamous villains, or happen to have the exact same stature and mannerisms. Something like that would be impossible.
With a sigh, Dream turned off the running water. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel. As he pulled his clothes on, he let his thoughts bubble up without trying to stop them. It was pointless.
Wilbur was obviously Siren, and Techno was the Blade. He didn't know who the Angel of Death was, but he had a few guesses. Namely, the “Phil” guy who Wilbur kept complaining about henning over him.
The revelation didn't come as too much of a shock. Maybe it was because he'd already known subconsciously but kept denying it, and now he was finally letting it surface.
Dream stood in front of the mirror, watching his reflection with mild horror as his number jumped from a 3 to a 9.
“Well, fuck.”