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The Dream District didn’t get visitors.
Not unless they had a death wish.
Dream sat on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the main street, black wings half-furled and casting long shadows across the building’s walls against the rising sun, watching the kids below play soccer and swear at each other with the profanity only learned from a rough life. He absent-mindedly preened his feathers, playing with the tips of his wings partly colored with a neon green, like paint splatter.
Occasionally, a passerby from down the street on their way to work would greet him with a wave. He’d wave back, obviously.
It was a peaceful day. Calm. Mundane. Just how he liked it.
Until fear started bleeding into the air.
Dream stilled.
He could feel it even before he saw them — three distinct pulses of unease, brushing against his mind. It was stark, sharp against the previously dull atmosphere. To him, the fear stood out like blood in water, and he was the shark.
The first was buried and careful, steady and deliberate. The kind of fear that came from fearless people. An awareness, more like, of standing in enemy territory and knowing you were playing with your life.
The second was also careful, but in a different way. Calculatingly like, a cautionary sort of fear, one from a person used to being prepared and ten steps ahead, one who usually fought fights where they held an overwhelming advantage. But Dream could taste the sour truth; this person was scared and afraid to show that, too.
The third and last stood out the most. It was restless like lightning, violent and determined, fear masked under aggression and confidence. A not-so-unique brand of self preservation with the idea of ‘hit them first before they hit you’.
Dream’s gaze shifted back down towards the street, where there was no fear to be seen or felt, where the kids were still playing, blissfully unaware that three incredibly stupid people were about to make their entrance.
Three incredibly stupid, dangerous people.
“Just what I needed.” He muttered, and softly let a trickle of his ability loose, allowing a ripple of unease to flicker throughout the block.
The ball rolled to a stop. Laughter and conversations faltered to a sudden, bated quiet.
The kids looked up at him.
Dream lifted two fingers up to his head and gave them a lazy salute.
That was all it took.
The kids vanished, ducking into the shadows of side streets, behind dumpsters and doorways and the sides of windows, melting into the scenery as quickly as it took for him to make sure his weapons were all right where he wanted them.
He didn’t want any kids to be around, after all, when he inevitably got irritated.
By the time the first unwelcome, obnoxiously polished boot hit the main street, Dream was still perched on the rooftop, chin propped up in one hand, wings folded, with one leg dangling over the edge. He didn’t bother standing.
“Heroes!” Dream called down with fake warmth as he peered at the newcomers with sharp eyes. “Captain, Architect, King. To what do I owe the displeasure?”
The Captain, with her flowing white hair, shoulders overlaid with a crisp red sailor’s coat trimmed in gold and a hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword resting casually at her hip. Her eyes tracked his every twitch, narrowed. He could feel her fearless fear radiating off of her, amplified now. Architect stood beside her with his golden trident, matching armor glinting in the rising sun. King, obviously, dressed like royalty — white and gold, so bright it was blinding. It looked like he’d never even stepped foot in a battle.
“You’re about… three blocks into my district.” Dream continued, holding up three fingers as if he was explaining counting to a baby. “Which means you’re either incredibly , unbelievably lost, or you’re here to ruin my morning.” He flashed a toothed grin.
“So before we waste everyone’s time, you can all turn around,” His hand morphed into a single fingered twirl, “and walk right back out.”
The Captain’s jaw tightened. “Dream. You know why we’re here.”
He tilted his head. “Oh? Do please tell. I rather enjoy hearing bad ideas said aloud. Although, you would save us both so much time if you heroes just went back the way you came. My patience is rather finite.”
She stepped forward, and in one smooth motion, drew her sword and leveled it at him. “Every EX-ranked villain is to be taken in. Alive or dead. No exceptions.”
His grin grew slow, just as deliberate as Captain drawing her sword. “Oh, yes, I knew about that. I just didn’t think you were stupid enough to come after me. ”
His wings shifted, once, whistling a warning. Then, with a single flare, they spread wide, green tips of shadow black wings catching the early light as they cast darkness down the street below, swallowing the three heroes into an unnatural night.
And then, just as quickly, the shadows folded back into him. Dream slid off the rooftop and landed on the street with the smooth grace of a predator on the prowl. Carefully, he lets loose another strand of his ability, but this time stronger, and aimed. He feels their fear prickle down their spines. He could make it consume them, if he wanted.
But he’s feeling rather nice today.
King stepped forward as Captain hesitated, sword already drawn and pointed towards Dream’s head. “We’re here to arrest you. You’ll either come quietly…or not.” He tightened his grip.
“We’re not afraid of you, Dream.”
He raised an eyebrow, even though he knew they couldn’t see it, with his mask. “But I can make you. Afraid, I mean.”
His words hung in the air. King falters as Dream deliberately releases another tendril of his ability, not enough to break him, but enough for him to feel it, reveling in the way the hero’s fear spikes in intensity. He could sense it rise under the other’s skin, could taste it like iron on his tongue, before he pulled it back, slow and controlled.
“Do you feel that? That’s not me trying. That’s me giving you a little taste, a polite little knock. But if I wanted,” He lets a little more loose this time, suffocating all three of them just a bit before yanking it back , “I could force the door open. But that’s not very polite, is it? So I’ll ask you, now, politely.”
His tone darkened. “Get out.”
Architect’s voice broke the tense quiet, steady and confident. On the contrary, Dream could still taste the sweet tang of fear under his voice, suppressed but present. How could he not? “We’ll leave. But not without you. The longer we let you run free, the more stability suffers. Your existence destabilizes the city.”
“Destabilizes?” He steps closer, until he’s within arm’s reach. Architect towers over him, in both height and with nerve, but he fixes that with a simple flick of his ability, making the hero’s confidence shatter. Architect steps back, caught off guard, sweetness strengthening as Dream carefully ensnared him with his ability.
“Let’s make things clear, here. I don’t leave the Dream District. Ever. I don’t blow up banks, kidnap mayors, I don’t even bother with heroes at all.”
“You’re still dangerous.” Captain speaks up, firm. He rolls his eyes, playfully considering taking off his mask, black with an uncanny white smile that covered half of his face, just so these idiots could see just how stupid they were being.
“Dangerous? To who, the empty street? The pigeons?” To get his point across, he flared his wings outwards again. “Prometheus stabbed the governor the other week. Zephyrus kidnapped the mayor. Again. Orpheus sweet-talked another few heroes off the bay bridge, but I’m not seeing you go after them . They’re all EX-ranked. Why am I the only one getting annoyed?”
“You’re a danger, Dream. Nothing will change that.” Abruptly, The Captain pushed with her own power, and he felt it — her ability forcefully shoving the threads of fear he’d so carefully been wrapping around them.
Where his ability was a slow opening of the floodgate, letting go of the tidal wave he was constantly holding back until he decided to drown someone, hers was a burning, invasive warmth that pushed to force back his cold. Dream could sense the way it braced King and Architect, pulling back their resolve, replacing the sweet, metallic tang of fear with a sharp bitterness that he hated.
And then she turned it on him.
It pressed against his mind, suddenly, a probing threat, starkingly bitter. Almost painful.
The shadows inside him coiled. The pain didn’t scare him.
It pissed him off.
His grip on his power slipped.
Not all the way, thank god, or everyone on the street, including him, would go insane. But just enough so that the floodgates opened a bit more than he intended to. Fear surged forward, jagged and heavy, spilling into every corner of the street like a dam finally bursting open.
Dream felt it slam into them like a physical blow.
So much fear. And it was so, so sweet.
Architect’s breath hitched audibly, the trident wobbling in his grip. King stumbled backwards. And Captain, oh, how Dream could feel it when her calm faltered. The steady warmth she’d been pressing into the air collapsed under the weight of his fear, replaced by something much more pleasant, and so much sweeter. He could taste it like blood.
Violence followed, as he knew it would.
Architect’s eyes glowed bright, and in a moment, debris rose from the ground and whipped towards Dream like shrapnel, trident angling straight for him. His signature telekinesis. King’s gloved hands glowed bright white before they burst into white-hot beams, an instinctive, almost panicked strike meant to blind and burn, displaying his laserkinesis.
Without thought, he moved, wings snapping before he swiftly dodged both projectiles. On instinct, his head whipped to the side and he twisted out of the way of Captain's sword thrust with a leap and wingbeat in the air. His boots hit the pavement farther away in a low, prowling stance.
“Oh, you wanna play, huh?” Dream seethed, voice low. “Fine then. I'll put you all in an early-”
He stopped.
No. You can’t be irrational.
His power was still barbed and ready to lash, but he forced it down, slowly and deliberately, the way you’d seal the lid on a coffin, until the street no longer hummed with the metallic bite of fear.
The change was immediate. King’s shoulders dropped as if some crushing weight had been lifted from his spine, the light pulsing from his palms dimming. The debris around Architect lowered, and he took an audible gasp. Even The Captain exhaled with visible relief, her warmth retreating backwards. It was the kind of relief that came with breaking the surface after being held underwater too long; sharp, desperate, and shamefully grateful to breathe again.
He breathed too, silently, reminding himself that if he fought them now, really fought them, if he lost control — the oh-so wonderful government would view him as an even larger threat, especially if he took down all three of their EX-rank heroic darlings. They’d come back, much more prepared and much more of a threat.
Again and again and again, until they eventually got him. And they wouldn’t care who got caught in the crossfire.
His people could get hurt.
As if right on cue, a bright voice piped up from behind the dumpster, void of fear, “You killing the heroes yet, Dream?”
Dream’s head turned slightly to meet the kid’s sparkling blue eyes, his smiling mask glinting in the light of the rising sun. “Not today, sadly. They’re pretty slow learners, kind of stupid, honestly, but I’m in a fairly good mood today.”
He straightened, dusting himself off as if the heroes were only mild inconveniences. Curling his wings back behind him and facing the heroes, who tensed, he said evenly, “You don’t need to be here. I don’t hurt people, I don’t blow up the city. I’m not your villain to bother, and I’m not your problem to solve.”
King scoffed. Dream snapped his head towards him, knowing full well how uncanny the motion was. “You terrorize civilians. You murder them. And if that’s not a problem,” His hands began to glow again, “I don’t know what is.”
“I don’t murder civilians.” He retorted in a snap. “I kill people who come in here, in my district, and think it’s okay to break my rules. To harm my people.”
Without looking away from the heroes, he let a quiet pulse of his power slip into the air, directed to the kid behind him. Not fear, but more like an instinctive nudge in the spine that said he's getting annoyed, so you should probably leave now.
Quietly, in the corner of his vision, the kid nods, once, still bright eyed, and quickly flashing him a smile, backs away deeper into the alley before disappearing. The heroes, obviously, don’t notice, too preoccupied on watching his every twitch.
“That’s just the problem.” Architect brandished pieces of stray rock as if they were formidable weapons, even floating an inch or so off the ground, his secondary power. “Every day that you sit here, every day you claim a district for yourself and gain complete power over it, you give others the idea that they can do the same. And every day we allow you to do this, we give you the idea that you can continue to.”
“You set a precedent. You breed chaos. And as heroes, we can't allow that.”
Dream nodded along, as if he was agreeing, before breaking the act and laughing, hand moving up to curl over the top edge of his mask. His green tipped wings shook with him as the heroes stared.
“Excuse me, I just haven't heard anything funnier.” He slid his hand down his face, still laughing, before abruptly sobering.
He lowered his hand, tone dark. “This isn’t about me being a danger. It’s not even about what I’ve done, is it?”
“That's not-”
“Nuh uh.” He cut Captain off, throwing a thread of fear at her to make her falter. As expected, she flinched violently, closing her mouth. Continuing as if he hadn’t been interrupted, he said, “This is about what I could do. What you think I’ll do. Oh, that’s just great . Wonderful, even. You're trespassing on my area, threatening me, and trying to arrest me for the crimes in your imagination. How very heroic of you.”
King snapped, the crackles of his power booming like lightning. “We don’t need to imagine, Dream. ” He spat his name like poison. Internally, Dream scoffed, tasting sugared blood in his mouth. There went that self preservation instinct, as ineffective as it was. “Everyone knows what happens when villains like you get comfortable.”
“This place doesn’t belong to you, Dream.” Captain asserted, brandishing her sword and advancing towards him. “It belongs to the city. And the city is taking it back.”
“Oh come on.” He scoffed. “You didn’t want this place when it was called ‘The Void.’ When the streets were riddled with crime, and crime, and even more crime. I’ve cleaned this place up, I’ve done your job for you, and now you want it back? It’s the Dream District now. It’s mine.”
He flashed another smirk, trying to stay calm when these heroes were being so damn frustrating, and with a light voice, “Besides, it’s even got my name on it.”
“People like you get others killed.” Architect snapped, the rocks floating around him trembling. Dream stared him down with a passive expression. “That’s what happens when you're a murderer. A villain. You kill, and kill, and kill, until it’s no longer a choice, it’s instinct. That’s just how people like you work.”
Dream scoffed and narrowed his eyes, and raised his wings so that they could feel his presence. Gaining ground towards them as he spoke, “And if I leave this district right now, will you follow me to the next? Arrest me for what I might do there? Or the next, or the next?”
“Stop stalling.” King’s hands glowed white-hot, crackling. “You’re coming with us, whether you like it or not. Unless you’d rather force us to use harsher methods.”
“First of all, you're all hypocrites,” He started, “and second — and hear me out on this — you could get the fuck out, and save your fight for someone who’s actually harming your city. This is your last chance. You're lucky I’m even giving you a way out, because you are really testing my patience.”
Captain took another step forward. She was in range to strike now, if she leapt.
“No way out.” She said. “Not for you.”
Dream rolled his shoulders back. The heroes tensed, ready to attack.
Quietly, he said, “Fine then. If you really want to fight, fine. Fine. That's just fine.”
“I just hope you won’t regret it.”
Architect. Telekinesis, accompanied with his ability to fly. To match Dream’s wings as well as the speed they gave him.
King. White-hot lasers, and a resistance to the cold. Perhaps they were hoping he’d be immune to Dream’s fear, or perhaps he was their long range attacker.
And finally, The Captain. With her enhanced strength and calming power, she was their leader and the true match to his own ability.
A supposed perfect little group designed to take him, the scary villain Dream, down.
He wasn't too worried.
King moved first and fast, hands blasting flaring, bright beams that cut through the lazy morning air. Architect followed less than a second later, chunks of concrete and stray brick sent hurtling towards him, raising his trident before throwing that at him too. Captain was already darting forward into a lunge, sword aimed at his chest, just how he knew she would.
All three at once. Guess they weren't too stupid after all.
But they surely weren't too smart either, because if they were, they would've left when they had the chance.
He grinned, unusually excited. His hand darted to the inside of his right wrist, fingers brushing against the rune carved there. In a single moment, bleeding green light from underneath his skin morphed into cool black steel.
The scythe’s curved, green tinted edge sung as it cut through the air, catching King’s laser and deflecting it in a mess of fiery white sparks. Dream spun with the motion, tucking in his wings before leaping into the air, avoiding both Architect’s projectiles and Captain's attack.
“You're so serious about this.” He said conversationally as he spun the scythe and smacked the golden trident coming his way out of the air and towards the floor. “It's adorable.”
King directed another few lasers at him again, but Dream was already gone, swooping out of the way and letting the beams scorch the bricks of the nearby building instead. Architect flew up from the ground to meet him, trying to catch him mid-step with a wave of debris. He slipped past with a lazy twist of his wings, rising in altitude. When the hero shot at him again, he spun his scythe and tore a bleeding wound from Architect’s shoulder before the man could react.
More fire from below, multiple this time. “Keep him in range!” King shouted. Dream dove to avoid them as Architect pushed forward and stabbed at him with his trident. He caught the strike with the hooked curve of his scythe and cut another deep wound, this time in the abdomen. The hero faltered, hissing.
A warmth brushed at the edge of his mind. Calming. Invasive.
He turned his head toward Captain, her eyes glowing faintly. He prepared to dive at her, hating the sensation, but was interrupted by Architect appearing in front of him and stabbing at him again, blocking his path. Dream smacked his trident aside with his scythe’s handle, ignoring the way bitterness flooded his mouth accompanied with a soft sense of pain.
The feeling was ruining his fun.
On the contrary, it seemed to put Architect and King at ease, strengthening their resolve as the former pressed in close quarters and the latter from far. He weaved in between the flying pieces of asphalt and occasional scraps of metal accompanied by burning lasers while sparring with Architect’s various attempts to stab him, all of which unsuccessful.
Dream, meanwhile, simply continued to slowly cut the man to ribbons.
Architect wouldn’t be able to throw anything large and difficult to dodge while he used his ability to fly, and King wouldn’t be able to hit him while they were so high up in the air. The only thing Captain could do was offer her assistance in her disgusting, bitter, incredibly annoying ability.
He was in the advantage.
Captain’s ability brushed against him again, bitter and painful.
-But he’d rather get rid of that.
Without another thought, he whirled, fending off another one of rapidly Architect’s weakening strikes before tucking in his wings.
He dove.
His scythe cracked against Captain's blade. Dream’s wings snapped open, steel catching steel as his scythe rang against her sword in a burst of sparks, before his boots hit the floor and they began to trade quick, deadly blows.
To be fair, she was faster than he’d expected, managing to match his momentum for several strokes. He sliced at her; she parried and tried to retaliate, being met with a responding attack she usually didn't quite manage to dodge.
Dream shot forward, scythe swinging in a wide arc. Captain side-stepped, trying to parry, but his increased range allowed him to slip right past, cutting a long, painful cut across her chest.
He feigned high, widening his wings as if preparing to leap, before swinging low. His blade hooked, Captain stumbling as he ripped her weapon from her hands.
The scythe’s handle slammed into her shoulder and she hit the ground hard, rolling back to her feet to avoid the follow-up slash, retrieving her fallen weapon.
King’s lasers seared through the air, but they had to go wide, and missed due to that — he’d risk hitting Captain otherwise. Architect flung smaller shards of debris instead of boulders, as Dream deliberately forced Captain into a position that would make her act as his human shield. Architect’s teeth grit with frustration.
Ever so gradually, the taste of sugar began to build on his tongue.
Dream shifted with ease, scythe sweeping in tight arcs to keep both long-range attacks at bay while keeping Captain pinned. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he hooked underneath the cross-guard and sent her sword skidding across the pavement once again. With a thrust, cutting her with the top edge of his scythe as he did so, he shoved her back onto the cracked asphalt.
She hit the ground hard, coughing blood.
“Captain!” Both Architect and King shouted. Dream stood in front of her, wings outstretched and scythe gleaming, swatting aside every laser King could muster and dodging Architect’s quickening attacks with ease.
“This is getting boring.” Dream muttered, but judging by the way the heroes bristled in response, he hadn't been quiet enough.
Architect snarled and ripped an entire slab of broken asphalt from the street, hurling it like a meteor. King’s beams shot towards him immediately after, white-hot, enough to scorch the air.
Dream didn’t even flinch.
He surged forward instead, wings snapping once to carry him through. His scythe bit through stone midair, carving huge chunks of pavement into small pieces that whistled past him harmlessly. The lasers were side-stepped with a singular leap and flap of his wings.
He shot towards the two remaining heroes.
Architect had barely raised his weapon before Dream’s scythe struck his arm, tearing deep. He cried out, stumbling back.
Dream disarmed him with ease, and with another powerful slice, this time to the ankle, the hero collapsed.
King gave another wave of shots, but Dream was already there, twisting aside and burying the tip of his weapon into King’s thigh. The man grunted in pain, blood soaking his uniform as he collapsed. He tried to dive for his fallen weapon, but Dream simply landed and kicked it far away into the darkness of a nearby alleyway.
He strode around the three defeated heroes, dragging his black and green scythe across what was left of the broken street, the metal singing a cracked melody as he did so.
“Well, I mean,” Dream said, amused at the glares he got in turn, “I don’t want to say ‘I told you so,’ but I mean… I did tell you so.”
King, bleeding and trembling, tried to lift his hand again, a weak glow sparking at his palm. Dream was on him in a blink, the hook of the scythe cutting across his ribs and forcing a scream from his throat. King collapsed against the rubble, clutching his side, heaving breaths.
“Fuck...you.” He gasped. Dream raised an eyebrow.
Architect stumbled to his feet, throwing another brick at him with his ability. Dream didn’t even bother avoiding it, letting it bounce harmlessly off of him as he walked, slipping past a sloppy punch before driving a knee into Architect’s stomach. The air left him in a violent gasp before Dream slammed the scythe’s shaft across his jaw. Blood sprayed the concrete as the hero finally collapsed.
“Admirable of you, but it’s best if you stay down.”
From behind him, Captain’s invading presence pressed again, faint but insistent, clawing desperately at the edges of his mind. Dream’s lip curled.
“Would you stop doing that?” He hissed, whirling on her, genuinely annoyed. He absent-mindedly deflected another weak beam from King as he did so, the attack bouncing off the blade of his scythe into a rain of sparks. “It’s annoying me to hell.”
Captain pursed her lips, the sides of her mouth dripping red. The bitterness invaded his senses once more, hot and painful.
“Stop it. I mean it.” Dream growled, moving closer to her, hopping over another white laser. He feels the floodgates shaking under his attempts to keep them shut, his ability desperate to be unleashed. “You don't want to piss me off, right?”
She was injured, heavily, still lying on the floor, but still trying as well. The taste of her power shoved its way into Dream’s mouth, pricklingly painful, and he could smell it too, thick and oily, spilling down his throat and coating his tongue.
He twitched.
“Stop. It.” His wings arched as he strode forward, hand brushing against the inside of his wrist. His scythe dissolved in a familiar green glow before disappearing completely. Dream stood over her, form shadowed against the strengthening sun behind him. She glared up at him, struggling to her elbows.
“What are you even trying to do ?” He cocked his head, pursing his lips again at the disgusting feeling invading his senses. Simultaneously, his grip on his power trembled, thin threads threatening to snap, to let everything come rushing out in a single, devastating surge. “Calm me? It’s doing the opposite, if so.”
Captain’s answer was silence.
-And then she lunged.
The burning bitterness rammed into his mind, slicing through his defenses, so sharp and sudden it was as if time itself slowed. His breath caught, the world narrowing his vision, focusing on one, single thing.
The knife flashed.
He didn’t even see it as a blur, for as fast it was moving. No, he saw it in perfect detail; the orange and pink sunrise catching onto the blade’s edge, scattering into blinding white light, the arc of her arm driving it forward. For a single, long moment, it was the only thing he could see — the fatal strike seemed to swallow his attention.
Instinct grabbed him by the throat. Without a thought, his wings flared outwards, arms snapping across his chest to protect his throat and vitals.
The dagger sunk into his forearm instead of his heart, hot, hot pain rushing through him, feeling blood slide down his arm to his wrist and hand, covered by his thin armor and gloves.
His control slipped.
The ability he’d been desperately holding back burst open, finally unchecked and unrestrained. It poured out of him in waves, almost too overwhelming for even him to stay standing. Nonetheless, he managed to grip on just a bit, enough to maintain both the heroes’ and his own sanity, but he didn't manage to spare them beyond that.
Captain’s own ability shattered underneath his own. Her eyes went wide, a metallic, sugary scent taking him over as she fell to her knees, collapsing under the pressure. She choked, half gasp and half sob, terror reflected in her eyes filled with tears before the fear caved in on her and they slipped shut.
Architect behind him screamed, clawing at his own arms, curling against the ground, shaking, mouth opening for another soundless scream before going limp. King tried to raise his head, tried to speak, tears rolling down his cheeks, but the sound broke into a choked whimper before his eyes rolled back. He slumped, unconscious. Dream hardly noticed any of it.
He felt drunk.
The fear rushed into him, flooding his veins with such an intoxicating sweetness, addictive, euphoric. It tasted metallic and smelled like blood, feeling almost holy. It filled his senses, his mind; he was drunk on fear.
He stumbled, gasping, hand moving to his mask, and for a moment, reveled in it. The raw euphoria seared through his body more potent than any kind of drug, and it was so, so easy, to lose himself in the ocean of bliss, to throw himself into the waves and drown, drinking until there was nothing left of him but the sweetness and the broken people crushed beneath it. Dream’s lips curled into the slightest smile, intoxicated, losing himself-
And then he froze.
Because it wasn’t just coming from the heroes.
He felt his ability lapping at smaller, fragile minds; the sharp, panicked edge of fear spilling from the children, far away now, but not safe from Dream and his terrifying ability. The very people he’d sworn to protect. His kids.
He forgot the euphoria, then.
Suddenly, everything came back into focus. Namely, the knife still buried in his arm, harshly painful, but it wasn’t wise to go pulling it out when he didn’t have anything on him that could stop the bleeding.
Dream bit his tongue as he pried his power off the world around him like claws out of flesh. The sweetness recoiled reluctantly, leaving only the tang of blood in his mouth. The three heroes lay slumped in unconscious heaps, their dreams doomed to be nothing but nightmares for weeks to come.
He sighed as he looked at their broken forms, muttering, “I probably shouldn’t have done that.” He was, in fact, already starting to regret it.
“They were being pissy!"
Dream turned, surprised, the soft scent of vanilla cream coffee wafting through the air, and was met with the same bright blue eyed, blonde haired kid from before.
Not afraid of him, in that innocent way all the kids were.
“And you kicked their asses!” The kid continued, clearly excited, even rocking back and forth between the balls of his feet and his toes. “And the fear thing was really badass! Oh, uh, you have a knife sticking out of you, by the way.”
He stared for a minute.
Then, Dream laughed, taken aback, feeling calm with the pleasant bitterness of the kid’s innocence combating the lasting sweetness. “I thought you left! What's your name?”
“Tommy!” The kid exclaimed, delighted. “I'm eight, but I’m also turning nine really soon.”
“Nice to meet you, Tommy.” Dream smiled, happy at that moment that he’d decided against a full face mask and opted for one that left out his mouth. “Hey, listen, I think I need to go soon, so can you help me with something?”
Tommy blinked before nodding quickly. “Yeah! I’m a big man, I can do anything! What do you want me to do?”
The sweetness was drifting into his senses again. Slowly, hesitantly, but as long as he was around the heroes, he’d be risking losing control of his abilities again.
That just wasn't something he could do.
“Can you get these pissy heroes out of the district?” Dream asked kindly, crouching down so he wasn't towering over the kid. “You can ask your friends for help. I just-”
“Can't stand them!” Tommy interrupted. “Yeah, heroes are dumb.”
Dream laughed again, but it was cut short by the smell of blood. The fear was beginning to cloud his senses again, and he was — ironically — afraid. Afraid that he’d lose himself in it if he stayed much longer.
“So, can you do it for me?”
“Obviously.” Tommy huffed, crossing his arms and pouting. “I already said that. But..”
“What do you need?”
Tommy grinned. “I want a feather! And-And also a sandwich.”
Dream blinked. That wasn't what he’d been expecting. “A…feather?”
“One of your fancy feathers!” The kid beamed, pointing at Dream’s primaries.
“How about one of these ones?” He spread out his wings, gesturing to the inner feathers instead. “They're also pretty fancy.”
“-I want a big one though.”
“Alright, alright. You're the boss.” Dream shook his head, amused. He gingerly chose one of the more good looking feathers and plucked it out, wincing a bit as he did so. Twirling the black and green feather in his hand, “Take good care of it, okay? It's very special to me.”
Tommy nodded quickly as Dream handed it to him, staring at it like it was a precious jewel. “Alright, I really have to go, okay? I’ll get you your sandwich next time.”
The kid nodded again, this time absent-mindedly, still studying the feather. “Okay.”
“See you!” Dream waved him goodbye. Tommy looked away from the feather to give him a cheerful wave back.
And with that, Dream took to the skies.
—
The city sprawled ahead of him, far off into the distance, night lights glittering into view as the sky painted over into darkness as black as his wings. He was perched on a slanted rooftop of a half-collapsed tower right on the edge of his territory, lounging, finding solace in the solitude and quiet. His injured arm was bandaged, wings spread out across the rooftop to their full length, and every so once in a while would catch the cool night wind.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite supervillain!” A familiar voice exclaimed. “Other than me, of course. And why am I always finding you in places where one sneeze could make me fall to my death?”
“You’re so stupid. We both know you don’t fall.” Dream scoffed with a smile. “What are you doing here, Punz?”
The other EX-rank villain vaulted onto the ledge behind him and crouched as Dream sat up. With an easy grin, he said, “Tactical curiosity. It makes it easier for me to save your ass when you inevitably fall to your death off some rooftop.”
He rolled his eyes, curling in his wings so Punz could sit beside him. “Oh come on. A faulty rooftop isn’t going to be the death of me, I can fly. If anything, it’ll be some hero who got a lucky shot.”
“You give them too much credit.” His friend leaned back. “Seriously, lately they’ve been even more insufferable than they were before. All self-righteous and shit.”
Suddenly, he straightened, voice taking a mocking, high-pitched tone. “Oh, look at me, I’m a hero, I fight for justice and the people! ” And then he threw his head back, showing that he was rolling his eyes underneath his white blindfold mask, voice reverting back to normal, “And then they tear up half the street and lecture us on terrorism and responsibility.”
“And then, ” Punz added as Dream choked, using his fingers as quotation marks as he said, “when heroes kill, it’s ‘necessary’ and ‘delivering justice,’ but then when we do the same thing, it’s ‘unacceptable’ and ‘evil’. Seriously, is it hypocrisy or just stupidity? Brainwashing, maybe?”
“All of the above.” Dream said dryly, and then they both burst into laughter.
“They tried coming after me this afternoon." Punz said after the laughter died down, still snickering. “They only sent two people though, can you imagine? I’m offended.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dream nodded, huffing. “They only sent three after me this morning. Like they thought that was going to do anything. Although I still don't understand why they came after me first and not you-”
“Three? ” Punz clicked his tongue, pretending to be annoyed. “I only warranted two, are you kidding? What does that say about me, huh?”
“That you’re getting slow.”
“Slow?!” Punz said indignantly as Dream snorted. “I had them crying for backup in under two minutes! One of them actually begged me to ‘spare him’. It’s like the government thinks we’re pushovers or something, sending all these lackluster kids after us.”
“Of course you’re complaining, you like the challenge.” Dream stretched out his wings again, inattentively preening the feathers. “Personally, I’d love it if they just left me alone.”
“Who’d you get, then?” Punz asked, peering at the city as he did so. “Seems they actually managed to hit you.”
In hindsight, it was pretty stupid of me to let my guard down like that.
“Captain, King, and Architect. I asked them to leave like, a million times, and they still wanted to fight me.” Dream groaned in annoyance. “They’re actually so-”
“Bro, you’re kidding me!” Punz exclaimed, cutting him off, whipping his head around to look at him. “Let’s swap, come on.”
“If I could, I’d take you up on that in a heartbeat. They ruined my whole morning. To me, Captain’s power feels like she's pouring oil down my throat, and then she had the nerve to try stabbing me. Didn’t work, though.” Dream shrugged, Punz listening intently. “All three of them are just going to be having nightmares for months.”
A quick silence.
“Hey, you’ve always said that you can taste people.” Punz tilted his head just slightly, grinning mischievously, “So tell me, what do I taste like?”
Dream made a face, shifting to sit cross-legged, stopping his preening to peer at his friend. “That’s so-why’d you have to word it like that?”
Punz smirked with a brief laugh, popping upwards to copy him. “‘Cause I wanted to. Now tell me, come on, I’m curious.”
He shook his head with a small smile, smoothly pulling out a broken tertial feather and brushing off the dirt of the surrounding plumage, “I dunno, it depends, but most of the time it’s like… caramel, if it was bitter. It’s sort of nice. Pretty strong bitterness, like I said. ”
“Bitter caramel.” Punz repeated, clearly intrigued. “Huh. That’s something I’ve never thought about being a thing. What about other people?”
“Who?”
“I guess… Prometheus? Captain? Basically everyone important.”
Dream thought about it for a moment, trying to recall. “Well, Captain’s like candied blood, sort of. Candied salt and blood. A steady and confident kind of fear. It’s hard to describe exactly. Most heroes are about the same, though, they’re usually all pretty sweet. Prometheus is like black coffee. Bitter as hell, but not unpleasant, exactly. It’s just really sharp. Unique.”
Punz snorted. “Figures. And speaking of Prometheus, he should be blowing up the bank in the Serene Sector any moment now.”
Dream glanced over at him, laying the broken feathers on the rooftop to be picked up by the wind, drifting off down into the street below. A sort of marker, if you will. “Serene Sector?”
He jabbed a finger at the sector laid out in front of them, dark alleyways and buildings illuminated by amber streetlights. “You mean the one we’re looking at right now? That one?”
As if right on cue, a deep boom split the night, rattling the half-collapsed tower beneath them. A plume of orange fire shot upward just a few streets over, almost instantly followed by the shriek of alarms and the echo of terrified screams. A few gunshots ran out as a resounding boom shook the ground once more.
“Seriously?” Dream deadpanned, unimpressed, as Punz grins, shooting up to his feet and smoothly leaping onto what was left of the cylindrical railing on the tower, already moving to leap away.
“Boom. Distraction.” His friend’s smile wickened. At his unimpressed stare, Punz added, “Yeah, alright, I was actually only here for that, but then I saw you, so. Lucky you, I guess. Anyways, I’m going to go wreak some havoc and steal some hero technology, you wanna come?”
“...You know I don’t-”
“Leave your district, yeah yeah. You’re so boring.” Punz gave him a two fingered salute.
“See ya, Dream.”
Punz didn’t wait for his reply — he never did. Instead, he slipped out of sight and disappeared in a blur of motion towards his dumpster fire of a city. In ten minutes or so he’d already be weaving in and around the chaos, stealing tech or jewelry or important information, really anything that inconvenienced the heroes and by extent, the government.
He watched another one of his discarded feathers be snatched up by the wind, spinning and flying with the breeze before fluttering down out of sight. Another marker.
Dream lingered on the roof a while longer, lazily stretching out his wings, fingers combing through the feathers as he heard the sounds of chaos from not too far away, watching as more explosions rocked the ground with even an occasional burst of flames, smearing the black sky with a faint red and orange.
Normally he would’ve enjoyed this. Not the screams of civilians, or the terrorism, but what came with it; fear. Fear was always present, rolling in waves from the source, washing over the streets and buildings until they reached him. Even now, he could already sense it beginning to brush against him, a delicacy that usually made him lean back and savor it, one he only got when trouble bled over into his district or when stupid people decided to test his rules.
Both were rare to come by, these days.
But tonight wasn’t a normal night. Instead of enjoying the metallic sweetness, he recoiled from it. While it still held the same taste of iron and blood and sugar, it didn’t spark a hunger within him but rather twisted his stomach uncomfortably, remembering the events of that morning.
Dream pursed his lips, standing up and dusting himself off, deliberately turning his back to the burning sector behind him, not so serene anymore. It still throbbed with chaos, with people shouting and screaming and dying.
It would’ve been so easy to just drink it all in.
But instead, he moved to the edge of the rooftop, spreading his wings. They cast long shadows across the building’s walls against the full moon, looking at the street below, silent and calm.
He could help, too. The bank lay right on the border between the Dream District and the Serene Sector. All he’d have to do is show up, and after a playful spar, Prometheus would go take his chaos and government-toppling plans elsewhere. And if he went, their fear would wash over him, saccharine, like a reward.
But Dream was sick of the sweetness, and would be for a while. The taste, the addiction, the way it could consume him so completely, so easily. One slip up, one moment where he lets go, and he’d drown in it completely. He didn’t want the taste of fear anywhere near him, not tonight, and probably not for months.
And those people weren’t his people, anyway. They were afraid of him, too.
So why bother?
“It’s just not my problem.” He muttered.