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Chapter Text

He remembered two things from that fateful night with startling clarity. The adrenaline pumping through his veins making his heart beat so hard and fast that he worried it would fall out of his chest and be left behind in the dust. And the night sky, full of a thousand stars that surrounded a large, ethereal moon. How long had it been since he had last seen the sky? He had been in the dark for so long, cramped in a small cage that he thought would be his deathbed. But now there he was, breathing in clean air and the wonderfully intoxicating scent of petrichor and feeling the cool wind brush his face.

 If he hadn’t been running for his life, maybe he could have enjoyed it more.

The yelling of the hunters behind him reminded him of how easily this freedom could be taken away. And yet, there was a sense of exhilaration that flowed through his entire body that fulfilled him in a way he had not felt in such a long time. He did not remember the last time he ran. But now he didn’t want to forget.

“Don’t let him get away!” A hunter shouted from behind him that was much too close for comfort. He vaguely recognized it as the guard he had stabbed in the leg with a small knife made of stone.

The recognition made his arms and legs pump faster. The punishment for assaulting him would not be kind.

His height was a double-edge sword; on one hand, he was short enough to avoid being hit in the face with oak branches like the hunters. On the other hand, the underbrush seemed determine to make him stumble and his legs were a bit too short to avoid the foliage.

Hiding wasn’t an option. He was certain the Huntsmen had a compass trained on him. Fighting was out of the question considering he didn’t even know how to throw a punch. And three versus one? The odds weren’t in his favor. That left one tactic he could use to shake the Huntsmen off his trail.

He needed a clearing. It was too risky to teleport in an area so densely populated with trees, but he knew if he didn’t find an open space soon, it would be a risk he would have to take. If the hunters had sounded farther away, he didn’t take notice, not with the sound of his blood pumping and the multitude of leaves and branches crunching beneath his bare feet. He knew his feet were a bloody mess but, in that moment, he couldn’t feel pain.

In the distance, he saw a space devoid of trees.

And he was gone.

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The Taiga Mountains were always a sight to behold. They were ridiculously high and notoriously hard to climb. The trunks of the spruce trees could grow as thick as four humans combined. Fish swam through burbling rivers that snaked between mountains and foxes munched on the sweet berries that grew in patches. The mountains were vast enough to make anyone feel lost if they didn’t pay close enough attention. If you were to stand atop the highest point you could find, it was unlikely you could catch even a glimpse of the next biome. The Taiga Mountains were indeed a sight to behold. And a perfect site to hide.

“Where the hell did he go?” George whipped around frantically, iron sword at the ready. His eyes, hidden behind his color correction goggles, squinted as the sunlight broke through the leaves of the now thinning trees.

“The trees, the trees dude!” Sapnap exclaimed, looking up nervously at the spruce trees that towered above them. They had done Manhunt enough times to know that Dream wasn’t above ambushing them from the air.

Manhunts had become a monthly routine for the four friends. Dream was almost always the hunted and no matter how often they held their hunts, he was able to come up with new techniques that baffled the hunters every time. A few times in the past, they had tried switching up the hunters and the hunted, but it became clear that George, Sapnap, or Bad becoming the hunted resulted in a quick game over. Dream seemed to like being chased down anyway, so since then, their dynamic had stayed the same. After all, you don’t fix what isn’t broken.

As the two stood back to back scouting for their friend, Bad warily approached the end of a large cliff. He wished he had time to admire the breathtaking view before him but letting his guard down could prove costly. He stood by the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of the ground below him, staying a safe distance away to avoid falling.

The height was dizzying and Bad instantly shifted his stance to feel more secure. He squinted when his eye caught a bit of white peaking from just below the cliff. It wasn’t snow but Bad couldn’t get closer without falling and he did not have a death wish thank you very much! “Do you think he jumped off the edge?”

Sapnap reluctantly lowered his sword and joined Bad near the edge of the cliff, still giving the trees around him dirty looks. “Wouldn’t be the first time that crazy son of a bitch has done it.”

“Language!”

George ran up from behind and hissed at them. “Guys, look at the compass!”

The three peered at the compass held in George’s hand. It was a bit battered after so many Manhunts and the glass had a few cracks here and there, but that wasn’t what the hunters were focused. It was the red arrow that spun frantically in circles pointing in no discernible direction.

“He’s not above us,” Sapnap whispered.

Bad gulped. “So he must be…”

“Below,” finished George, right before the ground beneath them gave way.

All three screamed as they plummeted towards the grounds, bracing themselves for impact.

It never came.

George opened his eyes and looked directly into a clear blue sky. “Am I dead?” He wondered before a hand in the face jolted him from his stupor.

“No, you muffin head,” Bad sighed and lifted his arm that was covered in white string, “we got caught in cobwebs.”

The three were slowly sinking in a large bundle of webs that was full of fallen dirt and debris. The tip of the cliff they were standing on just seconds before was completely gone.

A wheeze could be heard from above them. There stood Dream, back pressing against the wall of the cliff where he was precariously balancing himself on a thin ledge of rocks that were jutting out.

Sapnap groaned trying to desperately dislodge himself from the cobwebs. “Man, you know how hard these are to get out of clothes. Last time I had to wash my clothes by hand three times.”

Dream laughed again and vaulted himself from the ledge, landing on the ground beside his cobweb trap where George and Bad were helping each other out of. He grabbed Sapnap’s hand and gave a hard tug, freeing him from his sticky prison. “What? You wanted me to let you fall to your deaths?”

“I’d prefer that than this,” George grumbled as he tried dusting off the webs on his body.

“That was a really cool trick Dream!” Bad exclaimed. “How’d you even get yourself onto that ledge? I couldn’t see you from over the cliff.”

Sapnap snorted and tried wiping his hands on the masked man’s green poncho hoodie. “I used an Ender Pearl,” Dream said. He was expertly avoiding Sapnap’s sticky fingers.

George frowned. “How? You shouldn’t have been able to see the ledge, much less aim at it without falling.”

Dream just shrugged and adjusted his mask. “Maybe you should get better at aiming.” George could tell he wore a shit-eating grin on his face and rolled his eyes in response.

“Whatever, Manhunt’s over, let’s just eat dinner cause I’m starving.” Sapnap pulled out the compass that lead them back to their base and began walking north.

Bad squealed and began rummaging through his bag. “I made us some pumpkin pie snacks for the walk home! Or we can have them for dessert!” He frowned. “I hope there’s no webs on them.”

“Webs or no webs, I’m sure they taste great Bad,” Dream said as he started following Sapnap and the hooded man beamed. The four went on their way towards the base as the sun started to lower in the sky, bathing the cool biome with a golden light.

The crackle of the campfire filled the surrounding area with light and warmth and kept the hostile mobs at bay. A whole chicken was roasting over the fire and while it smelled good, it barely masked the scent of burnt fish that was now being used as fire fuel. An accident that George would evidently never hear the end of.

“Hey, everything happens for a reason. Maybe we were meant to eat chicken tonight?” Bad suggested weakly in an effort to reassure a distressed Sapnap.

“First, we get covered in cobwebs and now my dinner has been desecrated,” Sapnap bemoaned, voice muffled from lying face down in the grass. He had been there for five minutes, refusing to sit back on his log much to George’s chagrin.

Said man rubbed his eyes, his goggles resting on the top of his head. “You’re such a drama queen, I already apologized for burning it. Besides, Bad offered you pumpkin pie and you refused.”

Sapnap lifted his head to fix George with a glare. “I can’t have dessert before dinner Gogie, that’s not how I operate.”

George shook his head and looked at Dream with a look that said can you believe this shit? Dream smiled, an action that was visible to everyone now that he had his mask slightly pushed up, and took a bite of pumpkin pie. “You’re missing out Sapnap, this is Bad’s best pie yet.” Bad smiled and opened his mouth to accept the compliment before he was interrupted.

“I’m not taking food reviews from someone who eats like a fairytale princess,” Sapnap declared, finally removing himself from the ground.

Dream nearly choked on his pie. “I’m sorry what did you just say?” His mouth was parted slightly in disbelief as George and Bad nearly fell of their logs in their laughter.

“It-It’s true,” George gasped struggling to compose himself. “You take such tiny bites when you eat, you nibble on food like a rabbit!”

Dream shook his head. “I swear we have this exact conversation almost every month, let me eat in piece! Just this once!”

Bad giggled and wiped a tear from his eye. “Sorry Dream, but it’s just so adorable.”

Dream felt his face flush and slid his mask back into place, but not before popping a final piece of pie into his mouth, eliciting another round of guffaws from around the campfire.

Later, after everyone had eaten and retired to their beds, Dream got up for another piece of pumpkin pie. He wasn’t exaggerating earlier, Bad truly outdid himself this time, and already he was craving another piece of that pumpkin deliciousness. The base was quiet, with only the sounds of wolves and few yipping foxes in the distance. As he sliced a fairly large piece, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Upon looking up, Dream locked eyes with an Enderman standing several feet away near the forest’s edge, holding a chunk of dirt. Mobs didn’t normally come near their base due to the excessive use of torches lighting up the area around them. Somehow though, Endermen seemed frequent quite a bit.

The creature was tall and lanky, with long fingers that tapered into fine claws that were perfect for slicing. Their pitch black skin seemed to stretch over their bones as if there was no muscle to act as a buffer. As a result, their ribcages were exceedingly prominent, and they always looked on the verge of starvation. An Enderman’s face was relatively unexpressive but Dream knew that their thin closed mouth held rows of thick, needle sharp teeth, ready to behead at a moment’s notice.

For a moment they stared at one another, glowing purple eyes to porcelain mask, and after a few seconds, the creature teleported away leaving behind small speckles of purple dust. Dream tore his eyes away from the empty spot and returned to his room.

He locked his bedroom door as he always did before bed and sat at his desk in the corner of his room that was illuminated by a single lantern. Checking behind him out of paranoia, he slid his mask off his face and rested it on the dark oak of his desk.

Slowly reaching his hands up to his face, he began to trace along the edges of his cheekbones, his nose, and his jaw. His blank gaze landed on the Bad’s pie that sat innocently in front of him.

In one swift movement, Dream grabbed the large piece of pie, unhinged his jaw, and swallowed it in one impossibly large bite. Licking his lips, he placed the mask on his face once more and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

There was a certain freedom that came with not caring about others’ perceptions of you. The freedom to do and say things and not worry how they may come across. The freedom to be truly and wholly yourself and surround yourself with people who accept you for you.

Dream had no such luxury.

Ever since he was young, he had been instilled with the curse of self-consciousness birthed from a life of hiding in the shadows. Revealing your true self had consequences that Dream had experienced firsthand and did not wish to experience again.

So he lied.

The mask was easy enough to explain, surprisingly. A simple moment of silence after a question about his mask was enough to deter anymore unwanted questions. If they persisted, he told them he was involved in an accident. That was as much of an explanation he would give. If someone didn’t drop it after that, the dirty looks from others and Dream’s silence was enough to get them to back off.

As for the porcelain mask itself, well, the crudely drawn smiley face proved itself a successful deterrent against direct eye contact.

He couldn’t give up teleporting. Call him reckless all you wanted but, in a life full of pretending to be someone he wasn’t, teleporting was the one thing that Dream would let himself have. Ender pearls were readily accessible to him and luckily, he didn’t have to kill Endermen to get them. Both friends and enemies were always baffled by the amount of Ender pearls he had in his possession and how he never seemed to run out. He had become particularly good at knowing when to teleport naturally and when to pearl.

Even then, despite all the precautions taken, there was still that persistent, ever-lasting paranoia that Dream couldn’t shake off no matter what he did. Don’t open your mouth too wide, don’t teleport too obviously, don’t look people in the eye, don’t take your mask off, don’t involve yourself in politics, don’t give an opinion on hybrids, don’t mention anything relating to The End or Endermen, don’t do this, don’t do that.

It was fucking exhausting. But it was necessary.

He hated lying to his friends. His friends who had been with him through thick and thin. His friends who would take a hit from an arrow for him and who he would gladly do the same for in return. Many times, in the past, Dream had been tempted to just rip off the mask and reveal everything. To tell them all the truth of who and what he was, damn the consequences. And then he would remember the other hybrids who had thought the same and did suffer the consequences.

Dream kept his mouth shut.

                                                                                                    -----------------------------

Dream stood outside the walls of L’Manberg, feeling dwarfed by its massive size. During the war, he remembered looking at the wall with such contempt. Now as a visitor, he couldn’t help but feel impressed at the structure. The inside of L’Manberg did not disappoint either. Except for a few patches of dead greenery popping up throughout the town, everything else seemed colorful and lively. Old destroyed buildings had been rebuilt, and new homes had been added. Freshly planted flowers, no doubt Tubbo’s doing judging by the amount of bees, were scattered around pathways and in front of homes. More flags of L’Manberg had been woven and flew high above different areas.

Dream chuckled at the excessive display of patriotism. He felt bitterness rear its ugly head and he squashed it down as far as he could. L’Manberg won their fight for independence and that was the end of the discussion. But it was yours, an angry voiced hissed in the back of his head, and they took it from you. Dream shook his head and walked further inside the newly independent nation.

(Besides, he had new possessions now that were arguably far better)

The first familiar face he saw was Fundy. The fox hybrid was helping Tubbo plant more flowers near Tommy’s path. Even Dream had to admit that it looked beautiful. He deliberately made his footsteps louder to alert the two of his presence; just another thing to be self-conscious about, how eerily silent he was in his movements. With a twitch of his ears, Fundy looked up and his dark eyes widened upon seeing Dream.

“Oh, uh, hey Dream. What brings you here?” Tubbo swiveled around from his handiwork and seemed equally surprised at Dream’s presence.

“What? I can’t visit my favorite independent nation?” The joke fell flat even to him.

Tubbo smiled politely. “Hello Dream! We were just making Tommy’s path look nicer.”

Dream tilted his head, inspecting the bright red poppy held gently in Tubbo’s dirt covered hands. “They look nice, Tubbo.” The boy’s smile grew wider and he eagerly returned to his planting.

Fundy coughed. “I, uh, I can take you to Wilbur if that’s what you’re here for.”

Dream merely nodded and Fundy got up, dusting the dirt off his pants. “I’ll be back in a second Tubbo,” he said, and they left the boy to continue his work. As the pair walked away, Dream could practically feel Tubbo’s eyes watching him.

Everyone seemed to love Fundy. Walking across L’Manberg prompted many good mornings and other common greetings to the fox hybrid, followed by a hushed silence when they saw Dream. Fundy was likeable, as most peaceful mob hybrids were nowadays. Envy coiled in Dream’s chest at the unfairness of it all. Fundy had no idea had good he had it and it infuriated him to no end. Here, in his little L’Manbergian bubble, Fundy had never known discrimination. They were nothing alike and they never would be. And in Dream’s experience, a peaceful mob hybrid could be just as bigoted as a human. Being a hybrid didn’t mean he made it in Dream’s top ten list of people. Not at all.

They reached a small house that Dream deduced was Tommy’s based on the carvings and crude drawings made in the wood. The scratched words of POG and POGCHAMP stared back at him. A few misspelled words here and there implied that Tubbo visited often. There was another factor that made Dream realize this was Tommy’s house: the shrill yelling coming from inside.

“YOU CAN’T STOP ME FROM LIVING MY DREAMS WILBUR!”

“Tommy, for the love of Notch, STOP THIS!”

Both Dream and Fundy winced at the shouting match. Ears flat against his head, Fundy knocked loudly on the door.

“Uh, Dream’s here?”

The door swung up quickly, revealing a disheveled Wilbur holding three bottles of Strength Potion in one hand and using the other to keep a pouting Tommy at bay. Upon seeing Dream, Wilbur’s expression became serious and he straightened up, while Tommy glowered from inside.

“What the hell are you doing here, Big D?”  The teen demanded forcefully but Dream noticed how he shuffled back slightly. Although the final battle for L’Manberg was a year in the past, some of its citizens still held wariness towards him. None more so than Tommy Innit considering that Dream now held the boy’s prized discs under his possession.

Wilbur shifted so that he shielded Tommy from view. “What brings you to my L’Manberg, Dream?” The President asked, staring directly into the eye holes of his mask. A challenge. Dream clenched his fist so hard he nearly drew blood.

He took a quiet breath. “I just wanted to discuss something of importance with you. I come in peace.”

Wilbur seemed to sense his sincerity and relaxed minutely, yet not completely. Never around Dream. Not after everything he had done. He handed the glistening strength potion bottles to Fundy, who looked confused. “Don’t let Tommy touch these Fundy. He’s trying to drink them all at the same time.”

Fundy looked at Tommy, horrified. “But that’s practically a death wish!”

“I’ll be the strongest citizen L’Manberg has ever seen! Hand them over Fundy, you bastard!” He screeched as Fundy began to back away from the chaotic teen, tail stiff.

“Insane child,” Wilbur mumbled under his breath. He mentioned to Dream to follow him, ignoring Tommy’s indignant squawk at the comment. “We can go to my office if it’s just the two of us.” They left an enraged Tommy and a distressed Fundy behind.

Wilbur’s office was larger compared to the last time Dream had seen it. Stacks of paper were strewn about his desk in a sort of organized mess. The L’Manberg flag was proudly pinned behind it, forcing Dream to acknowledge both the nation’s ruler and it’s flag from where he sat. He knew this was likely unintentional, after all, there was nowhere else as fitting in the room to hang a flag. It didn’t stop Dream from biting back a scowl from behind his mask.

“So, what brings you to our fine L’Manberg today? Usually you give us some sort of heads up before you come visiting,” Wilbur said, leaning back in his chair and threading his hands together. It was all for show, Dream could see the tension in his stiff shoulders.

George had once commented on how tense Dream always was, the topic triggered when the Dream Team traversed an innocent, untouched meadow and were suddenly ambushed by a witch. Dream struck it down with an enchanted bow in one fell swoop while the others were still processing that there had even been a witch. Even in a peaceful meadow surrounded by friends, he never let his guard down. Sapnap called it ‘mad reflexes’, Dream called it ‘learned behavior’.

“Have you heard of the Huntsmen?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

Wilbur furrowed his brow. “I can’t say that I have. What do they hunt?”

“Hybrids,” Dream replied. Wilbur looked out the window with worry, watching Fundy and Tommy roughhousing in the distance. Tommy’s shouts were undecipherable but impossible to ignore. “Fundy will probably be safe from them.”

Wilbur looked at him. “But I thought you said-”

“They don’t seem to hunt peaceful hybrids. Hardly anyone does anymore and even then, there are many laws protecting his kind. The Huntsmen won’t directly target him, but I would still advise that Fundy stays away from them,” Dream paused for a second before continuing. “They target hostile hybrids, some more…intently than others. From what I heard, Huntsmen may use rather destructive methods to catch hostile hybrids. They might cause unwarranted damage to L’Manberg, so I suggest either turning them away altogether or keeping a very close eye on them.”

Now Wilbur was frowning and staring at his desk in quiet contemplation. It was a few moments before he spoke again. “Then what hybrids are they hunting exactly?”

“My sources tell me Endermen.” That was all Dream would say.

At that, Wilbur became noticeably more relaxed and ran a hand through his curly hair. “Oh, it’s just Endermen? Well then, what’s the worry? It’s not like they’re common here. I’ve never even seen one before.” He shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. “For a second there you started to get me all worked up and anxious.”

Dream stood up abruptly trying to ignore the seething anger he felt. He couldn’t necessarily blame Wilbur; Ender hybrids were notoriously elusive. Either they lived in The End or the hid amongst the crowded cities or the vast rural areas. They were hard to capture and harder to keep captured. Publicly documented information about his kind was scarce and shoddy at best. No one but Ender hybrids would know of the new technology being built to keep them imprisoned. No one but Ender hybrids would notice just how fast their species was disappearing.

“Wilbur.” Dream forced himself to relax his throbbing hands. Wilbur looked at him, surprised at the sudden reaction and shift in atmosphere. “Just be careful.”

He walked out of the office and towards the exit of L’Manberg without another word. The sun was beginning to set, and the citizens were starting to return to their homes. He could only recognize a few faces, Niki closing up her bakery, Tubbo and Tommy splashing each other with pond water, ridding themselves of dirt. The number of L’Manberg citizens had certainly increased over the course of a year, no doubt due to the safety and protection its walls provided.

Dream sighed. The whole visit had him much more strung up than he anticipated. And he still had one more stop to make. This one hopefully wouldn’t be as stress-inducing.

(He ignored the way his hands trembled at the thought of his next stop)

It was only when he reached to adjust the netherite axe strapped to his back that he processed the pain in his hands. Looking down at them, he saw a faint tinge of red shining through the black fabric of his gloves. Huh, guess he had broken the skin after all. He continued onward into the darkening forest without looking back.

Chapter Text

As someone with the proud title of the Blood God, one would not often find Technoblade doing, well, bloody activities. He was content with staying on his potato farm and sleeping as much as he wanted. There were days where he would just sit outside and let the day pass. The pressure of time was not a pressing factor in Technoblade’s life. Sure, he did enjoy anarchy, chaos, and the spillage of blood, but there was a time and a place for that.

That place in particular was the Nether.

Creatures in the Nether were violent and bloodthirsty, capable of attacking at any moment. Their grotesque appearances didn’t help their image either. They also posed more of a challenge than the hostile mobs of the Overworld. Thus, every so often, Technoblade would take a break from the peace of being a potato farmer and disappear to the Nether to beat the shit out of some mobs by himself.

Sat in the doorway of his meager home, Technoblade sighed as he wiped the blood from his diamond sword. Cleaning the blood and gore off his person and items was always the most tedious part of his excursions. Don’t get him wrong, he gained immense satisfaction wearing the blood of the mobs he had slain, his pent-up bloodlust finally having a suitable outlet. But blood dries. And smells. And gets everywhere. Everywhere.

The night was quiet. Mobs tended to avoid Techno’s farm and for good reason. They seemed to know that the hybrid was more than happy to kill for sport. The only noises came from soft breeze gently rustling trees and the distant warped hissing generated by his Nether portal.

Despite the forest’s stillness, he almost didn’t hear Dream pearl, even with his keen hearing. That’s one thing that bothered him about the masked man, the way he was able to sneak up on Techno and get much closer than anyone else ever could. It irked him, but it also excited him.

The purple sparkles that came with teleportation faded and Techno gave Dream a once over. His poncho hoodie was as bright a green as always and the porcelain mask that covered his entire face stared back at him. Techno’s piglike nose sniffed at the scent of fresh blood. He zeroed in on Dream’s fingers where a few streaks of bright, red blood could be seen glistening slightly in the moonlight.

“Rough day?”

Dream, noticing his gaze, brought up his gloved hands and stared at them before they returned back to his side. “I guess you could say that.”

Techno laid his sword against the wall, threw his braid over his shoulder, and turned back to open a chest. He rummaged around until he pulled out some bandages and tossed them towards Dream who caught them, careful to not get blood on them.

When Dream removed his gloves and began wrapping his hands, Techno sat down on a log outside his porch and decided to bite the bullet. “Got something to tell me? Cause if not, I’d prefer to go back to cleaning if you don’t mind.”

Dream chuckled which he appreciated. Techno’s monotone humor tended to fly over the heads of most. After he stopped, he spoke. “There are Huntsmen headed this way. I already warned L’Manberg, but they didn’t seem too worried.”

Sensing a note of bitterness in his voice, Techno shook his head. “You can’t expect them to understand. It’s not like they’ll be affected. Besides, as long as we steer clear, we’ll be fine. They’re probably not looking for us anyway.” In earlier times, Piglin hybrids were more likely to be captured and experimented on once the Nether portal was created. Back then, it was normal. The sun came up every morning, hybrids were brutally experimented on, and the sky was blue. Nowadays, there were laws against unethical experimentation of hybrids. Peaceful hybrids were still treated considerably better than hostile ones, but most hostile hybrids still found themselves living their lives relatively free of incident.

He knew Dream was a hybrid from the moment they first fought in the Championship. Their fighting styles were distinct from one another’s; Techno relied more on strength and force while Dream relied on skill and technique. But there was something more to Dream’s movements, a sort of restrained desperation that laced every dodge and hit. His opponent was used to fighting, just not for fun. Dream was a good fighter, there was no doubt in Techno’s mind, but he was also a good survivor. The final clue was the mask. Technoblade didn’t mean to aim for the face, not for a simple tournament fight, but one second Dream was getting off the ground and the next, the glint of an axe filled Techno’s vision. He dodged, feeling a sudden lightness on his head, and swung his sword out of reflex and heard a resounding crack.

In a brief moment, Technoblade saw the mask split in two as Dream fell back. He caught a glimpse of a small part of an eye peeking at him, wide with fear before the man hit the floor.

Techno won the Championship and received a haircut in the process. Dream, with his hood up and his head tilted towards the floor, had uttered a quick congratulations before hurriedly leaving the arena. The next time they would meet, the man would properly congratulate Techno, donning a similar mask, although Techno was unsure if the signature mask was repaired or replaced.

So, he knew Dream was likely a hybrid. He just couldn’t pinpoint what type of hybrid he was. His guesses had ranged from spider to Wither skeleton, but he couldn’t be certain.

No one would mistake Technoblade- with his tusks, pig-like nose and ears, and desire for bloodshed- for a full-blooded human. But Dream blended in with the Overworld crowd. Not a single one of the people in his close group of friends gave any indication that they knew exactly what Dream was. Techno didn’t pry. He knew Dream had his reasons, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what those reasons were.

All in all, Dream was a secretive, private person with a lot to hide. So Techno was genuinely surprised at the next sentence that left Dream’s mouth.

“They’re hunting Ender hybrids, Techno.” Oh. Oh. The Piglin hybrid suddenly felt very, very stupid. A slideshow projector played in his brain replaying each and every obvious interaction with Dream that clued in on his hybrid origin. The knack for teleportation, the mask, the fact that he kept it secret from his closest friends. It was as if Techno was missing the last piece to complete a puzzle and it was laying right there on the table the whole time. He assumed most Ender hybrids had just gone off to The End where humans couldn’t find them. They were so hard to find, in fact, that Techno had forgotten that they even existed.

Dream shifted and Techno was forced out of his thoughts. “I came for a request,” he whispered, the noise just barely loud enough for Techno’s ears to pick up.

Techno nodded numbly, still processing the new information he was given. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t know what tricks they have up their sleeves. I don’t even know if they’re targeting me specifically. But if worse comes to worse,” he pulled out a firework from his inventory and rolled it around his bandaged hands, “Would you come to my aid?”

A pause. “Yeah… yeah, sure,” Techno said. “Set it off and I’ll come save your ass. Not like I have better things to do anyway.”

“I won’t tell anyone you know,” he added, noting the way the man’s bandaged hands seemed to tremble slightly.

At that, Dream seemed to relax a little. “I know.” He pocketed the firework and stood there for a moment longer. “Thanks Techno.” And then he was gone, purple particles dissipating.

Techno sat alone with only the wind to keep him company. Grunting, he got up and walked inside, grabbing his sword on the way. He had a lot to think about tonight. But first, he had to get the damn Ghast blood off his cape.

                                                                  -----------------------------------------------

Guy Chase considered himself a fortunate man with an unfortunate name. His fortune came in many forms: his wealth, his skills, his intelligence, and most of all, his job. He fucking loved his job.

“Exactly how far away is this place?”

He loved most parts of his job.

“For the love of Notch, can you shut up for five minutes!” Vivaldi snapped, gripping the reins of her horse with white knuckles.

Troy huffed and glared at her. “We’ve been in this forest for hours, Viv. I’m sick of seeing trees everywhere I look!”

“And I’m sick of you whining for every little thing so shut up before I shove this canteen so far up your ass-”

“Enough.” The two ceased their bickering and looked at Guy, who rode in the lead a few feet away. The length of his brown trench coat waved in the breeze, various iron swords and daggers glinting on his person. “We’re almost there. We’ll probably arrive by midnight. Vivaldi?”

Vivaldi straightened. “Yes sir?”

“You got the collar, right?”

The young woman grinned and reached into her bag, pulling out a thick metal collar. In the dark, it gave a soft, almost gentle glow. “Yes sir, enchanted with Unbreaking and Altered Channeling just like you asked.”

Guy nodded. “Troy, you have the vials?”

“Yeah I do,” the younger man said. He looked around the dark forest searching for light before slumping. “Say, what’s this place called again? I can’t remember for the life of me.”

Vivaldi scoffed. “It’s called L’Manberg. Stupid name if you ask me.”

Troy laughed in agreement. “Is that where the Hybrid is staying?”

“No,” Guy said and if he were turned around, the two would have been able to see the grin that split his face. “But I got a feeling the people there are going to lead us right to it.”

Chapter Text

The Huntsmen stuck out like a sore thumb. They made no effort to conceal themselves or try to pass off as travelers. Their little group stood out and, strangely enough, they seemed to relish it.  

After Dream’s visitation, Wilbur decided to keep an eye on them to make sure they didn’t cause any trouble and, for the most part, they didn’t. They were more of a nuisance than anything else.

The youngest one annoyed Wilbur the most. He was lanky and around Tommy’s height but had dull, auburn hair and skin that was so sickly pale that he sported a grayish tint. Mini potion bottles were attached to various belts crossing his body. Unlike regular potions, however, they had a potent glow that was painful to look at. The boy was quite literally an eyesore. Clearly the potion maker of the group, he went around L’Manberg trying to find ingredients to use for his nuclear-colored solutions. Some of the flowers that Tubbo and Fundy had planted were uprooted, leaving nothing but a gaping dirt hole in its wake. Bald spots began appearing on chickens and sheep. At one point, a distressed Tubbo came to Wilbur crying about some of his precious beehives being in ruin, their honey forcefully stolen. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to toss the kid out but there was no actual evidence left behind to incriminate him. He could do nothing but watch the boy stare hungrily at their resources as if figuring out the best way to extract them.

The young woman was tolerable, yet cold. Her black hair was thick, short, and styled in a choppy bob with equally choppy bangs. Her skin was a darker, healthier tone than her young male companion and bandages ran down the entire length of her arms; whether that was from injury or stylistic choice, Wilbur didn’t know. On her back sat a large quiver full of arrows that shone with enchantments of almost every kind. It was the section of dark red ripples that most worried him. Wilbur had yet to see the woman without her longbow in hand.

Something was off about the last of the trio, the clear leader. He was taller and older. Muted fabrics covered his form, but Wilbur swore he saw the occasional glint of metal when his clothing shifted.

The man simply watched.

He watched and scrutinized every passing citizen, his judgmental gaze piercing enough to make people leave in discomfort. The scars on his face didn’t help, the three thick, jagged lines that cut from right cheek to chin left Wilbur shuddering at the thought of how they were conceived.

He watched so Wilbur watched.

On the second day since the strangers’ arrival, Fundy came to his office, both tail and ears drooping.

“What’s wrong, Fundy?” Wilbur asked, looking up from a book about hybrids. Certain groups that illegally targeted and experimented on hybrids were well-documented in history books in fear that history may repeat itself. So far, he couldn’t find anything that went into depth about ‘The Huntsmen’ that Dream warned him about. Fundy sighed and Wilbur could hear the frustration in his son’s tone.

“The new people that showed up a few days ago? I don’t like them very much dad.”

Wilbur straightened in concern. “What? What happened? Did they do something to you?” If they had touched so much as a single fur follicle on his son’s head, there would be hell to pay.

“It’s…It’s just…there’s something seriously weird about them. I tried to stay away like you said but sometimes I can feel them staring at me. And it’s not just that! I saw the kid ripping out the flowers Tubbo and I had planted and pocketing them.”

So he was right about the kid. Good to know.

“Fundy, I share the same concerns you do,” he said, looking into the fox hybrid’s eyes.  “In fact, I’ve already put Niki in charge of watching them to make sure they stay in line.”

Niki was an all-around sweetheart with an even sweeter tooth. Her bakery was extremely successful and booming thanks to the new surge of customers who came for the sweets and stayed for the atmosphere Niki worked so hard to cultivate. But what the new customers didn’t know was that Niki was just as fierce a warrior as the rest of the nation’s founders. She too fought for L’Manberg’s independence and put her life on the line for her would-be nation and her friends. Wilbur trusted her with his life wholeheartedly. And he trusted her to keep tabs on the suspicious newcomers under the guise of an amicable, charitable baker. She played the part well since the Huntsmen didn’t seem to notice anything beyond the sweet façade. Niki kept her targets close and her daggers closer, just in case.

His son relaxed at the information. “Good, I think they’re-”

Knock knock knock.

Both of them turned to the door. Fundy gave his father with a questioning look, before looking back at the door. Wilbur cleared his throat. “Come in.”

The door swung open and the Huntsmen stepped in, the boy and woman flanking their leader. “Ah, President Soot, it’s an honor to finally meet you.”

The man’s energy was even worse in person. There was a dangerous look in his eyes that made Wilbur want to glance away, but he stood his ground. “The Huntsmen, I presume? I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

The man tilted his head. “Oh really? From whom if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A reliable source,” Wilbur said stiffly as Fundy’s gaze bounced between the two like he was watching a match of tennis.

He shook his head. “Oh my, where are my manners? The name’s Guy. This,” he pointed at the woman, “is Vivaldi.” He then nodded his head towards the boy. “And this is Troy.” Troy grinned and gave a little wave.

Fundy growled. “You’re the one whose been stealing stuff around here, aren’t you?” Troy only gave him an amused smirk until Vivaldi roughly elbowed him in the side.

“I’ve been warned about your destructive methods and I would greatly appreciate it if you leave my nation untouched. If you can’t at least follow that, I’ll have to kindly ask you to leave,” Wilbur threatened. The longer the trio was in his office, the more uncomfortable he was becoming.

Guy waved his hand dismissively. “Terribly sorry about that. I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that we’ll be leaving here tomorrow.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wait, you’re leaving already?”

Guy nodded. “We actually came here for assistance.”

“What kind of assistance are you referring to?”

“It seems like L’Manberg is Ender hybrid free at the moment so there’s no point staying here anymore,” he walked towards the framed Treaty of Independence hanging on the wall and studied it. “The woods here are pretty vast and it’s easy to get lost. You don’t happen to know any stopping points near L’Manberg, do you?”

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows. The nearest stop near L’Manberg was the Dream SMP. He was hesitant to give Guy their location, especially after Dream seemed distraught at their potential arrival. The members were very particular about who they let into their base.

A loud sigh brought his attention back to Guy. He ran his fingers down the scar that trailed down his face. “Do you know how I got these bad boys?” He chuckled darkly. “Ender hybrids are more dangerous than people think. And they’ve learned to blend in so well that people mistaken them for humans, but trust me, they’re far from it. Endermen seem docile at first glance, don’t they? But you look them in the eyes for one second and boom!” He snapped his fingers. “You’re headless. Tell me President Soot, have you ever met an Ender hybrid?”

Wilbur shook his head.

“Imagine an Enderman in its most dangerous state. Now give that state the intelligence of a human. They’re possessive, they’re rash, they’re destructive, and they’re fast.”

Vivaldi spoke from behind him. “My parents were killed by them. One minute they were alive and the next, they were bleeding out on the floor with torn necks.” She looked down and her next words came out tinged with sorrow. “They didn’t even have a chance to scream.”

Guy gestured towards her sadly. “See? They’re a danger to everyone around them. But that’s not all. The Endermen and the hybrids are connected to the Ender dragon. They fulfill her wishes, carry out her darkest desires. The poor Endermen don’t have a choice but the hybrids? They choose violence. They choose to tear families apart.

“It’s our job to stop them because no one else knows how. It’s our job to find the End and defeat the Ender dragon. It’s our job to stop the needless death of humans at the hands of these hybrids. We will leave your great nation alone. But please, at the very least, let us know the nearest base. They may not know the danger they are in, President Soot. Once they are cleared, we will leave them alone as well. No harm done.”

He studied Wilbur after a short pause. “You seem like a smart man. A smart man who makes smart decisions,” Guy said, each word coming out carefully.

Wilbur felt conflicted. The man seemed sincere in his words but there was a part of his brain that was screaming red flag red flag red flag. Admittedly, the president didn’t know much about Ender hybrids, but the picture the head Huntsman painted of them in his mind was horrific. He just didn’t know how much of it was true. He looked at Fundy who swallowed nervously. His son felt uncomfortable around these people in the nation that Wilbur made for his comfort and safety.

Blood boiling, he made up his mind. Dream and his lackies were perfectly capable of handling the Huntsmen. And if what they said was true, they would leave as soon as they came. But he wouldn’t make it easy for them, after all, they did cause a bit of trouble during their stay and Wilbur was a petty man.

“There’s a place east from here,” he told Guy.

Realizing that he wasn’t getting any more specific information, Guy gave a tight smile and turned to leave. “Thank you for understanding, Mister President. Best of luck to your,” he looked around with a smirk, “little nation.” With that, the trio left the office, the door slamming behind them.

Fundy immediately jumped from his seat, tail swaying stiffly in anger. “Did you see the look that kid had when we called him out? Did you see the way they all looked at me? Please don’t tell me you bought any of their horse shit dad!”

Wilbur held out his hands in a placating gesture, feeling a tiredness seep into his bones. “Fundy, I know you’re upset but you heard them! They’ll be gone by tomorrow and then we don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

Fundy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you just dumped them on the Dream SMP and now Dream’s going to be pissed at you for it.”

“They’ll be fine. They’ve dealt with worse.” Wilbur stood up and stretched, wincing at the cracks that came from multiple points in his body. God, he felt old.

“I still have a bad feeling about all this,” Fundy grumbled, and Wilbur slung an arm around his shoulders and brought him close.

“Well, why don’t we cheer ourselves up then? I heard Niki is selling peach cobbler today, we could swing by and grab a bite to eat.”

The hybrid’s ears perked up and Wilbur laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

As they made their way towards the bakery, Wilbur tried to ignore the sweating of his palms. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. A major piece of a puzzle he didn’t know he was building. Was it a mistake to send the Huntsmen in their direction?

A shout drew his attention to the front of an inn a few meters away. The trio were there with Vivaldi and Troy in the middle of what seemed to be a heated argument. Guy sat on the steps of the wooden porch, sharpening an iron sword, and ignoring the spat between his colleagues. When he noticed Wilbur staring, he gave a predatory grin that sent a shudder down his spine. The president quickly looked away.

They’ll be gone by tomorrow, he reassured himself. After that, we’ll never see them again…

Right?

Chapter Text

Friday nights at the Dream SMP were a religious experience. On those days, George and Dream were kicked out of the kitchen and Sapnap and Bad laid claim on their domain. It wasn’t that Dream couldn’t cook, it’s just that Dream’s cooking style had adapted via survival. Meaning that his food, while cooked well, was exceptionally bland and tasteless. Edible but not enjoyable. George just couldn’t cook for shit and had been permanently banned from the kitchen after a series of unfortunate incidents.

“Sapnap, where are the carrots? They’re not in the usual spot.”

“Bottom cabinet near the fridge, Bad.”

“Thank yo- WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE CHILI POWDER?”

A crash. “THE STEW’S TOO BLAND DUDE!”

A clatter. “THEN PUT PEPPER INSTEAD YOU MUFFIN. THAT’S WAY TOO SPICY!”

“Need any help in there?” Dream called to the pair as he set the table with George.

“NO!” Sapnap and Bad shouted in unison.

Dream wheezed while George shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face.

“And you all have the gall to ban me from the kitchen,” George scoffed, grabbing utensils and napkins.

“Hmm, I seem to recall a certain someone almost burning down the house last time they used the kitchen.”

“Oh, come on!” George whined. “It was an accident! A lapse in judgement!”

Dream laughed. “You were boiling water George, you burned water! I didn’t think that was possible!”

George crumpled a napkin and threw it at Dream in mock offense. “And your chicken tastes like wet socks, Mr. Food Connoisseur, so let’s not get too cocky there.” More yelling from the kitchen drew his attention. “I’m going to check on those two to make sure they don’t do anything too stupid. Be back in a second.” He walked away from the dining room, leaving Dream alone.

Setting a plate down on the table, Dream caught a glimpse of his porcelain mask’s reflection blending in with the white plate. The plate now sported a smiley face and normally, Dream would have smiled back at the image. But standing there alone with time to think, his stomach began to churn, and it wasn’t from hunger.

It had been about three days since Dream’s visit to L’Manberg and Techno’s place. He didn’t know if Wilbur had taken his warning seriously but Dream at least knew he could count on Techno if he was in a bind. There was always a chance that the Huntsmen wouldn’t even come close to their base, but paranoia and willpower had kept Dream alive up to this point and he wouldn’t give them up now. The firework lay heavy in an inner pocket on his poncho. No weapons were allowed at the table (courtesy of Bad), but Dream kept a dagger on his person just in case. If he ran into trouble, hopefully he could hold them off on his own until Technoblade arrived.

“Are you okay Dream?” He blinked and looked at George who stood in the doorway, expression filled with concern. How long had he been staring at the plate like a lunatic?

Dream shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Everything good in the kitchen?”

“Meh. I think they’ve reached a compromise,” George said and finished setting the table. When Dream placed the last plate, he spoke again. “Look, I know talking about your feelings isn’t exactly a you thing, but you’ve been acting pretty weird lately. Like, even I noticed. Are you really doing okay? You can talk to us you know.”

And for a moment, Dream imagined. He imagined telling George everything right there, about who and what he was, the things he had experienced, the lengths he had gone to for survival, and the Huntsmen who could be after him. He imagined all of his friends accepting him and moving on as if it were nothing. Their Manhunts would continue, Fridays would stay sacred, and Dream could finally be himself.

But then he imagined George yelling to Sapnap and Bad. He imagined the awful things they would say to him when they found out. Monster, freak, abomination. He imagined they drove him out of the base and tried to kill him. Or even worse, he imagined they just left. They learned the truth, didn’t like it, and left Dream alone at the base without a second thought or goodbye.

That last scenario alone scared him more than any Huntsman could.

“Aw, is Gogie worried about his little Dream?” He said in a cutesy voice, deflecting George’s question.

George turned red and was about to retort when a knock at the door interrupted them.

They looked at each other. “Did you…?”

“I didn’t invite anyone,” George said quickly.

“Is someone there?” Bad called from the kitchen.

“…Yeah, there is.” Dream hesitated, watching George start towards the door before following him.

The doorway had originally been built to be large to intimidate their enemies, but Dream was feeling oddly claustrophobic as he and George approached it.  Who would come here at this time? He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

George swung the door open mid-knock, revealing three people illuminated by the flickering light of the porch lanterns. A man, a woman, and a boy.

Fuck.

“Hello there, so terribly sorry to bother you but my companions and I got a bit lost,” the man laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head.

Chills ran down his spine and Dream hid his trembling hands behind his back. The Huntsmen were here. He had only heard descriptions of them and their actions from friends in neighboring towns. A man with facial scars, a woman with bandages, and a younger boy. When he learned of their existence, he felt it necessary to track their whereabouts for his own safety and noticed quickly that they were inching closer and closer to his territory.

And now they were here. Right at his front door. Damn it, Wilbur.

George opened the door wider and pointed behind the trio. “Walk straight into the forest and then follow the river downstream. It’ll lead you to a village.”

Did Dream ever mention how much he loved George’s straightforwardness?

The man frowned. “Alright then, guess we better hurry before it starts to rain…” he trailed off and the weaselly boy looked tentatively at the sky and made a show of putting his bag over his head as if it were already raining.

“Uh huh, I guess so,” George said, clearly not buying into the play for pity.

Suddenly, Bad’s head popped up from behind Dream’s shoulder making him jump. “Gosh George, don’t be so rude!” He shook his head before addressing the strangers. “I’m sorry about him, he can be a bit grumpy sometimes, but he means well. Why don’t you stay for dinner? There’s plenty to go around and you can stay here until the rain passes!”

“We’d be happy to stay for dinner, wouldn’t we boys?” The woman said and they all grinned in response. Dream clenched his bandaged hands and ignored the dull pain they radiated.

It was going to be a long night.

After a moment of hesitation, George moved to allow the visitors into their base, and they made their way to the dining room. Dream didn’t miss how all three stared intently at his mask and opted to stay silent in fear of saying something incriminating.

The woman set her quiver down and lightly ran her hands on the table’s surface. “What a lovely home you all have.”

Bad beamed. “Thank you! I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“I never gave it. Vivaldi.”

“Troy,” said the kid, adjusting the cloak that draped over his entire body. Dream swore he heard faint clinking sounds emanating from beneath it.

The man pulled a chair out and sat down with a weary sigh. “Guy Chase, thanks for having us, we’ve been traveling for so long.”

Dream’s eye twitched involuntarily. He felt a little tickle in the back of his head, a buried memory desperately trying to uncover itself.

Sapnap chose that moment to walk in holding a pot with bright pink oven mitts and a matching apron inscribed with ‘I’ll feed all you fuckers’ on. He looked around the room confused. “Uh, what’s happening here?”

“This is Vivaldi, Troy, and Guy,” Bad pointed to each person, respectively. “I’m Bad! This is Sapnap, George, and Dream!”

Guy stared at Dream and he pushed down a flash of irritation. “You’re the one who lost the Championship a while back if I’m not mistaken. To Technoblade, right?”

Dream nodded stiffly.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

“Why don’t we just sit down and eat already?” George snapped.

Bad laughed nervously at the tension in the room. He seemed to be regretting his decision to let the Huntsmen in more by the second. “I’ll, uh, go get some drinks! Is water good for everyone?”

Troy perked up. “I can help with drinks.”

“Oh, thank you!” Bad relaxed and the two went to the kitchen.

Sapnap placed the pot of rabbit stew in the center of the table and took off his oven mitts. He observed the newcomers and then slowly sat down at the table. “Go ahead and serve yourselves.”

And dinner began.

                                                            ----------------------------------------------

To say that the next hour was tense was an understatement.

“What brings you to this neck of the words? Our base is pretty off-road.” Bad inquired.

Guy sipped on his stew. “I guess you can say we’re travelers. Going off-road is kind of our style.”

Sapnap squinted in suspicion. “And you still got lost?”

Vivaldi shot a look to Troy. “We gave the kid reins of the map for the first time and we ended up here.”

The boy mumbled something under his breath and shoveled a chunk of rabbit into his mouth.

“Not a fan of rabbit stew I take it?” Dream looked up to the watchful gaze of Guy. Dream refused to eat in front of the Huntsmen, instead taking occasional sips of water to stave off any hunger. He had lost most of his appetite the second there was a knock at the door.

“I’m not very hungry.”

“What a shame, you’re missing out. Especially after your friends worked so hard to make it.”

Dream gritted his teeth. “Very bold of you to assume you know anything about us.”

He smirked. “Sorry if that came out wrong, no need to get defensive over it.”

The other table members observed the exchange in awkward silence. Even Bad was frowning in disapproval and Dream could see that his friends had become as on edge as he was which relieved him somewhat.

By the time, the last of their bowls was clear of food, Sapnap was already out of his chair and offering to walk them out.

“But it’s still raining,” Troy pointed out.

Sapnap shrugged. “It’s just sprinkling.” There was a slight rumble of distant thunder that he conveniently ignored.

From beside him, George stifled a yawn and Dream suddenly realized how tired he was. Not surprising, every muscle in his body had been coiled tight all evening and the constant fear he felt was draining him of energy.

Bad also seemed sleepy, his hand coming up to his mouth every few seconds to hide his yawn. “Thank you for coming! We’re sorry that you couldn’t stay longer but I’m sure you all will be fine. Have a safe trip!” He turned to Dream with half-lidded eyes. “Dream, could you clean the kitchen tonight?”

“Sure thing Bad.” Dream started collecting the dirty bowls, glancing at Sapnap who was leading the Huntsmen to the door. He couldn’t hear what they were saying and not for the first time he found himself wishing that he had Techno’s hearing.

George and Bad shuffled to bed and Dream started on the dishes. It was getting harder to focus his eyes and his mind, so it took until he was midway done with dishes to realize that Sapnap hadn’t come back yet. How long had it been?

His chest felt tight as he approached the entrance, the door still wide open, letting rain droplets hit the wooden floor. He crept towards it, slowly unsheathing the dagger in his cloak. When he was outside, he took note of his surroundings. The forest was dark, the torches set around the base extinguished by the rain. Dark clouds smothered the moon, but Dream could still see clearly, an Ender hybrid perk. He glanced down.

Rough lines were gouged in the mud alongside heavy footprints beginning to fill with water. Neither Sapnap nor the Huntsmen were anywhere in sight.

Rage swelled within him. “Where is he? What the fuck did you do to him?” He shouted above the sound of rain and spun around, dagger poised in front of him. He heard a twang and narrowly dodged an arrow that whizzed centimeters past his face. He swiveled to see the Huntsmen emerging from the forest to the side of him.

“That was a warning shot, little hybrid,” Guy Chase said, Vivaldi nocking another arrow at his side. “We’re looking for a bit of fun tonight and we were hoping you could indulge us,” he grinned and unsheathed an iron sword. Troy giggled and moved his cloak, revealing mini toxic-colored potion bottles. One was empty.

Dream hadn’t eaten any food but couldn’t say the same for his water.

The situation was familiar, akin to one of his Manhunts where his friends were decked in enchanted armor and weapons while he dodged and gave meager hits with a stone axe. Dream knew when he was outmatched. So he did what he usually did when he was outmatched. He turned tail and ran.

He knew the woods better than anyone, familiarizing himself with every nook and cranny to gain an advantage during Manhunts. There was a ravine about a mile away that harbored a desert on the other side. If he could just make it and teleport across, he could at least light the firework to alert Technoblade of his whereabouts. Normally, he could cross that distance with no problem. But the tingling sensation that had entered his hands and feet and the slight spinning of the trees proved otherwise. He was on a timer that he wasn’t sure he could beat.

Regardless of the drugs in his system, he still ran fast, his upraised arms preventing the branches away from hitting his mask. Looking up, Dream took a breath before attempting to teleport to a high branch. Tree-jumping could help shorten his run time. One moment he was running and the next he nearly stumbled to the ground surrounded by purple sparks, the sound of the Hunstmen’s taunting considerably closer. Had- had he teleported backwards?

He nearly smacked his forehead. He was drugged, right. Teleporting was useless and potentially dangerous.

The rest of his extremities were beginning to go numb and each step was more laborious than the last. His breathing quickened. Time was running out.

He had just caught sight of the ravine when an arrow punctured his calf and he shouted from the burning pain that left his leg practically useless. Looking at the arrow, he saw the dark red smoke rising from its shaft. A laugh came from behind him.

Filled with desperation, Dream limped to the edge of the ravine, fumbling for the firework in his pocket. He knew the chance it would light in the rain was slim, but he had not come so far and worked so hard to give up now. His unwounded leg gave out and he collapsed in the mud, the firework falling from his hand a few inches away. Dream tried to crawl towards it and gave a frustrated grunt as his hands barely complied. Shaky, drooping fingers almost grasped the firework before a heavy boot came down on his hand, grinding it into the ground. At the same time, the arrow in his legs was yanked out causing warm blood to spill down his leg.

Dream cried out and attempted to squirm away, but another foot pressed down harshly on his midback. Not that it would’ve changed anything, his body was already proving to be unresponsive thanks to the drugs. Mud and water began to seep into his mask and Dream feared that suffocation would claim him before the Huntsmen.

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Guy removed his boot from his hand and crouched down near Dream’s face. “To be honest, I wasn’t a hundred percent certain you were an Ender Hybrid at first but there was just something about you,” he leaned in closer, “that screamed freak.”

“Fuck you,” Dream slurred, feeling more helpless by the minute. His lips had lost their feeling and just moving his mouth was a chore. “My…my friends-”

“Aren’t coming for you. They’re sleeping like logs in their beds, dead to the world,” he paused, grinning, “well, most of them anyway.” Dream growled in response and the man threw his head back with laughter.

“I’m shaking in my boots! Maybe you should try to intimidate me without the stupid mask.” And with that, he ripped Dream’s mask off his face.

Cold rain fell on his face and Dream blinked away the water falling into his stinging eyes. A gloved hand grabbed his face forcefully and yanked him forward. He opened his eyes only to have Guy’s face fill his vision and he bared his teeth at the unwelcome eye-contact.

“Your kind hates direct eye-contact just like Endermen, right? You want to rip my throat out? How does it feel to know that you can’t do a damn thing about it?  I hold all the power here.” He traced his thumb over the small, black dots scattered on Dream’s face as the Ender hybrid tried to shake his head out of the tight grip. “I’ve never seen Ender spots here before, very stylish.” He snapped his fingers. “Viv, put on the collar.”

Dream’s gut frosted over. No, please.

He felt his hood being moved and his head being lifted higher, accompanied by the cold bite of metal encircling his neck. It tightened with a click. He could still breathe but every swallow was met with some resistance. Tears gathered in his eyes, indistinguishable from the rain.

“Troy, how long before the drug wears off?”

The boy shrugged. “It’s kinda diluted from the water so maybe in a few hours?”

Guy shook his head. “That won’t do, give it another dose.”

“Won’t that kill it?” Vivaldi asked.

Troy unhooked a blueish-purple potion bottle from his belt. “Not if I give it half a dose. It’ll be out cold for two or three days though.”

“That’s fine, we don’t want any stunts on the way back.”

Dream’s mouth was pried open and a few drops of the potions landed in the back of his throat, giving him no choice but to swallow the bitter tasting liquid.

Guy stood and dusted his hands. “Alright, let’s get the horses and get a move on everyone. We’re behind schedule as it is.” He grabbed Dream and tossed him over his shoulder as if he were nothing more than a sack of flour. Dream couldn’t stop the strained whimper that left his mouth as his wounded leg ached. Guy patted his thigh in faux reassurance.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Troy said.

Vivaldi raised an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s because you drugged everyone to the Nether and back.”

“What? It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to use those potions! Couldn’t let it go to waste.”

Dream’s head lightly bumped into Guy’s back for every step he took. He felt detached, his entire body tingling like static and found his eyes glazing over as darkness crept into the corners of his vision. He couldn’t even feel the arrow wound. After a while, he stopped feeling the steps and the rain and the cold.

Eventually, Dream didn’t feel anything at all.

“Mama, where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know baby…I don’t know.”

“I’m tired Mama.”

“It’s okay, go to sleep baby. Mama will be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

“What’s up with the mask?”

The kid with said mask looked up, a halfway done flower crown dangling in their hands. The flowers seemed to be daffodils -they were a bright, sunny color and shaped like stars - but Sapnap was never good at identifying flowers other than the red roses in his garden and the poppies handed out by the village’s iron giant. A smiley face stared back at him blankly and the kid shrugged.

“Did you draw on it yourself?” Sapnap asked. The kid hesitated and gave nod of their head. Sapnap continued to stare at them, observing their ragged old clothes and small, dirty hands. The silence stretched on, and the kid went back to their flower crown.

Sapnap took it upon himself to plop down next to them, looking at the flower crown with his chin resting on his hand. “Could you teach me how to make one of those? They look pretty.”

The kid altered from looking at Sapnap to the flower crown before making a decision. They reached to their side, grabbed a handful of daffodils, and gingerly held them out to Sapnap, who took them without hesitation. They never spoke a word the entire time, but through a series of patient hand and head motions, Sapnap got the hang of it.

The finished product was droopy and messy thanks to his clumsy fingers but Sapnap proudly placed his rickety crown upon his head and puffed up his chest. He startled when he heard the breathy laugh come from the kid next to him. They shook their head and gently took off Sapnap’s flower crown, replacing it with their own.

Sapnap thought for a moment. “Hey, do you want to come over for dinner? My mom is making rabbit stew and it’s really good.”

At the word dinner, the kid’s stomach growled and if Sapnap could see their face he’d bet they would have been blushing. He grabbed their hand and pulled them up. As he started walking to his house pulling the kid behind him, he spoke. “She puts this stuff in it that makes it really hot and my dad and brother don’t like it that much but trust me, it is soooo yummy. Oh, and they put real rabbit in the soup, not fake rabbit. I thought it was fake rabbit because that’s what my brother told me but then my parents told me it was real rabbit and I cried because I felt so bad that I was eating real rabbits but then my dad told me that the rabbits went to rabbit heaven and they’re happy now but no one knows where rabbit heaven is so how do they know they’re happy?”

If the kid was annoyed by Sapnap’s tangent, they didn’t show it.

When he introduced the kid to his mom, she seemed really worried but Sapnap didn’t know why. She asked them a lot of questions that they answered with a nod, a shake, or a shrug. Sapnap found the bubbling stew on the stove a tad more entertaining and stared at the bobbing chunks of meat, carrots, and potatoes with a watering mouth until his mom called him.

“Sapnap, honey, would it be okay if they slept with you tonight?”

Sapnap gasped. “Like a sleepover?”

“Yes, like a sleepover,” she said smiling in a weirdly sad way.

He jumped up excitedly and grabbed the kid’s hand again. “Lemme show you my room!” They followed him obediently up the stairs to Sapnap’s room.

“You can sit on my bed, I don’t mind,” he said. The kid tentatively sat on his bed and Sapnap noticed how tiny they were compared to everything. He didn’t care though, it was nice finding someone shorter than he was, especially considering he was one of the youngest kids in the village. Sapnap was about to give them a room tour before stopping.

“Hey, can you talk? Like at all?” They stayed silent for a moment. Then, they nodded.

“Could I at least know your name? You don’t have to say anything after that if you don’t want to, but it would be nice to know. Here, I’ll introduce myself first.” He stuck out his hand. “Hi! My name is Sapnap, what’s yours?”

They stared at Sapnap’s hand before grasping it with thin fingers.

“Dream,” they whispered.

  -----------------------------------------

Sapnap woke up to a warm, wet sensation dragging along his face. He mumbled something incoherent and raised a hand to bat it away when he felt a sharp pain pierce his skin.

“Ow, what the fuck!?” His eyes flew open and met the frozen stare of a fox who held his hand between its teeth. They stared into each other eyes. Then, the fox dropped his hand and darted away into the forest, lingering at the edge just before disappearing into the underbrush.

Wait, forest?

With his unbitten hand, Sapnap wiped the crust from his eyes and groaned at the throbbing in his head. His thoughts were fuzzy and every time he tried to focus on something it would slip from his mental grasp like a bar of soap. Okay Sapnap, focus on one thing at a time. His pants felt moist and his boots were crusted over with mud. The surface his upper body was resting on felt cool. He was outside. On the dirt floor. Resting against the wall. But why?

He thought there was a dinner. There was a fight between him and Bad in the kitchen. He couldn’t remember what it was about. Rabbit stew.

Throb.

His head ached. Sapnap slowly pulled himself up, using the wall to stay steady. His stomach churned at the motion and he turned his head and vomited. He wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. He needed a healing potion. Where did they keep the healing potions?

Throb.

The infirmary, right. Healing potions were stored there. He started shuffling towards the open door of their base. Did I leave it open?

Throb.

Okay, no thinking, just walking. He was glad the infirmary was on the first floor because he was sure a single step up the stairs would make his head explode.

Collapsing in front of a large chest, Sapnap sluggishly ran his fingers over the potions that laid inside. Fire resistance, slowness, ah ha! Healing! He fumbled with the cork for a second and proceeded to chug the contents, ignoring how the motion made the room spin. He laid himself down with a grunt, smacking his mouth as the sweet melon taste of the potion lingered on his tongue. A nap sounded good.

Hehe, Sapnap naps.

When he woke up again, his head was much clearer. Sapnap pushed himself off the floor, his suctioned cheek peeling off with a smack. He stared at the open chest in front of him as memories began to form. He had been making dinner with Bad and they got into an argument about the stew. George came in to check on them and disappeared. There was a knock at the door and Bad left the kitchen. Sapnap walked out later with the stew only to face three strangers sitting at the dining table. He remembered he didn’t like them very much, there was something unsettling about the three of them that he just couldn’t put his finger on. He got angry at one guy for antagonizing Dream. He escorted them out, gave them directions and…

It was blank. He couldn’t remember anything past giving the trio directions. His next memory was waking up with an ache in his head and laying on the side of the house. Sapnap wasn’t a complete idiot.

“Those fuckers better not have stolen anything,” he grumbled and stood up. Then he paused. He woke up alone. No one found him. That means-

Without a second thought, Sapnap snagged three healing potions and dashed up the stairs taking two steps at a time. He hadn’t seen George, Bad, or Dream and he had no idea what condition they could be in when he found them. Judging by the still wide open door and the silence in the house, probably the same one he was in or worse. But how had the travelers gotten the upper hand over the four of them?

Sapnap was about to barge into George’s room when he saw a flash of color in the corner of his vision. He backpedaled until he was in front of the open doorway of the common room. George and Bad were sprawled on the plush couches, motionless. Sapnap’s heart jumped to his throat but it immediately came down when Bad let out a tiny snore.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He set down the potions and shook Bad awake. It took a few seconds of hard shaking for Bad to respond, cracking open his eyes before wincing at the light.

“Sapnap? What-” Bad’s hand suddenly flew up to his mouth and he flung himself off the couch and towards the nearest trashcan. Sapnap watched Bad retching with confusion as George began shifting from his place. He clumsily took off his askew goggles and seemed to immediately regret the decision.

“Oh Notch, my head…”

Sapnap grabbed the potion bottles and set them beside both of them. “Drink these healing potions real quick while I look for Dream. The people from last night? They were thieves not travelers.” He left the room without waiting to hear a response. His friends were probably too ill to process any more information in their current state.

He made a beeline to Dream’s room and knocked before opening the door. A force of habit acquired from living with someone who adamantly hid their face at all times. Upon entering, he noticed the empty bed and turned around. He would probably find Dream in another spot like Bad and George if he wasn’t in his room. Sapnap cleared them one at a time, his pace quickening after each empty room. Eventually, he found himself panting at the bottom floor. Not a single room was left unchecked. And yet, there was still no sign of Dream.

“Dream? Make a noise if you can hear me dude!” He yelled, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice. There was no answer except for the tittering of birds outside. Wait. Outside!

Sapnap ran out the open door. “Dream, are you out here? Dream?” He glanced around the woods and noticed something sticking up from the ground a few feet away. An arrow covered in dark red residue from smoke that had long since dissipated.

--------------------------------------------

The arrow clattered onto the table.

“He’s gone.”

George and Bad looked up, eyes much clearer and faces less pale than before. “Dream’s gone?” George whispered, staring at the dirty arrow that seemed to mock them.

“One of the travelers, the lady with the bandages, she had a quiver full of arrows like these,” Sapnap said.

“Which means they probably weren’t travelers at all,” finished George.

“Exactly,” Sapnap touched the back of his head, grimacing. “They probably drugged us too. I thought I was nauseous from the hit on the head they gave me, but it seems like you two were also affected.”

He saw Bad shift uncomfortably and bite his lip.

“Damn it,” George hissed, “I knew something was up with them. Dream was acting weird around them too, like he knew they were trouble.”

Sapnap nodded. “I noticed. Did you see how the main guy kept antagonizing him? Like, what was that about?”

Bad, sat silently on the couch, drew his legs up to hug his knees. His lip wobbled and he was blinking rapidly like there was something in his eyes. “I- I let them in,” his voice wavered, “I thought you guys were being too harsh and I let them in and now…”

George placed a hand on Bad’s shoulder. “Hey now, it’s not like you knew that they would have pulled a stunt like this. It was an honest mistake.” Bad didn’t look reassured.

As much as Sapnap didn’t like to see his friend in such a distressed state, now was no time for comfort. “What would they want with Dream anyway?” It wasn’t uncommon to have random people try to challenge Dream to a battle when they were out in public, given his reputation. But to have seemingly kidnapped him out of nowhere and leaving the rest of their valuables untouched? “There’s something we’re missing here.”

“Now that I think about, has Dream seemed… off to you lately?” Bad asked, wiping his eyes.

George frowned. “He seemed weird before dinner. I meant to ask him about it, but we were interrupted.” He thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, didn’t Dream go off on his own a few days ago?”

“Yeah, he told me he needed to talk to Wilbur, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was about,” Sapnap confirmed.

Bad finally slid off the couch and grabbed the arrow. He held it up to the light and scrutinized it before setting it back down. “Before we make any assumptions, why don’t we do a quick look around? Dream wouldn’t have gone with them without a fight, even if he was drugged.”

After agreeing, the three suited up and grabbed their weapons, Sapnap keeping a healing potion on hand in the chance that Dream was still in the woods nearby. They decided to patrol up until they reached the neon-green markers that were placed on specific trees in a circular parameter around their land. The markers made it easier to find their way back and served as a general measuring point. It wasn’t until about an hour of searching had passed that Sapnap heard a shout. He immediately sprinted towards the sound and found himself breaking through the trees. George stood near the ravine that separated their forest from the vast desert, holding a bright red object in his hands.

“What is it?” He shouted as Bad emerged from the trees behind George, a panicked expression written on his face.

“It’s a firework. Wind almost blew it into the ravine.” Mud covered the firework and it looked fairly beaten, its exterior soggy.

Sapnap looked with confusion. “What’s that doing out here? Do you think it’s Dreams?”

“Guys,” came a hushed voice from behind them. George and Sapnap turned to see Bad squatting on the ground near a section of partially dry and cracked mud. Peeking through was a round, white item that Bad pinched between his fingers and carefully dislodged.

The three stared in silence at Dream’s unbroken, dirtied mask.

Bad spoke first, tone clipped. “What do we do?”

Sapnap gripped his diamond sword tighter in an attempt to steady his hands from shaking with fury.

“We pay a little visit to L’Manberg.”

Chapter Text

Tommy Innit was a child man of many skills. The opposite of a one trick pony, if you will. Tommy’s greatest skill, however, was making sure Tubbo didn’t get into any unnecessary danger. So, there he was, analyzing the meadow with a hawk-like gaze while Tubbo fussed over his bees.

“Tommy look! There’s so much honey this time!”  He held a half-filled bottle under the beehive to trap as much honey as he could. Beside him, there were three filled bottles set delicately in the grass. Tommy had no idea how Tubbo managed to collect so much liquid gold without the bees stinging the shit out of him. He couldn’t even get close to a hive without the bees giving a warning buzz unless Tubbo was there to supervise. For some reason that the teen couldn’t wrap his head around, the bees nuzzled Tubbo like they were dogs and Tubbo had just given them a bone.

Tommy groaned in boredom. The field, save for some grazing sheep, was empty which meant that Tommy’s poor attention span was being put to the test. “Why are we getting this much honey again?”

“For Niki! She wants to make-” he paused and pursed his lips, “b- bien- beenstitch kitchen?”

Tommy threw his head back and barked a laugh. “I definitely think you got that name wrong, Little T.”

Tubbo huffed. “Okay, well, the name had bee in it and it’s a cake she’s been wanting to make for a while.” He went back to his now-filled bottle and put in a cork.

The faint clanking of armor attracted Tommy’s attention and he immediately drew his sword as Tubbo froze behind him. He put a hand out to block the sun from blinding his vision. Three figures were marching towards them.

“Who’s out there?” Tommy shouted, instinctively positioning his body in front of Tubbo who was frantically gathering his honey bottles.

The first figure came into view and Tommy could have recognized that headband anywhere. Sapnap strode towards them with George and Bad trailing behind. Tommy’s eyes looked for Dream on autopilot, but strangely enough, he didn’t see the masked man at all. That didn’t mean he would let his guard down though.

Sapnap’s expression was serious- a surprise considering that bastard didn’t even drop his smirk for a second when burning down their forest- and Tommy could see the urgency in his eyes.

“It’s us. We need to talk to Wilbur. Now.”

Perhaps if Tommy Innit were a naïve child, he would’ve led the three straight to the president of L’Manberg. But Tommy Innit was a self-proclaimed little shit, and he wouldn’t give the Dream SMP the opportunity to invade L’Manberg without a fight. He snorted. “Like I’d lead you three to Wilbur willingly when you’re decked in full enchanted armor. What do you take me for, an idiot?”

Sapnap was about to open his mouth to combat him when George pushed forward. “We don’t have time for this. Dream’s been kidnapped and we know he came to L’Manberg four days ago to talk to Wilbur about something. We are going inside those walls whether you want us to or not!” George finished, his face red.

“Five…”

All of them whipped around to Tubbo who took a step back at the sudden onslaught of attention.

“What did you say?” Bad asked gently.

Tubbo rubbed his arm as a few bees made his hair a resting spot. “It’s been almost five days since Dream came.”

“He’s right,” Tommy nodded, and he was about to tell them off until he registered the pale faces of Dream’s friends.

“F- Five days?” Bad repeated faintly, eyes wide in horror.

George was looking at the ground, his pointer finger and thumb tapping together unconsciously. “That means…”

Sapnap gritted his teeth and Tommy almost recoiled at the venom in his eyes. “We were knocked out for a full day, not just for the night.”

“But how?” Bad cried. “There’s no way they drugged us enough to lose so much time!”

“It was night time and we were already planning on going to sleep. Drugged sleep and regular sleep must have blended together and since there was no one to wake us up, we didn’t,” George deduced.

Sapnap nodded thoughtfully. “If it wasn’t for that fox biting the crap outta my hand-”

“A fox did what?”

“It bit my hand!”

Tubbo interrupted their conversation with a little wave. “Um, do you still want to see Wilbur?”

“Tubbo!” Tommy hissed but Tubbo gave him an exasperated look.

“We’re at peace Tommy! They aren’t the enemy anymore and they came to us for help. Why would they stop to talk to us if they could have just barged in?”

“We didn’t think we would have been well received if we just walked in,” Bad piped up before fixing a stern look towards Sapnap and George who had the decency to look a little sheepish. After all, Bad hadn’t been involved with the war between the Dream SMP and L’Manberg as far as Tommy knew. He heard Bad was visiting a friend at the time. Skipper? Skippy? Ah, whatever. It didn’t seem like he approved of the whole thing.

Tommy was reluctant to admit that they had a point. If the three of them had wanted to cause some trouble, they would have already done so. Not to mention the serious yet worried looks on their faces. It was clear to see that they were telling the truth.

“Alright, I’ll take you to Wilbur but don’t try anything or I won’t hesitate slice you up.” He held up his sword to prove a point, ignoring the snort coming from George. “C’mon Tubbo, let’s show these twats how great L’Manberg has become.”

Wilbur spent a lot of time in his office nowadays. It made sense, after all, he was the president of a rapidly growing nation and it was a part of his job to oversee construction. They only had a limited amount of land within the walls per their treaty with Dream so Wilbur did his best to organize and maximize the amount of space they could use for their building projects. But Tommy couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter about the change.

Wilbur was like an older brother to him. He knew how to command a small army and he held himself with a confidence that reassured everyone around him. In times when the odds weren’t in their favor, he still fought because he genuinely believed in the nation that they built from the ground up. And he was a loyal friend who could fan the flames of resistance even in the darkest of times. Sometimes, Tommy missed the camaraderie that came with war, the way he appreciated every good moment with his friends because there was no telling if it would be their last.

But now, the peace was oddly discomforting. He was so used to the stress and tension of war that every moment of quiet felt like the calm before the storm. At this point, he just ignored it and went about his days distracting himself from his thoughts.

Today, however, the storm finally seemed to make an appearance.

“What do you mean Dream’s missing?”

“Did I stutter? Some ‘travelers’ came in, knocked us out, and took Dream,” Sapnap pointed an accusing finger at Wilbur. “He came here to talk to you and he wouldn’t tell us why.”

Bad put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “We were hoping you had some answers for us. Why did Dream come here?”

Wilbur started slowly. “He did come here a few days ago to warn me about a group called the Huntsmen that were making their way to L’Manberg, said they might cause trouble.”

“The bastards destroyed some of Tubbo’s beehives!” Tommy growled. Tubbo looked at the ground sadly, mourning his beloved bees. Wilbur nodded.

“They came pretty soon after. A man with facial scars, a woman with bandaged arms, and a kid.” George, Bad, and Sapnap nodded, confirming the description. “I was planning to kick them out, but they came to my office and asked for directions,” Wilbur continued.

George raised an eyebrow. “And you gave them directions to our place? What made you think that was a good idea?”

“To be fair, I didn’t give them exact directions.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sapnap made a time-out signal with his hands. “Why didn’t Dream tell us about these ‘Huntsmen’ if he was so worried?” He squinted. “Unless, of course, you’re lying to us.”

Wilbur straightened and fixed him with glare. “What would I have to gain from lying? They said they were hunting Enderman hybrids and wanted to check your area. I just wanted to get them out of L’Manberg. I thought you’d be able to stop them if they tried anything, especially Dream.”

Bad frowned. “They said they were hunting Ender hybrids? Why would they kidnap Dream then?”

“Maybe it was a cover story,” Tubbo suggested. He had taken a seat near the wall and Tommy was tempted to join him.

It was Wilbur’s turn to frown. “That can’t be it. Dream himself also told me that they hunted Ender hybrids. He knew before they even came. So, if the Huntsmen were telling the truth…”

“They kidnapped Dream because they think he’s one of them,” George finished. Sapnap stayed silent.

Okay, Tommy didn’t know what the fuck was going on. “Ender hybrids? Like, an Enderman and a human fusion? Those exist?” He asked, hands on his hips.

And then Technoblade walked in.

His blood red cape was swept out behind him and his signature crown was perched on his head. While Tommy thought Piglins were a massive pain in the ass, Technoblade was definitely one of the coolest hostile hybrids he had ever met, even if he was one of the only hostile hybrids Tommy had ever met. Usually, the hybrid held a consistent, monotonous tone and a flat gaze. Nothing seemed to phase him. But Tommy noticed the combative posture and the way Techno’s eyes roamed around the room, processing the inhabitants inside. Finally, they landed on a surprised Wilbur.

“Techno! You’re here earlier than I expected,” he said.

“Had a bad feeling,” Techno said curtly and faced Dream’s friends. “Where’s Dream?”

The three looked at each other, as if daring one another to speak first. Tommy knew there was a bit of tension between them and Technoblade after the Championship a few years back. He had been there watching in the stands when the Blade himself shattered Dream’s mask and claimed victory. Tommy hadn’t stopped admiring him since.

Finally, Sapnap decided to be the spokesperson. “Wilbur sent some Huntsmen our way,” he gave Wilbur pointed glare, “and they drugged us and kidnapped Dream.”

Techno’s eyes narrowed and everyone in the room shifted as bloodlust radiated off the man. Tommy had only remembered feeling something similar once. He subconsciously rubbed the scar on his chest that made its home dangerously near his heart.

“Did he leave anything behind?”

George reached into his bag and pulled out a shitty looking firework. Technoblade’s eyes widened and snatched the firework from his hands, holding it closer to his piglike nose. He scowled after sniffing it and shoved it back to George. “His scent is on it but barely. How long has he been missing?”

“About a day,” Bad replied. He pulled something from his own bag and held it out. Tommy felt his mouth drop open when he realized what Bad was holding: Dream’s mask. He had never seen the man without it, not even at the Championship where he practically sprinted off the field after he had lost the title and the mask. It was strange to look at it without its owner and it felt like Tommy was peeking at something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing.

Technoblade cursed. “Then the Huntsmen have got a head start on us. We need to hurry if we want to find them, they might already be at their destination.”

“But why would they take Dream?” Tubbo questioned. “He’s human, isn’t he?”

The question hung in the air. Everyone in the room seemed to be lost in thought, as if they were searching their memories for moments that simultaneously proved and disproved Tubbo’s question.

Tommy stared down the masked man at the end of the wooden bridge, watching his bright green poncho sway minutely in the breeze. The mask seemed to mock him, a juxtaposition to Tommy’s scowl. The teen repeatedly loosened and tightened his grip on the arrow, ignoring the ache in his body. A side effect from the poison both he and Dream had agreed to take before the duel. Before the war had begun, Dream seemed like a nice enough guy. But something had changed the moment L’Manberg had declared war on the Dream SMP. The shift in demeanor was radical. Now every interaction with Dream was tainted with malicious words, a barely disguised bloodlust, and worst of all, an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness. It was evident that L’Manberg wasn’t a piece of land that Dream was willing to part with, which confused Tommy. It would cost the man virtually nothing to allow them this small piece of land and yet, Dream was fighting tooth and nail to keep what was his. But that wasn’t what scared Tommy the most. It wasn’t the bombing of L’Manberg, nor the raging forest fire. What scared him more than Eret’s betrayal, than almost dying to Dream’s arrow, was the absolute certainty that Tommy knew Dream was holding back.

A small hand slipped into his own and gave it a squeeze. Tommy looked down at Tubbo, who gave him a watery smile. Tommy returned it before looking back at the rest of the people in the room.

“You’ve known him the longest, right Sapnap?” Wilbur probed, his voice quiet.

Sapnap stared at the floor and audibly swallowed. “I-I’ve known him since we were like, nine. He was an orphan and I found him in a field one day with that mask on. He never talked about where he was from or what happened to his parents. We were basically raised together and I…” he paused, looking uncertain, “I’ve never even seen his face before.”

Bad did a double take. “Wait, you’ve never seen his face before? I thought he was just shy and that’s why he never showed George and I!”

He shook his head. “Not once in the eleven years I’ve known him has he showed me more than his mouth. I tried to peek once when we were younger, and he didn’t talk to me for over a month! I thought he was planning to run away at one point…”

George hummed. “Teleporting. Dream’s scary good at teleporting. How many times have we wondered how he manages to have so many ender pearls?”

“But he’d tell us if he was a hybrid, wouldn’t he? We’re his best friends,” insisted Bad.

Sparing a glance at Technoblade, the hybrid seemed to be nervously watching the exchange between the three. Tommy decided it was time to ask the million diamond question. “Techno, you’d know if Dream was a hybrid, wouldn’t you? Being one yourself and all.”

All eyes pinned themselves on Technoblade who seemed to have a slight sheen of sweat on his face. He coughed. “You…you can’t just assume all hybrids know each other, Tommy, first of all…” he trailed off and the silence that lingered after spoke a thousand words. Finally, he sighed. “Alright, fine. Dream warned me about the Huntsmen, said they were after Ender hybrids and he asked me if I could be his back up if anything went wrong.” He pointed at the firework George was still holding. “That was supposed to be the signal.”

Sapnap took in a shaky breath. “So…it’s true. He’s a hybrid and he never told us.”

Technoblade nodded. “I wasn’t going to say anything to you. But if we’re going to go rescue him, then the truth can’t be helped.”

“So, Dream’s a hybrid? What’s the big deal?” Tommy asked, feeling as though he was missing a piece of crucial information.

“Yeah, why would these Huntsmen kidnap him anyway?” Tubbo chimed in. He seemed just as lost as Tommy was.

It was Wilbur who answered, having opted to stand quietly in the corner and watch the interaction take place. “Ender hybrids are rarely seen. Most of them may have disappeared to The End, but no one knows how to get there except for them. If Dream really is an Ender hybrid, maybe that’s a part of the reason why they kidnapped him.” He stroked his chin. “There seems to only be three of them though, so they shouldn’t be too hard to take down.”

“That’s the problem,” Techno grunted. “It’s probably not just three lone Huntsmen, we could be dealing with an organization here.”

Bad looked at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Sure, there are laws against those sorts of things nowadays, but they weren’t placed because humans had a sudden change of heart,” Technoblade snorted, his voice laced with bitterness. “Once the humans learned everything they could about hybrids, peaceful and hostile, then they decided to go the innocent route of ‘defending our rights’ and made protection laws. But there isn’t much known about Ender hybrids, with their teleportation and all. They fly under the radar and certain groups consider them ‘free game’ because of it.”

“So what does that mean for Dream?” Tubbo’s arm wrapped around his midsection.

“Nothing good and that means we’re short on time. Got anything to track him?” Bad hopped up and gave a little wave of his hands.

“Oh oh! The compass we use for Manhunts! It’s at our base!”

“Then we can use today to gather supplies and meet at your base tomorrow. That is, if you’re planning to go rescue him.”

Sapnap’s face took on an offended look. “Of course, we’re going to rescue him. Why wouldn’t we?”

The Piglin hybrid shrugged. “Just checking. I mean, I thought there had to be a reason he never told you the truth.”

All three friend’s gazes dropped to the floor and they fell silent.

“I’ll go too,” Wilbur volunteered with a guilty expression. “Technically it’s my fault for leading them to him.”

Tommy took that moment to jump up. “If you’re going then I’m going Wilbur!” He brandished his sword and made a few slices at empty air in mock combat. “I’ll see just how good these Huntsmen are.”

Wilbur made a pained expression and opened his mouth to protest but he was interrupted by Techno. “Sort it out, I’m leaving tomorrow whether you’re there or not.” With that, he left, leaving the Dream Team (without the Dream), Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo to themselves.

George bumped shoulders with Sapnap and Bad who were still uncomfortably silent. “Let’s go. We can talk at the base.”

When the door closed behind them, Tommy spun towards Wilbur. “Are we-”

“No, Tommy, you and Tubbo are going to stay here.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m going to get ready.” He walked over and planted his hands firmly on Tommy’s shoulders. “You and Tubbo are not permitted to come. I don’t know how dangerous this could be and I won’t risk endangering either of you.”

Tommy scowled but nodded. “Fine, we’ll stay here, stop bitching.”

Wilbur searched his eyes. After a moment, he relaxed and patted Tommy’s shoulders, satisfied. “Good man.” He left the office while Tommy and Tubbo lingered behind.

“Tommy…we’re going to go anyway, aren’t we?” Tubbo asked as he rose from his chair.

“Yeah, fucking obviously.”

Chapter Text

His mama hadn’t come back in a long time. The guards separated them as soon as they got to the Prison- that’s what the hybrids there called it- and he remembered how she screamed his name and clawed at the guards, his head peeking over the shoulder of the doctor holding him as they took him away.

The cell they put him in had another person inside, an old woman with wispy, white hair and dull, purple eyes, deep wrinkles marking her face. She called herself Granny and almost never smiled, but she was still nice to him, albeit a bit cold at times. According to her, he was the youngest child she had seen in the Prison and everyone in their room was old like her. Dream asked her when he would see his mama again. Granny wouldn’t answer.

There weren’t any good days per se since nearly every day was monotonous and mind-numbing. He would wake up, talk to Granny, eat if they gave them food, or sleep.

(He could never tell the time because there were no windows. There was only awake and asleep.)

But bad days definitely existed. Those days started with a guard yanking him out of the cell and bringing him into a cold room that had a large glass wall he could see through. The other side contained a white room with metal surfaces and a large slab in the center. Doctors would enter the room first, then the guards dragging along a prisoner that usually had black spots on their body just like him. His mama called them Ender spots. They would yell and kick and cry. The doctors would speak to them and point to him from behind the glass. Dream couldn’t hear what they said, but he learned quickly. If you keep struggling, the boy gets hurt. Some would look at him and give up fighting, others refused to give up right off the bat. When that happened, the guards would hold him down as they dragged a knife down his arms despite his wailing. That always did the trick. Then he would be forced to watch as the now compliant prisoners were cut open on the table.

Granny comforted him after those sessions, tending to his bleeding arms and running her fingers through his now shoulder-length hair as he remained inconsolable. Her soothing words would lull him to sleep. She was the only one he could depend on in the Prison.

Dream couldn’t name the exact moment where Granny started to slip, but the first sign was the pacing. The noise of gravel and dirt would wake him up from his nightmares and he would uncurl himself to see her shuffling around their small cell, murmuring to herself. Some days she wouldn’t move at all and stared at the wall with glazed eyes. Granny stopped talking near the end, so Dream did as well. He was young but he knew what was coming. The same thing that happened to the people on the metal table and some of the other old people in the room with them.

One night, Granny summoned him over to her side of the cell and he came over reluctantly, surprised to even hear her speak. She directed his head onto her lap and began combing through his hair, unraveling knots accumulated over an indeterminate period of time.

“The humans won’t stop hunting us and they never will. We will never leave this place, dear.” One of her hands started to trace his face slowly with a withered finger. She reached his eyes and began to lightly stroke his eyelashes. Dream didn’t dare to move despite what every bone in his body was telling him. Her clouded purple eyes bore into him with an intensity Dream had never known. And yet, they seemed shockingly empty at the same time.

“Your eyes,” Granny pried his upper eyelid open and Dream’s breath caught in his throat. “They’ll be the end of us of all.” Millimeter by millimeter, his eyelids were pulled farther back, and he panicked upon the realization that he couldn’t blink against the force of her fingers. “The end of all of us.” The hand in his hair tightened, holding him firmly in place with the strongest display of strength he’d seen from the old woman. Any sudden movements could drive her long nails straight into his eyes.

She breathed a sigh that rattled in her chest and her hand retracted from his face. The moment she relaxed, Dream’s body slammed into autopilot and he scrambled off her lap and tucked himself into the farthest corner. She didn’t follow, having now resigned herself to staring through the bars of their cell in silence.

Dream was alone long before Granny died.

Hours after her corpse had begun to decompose, filling the air with the disgustingly sweet aroma of death, the guards arrived to take away the body, summoned by the wails of the other hybrids in the room. While the interaction with Granny had been unexpected, Dream had a plan long in the making that involved a stone dagger he had carved and hid in the waistband of his pants.

As the guards gagged at the smell, he leapt from his crouching position towards the open door and sunk his knife into the thigh blocking it. He yelled in pain and Dream darted past him, willing his legs to run as fast as possible. He ran through doors and hallways, he ran past cells and cages, and he ran until he finally saw the night sky again.

And even then, he kept running.

---------------------------------------------------

The intense throbbing in Dream’s leg woke him up first. Instinctively, he reached down to touch it and hissed at the burning contact. His head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton and his mouth felt dry, tongue thick and heavy. He tried to swallow, and his throat swelled against something tight. He shot up, grasping the bars of the cage to steady himself. Cage. He was in a cage. Shit. He blinked and the room slowly came into focus despite the pain in his head. Empty cages of different sizes were scattered about. The cage he was in was wide enough to stretch his legs but a glance at the top gave Dream the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to stand upright all the way. The walls and floors were made of white quartz and the white light reflecting off them was blinding.  Dream went to move his mask to rub his eyes, only for them to shoot open again when he realized his mask was gone. His hand fell away from face and rested lightly on the heavy collar strapped to his neck.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He startled. There was a woman in a cage beside him. Her black hair was long and shone with grease. She was pale and skinny, her eyes a glowing purple. She rested her back against the bars of her cage and tapped the collar that was on her neck. Dream noticed the inky blackness that stained her hands and climbed up past her wrists.

He swallowed with a wince. “Where are we?”

She shrugged. “Somewhere underground surrounded by water. That’s as much as they’ve told me.”

“Name?”

“Ilosia. You?”

“Dream.”

Ilosia raised an eyebrow. “So, they finally caught you, huh?”

Dream shifted to place his injured leg in a more comfortable position. “I don’t like the sound of that, but yeah.”

“I got caught in Snowy Beach City when the Huntsmen made a run through about a week or two ago? Hard to say how long I’ve been here. They were originally looking for you but found little old me instead,” she rolled her eyes. “They kept reminding me how I wasn’t their primary target and how lucky it was that they found me.”

He eyed her hands. “Let me guess, gloves were the perfect cover story in a winter biome?”

“Yeah, same goes for your signature mask?” She brought her fingers to her face and tapped across her cheekbones, imitating freckles. “I gotta say though, I haven’t seen Ender hybrids with your eyes for a hot second.” Dream bit the inside of his cheek at the comment.

He gave his collar a little tap. “What’s the deal with these?”

“Shock collars, they keep us from teleporting. Learned that the hard way unfortunately. They also activate on-command,” Ilosia rubbed her neck and Dream gave a wince of sympathy.

“Care to give me the run down of this place?” He asked. Judging by the ache in his leg and the warmth it emitted, he had an infection weighing him down. He began to slowly roll his pant leg up.

Ilosia gave a humorless laugh. “The run down? Hmm, where to start? Guards come in with food I’m assuming once a day. It’s usually mashed potatoes but sometimes they’ll just toss in carrots and a cup of water. Guards will take you to the bathroom if you yell, just don’t do it more than once a day or they get pissy.”

“Are there others?”

She paused and looked down. “We’re the only ones in this room, but I’ve seen others when they first brought me here.” She lowered her voice. “They look awful, I think they’re being used for experiments.”

Dream frowned and grimaced as he peeled the fabric of his pants off the infected area. Iliosa turned away from the blood and pus-filled mess. The disturbance caused the wound to weep sluggishly and Dream wished he at least had water to wash it off. His noise crinkled at the smell. “So why are we separated from them? What makes us different?”

“I- I think they don’t want to use us for experiments. I think they’re looking for answers,” she said.

“About the End?” Dream mouthed. He didn’t know if any unwelcomed ears were listening. Iliosa nodded.

Dream had only visited the End once in his later years. It was more out of curiosity than anything else. If he had gone before his family was split up, he was much too young to remember. He had been scared to go after his escape, preferring to stay with the familiarity of the Overworld when he was on the run. After being adopted into Sapnap’s family, any thoughts of going to the End were pushed to the back of his mind. He did, however, remember a few pieces of information about the End from his mother. Endermen and Ender hybrids could teleport to the End at will. For any other species, an End Portal was required, not that anyone but Ender hybrids knew that. End Portals could only be found and activated with Eyes of Ender, an item created by combining an Ender pearl and the crushed rods of a Blaze. Of course, there was another, lesser known way to find them that Dream would never divulge because he wasn’t particularly suicidal.

The swinging of a door had him turning, skin crawling as the collar pinched his neck. Two guards came in, dressed in uniforms that made Dream scoff. Showy as always, he supposed. Ilosia scooched farther back into her cage and eyed Dream. One of them, the one who wore glasses, kicked the cage, and Dream hissed, grabbing his leg to keep it from jostling.

The other guard crouched in front of the cage and smirked. He had a moustache that resembled a silverfish. “Time to go on a walk.” He swiped a key card at the corner of the cage, and it beeped, swinging open. He stepped back and made a ‘come here’ motion with his hand. “Come on, crawl out boy!” Moustache whistled.

Oh, Dream was going to fucking kill him.

He refused to move, partly out of stubbornness and partly out of his lame leg. He would play the waiting game as long as he wanted. Turns out, the waiting game was cut short when Glasses grabbed his outstretched leg and yanked him out. Dream gasped at the sudden pain that extended to his entire lower body. He must have blacked out for a second because when he reopened his eyes, the guards were carrying him by the arms out the door, feet dragging behind him. Once they were in the hallway, Dream made his move. Using his free leg, he pulled himself up and swung forward, driving his foot into the crotch of Moustache as he fell back. He dropped Dream’s arm, which he used to grasp Glasses’ arm and concentrated all his weight into bringing him down. With him on the floor, Dream drove his elbow into the man’s face before hopping up and limping away from the two groaning guards. Beads of sweat poured down his face as he steadied himself from the wall and continued forward. He could feel blood coat his leg and soak into his sock. He bit his lip to stave away the pain, the taste of iron seeping into his mouth. Dream hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he heard a steady beeping noise and his body seized up, his vision whitening and the intense feeling of pain pain pain.

The wooden chair was uncomfortable. His entire body tingled and there was a persistent ringing in his ears that took its time to dissipate. Each limb was strapped down, and Dream could do no more than tug weakly at his restraints. His head ached and his throat burned.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty is finally gracing us with its presence!” Guy Chase’s face stared back at him with a wide grin. “How ya feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dream slurred.

Guy laughed and patted him roughly on the shoulder. “Maybe don’t pull a stunt like you just did if you don’t want any more unnecessary shocks,” he walked over to a table behind him and grabbed a manila folder from the top. “You were a pretty impressive fighter. Like I said, I had a feeling you were an Ender hybrid when I saw you on that stage competing. It wasn’t fighting that gave you away, but rather your wardrobe! Typical of your kind to hide your features. And you were so prominent in the fighting and parkour world that I just couldn’t resist hunting you down personally,” Guy flipped through the folder. “Then I took off your infamous mask and I thought you looked so familiar. I had a blood test done when you were unconscious and ran it in our system and guess what I found!” He sang, pulling out a piece of paper and holding it in front of Dream whose blood had run cold. His own face stared back, wide green eyes, baby fat, and a small hesitant smile. He hadn’t known what the photo was for at the time.

“Remember me?” Guy questioned and mimed a stabbing motion towards his thigh.

Fate was determined to screw him over, wasn’t it?

Dream swallowed his fear. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing for now, I just want to savor this moment,” he placed a hand on Dream’s face, stroking his thumb down his cheek and Dream fought the urge to vomit. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Tell me Dream, how do you feel about water? I know some Ender hybrids hate the stuff. Clearly it doesn’t burn you, not after our day in the rain.”

Dream knew exactly what he was referring to. Water repulsion varied from Ender hybrid to Ender hybrid. Luckily, water didn’t affect Dream at all. He wasn’t even aquaphobic. He sat up and stared Guy in the eyes, rising irritation fueling his confidence. “Sorry to disappoint but I’m not scared of a little water.”

To his surprise, Guy’s grin spread even wider. “Then I guess we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

Chapter Text

Wilbur adjusted his bag’s strap and checked himself in the mirror. His curly hair, having been exceptionally unruly this morning, was tucked into his favorite maroon wool beanie. An enchanted iron sword was strapped to his side, slightly hidden by the length of his trench coat. Pulling on his fingerless black gloves, Wilbur spared one last glance to Fundy who slept peacefully on his bed, blanket pulled up to his chin. He smiled and slipped out the door.

The sun wasn’t out yet, so L’Manberg was silent save for a few morning birds already beginning their songs. The air was cool, and Wilbur couldn’t help but close his eyes and take in a deep, relaxing breath. Dew clung to his boots as he made his way towards the entrance of L’Manberg, barely making out the large outline of Technoblade leaning against the wall.

“Everything sorted?” The Piglin hybrid asked and Wilbur nodded.

“I have food, potions, water, weapons, and Niki’s in charge while I’m gone. Shall we?” Technoblade grunted and turned to walk through the entrance, displaying his diamond sword that glimmered with enchantments. Wilbur knew he probably had a crossbow on his person, but he wasn’t up for asking where. The hybrid was always ready for combat, eager for it even, and sometimes Wilbur wasn’t sure whether it was a Piglin thing or just a Techno thing.

They walked in silence through the dark forest, the dim lights of L’Manberg slowly growing fainter the longer they traveled and the occasional sounds of branches breaking making Wilbur jump. Techno took long, quick strides that Wilbur struggled to keep up with despite his long legs. After a few minutes, Wilbur decided to break the ice.

“So, Dream’s a hybrid? Can’t say I’m surprised. Though the Ender part caught me off guard in the beginning, I’ll admit.”

Technoblade hummed. “What gave it away?”

“What?”

“You said you aren’t surprised he’s a hybrid. So what gave it away?”

Wilbur gave him an incredulous look. “Hm, I don’t know, how about the entire war for L’Manberg?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Seriously? He was ruthless during the war, showed no mercy towards us, he even burnt down a forest! All that over a little piece of land? It would’ve cost him nothing, Techno, but he chose to fight us like he did. It makes sense now considering he was a hostile hybrid the whole time.”

Techno stopped abruptly and Wilbur almost tripped. “Ah, I see. He was angry towards you breaking his rules and trying to claim his land as your own and that’s what tipped you off that he was a hybrid. Good to know. I wonder if that’s how you rationalize every unfavorable thing Fundy does. Blame it on his hybrid status.”

“W-what?”

“Makes me wonder if that’s how you feel about me, Wilbur,” Technoblade growled, tusks flashing. The blood drained from Wilbur’s face.

“Wait, Techno, that’s not what I meant!” Wilbur frantically backtracked. “I just meant that-”

“You know, Wilbur, in all my years of living,” he removed a crossbow from the folds of his cape and loaded it, “I’ve found that humans are a lot worse than hybrids. How many major wars were started by hybrid leaders?” Wilbur’s heart stuttered as Techno aimed the weapon at him, his eyes dark and narrowed. “Now how many were started by humans and still ended in the needless deaths of hybrids?”

Wilbur gulped and raised his hands in surrender. He could barely hide the tremors wracking his body. “I- I’m sorry Tech-”

The arrow let loose and soared past him, imbedding itself in the head of the creeper behind him. The creature staggered before dropping to the ground, twitching as it dissolved into gunpowder.

He stood there, afraid to move as Techno picked up the arrow from the gunpowder pile and continued walking to their destination. After his soul reattached to his body, he followed tentatively, waiting to see if Technoblade was planning to give him another heart attack. He winced when he realized that Technoblade wasn’t going to initiate any further conversation.

Admittedly, Wilbur had a bias towards Dream. But sometimes when you almost shoot a child in the heart in the name of war, you can’t blame people for holding a grudge. He had spoken in a moment of bad judgement. He hadn’t meant to discredit Technoblade in his explanation. Face burning, he realized that the Piglin hybrid had a point. He was baselessly pinning the blame on Dream’s hybrid status rather than Dream’s character. Notch, what would Fundy think?

“I’m sorry, that was incredibly stupid of me to say,” Wilbur wrung his wrists in anticipation for a response.

Techno only grunted.

“My personal feelings towards Dream made me say things I didn’t mean, but that’s not an excuse. Even then, I suppose Dream’s not too bad now. He did warn L’Manberg of the Huntsmen,” Wilbur paused. “I guess a part of me knows that Dream had every right to be angry at what we did. It’s hard to admit we were in the wrong when something so good came out of it.”

“He respects L’Manberg despite its origins. You never stopped fighting for it and that probably convinced him to let it go.”

Wilbur made a skeptical face. “I don’t know about that. We had to trade something of value for L’Manberg’s independence.

Technoblade made a questioning noise.

“Tommy’s discs.”

Blocks, Cat, and Mellohi. The infamous discs that gifted L’Manberg its independence. The trade-off was more anticlimactic than Wilbur thought it would be, but that didn’t stop the hurt he knew Tommy must have felt by giving those prized discs away. From time to time, he would spot Tommy gazing sadly at his unused music box and his heart ached for the boy. Still, Wilbur would spend his time laying awake at night wondering exactly why Dream had chosen something so personal in place of L’Manberg. It just didn’t add up.

“Hey Techno? What do you know about Ender hybrids if you don’t mind me asking?” He gave Wilbur a look and Wilbur held up his hands. “I just want to educate myself! I’ll keep my mouth shut, I swear.”

“Honestly, not as much as you think,” he admitted. At Wilbur’s confused face, he elaborated. “I only found out Dream was an Ender hybrid the night he came to me about the Huntsmen. But I’m assuming that they don’t operate that differently from other hybrids.”

“What do you mean?” Wilbur inquired, interest piqued.

Technoblade batted a branch away from his face as they ventured deeper into a thickening forest. “Hybrids vary. It’s like a spectrum with human on one end and another species on the other. Where you land depends on your physical characteristics, abilities, behaviors, etc. Me? I’d say I’m slightly past the halfway point to a Piglin. Features and bloodlust and all that. I know a hybrid who mostly passes for human. Fundy? He’s basically a humanoid fox.”

Wilbur smiled fondly at the thought of his son. He remembered the day he found Fundy so clearly. A newborn hybrid swaddled in blankets and abandoned near the side of a river, letting out little mewls of distress. Technoblade was right, he hadn’t even known Fundy was a hybrid at the time until he brought him home.

“Dream is difficult to pinpoint. His entire body is usually covered so there’s probably some physical aspects he has been hiding. He’s definitely a teleporter. Behavior wise, I wouldn’t know. He might be near the middle of that spectrum”

Wilbur’s eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. He chose his next words very carefully. “Do…do you think possessiveness is a behavioral trait of Ender hybrids?”

Technoblade seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Ah, his behavior during the war-”

“And the sudden interest in the discs,” Wilbur finished. Techno nodded, lost in thought.

“It’s definitely a possibility.” And after a few moments of silence, the Dream SMP base came into view.

 ------------------------------------

“Took you long enough,” George remarked as he dipped the last of his arrows in a Potion of Harming, his quiver practically bursting with fullness.

Bad tsked. “George, we’re on the same side here. Let’s try to get along please.” He glanced at the area surrounding them as if checking for something before looking back at Dream’s mask in his hands, seemingly disappointed.

Wilbur took a second to look around while they bickered. The sun was barely peeking through the horizon, its rays painting the sky a lighter shade of blue and hiding the stars. Banners hung over the sides of the stone base, each with personalized colors and designs. Wilbur realized belatedly that the banners corresponded with each member of the Dream Team. Black and red checkered patterns for Bad, a black banner with orange crossing stripes for Sapnap, a light blue one with black circles surrounded by a white outline for George, and, of course, a white smiley face over a lime green background for Dream.

“We made those when we first built this base. Took us so long to get the right patterns.” Sapnap appeared from beside Wilbur, a loaf of bread in both hands. “Yo Techno!” He shouted and Wilbur winced at the volume. “Do you want any extra food?”

Technoblade shrugged and Sapnap tossed over a loaf before tucking the second one in his bag. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Are we bringing the others with us?” Technoblade asked. Wilbur faced him, confused.

“What others?” He nodded his head towards the lining of the forest. A muffled ‘shit’ came from the general area.

Wilbur groaned. Could Tommy listen to him for once in his life? “Tommy, Tubbo, get your asses out here now.”

There was a rustle and the two boys dragged themselves out of the bushes covered in sticks and leaves. Tubbo at least had the decency to look sheepish. Tommy, on the other hand, had a defiant look on his face that screamed ‘I’m going to give you a very large migraine in a very short amount of time’. What surprised Wilbur was the fox face that peeked out of the bushes behind them. Had Fundy overheard what he had said earlier to Technoblade?

“Fundy? What in Notch’s name are you doing here?” Fundy’s ears flattened and he followed Tommy and Tubbo with his tail practically tucked between his legs.

“Sorry dad, I caught them sneaking out, but they wouldn’t listen to me. I followed them to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid.” Although Fundy couldn’t visibly blush, Wilbur could tell he was embarrassed that he couldn’t stop two unruly children from leaving. Luckily, it didn’t seem like his son heard his conversation with the Piglin hybrid and Wilbur sighed with relief.

“We are here to aid in saving Dream!” Tommy announced, puffing out his armored chest.

Tubbo gave a weak smile. “We just wanted to help…”

“I already told you, you are not coming with us.”

“Why not? I fought in a war, but I can’t go on a simple rescue mission?”

“That’s different and you know it Tommy Innit!”

“You’re no fun! We’ll be stronger in numbers-”

Sapnap clapped his hands loudly. “We don’t have time for this. We’re leaving right now whether you get this sorted or not, Wilbur.”

“Oh, I have an idea!” They all turned to Bad who wore a wide smile. “Why don’t you three watch over our base while we’re out?”

George and Sapnap looked disgusted at Bad’s prospect and were about to complain when Wilbur saw Bad jab an elbow in each of their sides. Upon closer inspection, Bad’s smile seemed strained and there were visible circles under his eyes. It seemed like he was more affected by Dream’s disappearance than Wilbur initially thought.

“Uh yeah sure,” Sapnap grumbled. “I guess you could watch our base.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by a paw slapping over his face. “We would love to watch your base!” Fundy said as Tubbo nodded enthusiastically from beside him.

Slapping Fundy’s hand away, Tommy grumbled in annoyance but seemed to resign himself to the offer.

“You can set up a sort of first aid station for us in case we get hurt when we come back,” added Wilbur, relieved that Bad found a way to keep them from joining.

“Just don’t touch anything that isn’t yours please,” George hissed.

Fundy nodded and grabbed Tommy and Tubbo by the arms, dragging them toward the entrance of the base. “Don’t worry! We’ll look after your stuff while you’re gone! You won’t be disappointed. Good luck!” The door shut behind them.

Techno sighed and turned to the rest of the rescue group. “You got the compass?”

George pulled out a rickety compass from his pocket and Wilbur grimaced at its condition. “Will that thing last until we get to Dream?”

George shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Sapnap stretched, cracking his back, and started walking towards the direction the compass pointed to. “Let’s get a move on then everyone!”

Wilbur stuck near Technoblade whose vision was set on the horizon. The sun was raised higher in the sky and they were facing in its direction, making everything in sight dark with shadow. He followed Techno’s gaze and saw a particularly large shadow in the distance, but he couldn’t make out exactly what it was. He ignored it, choosing to focus on his natural surroundings instead. It had been a while since he had traversed past the walls of L’Manberg. Seeing the wild foliage was a welcome change of scenery. They had only been walking for a few minutes when Technoblade suddenly pulled out his diamond sword and gave gruff whisper.

“Someone’s following us.”

Wilbur’s first thought was Tommy, and he was ready to give another ass-kicking stern lecture when a few crunching leaves caught his attention. Having swung around with hands on their weapons, Sapnap and George both had surprised expressions while Bad wore a genuine smile.

“I was wondering if you got my message!” Bad said as a figure emerged from the trees.

Wilbur let out a growl when he realized who he was looking at. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Gentlemen,” Eret said, adjusting their sunglasses. They were already decked in enchanted iron armor and had sword strapped to each side. “I hear you’ve got a little problem on your hands.” They flashed a smile. “And I believe I can offer my assistance.”

Chapter Text

Staying hidden proved to be more difficult than Dream anticipated. In the beginning, he had tried to go to villages for food and supplies, but only received scoffs and glares in response. It didn’t seem like many people were particularly eager to feed an extra mouth. Besides, he would rather not have to face the stares of the villagers. He knew his freckles and eyes attracted unwanted attention and clued people in on his hybrid status. That was another thing Dream learned fast; people didn’t seem to like hybrids like him all that much. It confused him at first, after all, he had seen a few animals hybrids here and there and they didn’t seem to get the same harsh treatment as him. But it seemed to Dream that they were more wary of the fact that they didn’t know what sort of hybrid he was. The main consequence this had was that stealing proved to be nigh impossible under the distrustful gazes of the village vendors.

Hunger pangs woke him up regularly in the middle of the night and Dream would curl into himself, squeezing his stomach as if the forced pressure would cure him from the pain. The occasional apple from a tree was beginning to prove insufficient and even getting up from restless sleep induced exhaustion. Brain foggy, he could spend hours blankly staring at nothing when he found that he couldn’t get up from a resting position. The boy would spend lengthy amounts of time near running rivers, gulping down mouthfuls of water just to achieve a full stomach.

His first kill was a rabbit. One of its legs was lame - probably the result of a near-death experience with a wolf - and its eyes were dark and pitiful as if begging to be saved. They were both shivering from the night’s bitter cold, Dream’s body wrapped in the thin cloth of tarp he had found in a deserted village that was littered with moth-eaten holes. It seemed like the rabbit was looking for shelter and maybe in another situation, Dream would’ve helped. But in that moment, with the ache in his stomach and the haze in his mind, he mustered all his strength to lift the rock he had been using as an impromptu pillow and bring it down on the rabbit’s head with a sickening crunch.

He teared up at the mess of blood and bone, realizing that he had no way to start a fire to at least cook the meat and he had no clue as how to skin a rabbit. Hit with another wave of hunger pangs, Dream screwed his eyes tight and picked up the limp body of the rabbit with shaking hands that were beginning to slicken with warm blood, and unhinged his mouth.

(He hated how much his mouth watered as he did)

The mineshaft wasn’t the first one he had seen, but it was the first one he had actually been in. Not by choice though, as evident by the loud chattering of travelers near its entrance and how Dream crept further and further into the mineshaft’s darkening tunnels to avoid being seen. Cobwebs were strung on the low ceilings that Dream had no problem dodging. He did, however, have to be mindful of the abandoned railroad tracks that ran down the tunnels with their torn metal parts creating a potential tripping hazard. Walking carefully with a slight crouch, Dream kept his entire body compact to evenly distribute his body weight and stepped toe to heel, effectively muffling his footsteps. Months of hunting had prepared him well, considering animals tended to be much more aware of their surroundings than humans. The darkness grew, but Dream could still see clearly albeit the colors were muted. The voices echoed off the walls making them sound closer than they probably were, yet that didn’t stop Dream from panicking and hiding behind the nearest minecart. He crouched there for a few minutes, making his breathing shallow, and waited until the voices faded.

He surveyed his surroundings, seeing more tunnels that branched off into various directions and hearing the groaning and hissing of mobs awaiting him in the dark. A few feet away from him was another minecart with something large inside. He tiptoed towards it and flipped the chest’s latch, wincing at the sharp noise it made. After seconds of silence, Dream lifted the lid and looked inside.

The interior of the chest was thick with dust and the husks of insects that managed to crawl in but failed to get out. There were only two items inside: a loaf of bread with missing chunks and a white… something. Dream grabbed the bread first of course, ignoring its hardness as he tucked it in his makeshift pouch. Wheat was hard to come by unless he stole from villages, but he wasn’t willing to risk being seen over some grain. Next, he carefully picked up the white item, brushed off the layer of dust on its smooth surface and examined it. Running his hands over its curvature, Dream felt the sudden urge to place it on his face and did so with reluctance. It was a bit large for him, but what baffled him was the fact that he could see clearly through what he now knew was a mask, despite a distinct lack of eye holes. In a state of wonder, he took it off and put it back on again a few times to test it.

The groan of a zombie rattled him from his stupor, and he stuffed the mask in his pouch. He turned to leave the mineshaft when he heard a familiar fizzling noise akin to a puff of smoke. Dream whipped around with a grin, staring right into the glowing purple eyes of an Enderman. Endermen were the only mobs other than peaceful animals that didn’t try to attack him outright. Sometimes they would even bring Dream flowers as a gift which he would make into little flower chains if he were in a plains biome. The Enderman made a warbling noise and teleported further back into the tunnel. Follow me. Dream’s heart ached at the familiar and comforting clicks and rasps of the Ender language that he hadn’t heard since the Prison. With a final glance at the way he had come from, he followed the Enderman through the winding tunnels.

Endermen were usually found clustered together in what was known as a screech. Large screeches of Endermen were known for terrorizing villages and cities, tearing buildings apart by the chunk and attacking those who dared tried to stop them. And yet, Dream felt safer with the screech of Endermen in the caves than he had ever felt with a group of humans. There were around a dozen of them that flitted about the cave, a deep craters in the side of the wall marking their temporary resting stop. Dream stepped around every pothole to avoid tripping and settled in a corner, eyeing the stalactites that reached down from the ceiling. He shifted his position, just in case. One Enderman- though he couldn’t tell if it was the one that lead him here- crouched down in front of him, its skeletal face tilted to the side.

“Family?” It asked.

Dream shook his head. “They’re gone.”

The Enderman gave a sad hum. “Stay with us?”

“…Okay.”

When it came to teleporting, Dream wasn’t the most precise in his measurements. Teleporting to a clearing was relatively fine but the real issues arose in jungle settings, or any other setting with only small openings to teleport through. His family (he remembers his mother, vague images of his father, and only the certainty that he had siblings) drilled into him the precautions that needed to be taken when teleporting since he was younger. As a result, his teleportation was rarely put to use. That is, until he joined the Endermen in the caves.

Endermen were nomadic creatures prone to roaming around every environment that could accommodate their tall stature. While they preferred the dark like most hostile mobs, they weren’t harmed by the suns rays and could be seen lingering in the day time every now and then. On top of that, Endermen traveled almost exclusively via teleportation, which led Dream to his current predicament: navigating the caves without dying.

It became evident to the screech that Dream didn’t know how to teleport like the rest of them. His range fell short and he could hardly stay on his two feet after every jump. A few Endermen tittered in laughter and Dream felt his face grow red.

“Where do you feel it?” An Enderman asked him and Dream’s head tilted in confusion.

“Huh? Feel what?”

“When you teleport, where do you feel the energy in your body?” Dream’s eye widened in understanding and tried to recall the sensation. Usually, teleporting involved a build up of pressure in his chest that felt like a bubble about to pop. He would feel it, concentrate on where he wanted to go, and then release. The Enderman made a disapproving noise as he relayed this to it.

“You’re doing it wrong,” it explained. “You are not letting the energy build up enough. Concentrate all your energy, all your being into your core. The more it builds, the farther you travel. But do not let it burst.”

“What happens if it bursts?”

“Then you’ll accidently travel to the End.” The Enderman did not elaborate. “Now, try to go to the ledge over there.” It pointed a slender, clawed finger towards a stony shelf a few feet up and away from them.

Dream swallowed his nervousness and stared intensely at the shelf with fidgeting fingers. He focused his energy into his chest and held it longer than he ever had before. His extremities began to tingle and for a second, it felt as though his consciousness took residence in his core rather than his head. The heavy pressure within him began to expand. The space around him rippled and twisted until a fizzle hissed in his ears and-

POP!

Dream stumbled as the fabric of space shifted, a feeling of coolness spreading through his body leaving him tingly and…excited. He whirled around to look off the ledge he was now sat upon, giving the waiting Enderman below a bright smile. “I did it!” He chirped. The Enderman hummed in approval.

“Well done, perhaps we should work on your landing stance next.”

The caves, just like the Prison, lacked any sense of time awareness but this time Dream didn’t mind all that much. He slept when he felt tired (he was very much human in that regard) and the Endermen were kind enough to wait and dwindle around as to not leave him behind. His main sustenance were the golden, glowing berries that hung off the vines in the lusher portions of the caves and the thin streams of water that popped up on occasion. Within the screech, mobs ignored him for the most part, grouping him with his newfound companions. They avoided the large caverns filled with spiraling stalagmites and flooded with water like the plague, even if Dream did find himself wishing he could explore further. The only times he felt scared were the ones where the Endermen fell silent and urged him to teleport as far up as he could. According to them, there were beasts in the caves that even hostile mobs dared not disturb.

Lucky for Dream, teleportation had become second nature to him as he was desperate to prove himself worthy of keeping up with the screech. He expanded his range and strived to teleport with pin point accuracy. Sometimes, he would even jump off small ledges to teleport mid-air, just to see if he could. There wasn’t much else to do in the caves anyway.

He wasn’t ready to let go when the screech left. They expressed their desire to go home to the End, having grown tired of the Overworld, and extended their offer to Dream. With a heavy heart, he turned down the offer much to the disappointment of the Endermen. While he knew the End would be safer for him, Dream wasn’t willing to part with the Overworld he had grown accustomed to. As a parting gesture, the screech led him to the nearest cave entrance and Dream winced at the brightness of the outside despite being in the middle of a storm. The Enderman who taught him to teleport knelt down and placed a clawed hand on his head.

“Take care little one. We will not be here to protect you so remember our teachings,” it said and resumed an upright position. One by one, the Endermen disappeared until it was just Dream and the purple particles in the cave’s entrance. Deciding to wait out the rain, Dream sat on the floor and rested against the wall, blinking away tears. He was alone again, this time out of his own volition, but that didn’t stop the roots of loneliness from spreading in his chest, its tendrils squeezing his heart.

He would be returning to the sun of the Overworld, where humans avoided him because of his hybrid status and Dream did not know how he was going to handle it this time around. How would he survive if his face immediately gave him away? Eyes burning even more, he hugged his inventory bag, hearing the clinking sounds of his accumulated stash of trinkets knocking together. Suddenly, he sat up and began rummaging through his bag, pulling out the mask he had found when he first entered the mineshaft. Somehow, it remained undamaged despite the obvious abuse his bag had gone through. He placed the mask on his face, still in awe that he could see clearly through such an opaque object. He shook his head, checking the security of the mask, and was overjoyed when the mask didn’t even budge. It seemed that it wouldn’t come off by accident, even if he were upside down. The slight shimmer of the mask that he could now see with a natural light source confirmed a sort of enchantment. The mask covered his Ender-like features so no one could be suspicious of him. After all, he had seen humans wearing masks around villages and he hadn’t seen anyone protest it.

Dream frowned. People might think he looked too creepy with a blank mask on. An idea hit him, and he started looking around the cave until he found what he was searching for. Aha! Dream dragged his fingers over some chunks of coals that protruded slightly from the wall. He grabbed the mask with a clean hand and began slowing rubbing the black dust onto its surface. Holding the mask up, he marveled at the smiley face the mask now donned. Humans liked it when people smiled, right? If he were smiling all the time, then maybe people would like him all the time too!

He waited a bit for the coal to set and put on the mask once more, hiding the excited smile on his face. He hugged his legs and stared out at the rain, taking in the smell of petrichor and shivering slightly at the small bursts of wind that appeared at random intervals. When the weather cleared, he would likely start traveling from biome to biome, a good way to avoid detection according to the Endermen and their nomadic lifestyle. He rocked back and forth with anticipation.

Maybe things were starting to look up after all.

 ----------------------------------------

“How’s the water, little hybrid?”

Chapter Text

Oh, great, thought Dream as he felt pressure build in his head, I get the luxury treatment. He had been transferred from his uncomfortable chair to an even more uncomfortable slab, only complying due to the taunting way Guy practically fondled the button that could activate his collar. The slab was tilted slightly downwards so Dream’s feet were higher than his head, the position already making him disoriented. His limbs were fastened to his sides and prevented him from sliding down the table while also limiting any potential movements. He grit his teeth in frustration. He had not felt so helplessly stuck in a while, and he found that he did not miss the feeling.

“Think of this as the starting point in your time here,” Guy said, moving from Dream’s limited field of vision. The clanking of metal echoed in the almost bare room. “A little initiation.” The sound of rushing water made Dream clench his fists. “Technically, you’re the first hybrid we’re interrogating. After the head honchos approved my plan, I knew I wanted to start with you if you proved to be what we were looking for.” Loud squeaking and the sound of water disappeared. “Lucky for me, the experimental division had some useful pointers about Ender hybrids that I could use. For example, did you know that there’s variability in Ender hybrids aquaphobia?” Guy’s face came into view once more and he set something down on the floor. Dream remained stony faced, cursing that he couldn’t have a complete picture of his surroundings. Guy chuckled. “You probably knew that already. That tends to be the case for most hybrids and their attributes. But the researchers did say something that really caught my attention. Did you know that Ender hybrids are quite susceptible to water torture? It’s true! Even the most water-loving ones could be made to break in under a few hours. Guess it’s in your genes.”

Dream’s eyes flickered to the two new people in the room, Troy and Vivaldi, who began to walk closer towards him. Vivaldi held a black cloth in her hands while an empty handed Troy seemed eager to catch Dream’s eye. He pointedly looked at the gray ceiling and bit his inner cheek as all three towered above him with a look that made his stomach twist.

“What do you want from me?” He asked with a cold tone, though he likely knew the answer. He wasn’t planning on spilling any information that could endanger those in the End.

Guy smiled and pressed a hand down on Dream’s chest, making any effort of rising up at this angle futile. Vivaldi draped the cloth firmly onto his face with a delicateness that almost made him laugh until his vision was completely obscured. He heard creaking accompanied by the sloshing of water and he was suddenly aware of how utterly quiet the room was. “Right now? I don’t want anything from you.”

He wasn’t ready for the cold water to pour on his face seconds later. Against his better judgment, Dream inhaled at the sudden torrent of water assaulting his face. The now soaked cloth was sucked inwards as he drew in a shocked breath and water immediately flooded his mouth and nose. He tried to thrash around in desperation against his restraints, the panic causing him to choke further. He felt the water pooling in the back of his throat and shook his head in a vain attempt to somehow dislodge it.

He was drowning and he could breathe nothing but water and there was nothing but the thin cloth separating him from the life-giving air that he would never receive again because he was dying he was dying he couldn’t breath and it was dark and cold and he was dying-

The moment the cloth was removed and the pressure on his chest was lifted, Dream turned his head to the side and retched, forcing the water to come out of his nose and mouth. His throat throbbed with pain and his eyes watered from the burning sensation erupting from his nasal cavity. He could not focus on a single thought as his brain raced with fear and panic. A heavy hand gripped his face and positioned it forward, eliciting a gasping cough. “How’s the water, little hybrid?”

Despite the adrenaline pumping ferociously throughout his body, Dream forced himself to regulate his breathing despite the pain each shaky inhalation produced. “F-Fuck y-you,” he sputtered, hoping his glare toward the man came across more fearsome than frightened.

“Ten seconds. Think it can last for longer?” Troy’s nasally voice announced.

Guy nodded and disappeared from sight, the sound of rushing water making Dream tense. “Guess we’ll have to find out. Care to log the rounds, Troy?” Eager footsteps signaled that the boy was more than willing to do what Guy asked.

Dream closed his eyes and took in another shaky breath. He wasn’t ready to go through another round of waterboarding, but he knew he needed to hold out until either he escaped, or someone came to rescue him. Dream, ever the pessimistic survivalist, was banking on the former scenario. So far, his biggest obstacles would be his leg and the collar. If he could just find a way to break it off his neck...

His eyes shot open as the moist cloth was placed back on his face, Vivaldi having wrung out the water from before. This time, Dream held his breath in anticipation, faltering when nothing came after a few moments of silence. Caught off guard, he didn’t notice himself take an involuntary breath until the flood of water came rushing onto his face once more, laughter ringing in his ears as panic overtook his senses once more.

Water dribbled past cold, quivering lips as Dream expelled the latest batch of it from his aching lungs. His eyes fluttered, a combination of exhaustion and the water caught in his lashes weighing them down. The restraints he relentlessly yanked against had chaffed his wrists and ankles raw. Bile rose up his inflamed, throbbing throat and he struggled to keep it down. His body shook with leftover adrenaline. Further attempts to fight against the hand on his chest had been abandoned a while ago.

Dream closed his eyes as he heard the click of a timer he had grown to despise. “Full minute this time. Impressive.” The scratch of pen on paper.

He knew he would drown if they went any longer. Hopefully they were satisfied and would stop the waterboarding sessions soon because he was just so tired.

The hand on his chest lifted and Dream sagged with relief when he didn’t hear the water running again.

He heard a snort. “I think it thinks we’re done with it,” Vivaldi said, snorting again when Dream tensed at her words.

Notch, what did they want from him? He had braced himself for the inevitable inquiries about the End or Ender hybrids only to be met with no questions of the sort. It didn’t make sense, why kidnap and torture him if not for information?

You know why, a small voice in his head whispered, much to Dream’s chagrin. A memory popped up in his mind that left a bitter taste in his mouth. An imprisoned Ender hybrid covered in bloody bandages teaching him a lesson in torture.

“In my experience, there are two types of torture,” the old man in the cage near him had croaked, staring off into the distance. “The first is the most common. They want to know something, so they bend you till you break. They’ll stop, as long as you tell them what they wanna hear.” A shuddering breath. “But the second kind?” He had stopped and looked at Dream for the first time, eyes clouded with pain and misery. “The worst kind of torture is the one where they just torture you because they think it’s fun. It doesn’t stop until they get bored.” The man’s gaze slipped away again, seemingly lost in a memory. “And they never get bored. They never do.”

This, Dream recognized, was the second kind of torture. The slab he was strapped to gave a creak as he was slowly moved to a flat position, no longer facing downwards. His head spun and he struggled to blink the black and white spots out of his vision. Above him hung… a tube? It was attached to an opaque container, but its shape didn’t give Dream an indication of its purpose. Guy noticed his confusion.

“You didn’t seem to like our little waterboarding session that much. Lucky for you, I’m a pretty generous person,” Guy left to go fill up the bucket again and Dream clenched his hands because he already hated that water bucket so fucking much.

Once filled, Guy returned to his side and began emptying its contents into the container above him. In his confusion, Dream didn’t notice the needle until it entered his arm, cold fluid circulating quickly through his bloodstream and making goosebumps erupt from his skin. He glared at Vivaldi as she disposed of the used needle, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Paralysis serum administered, sir.”

Dream cursed and pulled against his restraints with renewed vigor, hoping to do something before the serum took effect.

Guy nodded. “Alright, that’s all I need from you two now, I’ll take care of the rest.” Dream watched as the two left without complaint.

The second the door closed, Guy slapped Dream in the face. “Eyes on me hybrid, time for some one on one time. Hope you’re not too tired, I saw those eyes drooping a few minutes ago.”

He growled, ignoring the taste of blood in his throat and the burning sting of his cheek as anger flared up within him. “Sorry, turns out drowning is fucking exhausting. Who knew?”

Guy laughed as he secured the contraption above him. “I see you still got some fire in you, that’s good to see. The resilient ones are always more satisfying to break.”

“You’re not going to get anything out of me,” Dream snapped, tugging on the restraints while Guy rested a hand on a knob on the side of whatever was hovering over Dream and lowering it closer to his face. His faux bravado weakened as he felt the serum in his veins settle into a heavy numbness.

“Like I said, I don’t want anything from you. You’re just a bit too strong-willed at the moment,” he said and grabbed Dream’s face, squishing his cheeks together. “I like my victims to be compliant in the end.”

Too weak to fight against the demeaning action, Dream settled for baring his teeth. “Is this going to be a whole thing now? It’s starting to seem to like grabbing faces is a fetish of yours.” Maybe he would have been more threatening if the numbness hadn’t already started spreading up his face.

Surprisingly, Guy didn’t seem angered by the comment. He merely let go of Dream’s face and gave his stinging cheek a rough pat. “Here I am, being nice to you and this is the thanks I get?” He shook his head. “I thought that you would appreciate it if you dealt with less water.” And with that, he turned the knob and Dream squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for another onslaught of cold water, only to feel a small droplet hit his forehead. He opened his eyes and felt the sliver of water snake down the side of his face. What? Is this a joke?

Guy laughed, no doubt at Dream’s baffled expression. “This may come as a surprise to you, but this technique is more suited to my methods. It’s not super effective with humans or other hybrids, but Notch, your kind is so susceptible to it that it’s laughable. Here’s the gist: water drops from this here doohickey at random intervals in the same spot on your forehead,” Guy explained and spread his arms out. “That’s it! That’s all there is to it!” Then he leaned in close enough for Dream to see the tightness of his scars on his face. The paralysis had finally settled in, rendering him immobile, excluding his eyelids which twitched as another drop of water splattered on his face.

“Have fun, you little thigh-stabbing piece of shit,” he hissed, his hot breath tickling Dream’s face unpleasantly. He left his field of vision. “I’ll check in to see how you’re faring eventually.” Dream heard the door shut and he was left alone in silence.

What was the harm in water droplets? Admittedly, the waterboarding had left him worse for wear (he swore he could still feel water in his lungs), but he didn’t understand how this could be worse. Another drop hit his forehead and his eyelid twitched again. The anticipation was a bit grating when waiting for the next droplet to land, although the whole technique was a bit…mundane?

Drip.

At least now he had time to himself to think. It was clear that he wasn’t able to get out of his bindings at the moment, being paralyzed and all. He could potentially pretend he was still immobile when they released his binds, then he would be able to-

Drip.

If that didn’t work, he could sneak an item that could help break the collar off his neck. Maybe a knife from Guy-

Drip.

Hopefully, Technoblade realized he was missing soon. Dream worried though, because even though he was the self-proclaimed Blood God, these hunters were organized and dangerous and-

Drip.

Would his friends even-

Drip.

Dream’s eye twitched again as rivulets of water were now sliding across his face. Okay, this was definitely more annoying than he anticipated. Still, it was just water and it wasn’t like he was being drowned repeatedly again. He could handle this. He was fine.

Drip.                      Drip.                                                                        Drip.    Drip.    Drip.

  Drip.      Drip.                                                     Drip.              Drip.                 Drip.

                                          Drip.                    Drip.    Drip.                               Drip.        Drip.

          Drip.

Drip.

                        Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Chapter Text

“Dream,” Eret stated coolly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Said masked man stood a few meters away, almost completely obscured by the looming shadows of the night with the exception of the bone-white starkness of his mask. Despite the darkness, Eret could still make out the enchanted axe strapped to Dream’s back. Strangely enough, he wore no armor, instead sporting his regular attire with his signature green poncho. It seemed to be an attempt to give off a casual, placating air, but Eret wasn’t born yesterday. 

Admittedly, going out on a midnight stroll in the middle of war time wasn’t the best idea. It was ironic, wasn’t it? The builder of the walls of L’Manberg feeling stifled within them. Not that Eret was surprised of course, it was bound to happen to them eventually. They weren’t meant to be confined, even if that meant leaving the safety of L’Manberg and their friends. 

“Eret,” Dream nodded curtly. “I wanted to have a word with you.”

“Ah, a casual conversation alone in the woods at night with the enemy! You sure know how to make someone feel welcomed,” they quipped, hoping that the sarcasm smothered the tremor in their voice. They knew that Dream would strike them down with his axe if Eret so much as twitched a finger incorrectly. Dream raised his hands in a surrendering position.

“I only want to ask you a few questions.”

“And if I don’t want to answer?” 

Dream shrugged and lowered his hands. “I don’t think it will come to that. You aren’t like the others, are you Eret?” Eret swallowed at the implication in his words. “Tell me, how loyal are you to L’Manberg?” They opened their mouth to answer but stopped when Dream held up a single finger. “Not your friends, L’Manberg itself.”

That made them pause. How loyal were they to L’Manberg? To the nation itself? They adored their friends, they knew that for certain. Wilbur and his leadership, Tommy and his fierceness, Tubbo and Niki and their kindness, and finally Fundy, the one who technically brought them all together in the first place because of Wilbur’s goal. Eret would lay down their life for every one of them. But in all honesty, they weren’t concerned about the future of L’Manberg. As long as they all could live their lives in peace, independence wasn’t a huge deal to them. Unfortunately, some of their friends didn’t hold the same sentiment. 

“I think you’re a fair person, Eret,” Dream said with a quiet softness that confused them. “You care about your friends more than anything. But would you hold them accountable if they were in the wrong?”

“...I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Let me share my side of things? Then we can go from there.” 

The whole situation made Eret’s stomach twist in stress. A part of them didn’t care about anything Dream had to say. But as the saying went, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. They knew they couldn’t leave the woods without knowing what Dream had to say, an opportunity they didn’t want to pass up and one they knew they might never have again.

“Go ahead then. I’m listening.”

“Who the fuck invited them?” Wilbur shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Eret, anger practically radiating off him in waves. Everyone else seemed just as confused at their presence, and Eret felt their confidence melt into a sort of awkwardness. 

Bad sheepishly raised his hand. “Um, me! I, maybe kind of sorta, forgot to tell you guys?” He said with a wince.  

George fixed him with an incredulous look. “You forgot ? That doesn’t seem like the type of thing you just forget Bad.” 

Yeah, Eret was just going to stay out of this conversation for a bit.

Bad waved his hands. “Wait, I can explain! The whole thing with Dream happened and I thought maybe we could use an extra helping hand. And who better to contact than Eret! They get along with Dream pretty well, and they can fight. Not to mention they’re all about acceptance so maybe...they...won’t....” Bad trailed off, looking at the ground. “I just wanted to help,” he said in a small voice.

Wilbur scoffed. “You thought maybe what? That they would keep this information under wraps? That they wouldn’t judge Dream? You trusted the infamous traitor to help us?”

“They’re only a traitor to your side,” George corrected with a glare, but even he seemed doubtful of Eret’s presence. 

Sapnap patted Bad on the shoulder to comfort him. “It’s okay Bad, I know you mean well but unfortunately, Wilbur’s right,” he ignored the indignant ‘hey’ from Wilbur. “We don’t know for certain if we can trust them with this...situation. No offense Eret.”

“None taken.”

“We don’t need a sixth party member!” Wilbur said in exasperation, desperately trying to get them to see his side. “They’ll only slow us down! Tell them, Techno.”

The Piglin hybrid stood leaning against the trunk of a tree with a bored expression. “I think they would be a good addition to the team.” He looked at Eret and gave an upwards nod that Eret returned with a smile. At least they had Technoblade on their side.

“Thank yo- wait, what?” Wilbur whipped around. “Technoblade, you can’t be serious.”

“I am. Deadly serious, in fact.” 

With Wilbur shocked into silence, Eret decided to finally step in. “Bad contacted me and explained some of the situation. Dream’s been kidnapped by Huntsmen, yeah?”

George gave a hesitant nod. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re going to get him back.”

“Cool, I don’t mind lending a hand then,” they said.

“And what’s in it for you?” Sapnap questioned, squinting with suspicion. 

“The opportunity to save a friend.” Wilbur scoffed at their words.

“Yeah, we all know how you treat your friends, don’t we Eret?” They chose not to respond despite the ache in their chest. They knew Wilbur wouldn’t understand their reasoning right now, not when the wounds of betrayal were still so obviously fresh.

“How knowledgeable are you on the Huntsmen?” Techno interrupted.

Eret pursed their lips. “Knowledgeable enough to know there’s no time to waste. The longer Dream’s in their hands, the worse it’ll be for him.” They pointed north of the group’s position. “It’s already been a few days, yeah? The Huntsmen are probably near or at their base by now, especially since they have the advantage of knowing the quick route back.”

“They had horses,” Wilbur said quietly, crossing his arms. “That’s another advantage they have over us.”

“All the more reason to just let me tag along and keep moving.”

Sapnap held up a hand, stopping Eret before turning to the others. “What about the...thing?” He let out a noise of frustration at the blank faces he got in return. “You know! The thing we probably shouldn’t just tell them out of nowhere!” A chorus of ahhhs sounded. 

Eret adjusted their sunglasses again out of habit. “What? Is this about Dream being an Ender hybrid?” 

The group, save Techno, froze in place. After a few seconds of stunned silence, Sapnap threw his hands in the air. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

Seris Desert. A biome containing a sea of gold everywhere you turned. The dunes shimmered with every brush of sunlight and the sun shone clear in the sky, exuding an exhaustive heat over the land and its inhabitants. 

Eret tugged their shirt collar away from their neck, grimacing in disgust at the dampness of their clothing. They would give anything to be wearing their favorite pleated, green skirt, the one that swished softly when they walked and gave them room to breathe; anything would be better than the suffocating presence that was their cotton pants. Unfortunately, the pants would have to suffice as they preferred their beloved skirts to stay intact and away from the cold bite of a blade. To Eret, Seris Desert was a harsh environment whose cruelty was only rivaled by the torture of traveling in a group with Sapnap in it.

“How did Eret know before any of us did?” Said person ranted, angrily kicking up sand as the group marched through the desert. “It’s like, I mean, c’mon! Eret? What?” 

“Stop kicking up sand, you heathen, it’s getting in our eyes,” George snapped. True to his word, Bad was raising a hand over his eyes to protect from both the sun and Sapnap’s careless sand rampage, the compass being held tightly in the other.

“Guys, come on…” Bad whined. He had remained fairly silent since their departure, as if he was still cowed by the decision to invite Eret.

Eret did their best to suppress a noticeable sigh. None of the Dream Team had been particularly happy to find out that they had already known Dream’s real identity. Technoblade had butt in before the yelling match continued, urging the group to at least start moving towards their destination. Now, they were in arguably the worst biome to be in with high tensions, the overbearing heat not helping anyone’s mood. Still, there were a few things Eret felt they had to clear up before things got worse. “Listen, Dream never told me explicitly about being an Ender hybrid, I merely deduced it after spending some time with him.”

“Oh really?” Sapnap scoffed. “ You merely deduced it ?” Eret cringed at the mocking of their accent. “That’s bullshit! I’ve known Dream for years. Years . We were basically raised together! There’s no way you could have just ‘deduced’ that shit!”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. “I knew Dream was a hybrid. It took me a while to guess what type of hybrid he was, but it wasn’t confirmed until Bad sent me a message about the Huntsmen. As far as I know, they only really target Ender hybrids.”

Techno, who had also been silent for the majority of their distance traveled, added on. “Same here. It’s still a bit surprising though, not easy to find an Ender hybrid.” At that, Sapnap fell silent, his anger given away only by the aggressiveness of his steps rather than his voice. 

“Does that have something to do with why you betrayed L’Manberg?” Wilbur’s question startled Eret and they faced the president’s glare head on. 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Wilbur’s features contorted in anger, face turning a shade redder than it already was in the heat. “Oh, I wouldn’t understand? You left us all of us to bleed out in the final control room like we were nothing to you! I think I deserve a bloody explanation here, Eret!”

“Not this again,” George groaned, sidling next to Bad to whisper something in his ear. Sapnap kept walking ahead in silence. 

“None of you died because that wasn’t part of the deal,” Eret said, voice lowering. While their friends were left beaten, bloody, and dispirited on the stone floor of the control room, not a single one faced the true threat of death, Eret made sure of that.

“The deal? You mean the deal that made you a ruler?” Wilbur hissed, his venom palpable. “The deal that was made so we would lose? Thank you so much for not killing us Eret, all because it wasn’t part of the deal. How foolish of me to not be grateful.” 

The taste of copper flooded their mouth as Eret realized they had bit their tongue too hard to keep from yelling. They wiped the cold sweat from the back of their neck, hand coming away wet. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand. Even if I gave an explanation, you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Wilbur opened his mouth and stepped forward but whatever he was planning to say or do was cut off by Techno grabbing the collar of his trench coat and yanking him back with a loud yelp.

“All this yelling is giving me a migraine. Maybe let’s not fight in the middle of a scorching desert, thank you very much,” Techno berated. He shoved Wilbur forward, the president stumbling and almost falling directly onto the blazing sand. “Sapnap, let Bad go in front since he has the compass, and stop kicking up sand before I stick my sword through your throat.” Sapnap gulped at the threat and sullenly fell back, allowing Bad to slip in front of him. “Wilbur, stay in front of me and stop attacking Eret. What happened happened, now let it go , for Notch’s sake.” The Piglin hybrid looked at Eret. “You, just stay beside me. I hope you all know how to play my version of the Quiet Game.”

“W-what’s your version of the Quiet Game?” Bad inquired with hesitance. 

“Speak once and you won’t again until we get an extra healing potion in our hands.”

No one spoke after that, which was perfectly fine with Eret. As they wiped another layer of sweat from their face, they saw movement in the corner of their eye. In Techno’s outstretched hand was a canteen. Eret eyed it for a moment before taking it, making sure to take measured gulps to conserve their water supply. They gave Technoblade a grateful nod while he gave a quiet huff in return.

Maybe one day, Eret would tell them everything. Why they did what they did, the information they had, the truth about it all. Maybe one day they wouldn’t have to hide themselves in plain sight. But for now, in the sun’s burning eyes, they were content to walk in silence. 

Chapter Text

The eyes were absolutely captivating. Vertically slitted pupils dilated and contracted in the lighting of the room, restrained fear undoubtedly morphing their shape. Stemming from the center, a mélange of shades of greens and blues shimmered, shifting like a kaleidoscope, a new portrait created each time the eyelids closed and opened. 

A shame such magnificent eyes were so vacant at the moment. 

The recently-acquired specimen lay limp on the table, the only signs of awareness from a distance being the trembling of its body and the twitching of its eyelids each time a droplet met skin. Wetness coated its face, some getting caught in its dirty blonde hair while others trailed down and pooled on the table’s surface.

Troy’s eyes followed the slight movement of the mouth. “Is it speaking?” Not waiting for an answer, he leaned over closer to see if he could catch a glimpse of something audible. It seemed to be unconscious whispers repeated over an indeterminate amount of time. Troy huffed as he realized he couldn’t make out anything specific.

“Oh wow, it’s really out of it, huh?” Said Vivaldi as she peered over from behind him. The specimen gave no indication that it heard them.

Heavy footsteps sounded from behind them as Guy entered the room, the guards Rysiek and Antony trailing him. Rysiek’s nose still burned red from the specimen’s assault, the healing potion slowly doing its job. He approached the specimen’s side, tilting his head as he examined its limp, supine form. Waving a hand in front of its face yielded no response. 

“Dr. Lee was right, of course. She’s done extensive research on the relationship between Ender creatures and water. This,” Guy gestured vaguely to the body, “was one of the most common results during experimentation with this method. It’ll snap out of it eventually.”

At the mention of the esteemed Dr. Lee, Troy perked up, his fingers slowly tracing the denim of his jeans as he thought of her work. Her research was praised throughout their community for its in-depth examinations and experimentation of all things Ender. Troy longed to be an apprentice under her, to join her as she sliced her scalpel across a specimens body, carving and dissecting like it was the highest art form. And to Troy, it was.

Guy nodded his head towards Rysiek and Antony. “Change it into the standard clothes and put it back in its cage.” As the two complied, Troy found himself mesmerized by the specimen’s eyes again. He remembered his father having a glass jar of eyes from different hybrid species in his office, proudly displayed each time Troy walked near it. The jar of Endermen eyes emitted a faint purple glow, still seemingly lively despite the separation from their owners. But he had only heard stories of green Ender eyes like the one before him. 

He wanted a jar of his very own, if that’s how beautiful they all looked.

“Troy, you’re on monitor duty tonight.” He jerked his attention away from the specimen, hands still guiding a phantom scalpel at his side. Normally, the thought of monitor duty filled him with unimaginable boredom, considering how mind-numbing it was. But this time, a spark of excitement lit within his chest at the opportunity to observe the specimen for longer. 

Still, securing his title as a little shit, he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “Fiiiine.” He turned to look at Vivaldi who already looked annoyed with him. He added a whine to his voice; “Will you at least bring me dinner, Viv?”

She looked like she would rather do anything else. “Maybe if I’m in the mood.” Moving her hair from her face, she watched as the guards dragged the unresponsive specimen out of the room rather unceremoniously. “But don’t expect it, I have shit to do.”

Guy came from around the table and began to walk towards the door. “That reminds me! I’ll be stopping by the monitor room later tonight. I have something we need to discuss.” He scoffed as Troy felt his face become a shade paler. “Don’t worry kid, you’re not in trouble.” Without further elaboration, he walked out, his footsteps fading as he moved farther down the winding corridors. 

“Great, thank you so much for the info, I love being informed,” Troy mumbled. Vivaldi laughed, giggles sounding more like a choke, and patted his shoulder in faux sympathy. 

“Aww, is Troy sad because the adults won’t tell him what’s happening?” She asked in a baby voice that infuriated him to his core. 

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Go ahead and try, rat boy.”

“Rat boy? What the fuck?”

The harsh glow of the screens before him seared into his retinas as he sat quietly in the darkness of the monitor room. The only sound came from the loud humming of the AC and the occasional muffled voices that flowed from behind the closed door. Different screens displayed different sections of the facility, from the cafeteria to the main hallways and, most importantly, the holding rooms. Troy leaned forward, office chair creaking, squinting his dry eyes at one particular screen that held two figures in its image. 

The main specimen seemed to have recovered from its earlier state, yet still displayed little movement within the confines of its cage. Soft noises indicated that it was conversing with the other hybrid in the room, one that had been recovered by another group of Huntsmen fairly recently. Truth be told, Troy didn’t know the exact reason why the two were paired so close together, but Guy hadn’t changed their arrangement and he was in charge of the whole operation. Besides, Troy wasn’t going to argue against him because he did not, in fact, have a death wish, thank you very much. 

He slowly turned up the dial for Holding Room #3’s volume, hoping to pick up on their conversation. There’s a bit of a whine when he does- Notch, they need better monitoring equipment- but eventually the sounds clear, albeit still coated with static fuzz.

ạ̴̬̜̥͍̽̈́̂̿̈́͌̚r̸̢̢̛̫̲̱̪̣͉͕̜̲̹̟̬͔̫̝̫͉̆͌̉͌̄̃͒̈́̄͗͂͒̎̾̽̏͌̈́͘ͅe̸̢̢̨̮̗̰̝̻͖̠͔̪̰͕̎̾͆̌ ̷̨̫̜̲̟̹̥͕͉̜̮͎̯̟̣͑̃͊̄́̋̏̍̈͑̔̃̿͜͜͝y̵̧̧̟̯͚̲̽̃̐͒͐̅̾̾͠͝ͅơ̶̧̛̘̱̖̘̭̪̫̟̭̥͙͙͓̿̀͌̔͋͒͊̽̑̍̅͐͘͝u̴̢̡̨̧͚̹̦̬͕̥̝̥̹̳͈̯̘̭̙̓̐͋̎͒̐́̔͌͑͗̊̾͐͋͋̈́ ̷̨̥̙̖͍͍̻͈͚̙̗̫͎̯̥̦͆͌͋̍̈́̔̕̚͜o̵̢̢̺̠̗͍̝̙̺̪̜̗̎̊̉̃̈̌̒̿̎̋͛̿̕͝͝͝͝k̴̢̨͍̜̟̞̺̫̠̯͍̠̐̀̍̍̑̎̆͌̆̅̓̋̊̅͒̚͘͠ǎ̵̟̟͕̪̣͇̪͙̫̖͍̝͂̀̑͛̓̑͛͋͘͜͝ͅy̶̡̨̨̱͖͈̤͖͈͔̩̓̇͗̓͐̏̽͒̀̏̈́̄͐̕̕͝͝?̸̡̛̤͉͓̗̽̿̄̏̈́̊̎̏̒̿͝

He sneered at the warbles that came through the speaker, the noise made even more grating by low-quality sound system, a feat he didn’t know was possible. Still, he grabbed a thick set of headphones lying on the desk, plugged them in, and slipped them on. 

If being at this underground facility had taught him anything, it was how absolutely frustrating and convoluted the Ender language could be with its throaty and breathy sounds, its weird-ass honorifics system, and don’t even get him started on its obscenely complex syntax that made Troy practically rip his hair out trying to make a modicum of sense out of. His knowledge of Ender consisted of greetings and specific bits of vocabulary that the specimens used frequently. It took a moment for his ears to adjust to the language and he unfocused his eyes, making sure all his focus was on the conversation at hand. Straining, he managed to translate a few words.

Water. To be expected.

Hurt. Yeah, made sense.

Worm. What?...That was probably a mistranslation. Moving on.

Maintaining a grasp on the dialogue was difficult, the words slipping in one ear and out the other like a bar of soap in wet hands. But finally, Troy heard something that caught his interest.

Collar. Break. 

He grinned, redirecting his attention to the screen to observe the specimens’ body language. The newest female one was resting against the side of the cage, attention directed towards the other, who was still struggling to sit up. There. A slight movement towards its neck.

Oh, Guy would certainly be hearing about this. 

Knock knock knock. 

“Fuck!” Troy startled, whipping towards the door and leaning back in his chair to unlock it. When the latch clicked, the door swung open to reveal Vivaldi. Without a word, she strode into the small room and tossed a brown bag on the table before dropping down into the seat next to him with a sigh. “You scared the absolute shit out of me.”

She propped her feet onto the desk, swiveling the chair in small increments from side to side. “Cafeteria had subs today, so I got you the usual.”

Troy took said item out of the bag and began to unwrap it. “No pickles?” 

“No pickles,” Vivaldi confirmed.

“You know me so well.”

“Well, you did throw a bitch fit last time.” She grabbed the empty bag and started to fold in methodically, giving the monitors a curt glance. “What are those two up to? Anything entertaining?” 

He sat up. “Actually, yes! They spoke in Ender!”

Vivaldi frowned. “Thought you hated that weird language.”

“I do, I really do, but ,” he held up a single finger, “I can translate a bit and I distinctly heard some words that might pique your interest, my dear Viv.”

The bright glow of the monitors highlighted the intrigued expression on Vivaldi’s face. “Oh? What are they?”

Troy looked around, as if making sure there weren’t any unwanted eyes. He shimmied towards Vivaldi, chair squeaking, and motioned her to come closer. She reluctantly obliged. He shook his head and motioned her again, more urgent than before. Skeptical, she leaned in close enough for Troy to whisper in her ear. “Wouldn’t you like to know, emo girl.”

The slap was worth it.

After Troy had calmed down from his bout of hysterical laughter, sides cramping up in pain, he tucked his feet in and swiveled the chair in a circle. “I couldn’t pass it up,” he gasped, hand pressed against his side. Vivaldi looked as though she was about to deliver another smack, but the twitch in her lips betrayed her signature aloof demeanor. “I’m waiting for Guy to come by to tell him, just so I don’t have to say it twice.”

She only nodded, gaze drifting towards the screen where the two specimens still sat. “Guess I’ll wait with you til he comes.”

“Fine by me.”

The scalpel glides through the skin like a scissor through wrapping paper, but the satisfaction it brings is so much greater. Blood beads, then swells, then bursts, running down in a river of crimson. The smell that permeates the air is practically tangible and he revels in the phantom taste of copper that coats the back of his throat. The eyes of his specimen dart in all directions, as if it can’t decide where to look in its panic. 

He’ll go for them next. The dessert to his decadent three-course meal. 

Precision and accuracy when it comes to these procedures are usually his goal; the excited tremor that pervades his hand, and therefore his tool, disagree with that for now. No, for now, he’s perfectly content with the shallow, superficial cuts that grow deeper as he inches towards the meatier parts of the body.

He works in silence, but his mind races as he takes in the specimen’s body once more, relishing in the clash of white and red as the upper layer of skin and blood intermingle with one another as if it were destiny.

How do you work? A delicious strained whimper.

What makes you tick? The beads of sweat that gather from its pores.

Why do you exist? Blood invades his scent and sight.

And where did you come fro-

“Troy!” The reprimanding tone hit his ears and he blinked out of his stupor. His eyes stung from being glued to the bright screen, his face scrunching in discomfort.

“What? What is it?” 

Vivaldi’s eyebrows were furrowed as she stared at him, fixing him with a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “You, uh, zoned out,” she said, but Troy had a feeling there was more she was leaving out.

“Sorry, I was just...thinking,” he explained.

“About what?”

He returns his gaze to the two hybrids, ignoring the burn in his eyes. Tapping lightly against the image of the one others called Dream, a slight smile crept onto his face. “What I want to do with our latest specimen.” Unconsciously, his fingers began to trace his jeans again.

“Specimen? Oh, you mean Dream,” she said. 

Troy snorted. “If you insist on using its name, then yes, I’m referring to Dream .”

She leaned back against the chair, arms behind her head. “It’s just weird considering he- it’s pretty famous in the Overworld. To actually have Dream locked up here? It’s pretty surreal.”

“It may be well-known amongst the public, but in the end, it’s still just a hybrid. Besides-”

Another knock at the door interrupts him, the door opening before Troy can answer. The scars upon Guy’s face shine in the artificial light, somehow distorting it more. “How’s our favorite little hybrid faring?” He questions and Troy instantly lights up in excitement. 

“It started conversing with the other one in Ender and I believe I heard its plans to break the collar!” 

Vivaldi raised an eyebrow at his words. “Good luck with that. I enchanted it with Unbreaking, it’ll take a lot of effort for that collar to even crack.”

Guy rested his arms on the back of Troy’s chair, pushing it down with a creak, eyes trained on the specimen as it seemed to still be conversing with the female one. “Dream’s not one to be underestimated. We can’t afford to let our guard down, no matter how weak it seems. Vivaldi,” she snapped to attention, “get another collar ready, just in case. This time use the other enchantment, if you catch my drift.” He winked at her as she nodded thoughtfully.

“Might take some time, but I’ll get right on it,” she assured him.

“Good, good.” A heavy hand landed on Troy’s shoulder, making him stiffen instinctively. “Troy, I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing it. How’d you like to take our special guest for a spin?”

The offer was slow to process in his mind, as if he couldn’t even begin to believe what he was hearing. The opportunity to finally enact his surgical fantasies? To relish in his tools pierce through the soft flesh of his specimen, to feel the comforting warmth of their blood through his gloves. Troy took a shuddering breath as his cheeks flushed red with exhilaration, plans already swirling through his head. “Really?” he breathed, deliberately ignoring how Vivaldi shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She wouldn’t appreciate the magnitude of this offer like he did.

“Of course! In fact, why don’t you tell me what you have in mind? I’m sure you already have an idea of how you want to go about this,” Guy prompted, smirking. 

Troy practically vibrated in excitement, words spilling out of his mouth as if they were water behind a broken dam. “Well, first things first, I need a few supplies…”

Chapter Text

Notch, why did he wear a fucking trenchcoat to the desert? Wilbur had already ditched it a few hours ago, bunching it up in his arms, but the damage was done; sweat coated his entire body, his undershirt and pants sticking uncomfortably to his skin every time he moved. His curls were plastered to his forehead and every cool rivulet of sweat that inched its way down his spine made him shiver.

In short, he was miserable. He could tell the others felt the same with their reddened cheeks and labored breaths. Wilbur took his canteen and held it up to his mouth, a whine escaping him when nothing but a few measly drops came loose. 

“Sun’s setting soon,” Techno panted, still stubbornly sticking with his cape despite the heat. A collective sigh travelled amongst the group as if everyone were too preoccupied wallowing in their misery to notice the slow but surely setting  sun. 

George took the collar of his shirt and aired it out, everyone’s armor having been stored away when they realized the trip through the desert was longer than previously thought. “We should get ready to stop and rest then, we’re dead on our feet as it is.”

Sapnap huffed from behind him. “We could cover more ground at night-”

“And then what?” Wilbur interrupted. “We pass out the next day when it’s just as hot? We’ve been walking for hours and there hasn’t been any sign of shade.” He pushed his curls out of his face. “Night is the only chance we have to rest and not die of heat stroke.”

“Not to mention most of us are out of water,” Bad shook his empty canteen to prove his point.

A loud sigh from behind him drew Wilbur’s attention. Eret trudged next to Techno, using their hand to shield their face from the sun as they watched it begin to set, an unnecessary action to Wilbur considering they wore sunglasses . “Once it gets a bit darker, we can stop and take shelter. Dark enough for the desert to cool down, but light enough that the mobs don’t spawn yet.”

Is there anything worse than when the person you hate the most makes a good point?

When the harsh sun finally mellowed and began to disappear on the horizon, the temperature dropped along with it. The sweat against his skin cooled and Wilbur sighed in relief as he donned his trenchcoat again. 

“Got any extra sticks?” Techno asked as he lit another torch, handing it to Bad as he went around placing them in a ring formation with Eret. 

Wilbur pulled a few from his bag and passed them to Techno, who began  strategically stacking them to make a campfire. Wilbur eased himself down on the cooling sand with creaking joints that made him wince. Sapnap and George sat from across him, laying out the food they had and portioning it accordingly. Unable to wait, he retrieved an apple to stave off his hunger, relishing in the crisp coolness of the fruit as he bit into it. Without water, this would have to substitute. 

Eventually, after everyone had settled in, the group sat quietly while they ate their dinner, weapons close by in case a hostile mob dared to cross the ring of torches. A slight breeze had picked up; Wilbur wrapped his trenchcoat tighter around his body. Camping out in the desert in the dead of night gave him ample time to admire the sky, a dark canvas littered with stars that were usually hidden in L’Manberg’s light. It reminded him of the nights he spent with Fundy when he was younger, reaching out towards the sky with grasping paws as if he were trying to snatch the stars for himself. 

“Do you remember that constellation?”

“Uwsa! Uwsa Majow!”

He laughed, snuggling Fundy closer. “You got it! That’s my little champion.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to get to Dream, wherever he is?” Eret’s voice broke through the silence, popping a torn piece of bread into their mouth.

Techno poked at the fire, sparks shooting out as the wood shifted, swallowed by the dancing flames. “Hard to say. The compass is a straight shot to him, it doesn’t account for mountains or ravines or oceans. We have no choice but to take the long way round.” He looked towards the distance and Wilbur wondered if he could see what the others couldn’t in the desert’s dark expanse. “So, we don’t have an exact estimate of when we’ll get there. Only thing we can do is move forward with minimal stops, distractions, detours of any kind…” Wilbur and Sapnap shifted uncomfortably at Techno’s words, both suddenly finding the fire to be a fascinating spot to fixate upon.

George nodded. “Then we’ll leave early tomorrow to make up for any lost time. But we have to find a water source soon.” At the mention of water, Wilbur couldn’t help swallowing, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

The distant groan of a zombie caught their attention, hands drifting over weapons protectively. When the noise faded, Bad let out a sigh and stretched, arms reaching above him. “Alright, who takes the first shift?”

“I will,” Sapnap stated, a note of finality in his voice. He had hardly said a word since Technoblade chastised him earlier. His behavior was concerning to Wilbur; during the war, Sapnap portrayed himself as a boisterous spitfire, ready to jump headfirst into any fight with the absolute determination of coming out on top. Now the man showed more reservation than Wilbur had ever seen from him, seeming stand-offish and withdrawn from even his own friends. 

They decided to go clockwise from there, the shifts being assigned in order from Sapnap, George, Bad, Wilbur, Techno, and finally Eret.

“Good night everyone,” Eret called softly as they settled in to sleep. They only received a few murmurs in return (minus Bad, who said it as enthusiastically as ever). Wilbur opted for saying nothing at all.

The night came and went, most shifts going relatively without incident. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the rest of them to make no comment of the blood and gunpowder coating Sapnap’s sword, despite no signs of slain mobs appearing near their camp set-up. As long as Sapnap directed that energy towards the mobs instead of a member of the rescue group, Wilbur had no desire to pry.

They walked with a faster pace than before, partially due to what Technoblade said last night, but also because the coolness the night brought to the desert was beginning to fade as the sun inched higher into the sky, bringing its heat along with it. Little to no words were exchanged, the lack of water turning their mouths and throats unbearably dry. Wilbur’s hand kept hovering over his empty canteen, as if doing so would conjure the water he so desperately needed.

Around the two hour mark, something finally came into view that wasn’t a larger than average sand dune. Wilbur was the first to spot it, using a hand to shield his squinting eyes from the sun’s rays as he tried to make out the figure in the distance. 

“Guys...is that-” 

“A temple!” Bad shouted in excitement. “That means there might be a village nearby. Maybe we could stop and look for a water source?”

“Where there’s a temple, there’s usually a village, and where there’s a village, there’s bound to be a well of sorts. I don’t think a quick look around would hurt,” reasoned George.

“Fine by me,” Techno said. “We’ll die from dehydration before we even make it out of this biome if we don’t find water soon, anyway.”

The idea was met with no protests, so they trudged onwards, spurred by the newfound hope of finding a way to quench their thirst.

As it turns out, Bad was right. The village located near the temple was medium-sized and hidden snugly between a few dunes, difficult to make out in the distance. However, it seemed to be completely abandoned; it contained houses with rotting wood and loose shingles, cobwebs strung around every possible corner, and fenced off areas that contained nothing but the skeletal remains of the animals that were left behind. It was truly a ghost town.

But in the middle of decay lay what they needed the most. Sapnap broke off into a sprint upon seeing the familiar shape of a well, eager to examine its contents. The rest soon followed suit as he let out a whoop, snatching the canteen off his person and dunking it into the well’s water without hesitation. “It’s enchanted!” He yelled, grinning wildly before chugging the water in his now filled canteen. 

Wilbur brightened at the news and copied Sapnap as everyone else gathered around the well.

“This village must have been abandoned a long time ago,” Eret noted, dipping a finger in the water before shaking it off. “The fact that the purifying enchantment is still going strong after all this time is remarkable!” It was difficult to listen to what Eret was saying, as Wilbur was too busy practically drowning himself in water, the world spinning momentarily as he drank too fast. Not that he wanted to hear anything they had to say in the first place. 

They spent a few minutes sitting in the well’s shade, occasionally refilling their canteens as they rehydrated. It was Sapnap who brought up the suggestion of looting the temple. 

“Seems unnecessary to me. We don’t know what’s waiting for us, after all, a temple is bound to have some sort of protection,” Wilbur raised his concerns.

“TNT,” replied George.

“What?”

“The protection? It’s TNT, connected to a pressure plate where the loot is,” he explained as Techno nodded in understanding. 

“Oh yeah, pretty sure Dream’s mentioned going to desert temples once or twice and scoring some valuable shit.”

Bad dug out the compass from his pocket and gently waved it around with a smile. “Dream almost always heads for a desert temple when we do our manhunts. It’s a good chance for him to get ahead of us material-wise.”

“See?” Sapnap gestured towards Bad. “Bad, George, and I know our way around a temple. We go in there, grab anything valuable that could help us with finding Dream, and then we leave. Easy in, easy out.”

Admittedly, Wilbur was intrigued by their plan. He had never had the opportunity to explore a desert temple before. He was primarily a musician before he founded L’Manberg, which meant quite a bit of travel for gigs, but not really much time nor current interest to explore. He made a decision. “I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind. I’m curious to see what a temple looks like from the inside.”

George looked skeptical. “Are you sure?” He sighed and rubbed his temples as Wilbur gave a fierce nod. “Okay, fine, but listen closely. Step where we step, stay behind us, and don’t touch anything. I’m not in the mood to get blown to smithereens today, believe it or not.”

Eret stood up from where they were sitting on the well, dusting sand off their pants. “I’m going too.”

Wilbur glared and was about to comment when Techno interrupted him (which the hybrid seemed to be doing an awful lot lately). “Go ahead, I’ll keep watch outside. But make it quick, if there’s nothing there of value, just book it.”

The others acknowledged him and began collecting their items, sneaking a few more sips of water before approaching the temple. 

The temple stood, large and imposing, casting a heavy blanket of shade to one side, which they took advantage of. Worn sandstone made up the structure, with four main towers built on each corner, decorated with simplistic designs made from smooth, red sandstone. The entrance was partially buried under sand; they had to duck slightly to get through the entryway. All the while, Wilbur marveled at the sight before him, drinking in the simplistic, yet mesmerizing carvings on the walls, faded from the passage of time but beautiful nonetheless. 

The Dream Team led the way with him and Eret sticking close behind, small torches in hand. When they finally made it out of the main dark corridor, Wilbur let out a gasp. He hadn’t been prepared for the spaciousness of the interior, sculpted columns with more intricate designs of various mobs providing support to the ceiling. A sky light shone overhead, specks of dust reflecting softly in the sun’s rays, which illuminated the orange and purple terracotta design in the center of the room. 

“It’s...beautiful,” he breathed, running a finger lightly over the delicately carved face of a creeper in the closest column. Untouched by the elements, the designs hadn’t eroded and maintained almost perfectly preserved, unlike their outside counterparts. “So, this is what a desert temple looks like.”

“Eh,” Sapnap shrugged, “once you’ve seen one, you’ve pretty much seen them all.” He took out a sword and started to stab at the terracotta, chipping away at it as George and Bad copied him. 

“Uh, what’s the purpose of this?” Eret questioned, head tilted in curiosity as the terracotta broke into chunks beneath their blades. 

George wiped sweat off his brow as he knelt down, working his fingers into the slim cracks that connected one piece of terracotta to the other. “Need to make a hole big enough to pearl in and out of,” he explained. “That way we don’t waste time climbing in or out.” With a loud crack, the corner of the flooring gave way, George catching most of the pieces before they fell and setting them aside. 

Wilbur peered over his shoulder to see nothing but a sea of darkness. “Do we have enough pearls to get down and back up?”

“Yup!” affirmed Bad, pulling out a few and resting them on his hand. “I packed enough for all of us to teleport if we get into any sticky situations.”

Eret raised their eyebrows at the sight. “Where in the Overworld did you get all of those?”

“Oh, I got them from Dream’s chest! He always-” Bad trailed off, blinking rapidly as realization appeared on his face. It took Wilbur a moment to understand why. 

Dream. Ender pearls. Oh.

Of course, it made some semblance of sense that the Ender hybrid would have an arsenal of Ender pearls at his disposal. A part of him wondered where exactly Dream got all the Ender pearls from. Was he killing Endermen to get them like everyone else did? And if so, was it awkward? Did Dream experience a moral dilemma every time he slaughtered the mob that he was partially related to? Questions continued swirling in Wilbur’s brain, but the stony expressions on everyone’s faces kept his mouth shut. Maybe he would ask Dream later when they rescued him. If you rescue him , the cynic within him whispered. He promptly ignored it in favor of plucking a pearl from Bad’s open hand. One by one, each person dropped their pearl down the hole, disappearing with a vwoop . Wilbur stood last, rolling the pearl in his hand for a second before letting go.

The room was smaller than he initially imagined. He was glad Techno didn’t accompany them; it was claustrophobic enough with the five of them, especially with torches dangerously close to their flammable clothing because of the close quarters.

“Don’t move,” George commanded, using his torch to illuminate a dust-covered chest. Bad and Sapnap split, carefully tip-toeing around the room as they scrupulously examined the floor for any hidden pressure plates.

Wilbur shuffled his feet slightly to get a better view of the room and its floor. From where he stood, he didn’t see any sign of pressure plates. Suddenly, he felt a nudge. Eret pointed behind them to where a lone chest sat approximately two or so feet away. Huffing, Wilbur crouched down alongside them and opened the chest. A few nuggets of iron, cobwebs, and what seemed to be rotting flesh from a zombie stared back. He took a whiff and gagged. Yep. Definitely rotten flesh. Eret still snagged the iron nuggets- barely enough to make even a single ingot- and pocketed them, giving a shrug as Wilbur curled his lip. Greedy and self-serving as ever .

The three returned to the spot they appeared at “Anything good?” Sapnap asked.

“Nothing but cobwebs and spider eyes,” grumbled George, flicking strings of web off his fingers.

Bad sighed. “All I found was sand.”

“I found a few iron nuggets!” Eret, at least, seemed proud of their discovery. 

Sapnap let out a growl of annoyance. “Only nuggets? Are you fucking kidding me? How are we this unlucky?” He whipped out a bone, waving it in anger. “This is all I could find in that dumb chest.”

“Congratulations for wasting our time then.”

Sapnap rounded towards George, who was leaned against the wall with crossed arms in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but Wilbur took notice of the way his nails dug into his skin. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Admit it, this was a waste of time. Time that could’ve been spent, oh, I don’t know, looking for Dream .”

“Dude, I don’t know if your head isn’t screwed on right or what, but last I checked, we all agreed on this.”

“And it backfired. So just drop your stupid bone and let’s go,” George snapped.

“Um, guys-” Bad interjected.

“I’m not liking your tone, Gogy ,” Sapnap ground out through clenched teeth. His fists trembled as he stared George dead on. Wilbur spared a glance at Eret who seemed to be just as uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Oh bullshit!”

“C’mon you two, not here-”

“Whatever! It’s fine, let’s just go already.”

“Clearly it isn’t fine.” Sapnap jabbed the bone into George’s chest, the latter shoving it with enough force that Wilbur saw the bone fly from the former’s grip. 

“ NO! ” Wilbur, Eret, and Bad all shouted in unison as the bone clattered onto the sandstone floor, the echoes of its impact reverberating throughout the room. Sapnap’s eyes widened as he and George stared at his now-empty hand. They all stood frozen, blood running cold as the echo gradually faded…

and gave way to the faintest hiss.

Wilbur heard someone- he couldn’t make out exactly who-  let out a loud curse before he was suddenly pushed up against George, Bad, and Sapnap, kept in place by a solid grip. There was no possible way they would make it out of here alive, not in such close proximity to the TNT that was seconds away from setting off. Fight or flight kicking in, he attempted to move from whoever was holding him in place with the others.

“Eret, what are you doing?” Bad screeched, voice shrill from panic. 

“Just trust me!” They shouted back, tightening their grip on the four of them. And then, everything went dark and silent. It wasn’t the kind of unconsciousness that Wilbur was familiar with; the sense of drifting in and out, sleeping in gentle waves. He was acutely aware of the fact that he couldn’t breathe, that his eyes were open but took in no light, that his hearing was gone as if sound were now a trespasser not allowed in, that he didn’t feel hot nor cold nor anything in between. If he could draw in air, he would have screamed just to assure himself he was alive.

His senses came back with such abruptness that he immediately collapsed to his knees, hand desperately clutching his chest as he greedily gulped air back into his empty lungs, sending him into a coughing fit that tore at his throat. His body couldn’t decipher whether it was warm or cold, rather, it felt like pockets of both were littered throughout the air. Overwhelmed by it all, Wilbur turned to the side and vomited. Judging by the cacophony of noises bouncing off the walls, he wasn’t the only one having trouble adjusting after their little impromptu nightmarish void trip. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Wilbur looked up.

The chest room had been obliterated; all that remained was a crater of stone and sand, partially obscured from the copious amount of dust floating about. 

“Wh-what, what the fuck?” Sapnap coughed. George reached over to pat his back, shirt pulled up over his mouth. Smart move, Wilbur thought and did the same.

“Language,” wheezed Bad half-heartedly as he struggled to get up from the floor, a dazed look in his eye. A hand appeared and helped him up. 

Brain still stalling, it took Wilbur a moment to connect the hand to the person. 

Eret.

They stood upright, miraculously unaffected by the events that had just transpired. Eret, who had yelled to trust them moments before the TNT went off. It had to be them who caused the horrible sensation of nothingness. But...how? No human could possibly wield that sort of power, invisibility did not equal intangible after all. A hybrid, they had to be a hybrid, but what species of hybrid could do that?

Wilbur opened his mouth, half sentences and stutters ready to pour out, when a shout came above.

“Don’t tell me one or more of you idiots just died,” Techno’s voice echoed. 

“We’re all alive,” George returned, replacing the now-scuffed goggles on his face. He frowned as he reached for his bag, which definitely did not have the luxury of escaping the explosion. “Our supplies…” 

“Lost most of Dr- our pearls,” Bad said glumly as he struggled to keep the surviving supplies from falling out of the holes in his bag.

Checking his own surroundings, Wilbur let out a groan upon realizing that only himself and the canteen in his pocket remained unscathed. “Techno! We need you to pearl us out or something!”

He was met with agitated grumbles and the shuffling of feet. While they waited, Wilbur glanced over at Eret, who stood in silence as they stared at the light coming from the man-made hole above them. Out of all them, Eret seemed the most well-off, but there was an air of anxiousness around them, manifesting as twitchy fingers and a ramrod straight posture. If he could see them, Wilbur was willing to bet that their eyes were shifting nervously too. 

He made no comment.

“Care to explain how we aren’t complete ash at the moment, Eret?” Wilbur asked as soon as they were back aboveground, words tinged with a faux sweetness.

“Yeah, I think that’s what we’re all thinking right now,” Sapnap chimed in, traces of mistrust in his body language and tone. 

Eret swallowed. “I-I don’t…” They raised their hands in a surrendering position, backing up towards Technoblade, who sighed deeply. 

“Just tell them already.” Eret startled, looking at Techno in surprise. He shrugged. “They know something’s up. They won’t stop asking til you tell them.”

“Tell us what exactly?” George asked suspiciously.

“That they’re a hybrid.” There was a breath of silence before Wilbur continued. “And that’s probably why they worked with Dream-”

“I know what you’re going to say Wil, and you’re wrong,” Eret snapped. “I...Dream...we…” they paused to recollect themself. “I am a hybrid, but that’s not why I just- just chose to side with Dream. There’s more and...and I’ll tell you it all later, not now, but later,” they pleaded. “I promise.”

And while Wilbur desperately wanted answers, the truth behind the infamous betrayal, there was an intense sincerity in Eret’s words that made him falter. You’ll get your answers later , he thought, don’t push it now .

“So is everyone a fucking secret hybrid now?” Sapnap mumbled. 

Techno snorted. “Not a secret if you’re just too stupid to see the obvious,” he quipped, earning a growl in response. “Alright, let’s go. Thanks to some people ,” George and Sapnap pointedly did not make eye-contact, “we need to make a pit stop for supplies. Hopefully, the next biome has a town that isn’t more cobweb-filled than your brains.” Before the two could give an indignant protest, he made his way out of the temple, cape swaying behind him.

As they exited, Bad skipped over to Eret, placing a hand on their shoulder. “Let me guess! You turned us intangible back there, right? That with the sunglasses…” he squinted in concentration, “Vex?” His eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, wait! Is that rude of me to do? Oh Notch, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Eret held up a hand. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. I’m...just not used to humans knowing what I am, you could say. But yes, I’m a Vex hybrid.” They smiled. “Good guess!”

The Wilbur of yesterday likely would have responded to this statement with a loud ‘ Mother fucker!’ But the Wilbur of today had a bit more patience and a lot more water; he settled with a barely-contained squeal of anger that was so high-pitched it was near imperceptible to the human ear.

From the front, the Blood God snickered. 

Chapter Text

Drip.

          Drip.

                    Drip.

“You okay there dude?”

Dream startled, looking up at Sapnap who sported a crooked smile. He blinked slowly, looking around at his surroundings with a furrowed brow. He was...home. Not the SMP, no, he was home , the place where he and Sapnap grew up in, sitting in the well-lit kitchen he had meals in so many times before. Almost everything was just as he remembered it, but there was an odd air, as if he were missing something in plain sight. 

“Sapnap? Why are we back home?”

He received a laugh in response, which only increased his confusion. 

“What? We literally live here, did you hit your head during our last Manhunt or something?”

“Leave him alone!” came a shout from the kitchen. Bad walked out, wiping his hands with a towel. He smiled at Dream warmly. “He’s probably just tired and hungry. You came right on time!”

The words would have been reassuring if Dream actually remembered how he had gotten there in the first place. 

“I don’t remember getting here, what were we doing before this?”

Drip.

Bad’s eyes shone with worry. “What do you mean you don’t remember? We just came back from the Badlands…” He tapped his chin in thought. “You know, now that you mention, I don’t recall seeing you take even a sip of water! That must be it! Just sit down and rest for now, okay?

The Badlands? Everything before right now seemed… blank, nonexistent. Sapnap had mentioned a Manhunt and judging by the layer of sweat that coated his face, it seemed accurate. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he neglected his health after one of those, the rush of adrenaline being his main fuel and leaving him worse for wear afterwards.  Maybe Bad was right, he was just tired and hungry. Yeah, that had to be it.

Drip.  

         Drip.

His heart beat faster in his chest. “Where...where’s that coming from?”

“Oh that? Leaky sink, been trying to get it fixed for ages,” Bad explained with a soft shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his face. “Why’s it so hot in here?” He asked next, swallowing thickly. He didn’t feel hot, not exactly, but there was no other explanation for the wetness in his face.

“AC’s busted too.” Dream turned to see George laying on the couch, reading a book. He couldn’t make out the cover. He couldn’t remember a couch being there either

       Drip.

                       Drip.

Drip.

His face is wet.

“My mask,” he blurted out, hands flying to his face. “My mask, where-”

“Geez, what’s up with you? You don’t wear it anymore,” Sapnap asked with a tone made harsh by worry. 

“What?” He didn’t remember ever showing his friends his face, not even once in all the years they had known each other. His friends would never accept him if he showed them what he truly was. But here they were, lounging in the house with him as if it were a regular, lazy day. “You aren’t going to abandon me?” He hated how small he sounded.

Bad tilted his head. “We would never abandon you, you silly muffinhead.” He made his way back into the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in ten!”

The house felt warm.

Sapnap took out a chair, taking a seat next to Dream. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Are you okay?”

“I...I’m not sure.”

A warm hand encompassed his own. “Do you want to stay here longer?” It was an odd question to ask, but Dream paid it no mind. All he wanted to focus on was the warmth. The dripping noise of the sink had faded. There was less sweat coating his face. He felt relaxed, pushing any concerns to the back of his mind. There was only the warmth, gentle and comforting.

“Yes please.”

He was cold. The prickling of goosebumps was the first sensation he felt as the faux warmth faded, nothing more than a memory. The second thing he felt was the hole in his head.

He didn’t know how to describe it, not sure how to put such a feeling into words. He knew it could only be understood by others who had had holes in their heads. His was perfectly centered, smack dab in the middle of forehead, a thin thing that broke past skin, blood, and bone, ending midway in his brain. He shivered, and there was a hole in his head. 

[Are you okay?]

There was warmth in his left hand. He slowly turned his head to face a familiar person. “Ilosia?” His voice was ragged and tender, desperate for any form of liquid. He needed water—NO. , No, you don’t, no more water, no more-

“Oh thank the End Mother, you’re not completely off your rocker. Had me worried there for a sec,” Ilosia sighed in relief, slowly letting go of Dream’s hand. “They brought you back and you were practically comatose. What did they do to you?”

He tried to recall it, to think of anything, but “There’s a hole in my head—I don’t- there’s…there’s a hole in...in my head. I can’t…” Words tumbled out of his mouth, stringing them together correctly proving to be too great an effort.

Ilosia made a face. “Okayyyy, I take back what I said earlier,” she muttered. She grabbed Dream’s hand again, rubbing the back of it in circles in a soothing way that he tried to focus on. “Listen to me. You are Dream. You are a person. And there is no hole in your head. Now repeat after me.”

He did, stumbling the whole way through, but after the fifth repetition, the fog in his brain began to dissipate. He was Dream. He was a person. And there was no hole in his head. That last statement felt like a lie, as the phantom hole pulsed.

He spoke again, when the words came easier. “Water torture,” he managed, memory finally tangible enough to hold. 

The reaction was immediate. Ilosia paled, looking faintly ill. “No... “

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” She didn’t look convinced. 

“Did they…?” She paused and looked around the room before reverting to their native tongue. 

[Did they ask about the End?]

He thought back, memories of the events before the torture coming back to him. [No.] 

Her face twisted in befuddlement. [Then what’s the point of the water torture? Why hurt you if not for information?]

Truth be told, Dream didn’t have an answer. Guy had said he didn’t want information out of Dream yet, his main goal being to ‘break him’. His lip curled in disgust. Once he escaped, he couldn’t wait wring the man’s neck with his bare hands. He wouldn’t break; he’d come too far, fought too hard to be brought down by someone with a long-held vendetta and a stupid name.

[I don’t know, but I don’t want to stick around long enough to find out,] he said as he began fiddling with his collar, the smooth, cold metal feeling akin to a death grip. [I need to get this collar off first.]

[Good luck with that, Ender knows how many times I’ve tried,] Ilosia rubbed her neck, face twitching at painful memories.

It was all a matter of durability, Dream knew. The collar was made of iron, not the weakest material, but not the strongest either. He slowly dragged his fingers against the surface, feeling the ever so slight divot that came from the metal welding together, and he smirked.

[I think I know how to fix that.]

The morning, or afternoon, or whatever time it is, comes with a hissing sound that jolts the two hybrids awake. Heart already pounding with adrenaline, Dream covered his mouth with his shirt as quickly as possible, eyes burning slightly from the gas that began to snake its way into the room. 

Ilosia coughed and copied Dream. “What the fuck? What is this?”

“I thought you would know!” He was focusing on taking shallow breaths, panic threatening to overwhelm him as he felt a wave of fatigue wash over.

Within minutes, the pair were slumped over in their cages, exhaustion weighing them down. As soon as the gas dissipated, the two guards from before walked in. 

Moustache gave the cage a kick, eyeing Dream up and down before nodding and opening the door. “C’mon you bastard, get up,” he barked, yanking him up by his arm. Dazed, Dream complied only to immediately stumble and fall on his side. Without even thinking, he started to giggle. 

“The fuck are you laughing at?” Glasses growled and the moment Dream looked up at him, he once again fell into a fit of giggles. 

“Your...your face!” Glasses squinted his bruised eyes, bandaged nose wrinkling in anger. He roughly grabbed the back of Dream’s shirt, opting to drag him towards the door. 

After passing through more winding corridors, they brought him into what seemed like a surgical room, heaving his limp body on the table. Dream struggled futilely, heavy arms being pinned down easily by the guards. Warning bells rang in his mind, muffled by fogginess but still audible nonetheless. He groaned in frustration when he felt leather straps fastened on his wrist and ankles. The most he could do was arch his back- arguably the most movement he’d had in a while- and try his best to shake the drowsiness off.

He didn’t hear Troy come in. The boy peered over him, his beady eyes gleaming as they ran up and down Dream’s body. His skin crawled as he fought down nausea, wishing he could hide himself.

“Finally,” the little weasel said, “some alone time.”

Dream had an embittered relationship with knives. His reputation as an axe-wielder was notorious, highlighted by his battle against Technoblade. He withstood a lot of teasing in the beginning from his friends when he first revealed his newfound weapon of choice many years ago.

“An axe? You gonna fight a tree, Dreamy boy?” Sapnap had laughed and Dream flushed despite himself.

He gripped the handle, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands. “I wanted to try something different this time.”

Sapnap raised an eyebrow. “A sword too good for you?” He twirled his own sword, its blade glinting in the sun.                                              

That hadn’t been the case at all of course. Dream just hated the memories that came along each slash of a blade. The hours spent staring at each individual thin white scar along his arms, healed only in a physical sense. The long sleeves he wore every day as to not draw any questions to his arms. The little voice in his head that told him he was lucky it wasn’t worse.

“Yeah sure, let’s go with that.”

The pain was sharp. Numbness spread through his body. Was he breathing? He doesn’t feel like anything. Any movement he could force feels like everything.

“Boss said I’m not allowed to do anything too severe. I’m not sure why, but it’s not my place to ask questions.”

The table felt slick beneath his hands.

The pressure of gloved hands digging into thin arms. The screaming of those behind the glass. Red. So much red.

There’s humming above him. A cold pressure against his stomach. He relaxed instinctively; it hurt less when he did.

When the room finally came back into focus, he hissed, eyes watering. Troy didn’t look up from where he was cleaning his wounds. “I’m using an antiseptic so we don’t have you dying from infection.”

Dream strained his neck to look at him but blanched when he saw the sheer amount of red covering... everything . He sat back, woozy and speechless.

“I must thank you though,” Troy continued. “Although I wasn’t able to analyze you as thoroughly as I would want, I obtained plenty of samples from you to keep me busy for quite a while. It was easy considering you were so nice and still for me.” He began to wrap bandages tightly on his legs, arms, and torso. “I will say that I’m a bit disappointed.” Troy patted his leg and grinned as Dream swallowed a gasp of pain.

“I would have preferred more of a struggle.”

Ilosia wasn’t in her cage when he was brought back. He was alone. It hurt to exist. Dream shut his eyes, remembering an action done within the screech in his youth. With shaking hands, he clasped them together and began to pray.

[End Mother, who rules our land, have mercy on thy children and grant thy strength unto us, to watch over us from the Void…]

Chapter Text

Badlands, in Sapnap’s opinion, were a far better biome than deserts. The multicolor sand and terracotta were a welcome break from the endless sea of gold that made him want to tear his hair out by the roots. Though, to be fair, most things made him feel that way lately.

A tumbleweed caught on his foot, startling for a moment before he angrily shook it away. Maybe he spoke to soon. He eyed the battered compass in his hand, its crimson needle minutely swaying back and forth. Not for the first time, Sapnap wondered if this was all for naught, that the compass was faulty or they were purposely being lead off trail. But there was no other option, no other way to find Dream as of right now. The compass was their only hope.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find him. We won’t stop until we do,” Bad reassured.      

That’s not the problem, he wanted to scream. He knew they would find him because Sapnap wouldn’t stop looking till not a single stone in the world was left unturned. He didn’t care where he had to go, what lengths he had to take. The problem was that he didn’t know if he’d find him dead or alive. He didn’t voice these thoughts to Bad, nodding mutely.

“There should be a town nearby,” Techno spoke up from behind them. “I smell people.”

Wilbur frowned. “We smell? Like what?”

“Milk, mostly.”

“Huh?”

Cattle began appearing, lazing about under the makeshift huts that provided shade within rickety barbed fences. They hardly paid any mind to the group, a few raising their heads with the more curious giving a moo before returning to their grazing. The town wasn’t much to look at; all the buildings looked haphazardly built, the brown of their wood blending in with the warm tones of the terracotta mountains. A few people milled about, most townsfolk, few being travelers passing through like themselves.

The town square was marked by the change of flooring from dirt and dung to concrete and dung, and a well in the center with a few stray children playing around it.

Sapnap looked around the buildings, trying to find a sign name that would lead them to a supply shop of sorts. “I don’t know how high quality anything we buy from this town is gonna be,” he grimaced.

Eret shook their head. “Don’t doubt a town by its looks, I’ve found plenty of things of decent value before.”

“We should ask someone for directions, we don’t want to waste time wandering around aimlessly,” George adjusted his glasses before pointing ahead. “We can ask that person over there.”

Said person stood a few meters away, a basket of flowers hanging from one arm and the other weighed down by the grasping hands of children.

“Mx. Grem! Mx. Grem! May I please have a blue flower, pleeeeease!” One child pleaded, immediately followed by a chorus of similar requests from the rest of the children.

Mx. Grem laughed, a tinkling sound. “Of course Amity dear, I grew extra this time so I would have enough for all of you.” Childrens’ squeals ensued.

George stepped forward and gave a cough. “Excuse me, Grem, was it? May we ask you a question?”

The child closest to him sniffed, a tiny fist curled tightly over a few limp daisies. “That’s Mx. Grem to you, pigwart!” They attempted to spit on George’s shoe but only succeeded in obtaining a drool-covered mouth. Wilbur silently gagged.

“Now, now little Candle. Remember what we talked about, treat everyone with kindness.” Grem patted the pouting child’s head before looking up at George. “I’m sorry about that, the children here are awfully sheltered, not many strangers come by here. What can I help you all with?”

George suppressed a grimace poorly. “Directions. We’re in dire need of supplies.”

Grem nodded. “Oh of course! Farmer’s markets are mainly located on the south end and there’s a supply shop out in the outskirts of the northern part of the village. They’ll have everything you need. And the well is open for anyone to use!”

An impressed noise left Techno’s mouth. “Wasn’t expecting this much resources in a Badlands town.”

“You’ll find the residents here are quite…resourceful,” Grem said, an indiscernible look crossing over their face.

“Then it’s settled! We split up, one group getting food, the other getting supplies, and then we regroup here!” Bad clapped his hands together.

“I’ll be in the supply group,” Sapnap said already heading right. Gathering food wasn’t his forte, and there were a few things he wanted to buy for himself.

“Great communication skills Sap,” George called out angrily, storming to the left. Bad looked between the two of them, lost.

Eret grabbed Bad gently by the arm and guided him towards Sapnap. “The three of us will get supplies, you three can get food right?”

Wilbur rolled eyes, muttering about dramatics before following George. Techno shrugged and did the same.

Frankly, Sapnap didn’t care what George did, still seething from their interaction early. Whatever, he had more important things to worry about.

HEARS THE TOOLS

The three of them stared dumbly at the misspelled sign hanging almost completely off its hinges.

“This is…” Bad trailed off.

“The place to go for supplies apparently,” Eret said.

Sapnap scoffed before walking up the steps, each one creaking beneath his weight. “What’s the matter Eret? Thought good supplies could come from the shittiest of places?” Wood screeched against wood as he shoved against the door, the poorly fit frame causing resistance until it couldn’t any longer. He stumbled inside with Eret and Bad following dutifully behind.

The shop was somehow simultaneously spacious and suffocating, boxes and shelves of various spare parts and knick-knacks serving as walls. Cobwebs graced the every corner and the distinct smell of rotting wood filled their nose. And at the end of it all, a long counter occupied with a long-haired tabby cat.

Sapnap surveyed the area with caution, hand hovering over a knife strapped to his side. “I don’t like the looks of this pl-”

“KITTY!”

“BAD NO!”

But Bad had already rushed forward, burying his face into the cat’s soft fur. “Mm, Sapnap, it’s fine, the nice person at the square told us this place was the best.”

“Yeah, the best place to get shanked…”

“Hey! I’ll have you know we placed FIRST for LEAST likely to be shanked!”

The three of them jumped back and definitely did not shriek in surprise. Behind the counter stood two clashing individuals. The one who had spoken grinned, black soot dusting their clothes and face matching perfectly with the mass of unruly black hair atop their tilted head. The other person lifted the green goggles covering his eyes, one hand on his hip.

“W-where the fuck did you come from?” Sapnap stuttered. Eret still had a hand against their chest as if to stave off an oncoming heart attack.

The soot-covered one raised an eyebrow. “Well technically my mother unless you wanted specifics.” They stuck out a hand. “Name’s Eker, but you can call me Eker! I’m a co-owner of this high class establishment.” A metallic clang came from somewhere in the store accompanied by sound of hollowed wood hitting the floor. “Ignore that.”

“Aaaaand I’m Carmen!” The other chirped, and Sapnap realized that wings hung from his back, feathers a soft, pale yellow that almost blended in entirely with their yellow outfit, if not for the fact they twitched ever so slightly with every breath.

Noticing his stare, Carmen puffed his chest out, feathers ruffling. “Got a problem with that, out-of-towner?”

“Of course not!” Bad replied indignantly. “Our best friend is a hybrid, in fact, we’re trying to save him right now!”

“I’m literally right here.”

“Oh, right, sorry Eret.”

Sapnap rifled through his pockets, pulling out a sack of coins with the occasional gold and iron nuggets and plopped it roughly in the counter. “This is time-sensitive, we just need some supplies and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Eker’s eyes narrowed as they fished out a coin from the bag before biting it. “Hmm, yeah, that tastes like a coin alright.” They gestured around the store with outstretched hands. “Get whatever you need! Armor and such is on the right side, basic supplies is on the left side, and food supplies is whatever leftovers we have in our mini fridge!” As Carmen began to grumble about Eker giving up their leftovers, the three of them huddled together in the corner of the store pretending to find a leather lead interesting.

“Think we can trust them?” Eret whispered, giving the couple a glance.

Bad bit his lip nervously. “I don’t think we really have a choice in the matter.”

Sapnap yanked an iron sword from the wall, testing its sharpness with the side of his thumb. “I don’t give a shit anymore at this point, we’re out of supplies and the more time we spend debating and wasting our time…” he trailed off as he marched over to the counter and began putting down supplies. Eret and Bad glanced at one another with a look of pity they were thankful Sapnap couldn’t see. They soon had their own pile of things strewn about on the counter.

Carmen gave them a once over before nodding in approval. “Tell you what, since you folks seemed to be in a bit of a pickle, I’ll give you a discount on all this stuff IF-” he leaned forward, expression deadly serious. “…you take Bingus with you.”

The three of them blinked. “Um…what’s a Bingu- OH ENDER-” Eret shrieked as Eker dropped a severed foot on the counter.

A moment of silence ensued.

“Um, we appreciate the offer but we really don’t need that…thing, oh dear,” Bad swallowed a vomit, face tinged green in warning. “I…I might need to be step outside for a second.”

Eret nodded in agreement, Sapnap noticing they was several steps back from where they were previous. “Where- Where- Actually, WHO did you get that from?”

Carmen shrugged, giving the severed foot in his hand a shake. “I have no idea, Bingus has been here for ages. Not a top seller for some reason.”

“Bingus?! Bingus is the foot’s NAME?!” Bad nearly screeched.

The foot, Bingus, wiggled its toes.

This time Bad did screech.

Sapnap practically wanted to tear his hair out by the roots. “WE. JUST. WANT. NORMAL. SUPPLIES. NO USELESS JUNK! NO FEET!”

“Dude, you’re at a ten and I’m gonna need you at a two, at least,” Carmen waved his hand in a lowering motion. Hytia meowed.

“See?” Eker complained. “You’re making her IBS act up!”

And that was the final straw for Sapnap. He took a shuddering breath. “Our friend, my brother, is in danger, maybe even DEAD, and if it’s this much hassle just to get a few measly supplies then we’ll take our services elsewhere,” he ground out.

Carmen and Eker were silent for a moment, looking a bit sheepish. “Oh damn, dude, I’m sorry,” Eker apologized before suddenly brightening. “Wait! Carmen! Do we still have that map?”

“Which map? We have like a shit ton of maps.”

Eker bounced excitedly on their heels. “The enchanted map!”

Carmen’s mouth opened in a slight O-shape as he realized what Eker was talking about. “OH THAT MAP!” He exclaimed before running to the back, crashing sounds appearing as he rummaged through the mess.

“I’m sorry…what’s special about this map exactly?” Eret asked as Eker spun to face them.

They clapped excitedly. “It’s a map that enchanted to show you the fastest way to get to a location! Compasses point you to them and that’s great and all, but they don’t really show you how to get around obstacles like mountains.”

Carmen scurried out holding a shimmering map triumphantly in his hands. “But this bad boy shows you the quickest route, whether that’s a secret tunnel or a train station. And it works in tandem with any compass. I call it, the GPS!” He shouted with pride.

Sapnap scrutinized the map, trying to hide his growing hope and excitement. “What’s it stand for?”

“Oh I don’t know yet, still working on it. I like Go Pretty Speedy though!” Carmen passed it over to Bad who looked at the map in awe. “For you guys, it’s free. Think of it as an apology for keeping you guys up.”

Sapnap struggled to keep his eyes from watering with gratitude. “Thank you,” was all he could say.

The trio paid for the rest of their supplies before walking out of Hears The Tools as Carmen and Eker waved enthusiastically while shouting their good lucks. Wilbur, George, and Techno were waiting at the center plaza, who all seemed less than pleased at the late arrival.

Wilbur was tapping his foot impatiently. “What took you three so long? We’ve been waiting for almost an hour.”

“Sorry!” Bad apologized profusely. “We got kept up by the shopkeepers, but they gave us something!”

Sapnap held out the enchanted map and relayed what the shopkeepers had told them. Techno nodded with approval. “These sort of maps are hard to come by, I don’t know how a run down shop in the middle of nowhere got a hold of one but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Then let’s keep moving,” George said. “Where’s the map saying we go next?”

Sapnap unraveled it, watching as the images on the map snaked and slithered to rearrange themselves before settling on the imagery of a forest. He grimaced as he looked closer. “Hope you guys don’t mind the cold.”

“What’s that in your bag, Eret?”

“What’s what? Wilbur, are you just messing- OH!”

“IS THAT A SEVERED FUCKING FOOT?”

“His name is Bingus…”

“Oh wow, that makes it so much better Bad, thank you.”