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He hears his ambushers’ footsteps before he knows their even there,
Dream supposes the skill was bound to come packaged with the many talents learnt for his manhunt games; he has to keep the games going, which means learning the voice of the earth and everything that’s not. He couldn’t afford to let the hunters catch him off-guard, and so he always had one ear trained on his environment to pick up even the slightest rustle that may seem out of place.
Yet even though it fades into the multitude of steps thudding on the cobbled ground, he knows they're following him with the way he notices the same clinking chain sound with the sway of his stalker’s movements that has persisted for a few minutes now. He usually walks this path every other day, he knows what noises dwell in the streets of Hypixel, and those aren’t one of them.
He stops in front of a server portal, feigning interest in the information displayed. The clinking halts as well.
An advantage of wearing his mask is a hidden expression, and he glances as far as his pupils will reach the left edge of his vision. It's almost lost in the face of the rushing crowd, but he manages to catch a glimpse of a pair of sandy-yellow eyes trained on his figure.
Dream turns and continues down the cobbled road, scanning the area for alleyways nestled between the buildings. Best to take out his soon-to-be-assailant discretely, as to not draw attention or get anyone else hurt in the tussle.
It’s not the first time he’d been attacked while out in a public server; far from it, really. Ambushed in a backstreet, grappled in the middle of a crowd, it all comes hand-in-hand with having your name out in the world.
He’s come to learn how to handle it anyway. People that wish to cause harm will play dirty, and he’s been taught almost every trick in the book since he’s realized.
It’s not until Dream arrives at the last stretch of the street that he notices all alleyway openings have been blocked, either by conveniently placed bunches of people, or barrels and boxes that weren’t there previously.
He would almost be impressed, if they weren’t trying to kill him; his aggressors must have been watching him and his mannerisms for a while now.
He turned to the only opening free of any obstacles. It was glaringly obvious it was meant for him. There was next to nothing calling his attention, and it was awfully drab. Just how he liked to leave his trail.
Dream ambled into the maw of the two buildings, subtly moving his hand over to the water bottle in his inventory. Weapons and potions were forbidden from players’ possessions in server hubs, but he knew he could use shards from the glass bottle to defend himself if needed.
He slunk past crates and dumpsters, its shadows most likely hiding the ambushers. Dream strained his ears to listen for the jingling of the chain, or swift footsteps from behind the crates once he got far enough into the alleyway.
What he didn’t expect, however, was the sudden weight slamming down onto his back and tackling him to the ground.
He falls face first into cobblestone, his clothing and mask thankfully protecting against potential scrapes. The person on top of him grasps his shoulders in an iron grip, and Dream, winded from the landing, can only watch as he’s flipped onto his backside and pinned once more.
Hands latch onto his figure and limbs, nearly restricting his movement entirely. One of his assailant’s fingers dig into his chin, and his head is pulled forward as he’s straddled by them.
Instinctively, Dream tries to wrench himself free with quick yet harsh jerks of his body, but he’s outnumbered, one to many, and their combined strength keeps him on the floor of the alleyway.
It’s only when his mind has fizzled out into some resemblance of coherency that he realizes that they have pried his mouth open and shoved the opening of a potion in his mouth. Dream has half a mind to fight for his sake, and he barely manages to fetch his water bottle out of his inventory before smashing it atop the head of one of his attackers.
A screech erupts from them, and their hands fly to their scalp to assess the injury. The others shout in alarm and reach to re-restrain his arm, but Dream waves around the broken off bottleneck still in his hand to slice anyone that comes too close.
The person straddling him stops feeding him the potion, and Dream takes that as an opening as he stabs the jagged edges of glass into their sternum.
He pays no mind to the pained yell that he receives in exchange for his makeshift weapon, and shakes off the rest of his ambushers with most of their weight no longer clinging to him.
Dream stumbles back and instinctively wipes his mouth on his sleeve. His opponents are gathering themselves to their feet, clutching their various wounds, which isn’t much to exploit. He bares his teeth anyways; maybe it’s the adrenaline speaking, but Dream thinks he can take them on before whatever effects the potion bared kicks in.
The one he stabbed was still on the ground, another helping them pick out the shards lodged in their flesh.
It leaves only four left- unless the unusually large blob in the corner counted as two- then there were five. Dream shakes his head, willing his vision to clear with no luck.
The alleyway opening in front of him was merging into an incomprehensible mess. He scowled as he realized the potion was already working its magic.
He took a step back as his confidence wavered, and the one he had stabbed, his original stalker following him through the crowd, he now realized, chuckled, the chain chiming as his shoulders shook.
They uttered something, but it was with a breath of arrogance, like they thought a wither would bow to their feet. Somehow, Dream heard it loud and clear, even as deep as he was in the alley, with the group hanging near the entrance.
“Come to me.”
Then, his feet were moving on their own.
Dream gasped, clutching his hood as he abruptly stopped in his tracks. A sudden headache had sprung itself upon him, an intense pounding enveloping his mind.
His teeth gritted against the pain, and he squinted open an eye to watch as the group stared on, unmoving. He could almost imagine their mocking sneers if it weren’t for the disoriented state of his brain.
Remnants of their words echoed throughout his skull, and Dream steeled himself in place to prevent his body from moving without his permission.
His breath shuttered harshly, and he realized he couldn’t feel his fingers. The potion he was force-fed was ruining him, picking apart his mind and rewiring it to heed to the voice of his foe.
The one that spoke hummed distastefully at his defiance, and Dream had just enough time to cover his ears before they commanded him again.
“Come to me.”
He hissed as the echoes flared momentarily, but not as bright as the first time. He shook his head as if the words would loosen and fall from his ears.
Dream couldn’t take any chances- he couldn’t risk fighting in his current condition, when a single sentence could send him into disarray and right into his assailants’ grasp.
He turned tail and ran without another thought.
Instantaneously, the group shrieked in alarm, scrambling to catch up, but Dream knew he could outpace them. Even when he was drugged and the walls blended together as he shot past them, his attackers’ injuries would weigh them down.
Besides, he was quite literally trained for this.
As their voices faded in the distance, and Dream merged with the bustle of the streets of Hypixel again, his brain was already kicked into ‘manhunt mode,’ as he called it.
He pushed past the thoughts of Ender pearls and Blaze rods to plan properly for the next upcoming days. He’d need a place to camp out for the next few days to completely sleep off the potion’s effects before he could show himself in public again.
As he skimmed through potential servers to hide out in, however, something lurked in the back of his mind; and it wasn’t the potion’s effects this time.
Those crooks almost got him. He had almost been knocked out, and they could’ve dragged him away to who-knows-where, or killed him on the spot.
He couldn’t believe he had been bested.
Even when it was only temporary, and he had broken free from the trap, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.
He should’ve been more attentive, should’ve reacted quicker, should’ve been better- it shouldn’t have taken him so long to recover from the blow. Who knew what else the potion could do to him?
He escaped that encounter just narrowly, and by Dream’s standards, that was already far too close for comfort.
He looked over his shoulder, spotting nothing in the crowd that resembled any of the assailants.
It was over, but Dream couldn’t stop wondering if things went just a little more south.
Honestly, it scared him.
Technoblade was known to be a patient man.
He’s farmed over five-hundred million potatoes. He’s read Sun Tzu’s The Art of War more times than he could count. Heck, he’s friends with Tommy!
If anything, all his past experiences had beaten into his skull that patience was a man’s best friend. That, and fluffy dogs.
So yes, Techno would consider himself to be patient.
But this was getting ridiculous.
Dream was supposed to meet him at their arena about an hour ago, and he was getting tired of waiting. There were only so many times he could polish his sword to perfection.
Just when he considered ditching their sparring match- could he even ditch an appointment that was already ditched?- Dream burst through the gate on the other side of the arena.
He was heaving, mask slightly askew on his face and his eyesore of a bright green poncho noticeably wrinkled, even from the distance separating them. Techno raised a brow at his rival’s appearance. He looked like the poor victim who was sent to kill the minotaur.
“Dream! Ya made it! For a second there I thought you got lost or somethin’.” Techno called out to him.
Dream shook his head, his hand reaching up to his head before he stopped himself and let the limb fall back to his side. He cleared his throat.
“Sorry. I got occupied with some- some stuff. I forgot we had training today.” His voice was meek as he approached, and Techno wondered if he would even hear him if he had human ears.
Dream and ‘meek,’ or any term synonymous to it really, seemed almost illegal to think about in Techno’s eyes. His presence was impossible to go unnoticed, and his entire person was bright- literally. It demanded attention from everyone in any room he walked in, and he clashed off others so well, it was like he was made to bask in other people’s warmth.
And forgetting their sparring had to be the poorest excuse Techno has ever heard. That man clung onto every word that came out of the Piglin’s mouth. He doesn’t think he’s ever interacted with a fan as devout as Dream was.
Sure, this wasn’t their first time training together, but Dream would always arrive on time, sometimes even early, because he was still as excited to battle Techno than when word first got out about their Duel.
It just wasn’t like him.
Obviously, Dream was hiding something, but Techno knew better than to push.
“Oh no, he’s enterin’ his Philza arc! Soon you’ll be complainin’ about your back.” Techno joked. He grinned as a tiny snicker sounded from his rival.
“I’ll show you who’s old.” Dream remarked, and he pulled out a wooden sword from his inventory.
Techno readied his own training sword, and dropped into a fighting stance as Dream did. He was glad he was able to get the man into higher spirits at least. Fighting a demotivated opponent was like beating a dead horse.
“Hey! Y’know I’m pretty young by Piglin standards.” Techno said, as they charged and the first strike hit, with Techno bringing his sword down and Dream blocking it with his own dull blade.
“Does it translate to skill, though?” Dream jumped back suddenly, pushing off the sand to dart to the Techno’s left.
Techno defended his side easily when Dream closed in for a hit. He then swept his leg under Dream, his delayed reaction causing him to fall victim to the move and trip face-first into the sand.
Techno leveled his sword tip to Dream’s mask as he looked up.
“Oof. I think it does. One to zero.”
Dream scoffed, barely accepting Techno’s hand to help him up from the ground. He dusted himself off and picked his sword up and into the readying stance. Techno did the same.
It went like that for the next half-hour, with Dream losing to minor mistakes, or moves that should’ve been easy to dodge. Techno’s seen him do it all the time, so why was he so off today?
It happens on their seventh sparring round, when frustration has clearly bubbled up from Dream in the form of frequent huffs and shakes of his head.
Techno was getting annoyed too, if he was being honest. He trained with Dream to have battles worthy of his time, not to be stuck with a glorified protege.
He blocks another predictable swing aimed at his arm, and Techno tries to knock Dream’s sword away, with the man jumping back as a result.
Dream then rushes forward, sword poised to strike at his left, and Techno sets up to dodge it when Dream turns away at the last second, his swift feet faking Techno out to move and jab at Techno’s right.
Techno’s surprise quickly sparks into a fire. Finally, something interesting was going on!
He moves to block the jab, but Dream has always been faster, and Techno knows he isn’t going to make it in time-
Suddenly, Dream jerks back, taking a step towards the stone gate, before halting abruptly. He grasped his hair in a bunch, a groan trapped behind his lips. His other arm lay limply at his side, the wooden sword nearly falling out of his loose fingers.
Techno’s ear twitched as he heard Dream curse under his lips. He doesn’t think an objection to swearing would do any good right now.
“Sorry… sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Dream panted. It sounded pained, which rang all the wrong bells in Techno’s head.
“We can take a break if ya need to” Techno offered, careful to keep his disappointment hidden.
Dream’s fists clenched. “No. This is nothing. I can keep going.” He readied into a fighting stance yet again.
Immediately, Techno threw his sword to the sand. He wasn’t going to let Dream be stubborn enough to ruin himself.
Dream seemed to understand, and his shoulders slumped, his own sword dissipating into his inventory.
Techno walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. It prompted Dream to look up from where he was staring holes into the ground.
“Hey. What’s happenin’? Did ya hit your head or somethin’? Are ya sick?”
Dream shrugged. “It’s stupid.” He mumbled.
Techno raised a brow at him, a ‘try me’ at the tip of his tongue. He felt like a parent scolding their child.
“...I was at Hypixel, and there were these guys just- stalking me. I went into an alleyway to lure them out, but it was a trap.”
Techno hummed his distaste. He knew Dream had more enemies than Techno did, and he knew it was in part of being feared so much, but also in just how much Dream put himself out there. Not all eyes stared in delight.
“They pinned me down, forced me to drink some sort of potion-” Techno’s eyes widened, before reining his shock in.
“I broke free before they forced it all down, but the effects already took place. Now I just hear their voice all the time. And I don’t know how to get rid of it.” Dream shuddered, his hand returning to the place on his head.
“It forces me to listen . And I hate it.” Techno’s hooved hand dug sharper into his clenched palm as he heard Dream’s voice crack.
He despised those who looked to take advantage of people like this. They took Dream- bright and outgoing Dream- and reduced him to this. Techno could only barely contain his snarl.
He took a breath, willing his nerves to calm. First things first; find out what in the Blood God’s name was that potion that’s currently running through Dream, and find an antidote.
Then, revenge would be next on the list. Preferably with Dream at his side.
“We’re goin’ to Phil’s. If anythin’, he knows leagues more about this stuff than any of us.” Techno said, the finality in his tone leaving no room for objections.
Dream nodded, and Techno started to lead the way back to the server portal.
As soon as Dream was freed from those voices, he would pay those vermin what they deserved a thousand times over.