Chapter Text
He doesn’t have a name.
Maybe he did at one point, but it’s long gone from his memory.
Along with most, if not all memory of his life before this. He chooses not to think too hard about it anymore, but in his handful of lonely slip ups, he would search his mind for his parents’ faces, only to find nothing.
His mind is a cobweb of blurry scenes, missing pieces, scrambled timelines, and downright confusion.
It’s likely a result of trauma. Or gaslighting. Or maybe a side effect of those sleeping pills.
Whatever the reason is, the bottom line is that he doesn’t have anything from before this to cling to.
He isn’t even sure if had parents. For all he knew, he was an orphan. Maybe in foster care?
That would make a little more sense. He isn’t sure how Dream got him. He sure as hell didn’t come willingly. So, unless he was sold or kidnapped, there’s a chance that Dream pretended to adopt him or something?
It doesn’t matter. That’s another thing he chooses not to think too hard about.
He just knows he doesn’t have a name.
He feels a bit like a stray animal sometimes. ‘Don’t name it, sweetie. You’ll get attached. You know we can’t keep it.’
Dream doesn’t name his ‘employees’. If they had a name before, they may as well forget it, because no one will ever ask.
All they have is their numbers. His number is 003.
He’s mostly used to being labeled as a number, but sometimes he finds himself staring in the mirror for a few minutes too long.
Like right now. He came to the restroom to make sure he looked presentable, but now he’s stuck in a staring contest with his reflection.
He looks like a person. Just like everyone else.
His hair is a pretty shade of blonde that probably would’ve been complimented in a reality where he was a normal teenager. It’s usually fluffy from the way he brushes it, but right now it curls at the front.
He won’t be able to keep it forever. Dream says that if he ever has to work in the same city too many times, he’ll have to dye it. Make sure no one ever learns to recognize him.
Almost everything about his appearance would be changed in a heartbeat if deemed necessary.
That’s why his eyes are his favorite feature.
Dream can cover them all he wants with contact lenses, but he’ll never be able to take away the greyish blue underneath.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been holding eye contact with his reflection. Long enough that the mirror is hurting his eyes, at least.
Something about examining his own face makes him feel weird.
He looks like a person. But he isn’t one.
Well, he is, but it’s easy to forget.
Not having a name definitely contributes to that.
He’s used to just being referred to as 003. Sometimes if Dream is in a good mood, he’ll be called “double o, three”. That’s still not a name, though.
All the other “nicknames” he’s been given by Dream or his other bosses would have mothers covering their children’s ears. Those ones give him a sick feeling in his stomach too, because he knows they mean he did something wrong.
No matter how used to it he gets, sometimes he still has minor identity crises, feeling more like a robot or a product, than a human being.
That’s why he tries to own his number. He considers his name to be Three. The word. Not the number.
If he had his way, that’s how he would write it when he must sign something, but everyone insists on him writing the digit version.
Three still isn’t sure how long he’s been in here, but it’s definitely been too long, because—
“I’m done waiting for you, 003! Get out here!”
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. He told Dream he would ‘be right there’, way too long ago.
Three swiftly hides that one stray curl behind his ear and then he’s sprinting out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that he shares with a few of the other ‘employees’ his age. There’s only five beds, even though Three has more coworkers than he bothers to count. Everyone is constantly doing jobs that make them leave the ‘Base’ for extended periods of time. Even Three himself has only been between jobs for eight days, and now he’s about to go to a new one.
Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. To the front door.
Dream is waiting for him, with his iconic smiley mask. No one gets to see his face in case they go rogue and tell the cops about everything. It’s much easier to run from the police when they don’t know what they’re looking for.
Not like Three would ever go rogue. Three knows a lot of skills. Most of which he shouldn’t know at 16. But none of them would help him go off on his own.
Dream all but grabs him by the nonexistent scruff of his neck and starts pushing him out the door.
“Come on. Let’s go.” The masked man said as casually as a parent sending their kid to school. “The Syndicate is an impatient client. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Three feels sick when he hears the word impatient. He hates working with those kinds of people. Those are the ones that give him physical reminders to stay in line.
It’s fine. He can handle it. Everyone knows to keep him alive and able-bodied. Most of them can’t afford the fine. “You break it, you buy it” and stuff. He can take it.
The so-called ‘Base’ isn’t that professional. It’s just where Dream lives. It’s big, yes. A mansion, really. But it was built for residential purposes, rather than whatever the hell you call this. Brick walls. Surrounded by woods at the back. Wooden shutters and a big front door. It would almost be pretty if Three didn’t spend about five years training in it every day before he was allowed to leave for jobs.
The blonde boy goes to the black SUV without needing to be asked, and he settles in the back seat, while Dream gets in the front.
Once Three is buckled in, he tilts his head down and shuts his eyes, almost like he’s going to sleep. He isn’t allowed to open his eyes in the car. Another precaution in case he goes rogue. Dream’s home is in the middle of nowhere, and all employees are usually blindfolded so they don’t see which roads they take.
Three has always been one of Dream’s favorites. Which doesn’t get him much special treatment, besides the fact he’s trusted to not open his eyes. No blindfold needed.
His job is simple.
He’s been doing it for four years. Nine if you count the training period.
The boy has many skills. He can steal. He can spy. He can find information or be the one to hide it. He can act. He can hurt. The list goes on.
And now he’s essentially up for rent.
People come to Dream and pay to use Three or one of the other workers. Whether they need an assassin or an undercover agent or something else.
What Dream does is highly illegal. Three doesn’t speak to his coworkers much, but he’s 90% sure that none of them asked for this.
The problem is, Dream is good at making sure only certain people find out about it. People who love being able to order a hitman to-go.
People like.. who did Dream say wants to hire him? Something with an S. Whatever.
Three doesn’t get told much about who he works for. He remembers the word impatient, though, and that gives him a quick shock of pain in his chest.
Whoever they are, they’re going to be the kind of people who won’t call the police on Dream, since they likely have a few of their own issues with the cops.
He isn’t sure what tasks they’ll have him doing. He’ll find out when he gets to the Show and Tell.
Everyone calls it a presentation, but it feels exactly like Show and Tell. He’ll just stand there and look like a lifeless robot while Dream lists all the reasons why he would be a great option for rent.
Along with some talk about prices and whatnot.
That’s all Three is.
Something to put a price on.
It stopped hurting that much a long time ago.
He understands what he is. He understands that he’s a waste of space until proven useful. And he knows how to prove that he’s useful.
So, none of it really matters.
He can feel the car moving.
All that matters at the moment, is getting himself in that, listening but not reacting state, ready to be shown off.
--------------------------<3----------------------
Three has been out of the car for ten minutes and was only just told he can open his eyes.
Dream likes to keep him blind until they’re actually at the meetup spot, just to really enforce the not-knowing-where-he-is rule. He’s nice enough to hold Three’s hand and guide him, but not smart enough to call out when there’s a step or an object in the path. Safe to say that Three is kept on his toes during those little journeys.
But now he’s outside an apartment and Dream is knocking on the door with whatever pattern was arranged on the phone, so the inhabitants know it’s him.
Three quickly runs through his rules. Stand up straight. Eyes ahead. Don’t ignore them. Don’t look at them too much. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Be respectful. Don’t draw too much attention to yourself. Don’t act invisible. No one likes an eavesdropper. Listen carefully for clues on how to impress them.
Dream’s rules contradict themselves a lot, but Three has a general idea of what he wants from his employees.
Don’t show too much emotion. Don’t look dead inside. Don’t look tired. Don’t look high alert. Be polite. Remember they aren’t your friends. Don’t be too quiet when you speak. Don’t be too loud when you speak. Don’t—
The door opens.
Three acts on reflex, making polite eye contact and slightly nodding his head respectfully.
The moment he meets the eyes of the man in front of him, he has to suppress a flinch.
The man is tall. Taller than Dream. Three’s eye level is at his shoulders. he’s also really well built.
That’s not what concerns the blonde boy, though. He’s used to people like that.
He’s concerned about the downward pointed ears. He’s concerned about the crimson irises of his eyes. He’s concerned about the pink hair that doesn’t look like dye. He’s concerned about the tusks on the man’s bottom lip.
Piglin hybrid. Crud.
Three hasn’t worked with many hybrids, but he knows they’re aggressive. He can not piss this guy off.
The piglin looks at Dream first, nodding at him. He won’t question the smiley mask; it would’ve been explained over the phone. Then he turns his full attention to Three, and the teenager has to suppress the urge to bring his shoulders to his ears.
The piglin blinks twice. Three is used to those reactions of subtle surprise when people meet him. He knows what this guy is thinking.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Dream’s voice snaps the pinkette and the blonde out of their little staring contest. “May we come in?”
The tusked man looks behind him to the inside of the apartment, then back to Dream. He carefully steps out of the way, opening the door a little wider. “You may.” Intimidating voice. That’ll be a thrill to hear if Three steps out of line.
The duo cross the threshold, while the door is pushed closed behind them.
This apartment is.. nice. Like, penthouse nice. From the entryway, Three can see a wall in the main room that’s basically just one big window. He can see lots of tall buildings. Some skyscrapers a little more in the distance. Noted. They’re in a city. Three assumed as much, because he could hear all the car horns and chatter when his eyes were closed, and he could tell they were in an elevator at one point to get here.
The piglin is looking at him again. He’s used to these weird looks, but something about this guy’s nether-born eyes make anxious.
The gaze finally breaks away. This guy looks lost, looking between Dream, Three, and the big room behind him. He looks more anxious than Three feels. The piglin looks at Dream again, lifting a finger and opening his mouth to speak. No words come out. He just makes some kind of ‘wait right there’ gesture and then he’s speed walking away.
They’re alone now. Dream takes this opportunity to look at his employee. His expression is unreadable, but Three gets the idea. That slight head tilt is a gentle reminder to not screw this up.
The piglin returns relatively quickly, but he comes with company. There’s a man with blonde hair, just slightly lighter than Three’s, leading the pack. He’s a bit shorter than Three, but he’s just as intimidating as the piglin.
His eyes are icy, like they could just pierce through someone, but the teenager forgets to make eye contact. He’s too distracted by the wings.
Huge wings, curled against his back. So dark you couldn’t make out the individual feathers from 8 feet away. The only way to describe his aura is that this man seemed like he was personally blessed by Lady Death herself. Or maybe that’s just the vibe the black robe gives off. The wings obviously mean he’s an avian. They weren’t as aggressive as piglins, but they could be just as dangerous when pushed past their limit. Oh gosh.
The avian does a short double take when he sees Three, but quickly looks away to talk to Dream.
“Sorry for making you wait.” The avian says, offering his hand to Three’s boss. His voice is way kinder than you’d expect. “Pleasure to meet you in person.”
Dream shakes his hand, flashing a charismatic smile from the bottom of his mask. “Likewise.”
Three isn’t listening to this interaction. He’s too busy stealing a quick glance behind the winged man. The piglin is standing a few feet away, but so is someone else. This new person was visibly trying to look over the piglin’s shoulder to see the two visitors. Which caused him to accidentally make eye contact with Three.
Dark chocolate eyes met metallic blue and stayed there, likely taking in the blonde’s appearance. Three was doing the same, mostly just scanning to see if this was another hybrid. His eyes were a normal color. No uniquely shaped ears under his brunette curls. No wings. No tail or tusks. No gills. Looks like he’s just a human.
“Hey, mate.” Wait. The avian is talking to Three. Whoops. Three looks at him, to find him offering a hand. “In case you don’t know, I’m Phil.”
That’s a really normal name for this guy, all things considered. Three shakes his hand, acknowledging the hesitant look in Phil’s eyes. An easy smile settles on the avian’s face, that Three knows he could never replicate. His courteous smiles have always seemed forced, so he doesn’t bother reciprocating.
Phil gestures to the brunette behind him. “That’s Wilbur.”
Again. Very normal names.
Then he gestures to the piglin. “And you’ve met Techno.”
Not a normal name. That is pretty badass, though.
Three nods with a blank expression, making Phil’s smile falter. He quickly shakes his head and looks back at the smiley mask. “Is this your apprentice or..?”
Classic question. The boy knows how this goes.
“Nope.” Dream announces proudly, placing his hand on Three’s curls, making the boy want to flinch. “This is one of my best employees at the moment. I believe you’ll be very happy with the work he can do for you.”
Everyone else in the room stiffens, until Wilbur speaks up in the back. “That’s a child.”
Three has to bite his tongue. He so badly wants to say something about how he’s not a child. Legally, he might be, but on a mental level, he hasn’t been a child in a very long time.
Beside him, Dream grins. This is the masked man’s favorite part of the Show and Tells.
Three can tune out now. He knows this whole conversation off by heart. All that stuff about how “that’s why people suspect him the least” and “it makes him a real wild card” and whatnot.
Along with some things about loyalty and having more energy and endurance.
Three just takes this time to make observations.
This isn’t their house for starters. Clients never give their home address.
This is likely a place specifically for work. If these people want to hire Three, then said work is definitely illegal. Clients rarely tell him much. They just give him his tasks and he does it.
If their workhouse is this fancy, then they must be rich as hell. Speaking of, Three should’ve noticed that sooner.
The pigli-- Techno has an emerald earring on his left ear that should’ve given away their wealth. The emerald must be a representation of their group—-what did they call it? all the boy remembers is that it had an S—-or something like that, because they all have an accessory like it.
Other than Techno’s earring, Phil has a brooch clipped onto the collar of his robe. Roughly shaped like a flower, with an emerald right in the center.
Looking at Wilbur, it takes a bit longer for Three to find his emerald, but he spots the ring on his right middle finger, before the brunette notices the staring.
Okay, so they have a lot of money. He’s gonna guess that means they either steal stuff or own a slightly rigged casino.
Oh gosh, it better not be the latter. Those clients usually hire Three to ‘handle’ someone who cheated. That’s never fun.
Distantly, he hears the topic shifting to what they need out of Three. He isn’t really listening to the backstory, but he hears something about finding someone. Crap. And something else about debt. Great. Vengeance. Exactly what Three didn’t want.
He tunes into the conversation just enough to hear Phil say, “We just need someone to find them, without us getting on their radars. We’ll do the dirty work ourselves once they’re in our possession.”
Oh, thank god.
“Nonsense.” Dream objects. “My worker here is perfectly capable of that part. You can keep your hands clean.”
Never mind.
The three clients are exchanging looks that only make sense to them.
Three didn’t hear whether they want this alleged victim dead or just very hurt. Either way, he hates doing that.
Phil turns back to Dream. “Excuse us for a moment.”
Three doesn’t like how polite they’re being, he thinks as they walk away to where the kitchen presumably is, out of eyesight. He doesn’t like it when clients act all kind and professional at the Show and Tell, because now he doesn’t have any heads-up to what their behavior will be like when Dream’s gone.
However, it probably won’t be good, considering there’s a piglin AND an avian. Wilbur seems harmless enough, but then again, how long has he been working with hybrids? That aggression might rub off.
A hand lands on his shoulder and Three bites back a startled yelp. Dream must be making a lot of money from these people if he’s giving so many reminders to behave.
He probably scammed them with that “you pay extra for the younger ones, but I’m giving you a discount” trick.
Either the clients want Dream to hear them or they’re idiots, because even Three can catch most sentences spoken in the kitchen. Including when Techno says, “How do we know this kid is actually capable of all that? It could be a lie to get the deposit money.”
Dream doesn’t hesitate to call over to them. “If I may,” The piglin is quickly leaning around the corner to see what the man wants. “We do offer a sort of demo of the work my employees can do.”
Techno looks to where his coworkers presumably are. They must seem interested, because a few moments later, the trio returns to the entryway. Phil is definitely the guy in charge since he always leads the pack.
Three forces himself to not stare at the wings again, as Phil speaks. “Elaborate.”
Finally, the hand leaves his shoulder. “Well, consider it to be a free trial. He can stay here for roughly 24 hours and prove his skills, and then you can make your decision.”
Three almost hopes they say no. If they say no to Three now, he can move on. If they say no after a free trial, Dream assumes it’s the blonde’s fault.
If he’s lucky, this is one of the clients that refuses to ‘babysit’ for 24 hours.
But when has Three ever been lucky?
When has Dream ever been a bad salesman?
The terms and conditions are already being explained. They still look suspicious about Three’s age, but no one seems ready to interrupt.
Looks like he’s doing this. He can do that.
He’ll be unwanted until proven useful.
And Three knows how to prove he’s useful.