LEGO Dreamzzz: Garden of the Starcatcher

by The__Starcatcher

Summary:

After the defeat of the Never Witch, the Dream Chasers' lives are back to normal. That is, until both the dream and waking world are getting infected in their own ways. Dreamers everywhere are getting turned to glitching stone, and the line between dreams and reality is blurring. Will the dream chasers be able to fix this fiasco?

An AU where this is Season 3

Notes:

Basically a rewrite of Season 3 of Lego Dreamzzz. This work is inspired by Roguerouge13's What Happens at the Garcia House, Stays at the Garcia House. Please go check it out, it’s literally why I wrote this fic!

Chapter 1: Aftermath

Sunlight filtered through the dusty windows of Francis Wooley middle school, or as silent as a full classroom can get. The only sounds were the scribbling of ballpoint pens, the breeze from the open window sifting through sheets of paper, the lingering notes of classical music, and soft snores growing steadily louder issuing from the back. After a while, though, the low, rumbling snores were resounding all around the room, much to the amusement of several students. The teacher, Ms. Putnam, pursed her lips and jabbed at the radio, turning it off. She then proceeded to rigidly walk towards the back of the room. Students inched away, groping at their papers as the teacher’s strides almost blew them off their desks. At last, she reached the desk she was looking for, and pupils turned their heads at the sound of Ms. Putnam giving three crisp knocks on the desk.

“Logan. Get up,” she said waspishly, a few inches away from his head.

“Uh, maybe I could wake him up, Ms. P?” asked the boy in front tentatively.

“No need, Cooper,” snapped Ms. Putnam. Unbeknownst to her, Cooper and several other students in her class were part of an organisation operating under her very nose; one consisting of people who could control what happens in dreams, and one that had saved the population twice. The members of this organisation also knew what would happen to someone, especially one of their team, if they woke up during a particularly intense dream.

“But Miss,” he added unhelpfully, turning around to face her

“I said, no need!” said Ms. Putnam furiously. “Logan, I’m asking you again to get up. You have done this repeatedly over the last few weeks.”

Cooper wasn’t the only one concerned, though. Mateo, who had stopped absentmindedly doodling on the corner of his page, was now staring thoughtfully at Logan, trying to decipher his expression. A few words ahead, a girl named Zoey was listening, alert, to everything being said.

Meanwhile, Logan was darting behind a large navy blue and indigo cactus in the Cyber Realm, hefting up a handheld laser piston of the same colour.

“Missed!” he laughed, poking his head out and looking at a girl in a wheelchair. Her golden-blonde, shoulder length hair glistened in the technicoloured light, the lone silver streak of hair she’d been born with tucked behind her ear. She grinned, wheeling around so she could see the back of Logan’s head.

PEW

She had aimed her piston at his messy black hair, but the laser hit a pair of towering turquoise blocks instead.

“Zat vosn’t fair!” she demanded indignantly, her accented voice ricocheting off several other cacti.

“Oh, c’mon, Astrid, you know that was totally-”

There was a shimmering cloud of sand where Logan had just been, and Astrid rolled her eyes in a resigned manner.

“Zis is ze fourth time zis veek!” she sighed, pushing her wheelchair forwards. “He should stop sleeping during his classes.”

But it was with a tinge of amusement that she shot a player to her right.

Back in the waking world, Logan awoke with a jerk.

“Huh? Whozere?” he said sleepily, making a sort of snorting noise. Ms. Putnam curled her bottom lip disapprovingly. Logan lifted his head, squinting through bleary eyes at his maths teacher. “You’re not Astrid…”

Numerous pupils sniggered, making Ms. Putnam curl her lip further and her eye twitch. She strode over to her desk, pushing her glasses further up her wrinkled nose. “I’m sorry, Logan, but perhaps two more detentions will set you straight. No excuses, I have had enough,” she said curtly.

This seemed to bring Logan to his senses, and his tired eyes flew open immediately.

“But- but, Miss, my mom said I had to get home by four!” he spluttered, waving his arms in the air frantically.

“I don’t care, Logan,” sniffed Ms. Putnam, poring over some test papers. “I am on the brink of losing my sanity, and your mom is the last thing on my mind.”

The class burst into gales of raucous laughter. Cooper turned around to face Logan, saying in between snickers, “I think you just got owned, bro.”

Mateo was also suppressing fits of mirth, and even Zoey, with her seemingly frigid demeanour, looked entertained.

After what felt like aeons to Logan, the tinny clanging of the bell rang through the corridors and students began to crowd the halls. Logan stumped out of the door, groaning.

 

“I can’t believe I got roasted by Ms. Putnam and got two detentions,” he whined, dragging his feet along the floor. Cooper nodded sympathetically, and started to explain how unfair the situation was according to the rights of the average student. Mateo, however, wasn’t really in the mood for one of Cooper’s essays, and felt his mind stray to thoughts of last night’s dream.

He, Zoey, Logan, Astrid, Cooper and Izzie had planned an excursion to the fairytale realm when they caught sight of a rogue raven. They had done their best to prevent it from stealing any memories; they were quite sure that it had once belonged to the Never Witch. Unfortunately, ut had swooped down on an unwary dreamer, snatching a misty ball from the depths of their mind. Mateo pushed lingering reminders of how close the Never Witch had been to succeeding in reducing the dream world to nothing away. Instead, he focused on how well the team had handled the raven.

He reminisced satisfactorily on how his sister Izzie, after several fruitless attempts, managed to dreamcraft a lasso and stopped the raven from flying upwards. He also remembered how Astrid had blocked its path with a giant dreamcrafted golden bird of her own; how Cooper hit it from behind with the Wacky Tracky so that they could trace its path back to the Grim Realm; and (Mateo almost laughed at the thought) how Logan made throaty bird noises to distract it.

A dazed look passed over Mateo’s face when his train of thought wandered to Zoey and how she had skilfully shot an arrow through the crystalline memory, freeing it. He was dimly aware that he was turning a corner, that there was a figure approaching them, but his mind was too occupied to pay it much attention; his thoughts were on Zoey, how cold she always seemed to get, and whether she would give back the coat she borrowed from him, and-

“Hey broseph,” called Izzie’s voice from what seemed like miles away. “What’s up with you?”

Mateo blinked, shaking his head, and the hazy image of his younger sister’s face swam into view. Logan, however, turned an expression of pure incredulity on him.

“Dude, what?!” he exclaimed, seething. “I’ve been trying to wake you up-”

“I believe the correct term is ‘get you out of your reverie’,” interrupted Cooper, to looks of general listlessness. “What?” he added.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, totally relevant,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last five minutes, making sure you don’t crash into the damn wall, and you snap out of it now?!” he rambled, gesturing frantically.

“Wh- Oh. Uh, sorry…” muttered Mateo, rubbing the back of his head and going red in embarrassment. Just as he did so, though, did a new thought form in his head. “Wait, where’s Zoey?”

“She left ages ago,” replied Cooper, blinking.

“Oh I see,” said Logan as he grinned smugly at Mateo. “You were daydreaming about Zoey.”

“Huh? No!” Mateo denied desperately, his voice cracking. The others shared glances at his unconvincing reply, before Izzie tactfully decided to change the subject.

“So, um… how was Math class..?” she asked in what she evidently considered to be a casual tone.

Cooper snorted. “Great, actually. Guess what, we saw Logan get roasted by Ms. Putnam! Well, technically it wasn’t a roast per se, but-”

“Oh my gosh!” Izzie squealed, in her usual innocent and infectious way. “That is the most hilarious thing I’ve heard all day!”

“Hey, when I gave you permission to tell her, I DID NOT mean it like that!”

“Since when did we need your permission to tell people stuff?” said Mateo coolly, still a little stung by Logan’s teasing.

“Since always! You guys just never bothered to follow the rules. Besides, after someone ,” Logan glared pointedly at Izzie, who gave a guilty grimace, “let slip in front of Astrid that I don’t know how to tie my shoelaces, I implemented a new policy,” he huffed, folding his arms. You know, I have a right mind to-”

But they were all saved from finding out exactly what Logan wanted to do by Mr. Oz., their science teacher and secret agent of the Night Bureau, hobbling out of the nearest classroom.

“Oh, it’s you guys. I thought it was Dallas again- he keeps trying to sell me socks! But enough of that, I’ve got some important things to tell you.”

He held the door open, and everyone but Logan (who was scowling) walked in with expressions of mild curiosity, taking seats on windowsills, desks and chairs.

Mateo carefully slipped his bag off his shoulder and unzipped it, plunging his hand inside and withdrawing a green blob that resembled a rather cute octopus from its folds. It was making light purring sounds with its black oval eyes now peacefully shut. Z-Blob endured much more trials than the rest of the group (though the others had their fair share), even saving their lives multiple times, so Mateo thought it was only fair to let him have a rest. However, Z-Blob had been asleep for most of the week, and it was with a rising feeling of worry that Mateo gingerly placed him on the table.

“Alright,” said Mr. Oz., shifting a stack of toppling folders just as Mateo sat down. “It’s bad news, gang.”

The sudden sound of slurping diverted their attention, and they all whipped around to face the source of the noise.

“What? Can’t I drink a soda?”

Zoey was leaning against a precarious-looking bookshelf, looking somewhat disgruntled at all the perplexed stares directed at her.

“How did you even get in here?” demanded Mr. Oz., alarmed at Zoey yet again managing to apparently teleport her way in without notice.

“Delivery,” she shrugged, nodding at a brown paper bag on his desk that was obscured by several files.

“That doesn’t answer- oh, forget it,” he grumbled, and the others privately agreed. “Anyways, I just got the news that you all need to be at Castle Nocturnia tonight, preferably before 10P.M.”

“Why? I don’t think there are any more things we need to take care of,” piped up Izzie from her spot on the floor.

“Firstly, Isabelle, get off the floor,” said Mr. Oz. exasperatedly. “Secondly, I… can’t actually tell you.”

“C’mon, Mr. O., we can keep a secret,” said Logan nonchalantly, who was leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. “I’m sure it’s no big deal.”

“I wish I could, but I’m not allowed on Royce’s orders.” He uttered the word ‘Royce’ with bitter disdain, a remnant of the weeks that they’d been trapped in the crystal walls of the Never Witch’s Doom-Dome. Being stuck with the person you resented most, thought Mr. Oz., staring fixedly at a sunshine-yellow folder, was an incredibly unpleasant experience.

“Can’t you give us a hint?” suggested Cooper hopefully.

Mateo gave a couple of eager nods. “Yeah, I think that’ll be fine.”

But Mr. Oz. shook his head grimly. “No can do. Last night, Strick set a tracker on me and all the other agents in the vicinity so we don’t tell our trainees what Royce has planned. And no, it’s unfortunately completely different from the ones she put on you guys last time, so we can’t dismantle it,” he frowned, to an extremely disappointed Cooper. “Look, you all forget that Royce and Strick combined can shut us down faster than Zoey can finish a soda.”

Zoey took another loud sip of her drink.

Izzie sighed, clambering up off the floor and dusting herself off. “Well thanks anyways Mr. Oz..” She gestured towards everyone else, who followed suit. The door closed quietly in their wake as they filed out of the room.

“Well, that was weird,” began Mateo, laying Z-Blob down into his bag.

The rest of the group made humming noises in agreement whilst Logan nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, he at least tries to tell us-”

CLICK

The classroom door burst open; Cooper and Izzie had a split second to jump out of the way to avoid being flattened.

“Can you please stop doing that?!”

Mr. Oz. was unceremoniously shoving Zoey and her now empty soda out of the door, grumbling “almost gave me a heart attack” under his breath. He then slammed the door behind him, with such force that the soda cup flew out of Zoey’s hand onto the floor.

“Dang, I just wanted a tip for delivering his lunch,” she winced, watching Mateo attempt to pick up the cup and attempt to chuck it into the nearest bin. To his dismay, it just bounced off the metal rim and hit Cooper squarely on the nose.

“Watch where you’re throwing that thing!” said Cooper angrily, scrunching up his nose in pain.

Logan scoffed. “Here, let me show you how the pros do it.”

Everything seemed to go in slow motion after that, as if being replayed on an old, weatherbeaten film reel.

Logan’s trainer had hardly touched the creased paper cup before it was spinning wildly through the air, spraying flecks of grape soda over every inch of dry material; the lid skidding to the floor and making a high-pitched squeaking sound; the straw soaring out of the open window just above the bin, and the cup knocking into Coach Jeffreys’ head. It bounded off of the can of Rad Radioactive in his hand, spilling the contents all over his pristine new phone before laying limp and sodden at his feet, devoid of any life that it had once shown.

Coach Jeffreys turned to them, breathing heavily through his nose and quivering with rage.

“Who kicked this?” he breathed, his voice dangerously quiet.

Nobody dared to move. Logan was frozen with his foot hanging in the air, unable to look at everyone else’s terrified faces. It was him who had kicked a football and broken the Coach’s old phone, so how was he supposed to own up to this now? He certainly did not want to get punished again. The memories of cleaning the school toilets last time was still fresh in his mind; he didn’t want to relive that nightmare either, he thought, his mouth experiencing the peculiar sensation of being glued shut.

“I said, WHO KICKED THIS?!” bellowed Coach Jeffreys, crushing what was left of the cup with his free hand and gnashing his teeth. The drenched phone crackled ominously with electricity in his other hand.

“AH!”

Cooper ducked with his hands over his head, narrowly missing being hit by a swarm of shocking blue sparks. Strangely, the Coach seemed unfazed by this abrupt attack, nor did he appear to be perturbed by the sparks travelling further and further down his arm.

“What’s happening?” asked Izzie, backing away fearfully.

There wasn’t an answer, as they were all staring at the gruesome form in front of them with terror. Their P.E. teacher was almost unrecognisable. The cords of electricity entwining him were fading to a dull grey, his every feature enlargening with a grotesque finality while they hardened like cement. He snapped his neck towards them and focused his gaze..

Logan unstuck his throat. “Run!” he yelled, sprinting through the corridor, the others barely keeping up.

“THIS IS AGAINST SCHOOL RULES, YOU STOP RIGHT NOW!”

Coach Jeffreys’ thundering, stony voice echoed against the walls, and Mateo wondered how something he had previously thought so firm could suddenly appear so brittle. Cooper hysterically swat at the oversized, rocky hand groping inches away from his hair.

“Guys? I think we’re being followed!”

“Yeah, we can see!” shouted Izzie over the Coach’s ragged panting.

“Where do we go?” panicked Zoey, grabbing Mateo’s arm and yanking him out of the Coach’s reach. “Mr. Oz.’s other classroom or the Observatory?”

“Wait, Mr. Oz. has another classroom?” blinked Logan, momentarily slowing down.

“Did you guys ever use your brains? Who do you think runs the Engineering Club?”

“Oh. Yeah, I can totally find where that is,” said Logan confidently, picking up speed again before anyone could object. “This way!”

They turned a left, dodging the paintings being flung violently at their heads.

“Uh… or is it that way?” he frowned, glancing behind him.

“Logan, don’t you think that I should lead, since I actually know where to go?” said Zoey, rolling her eyes as they scrambled up a staircase.

“Nah, I got this. And how do you know where it is? You don’t do engineering, that’s, like, Cooper’s thing.”

“She delivered us lunch while I helped Cooper brainstorm ideas for the C-Rex! Well, I didn’t really help, I was just there for the flan,” said Izzie, bounding up the steps two at a time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Iz, that Pickle-Pelletor you came up with was pretty sweet,” said Cooper, moving a little to let Zoey hurry past. “And the pickles being a compact grenade? Genius!”

“Guys, can we please talk later? There’s a giant statue thingy tailing us!” begged Mateo, jerking his thumb towards the sounds of rapidly approaching clatter not far off.

“Hey!” protested Logan as Zoey swiftly overtook him. “I thought I was leading!”

“Too bad,” said Zoey, reaching the top of the stairs and dashing along yet another corridor.

The gang tore after her, bursting through what to them felt like an endless tunnel of doors and hallways and rickety flights of steps until they finally stumbled upon a dead-ended corridor with only two rooms, one of which was labelled ‘Staff Room’.

“I think… I think we lost him,” gasped Mateo, leaning against the cool metal door.

Izzie, on the other hand, tutted, shaking her head.

“I don’t. They always say that in the movies, and then, bam! The enemy just pops out from-”

“Nevermind that,” wheezed Zoey, who was bent double. “There’s a giant gargoyle that could put the Nightmare King to shame in the fricking waking world, the school is somehow deserted, and-”

“And the walls are glitching?” said Cooper, bewildered and attempting to stifle the sound of his hyperventilating-like breathing.

“And that,” finished Zoey, seemingly regaining most of her breath.

“Okay, uh, I was thinking it might’ve been a sort of rift or something back there,” said Mateo, trying to make sense of the situation without losing his head.

“You can’t trap rifts, or any pathways between the dream world and waking world,” said Cooper, exhaling more slowly now. “Wait, hear me out on this,” started Logan enthusiastically, “what if Coach Jeffreys is like Z-Blob and can cross over?”

…

“Hey, it’s a completely solid theory,” he sulked, avoiding their exasperated looks.

“Logan, I used years worth of concentrated creativity and imagination to dreamcraft Z-Blob. He can only cross over because he’s an original, fully-fleshed out idea with way more depth than the average dreamcrafted creature, or at least I think that’s what Mr. Oz. said,” squinted Mateo.

“Wow, Teo, who knew you could pay that much attention to Mr. Oz.’s lectures?” said Izzie, raising her eyebrows.

“Maybe I asked Cooper to lend me his notes, but that’s not the point,” continued Mateo hastily. “The point is, Coach Jeffreys doesn’t have any depth, so-”

THUD

Half of the staircase crashed to the floor below; the Coach had evidently caught up to them.

“I think he might have heard you,” said Zoey sarcastically, taking several steps backwards.

Coach Jeffreys pounded his stone fists against the underside of what remained of the staircase, making the ground shake brutally.

“Quick, in here!” shouted Logan, gesturing to the door that bore the sign reading ‘Engineering Club’.

POUND

They all crowded around the door impatiently, their gazes flickering between the stairs and Logan fumbling with the handle.

“Oh, what’s taking so long? Hurry up,” implored Izzie, bouncing agitatedly on the balls of her feet.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, NO!” muttered Logan, his voice rising to a frantic yell. He rattled the doorknob hectically. “It’s locked!”

“So you’re telling me we’re all going to die here?!” said Zoey furiously through gritted teeth.

CRASH

Mateo rushed to the other door, stumbling over his feet on the heavily quaking floor, tugging at the handle in vain.

“Staff room’s also locked!” he called, glancing around for any other means of escaping.

“Wait!” exclaimed Cooper, slinging off his bag and rummaging through it. “I think I can pick the lock, I just need my screwdriver.”

BANG

“I told you he would come back,” said Izzie restlessly, pacing back and forth between the two rooms with her hands clasped behind her. “I told you.”

“We get it, we get it,” said Zoey tetchily over the monster’s clamour  and Logan banging on the door.

Mateo was still scanning the area fervently, even though he knew that there would be nothing except for a few manic, glitching pixels. Suddenly, he caught sight of a slowly blinking red pixel on the far right that looked as though it was on a block of… raised up wall? He was sure that whenever Zoey asked him to help her on her delivery rounds, the block hadn’t been there. There was a slight chance it could have, since he didn’t come often, but all the same…

POUND

He regained his balance, scooting carefully towards the end of the corridor. The block, upon closer inspection, sported a pair of rusted hinges.

“Come on, Coop, the stairs won’t hold up for long,” said Logan, clutching the doorknob tightly. “Coach’s probably trapped under all the destroyed stuff down there, but he could break out any minute now!”

“I’m on it, alright? I just can’t seem to find my… screwdriver…” said Cooper, his voice trailing off feebly into nothing.

“What do you mean?” said Logan hotly.

“I um… I kinda left my screwdriver in the Engineering room,” said Cooper in a small voice.

“You have got to be kidding me!” burst out Zoey and Izzie in unison as Mateo managed to prise off a chunk of plaster. He let in a sharp intake of breath. There, glinting a dull silver and cluttered with bits of wall, sat a worn, chipped vent.

“Look, don’t panic,” said Cooper hurriedly, cutting across the others before they could say anything. “If someone could lend me something that’s thin and sharp, I might be able to do it.”

Mateo dusted off his hands, fishing a bronze-coloured ballpoint pen from inside his pocket. He always had one on him in case he needed to quickly sketch down a concept for one of his comics. “I have one, but I don’t think you’ll need it because-”

“Thank you!” sighed Cooper, snatching the pen and elbowing Logan out of the way.

“Not cool dude!” said Logan angrily, rubbing his arm.

“Sorry!”

All of them except Mateo waited around the door once more, eyeing Cooper apprehensively.

“Uh, guys?” said Mateo tentatively, rubbing the back of his neck.

There was no answer; the others were too engrossed in watching Cooper attempt to pick the lock with the pen and one of Izzie’s hairpins.

“Guys? GUYS!” he said frustratedly, waving his arms in the air as Logan had done earlier.

Still no answer.

Desperate to catch the others’ attention, he cleared his throat, though it was louder than he meant to. Zoey gave him a quizzical look.

“Uh, do you want me to…  pat your back, or something? I’m pretty sure that’s what you do when people choke,” she said, squinting and clearly not noticing everyone else trying not to laugh.

“No!” said Mateo defiantly. “I was clearing my throat, not choking .”

Zoey rolled her eyes, glancing at Izzie, Logan and Cooper attempting to smother their laughter, but she couldn’t help the corner of her mouth twitch slightly.

CRACK

BLAM

The top half of the staircase crumbled to pieces, but three jagged, rocky fingers scraped the floorboards where the steps had once been.

“Ah! Coop, please hurry up!” said Izzie ardently.

“I’m trying, I’m- hey!”

Izzie had wrenched the pen out of his grasp, just as two looming, orb-like chrome eyes emerged above the surface.

“Take this you big turkey!” she hollered, throwing the pen like a javelin at Coach Jeffreys’ clenched fist.

The Coach ignored the sharp tip of the pen deflecting off him and slammed his other hand down onto the brittle wood. Logan covered his head: the monster was still clutching the mutated, spark-spitting phone.

“Looks like I’m not as good at throwing knives as I am in the dream world,” said Izzie sheepishly, stepping aside to let Zoey pick up the pen.

Zoey bared her teeth, bracing herself. The pen shot out of her hand, and there was a shatter of glass when the copper-tinted arrow pierced, bullseye, through the phone.

Cords of electricity once again seemed to fuse with the Coach’s body. He was hurled once, twice, three times in the air, shrinking with convulsive twitches and occasionally screeching with agony, but nobody was paying it any attention.

Mateo managed to lever the vent door open after much effort, the rusted hinges finally giving way. They all scrabbled through, the metal panes surrounding them starting to glitch viciously until they finally pulled through without a moment to spare.

“Ugh… what on earth was that about?” breathed Zoey, slumping down the side of the building.

“I don’t know. Heck, I didn’t even know about this part of the school grounds,” shrugged Cooper, wiping the sweat off his face and patting the patch of grass they’d landed on.

“Well, at least I don’t have to do my detentions!” said Logan brightly. “What? Don’t make that face at me!”

Mateo rolled his eyes, setting his backpack next to his feet.

“Seriously, Logan, is that all you’re worried about right now?” asked Izzie wearily, while the rest of the group laughed.

Z-Blob tossed and turned in his sleep. Although his eyes were still peacefully shut, he could see a horde of rabid dreamers from his hiding place in the Cyber Realm.

Chapter 2: Glitches and Gashes

Notes:

I'm SO SORRY for the long wait guys, but here it finally is! I'm proud of this one, and I hope the *squints*... five people who enjoyed this work are still around? It's short, I know, but I'm at least happy I accomplished something.

Static.

 

Then a bright burst of oversaturated bright light.

 

Dimly burning stars hung limply to their crucifixes of pasted cloud, splintering where the shards of glassy rock skewered through their middles.

 

As they flickered and sputtered, molten gold liquid frothed and oozed from their cracks, cascading over their bottom halves into the pipes below.

 

Rows upon rows of plant-like devices lined the foot of the pipes, their trail only coming to a halt when the branchlike pipes interlocked at the centre to power a holographic embossed screen.

 

Two pairs of eyes were focused on the screen. One pair darkened with annoyance. It was two seconds before a resounding crack shook the walls as a fist connected with stone.

 

The man breathed heavily, rounding on his companion and jabbing a furious finger at the contents before them.

 

“You- why did you let them go?! I could have ended those pests right there and then, and you -”

 

“I spared them. It's strange how you are so insightful about the fates I inflict upon others, but so oblivious to the fact that I could easily cause you the same damage, if I so wished,” mused the hybrid speaking, the air around him fizzling with an iridescent orange glow. Though his tone was light and conversational, it had bleeding hints of menace that made his apprentice involuntarily flinch. It was then that he noticed that the hybrid had latched a clawed, barely substantial hand onto his shoulder like a vice.

 

“So…” started the apprentice after a few painfully awkward moments, forcing a laugh to accompany his overly bright tone. His eyes glanced down to his shoulder, and he had to physically restrain himself from squirming. “What's the point of doing all this if you won't gain anything? It's not like-”

 

The hybrid held up his other hand to silence him, his eyes betraying only a sliver of contempt. His left eye narrowed underneath its modified lens whilst the screen of his mask glitched ever so slightly next to his organic eye. “Do not become impatient, Claudius. What we have here is a controlled experiment, though it is to be seen whether it stays that way. You forget that I know what you do not,” stated the hybrid simply, waving a withered hand to the many devices sown in the soil ahead. “Soon, the Asleep will taste the fruits of my garden. And soon, they will come to realise that life is just a dream.”

 

               ★★★★

 

Static.

 

That was all that clouded Mateo's vision as he flailed around aimlessly.

 

The world around him was infested with pixels, spinning around him in a taunting whirlwind of colourless noise.

 

His body felt as if it was being forced through an extremely tight rubber tube and as if it was made of stale air all at once, his arms and legs occasionally moving as though underwater.

 

His brain was rattled and shaken with the exhaustion of having to see sound; to hear nothing but everything simultaneously; to fight the stupid static that was threatening to break in and distort his remaining sane braincell; when suddenly, slowly, something clicked amongst the hazy blanket of drowsiness draped over his conscious.

Izzie.

Where was she? Mateo, with much effort, turned his head to scan the many miles of static around him, but she wasn’t visible. What if she wasn’t even here? No, don’t think of that. He opened his mouth in an attempt to call out for her, but immediately was hit with a rush of white noise barrelling into his lungs, his windpipe, twisting sickeningly at his heart until he had to force his mouth shut as a partially functional attempt to dispel it. However, he’d mustered so much energy that he managed to clamp down too hard, and he felt the rusty, sharp tang of metal hit his tongue, slipping over his palate against his will.

Dream blood is extremely uncommon amongst the average dreamer’s nights. Not to be confused with dreams about blood, of course. Usually, the force applied to acquire the injury was enough to shock the person into the awakened state. The jarring, peculiar taste of raw venison meshed with the taste of daytime blood was in itself a particularly jolting experience for most.

In spite of this, Mateo was not asleep, he realised. His brain had finally chosen to remind him of his hourglass (how could he have forgotten about that?!) but upon reaching for it with a surge of exhilarated adrenaline, his fingers groped around at a blank square of staticky nothingness.

Fear crushed his insides. If he wasn’t dreaming then where the hell was he? Where was everyone else? At least his brain had the decency to remind him of everyone else. Where was Zoey? Or Cooper, or Logan? He stared blankly ahead as he fell, or rather, glided , in such a way that felt both nauseatingly fast and much too slow, every one of his senses throbbing with panic and the sheer exertion to try and somehow get his vocal cords to work; something, anything that was proof he was still alive even though he didn’t know how or when or why he got here, when an abrupt sense of fatigue overwhelmed every fibre of his being, and he landed with a muffled flump .

He lay there for some time, choking down air in generous gulps before he was willing to struggle to get his muscles to cooperate. He had to squeeze all the energy he had left to roll over on the expanse of soft dirt he’d landed on, but before he could relish in his victory, his ears were graced with obnoxiously loud bellowing, screaming, yelling and the sound of someone grunting an impressively long stream of uninterrupted cursing.

Notes:

What could have happened to the gang, I wonder? I know, I know, this is SHORT as hell, and I'm sorry that my ADHD ass can't just commit to this. Y'all have waited so longggg. Also, I'm putting this on the backburner because I have another fic I'm working on for another fandom, but I promise I'm not abandoning it!! Also, HERE IS MY FUCKING PROOF THAT I DID NOT USE AI, YOU CAN SHUT UP NOW.

 

Notes:

This took soooo many drafts. Unfortunately, the next chapter will be a while, but I promise it'll be good! It will be shorter though so I can be more consistent with posting.

The choking scene and Zoey borrowing Mateo's coat was inspired by What Happens at the Garcia House, Stays at the Garcia House.

Here's some proof for all the little parroters out there who know me in real life and think my work is AI:

Rough draft:

Final manuscript: