Who: Charlie and Annie What: A dream encounter Where: Dreamland When: Before Christmas some time. Warnings: Charlie's a creeper. Annie's an evil child.
Charlie hadn’t forgotten his threats, and he fully intended on taking the mutilation and torture he inflicted as Night Terror to the next level - but he wasn’t some mindless killing machine. No, there were too many of those in the world, who butchered and slaughtered messily until they were got and locked up in a nice little cell. He wasn’t crazy; in fact, he was very much sane, and that set him apart. A human being who recognized that what they did was horribly wrong and inhumane yet did it anyway, for the sheer pleasure of it... now that was terrifying. Nothing could make him stop because he didn’t give a damn about guilt or mercy. With Christmas coming up and all the little kiddies growing excited at the arrival of Santa Claus, well, he got an idea. Wouldn’t it be terrible for a couple terrible murders to pop up right around Christmastime?
So he waited and he planned, continuing to stalk his victims as he narrowed the list down while making sure that the number of children who awoke terrified and bleeding in the morning steadily increased. Let the masks have a hint of a warning that he was leading up to his grand finale.
Tonight had been a good night so far, and he’d just left the nightmare of a little girl whose blond hair was now nearly entirely coppery red due to the number of cuts he’d sliced open on her scalp. Moving between dreams was like going from one room to another for him, although the ‘doors’ were metaphorical and really just a suitable way to describe what the dreamscape looked like to him. He felt this new dream shift to allow him in before settling into what it had been before, recognizing his power and allowing him easy access. From here it would be easy to manipulate it into a nightmare of his choosing, and as the dreamer’s fear grew so would his power.
But first, Charlie took a look around. It was always good to get an idea of what - and who - he had to work with.
Joanne was in a blank field of snow. There were no trees, no houses, just her in a thick red coat standing in the center staring at nothing really. She was trying to think of what she wanted. It fluctuated here and there. A gingerbread house, no a house that looked like a gingerbread house came up before her. She went up the cookie looking steps and opened the door with the candy cane striped handle.
This, she decided, would do nicely. The inside of the cottage was warm and looked much like any child's bedroom, except there was something wrong with all the toys. They all seemed to be missing something, whether it be something as small as a button or something as significant as a limb. Some had the stuffing pouring out of them, and others were hung awkwardly against the wall barely by nails. The only untouched, perfectly pristine plaything in the entire room was the teddy bear that sat back against the pillow on her bed.
Sitting down at her little table, she pulled a doll off the wall and placed it in front of her on the mat. Rolling it onto it's face, she pulled a small box out of the drawer beside her. Somehow the bear that had been on the bed had shifted its location to sit on the stool beside her. Her small hands opened the box, revealing some colored threads and needles. "She's all broken, isn't she?" Her voice was sing-songy as she spoke to the bear. "We can fix her up and no one will ever know something was wrong."
The gingerbread house made him smile, although it was far from a kind one. In all his nightmares Charlie appeared as a generally person-shaped figure, though he was more like a solid shadow to ensure that his features went unseen. The only thing that did stand out in any real clarity was the bladed glove on his right hand, but that would come later - there was no rush, after all, to kill the girl in the red coat. He could have his fun first. There was no need to hide behind anything, not when he controlled what surrounded him and could bend it to his will, so he simply watched her make her way through the snow and enter the cottage. He followed soon after, leaving no tracks behind in the snow and making no noise as he climbed the cookie steps. Unlike the girl he didn’t need to open the door, and found himself inside the cottage without even needing to touch the door handle.
For the moment he was a silent observer, his gaze sweeping over the broken toys with a small smirk tugging at his lips. It was a fairly normal dream except for the strange state of the toys, but that could easily be fixed. With a wave of his gloved hand he started off small, causing four long rips to appear on the doll - but instead of stuffing it was scarlet blood that gushed forward instead. Until his power grew on her fear, it wasn’t wise to use it up too quickly.
The little girl's hands twitched away from the doll the moment the rips were seen and heard. She hadn't heard him enter, but this was definitely something wrong, something different. She could feel it. It was when the blood came out that she really started to frown. Her head jerked up to the bear and she frowned up at him pointedly. "We have to fix her so no one knows anything was wrong," she chastised him. "Now there's blood everywhere," she said reaching out to pet it's head. "Now make the bad man go away. We don't have time for that."
She obviously hadn't registered that someone else was in her dream, not properly yet. She hadn't even given this shadow man a second glance, but his blades did catch the candle light. That caused her head to turn slowly and observe him. Teddy hadn't made him go away, and she couldn't either. That was a problem. Usually when she wanted something to happen it happened. This she supposed, was supposed to be a nightmare.
The shape was much taller than herself, and he looked dangerous. They teddy automatically disappeared as she looked up at him with a cat-like curiosity. "You are very rude," she said addressing him. "You should not ruin other people's toys." Her small hands were placed on the white fabric across her knees. She neither looked or felt scared. "Are you supposed to be Night Terror?" If the little girl looked anything, it was completely unimpressed.
That first faint strain of fear she should have been exuding never came. There wasn’t even a hint of alarm or dread, nothing aside from annoyance concerning the doll’s current state. Every kid he’d ever met would have screamed at the sight of one of their toys gushing blood, so what the hell was up with this one? Charlie was slightly surprised when she told her bear to make the ‘bad man’ go away, but overall he wasn’t unnerved. So the little brat was more observant and had thicker skin than most did. He could work with that. Since he’d been spotted anyway, he strolled forward, away from the door and closer to where the girl sat with her bloody doll. Her attempts to get rid of him were obvious but clearly unsuccessful, since he still stood exactly where he was with a barely visible grin curling up the corners of his lips.
“I do a lot of things I shouldn’t,” he said wryly, looking down at her with his head cocked to the side. “I’m Night Terror, the one and only.” Even if she wasn’t afraid (yet, there was always that yet) the fact that she’d heard of him was a good start. It meant word about him was definitely spreading. “If you know who I am, little one, then you should know what I do to innocent young things like yourself.” Charlie brushed the tip of one blade against her cheek. “Are you going to make it easy for me?”
The girl's frown didn't deepen. She only sat very still, almost doll-like in her seat. She continued to regard with him with the same curious air as he moved closer to her, but she didn't stir, nor move away. Instead, she allowed him to approach as close as he liked.
The feel of his blade against her cheek, coupled with his words only made her blink. She was, if anything, clearly unimpressed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Terror," she said politely. That was when the edges of her lips curled up into a smile. The smile was all wrong though. It wasn't the pure smile of a happy child. She wasn't elated to see him like someone had given her a new toy. No, it didn't quite reach her eyes properly. It wasn't a forced or nervous smile either, simply polite.
She moved her head away from the blade if only to regard it more closely. It was very close to her face and she thought about trying to touch it. It looked solid enough. "I think you've made a mistake," she said giving him an apologetic look. "The only innocents you'll find here are the ones I'm trying to fix, but no matter how many pretty threads and patches you try to use, they'll never look the same," she said with a sigh. It wasn't resigned. It was just the truth.
"If you're trying to scare me, with the shadow thing and the 'Oooh, look at my scary scissorhands bit, it's not going to work," she said absently. "Everyone already knows you get your power from fear thanks to that Cipher person, not that I would've been afraid of you anyway. Maybe you should try a different more personal approach?" She'd just outed herself as a creation, but she hardly cared.
Soon they were sitting at a table with a tea set. She hadn’t really thought about it, but it was rude not to offer him something if he were in her home. She didn’t acknowledge the change. It felt fluid and normal. She simply poured him a cup as well as one for herself.
His first clue that something wasn’t right came when she not only didn’t pull away from his blade, but didn’t flinch or feel even the slightest flicker of fear. No one, not even the teenagers, were ever this calm and composed in his presence - and they sure as hell didn’t call him ‘Mr. Terror’ or tell him it was a pleasure to meet him. What the fuck was wrong with this kid? Maybe she had some kind of mental defect. The problem with that theory, though, was the little girl’s smile. It wasn’t the smile of a girl who was entirely oblivious to danger, or even one that was forced. It was just... empty. Like he was boring her. Charlie frowned in annoyance, but managed to keep his anger in check for the time being.
He dropped his gaze to the doll and then to the other toys in their various states of disrepair, but this strange kid still didn’t make any more sense. “If you’re not an innocent, girlie, then what are you?” All children were innocent. It was a fucking fact of life that they didn’t know anything and wandered around without any real idea of what the world was like. Even the ones who grew up in shitty homes had their innocence - they just lost it faster.
Charlie stared at her in disbelief, actually silenced for a good minute. What kind of fucking kid read the paper, and besides that, how could she actually make herself not afraid? Of course parents would tell their kids not to be afraid of the boogeyman or whatever the monster of the week was, but that never worked. They couldn’t control their fear like that. “You’re not afraid,” he growled, ignoring the fact that he was just repeating what she’d said. “I can feel fear, and there’s none in you. Why?” Clearly this must have been related to an ability she had or something. He couldn’t do anything if she felt no fear. This couldn’t be a normal kid, he knew that much, especially when she poured him a cup of tea. Night Terror, the being that terrorized children everywhere and murderer of over twenty, was being offered a cup of tea in a fucking gingerbread house by a little girl.
This made no fucking sense at all.
"Just a girl," she said as if stating the sky were blue. Placing two sugars and a spot of cream in her tea, she let the sound of the spoon stirring against the bottom of the cup fill the silence. After she finished mixing it, she tapped it twice against the rim and placed it on the saucer. She did this as if she had all the time in the world to answer Charlie's question.
"Why should I be afraid?" she asked him, before pursing her lips to blow the steam off the top of her tea. She took a sip and seemed to genuinely enjoy the flavor. "Do you take sugar in your tea, Mr. Terror?" She placed her cup down and picked up a cube. "It might be easier for you to hold the cup without the claws." It was a brief interlude, and simply a suggestion if he wished to participate with her. She had a feeling that he didn't want to. He seemed very intent on her being afraid of him.
"You're the second person to ask me that in a month," she said with a smile. "I guess it's what you men do. So used to everyone being afraid of you because you're 'bad' people. You're not really bad, just different. You're needed. No one ever seems to appreciate what you do properly. Your gift is amazing," this time her smile was genuine and she looked like she fit the form of the child she'd taken. "Mine isn't anywhere near as flashy. You get instant gratification, don't you? Walk into a dream, scare someone, mutilate them, kill them. And no one can touch you, because nightmares end when the person wakes. A police officer can't pop into a dream and arrest you. If they catch you on the other side, what are they going to charge you with? Dream murder?"
The more she went along, the more dreamy her expression became. Her tone seemed to drift off as if she was imagining some great fantasy in her head. "You have so much fun, don't you?" She could have easily been mistaken for a fan.
Charlie wasn’t used to being given such evasive answers, and he didn’t like the way the girl acted like she had all the time in the world to consider his questions. Truthfully he couldn’t kill her, and he didn’t even know if he could cause any damage - not with her lack of fear - and he had a bad feeling she was very well aware of that. This one wasn’t stupid, not like most. He still doubted that she was even ‘just a girl’. He canted his head to the side at her question, growling in frustration. “Because I can kill you. I can hurt you.” This was, of course, ignoring the fact that his powers weren’t what they should have been at the moment. “When I kill, it’s slow. It’s painful. No one wants that, especially children.”
He was actually being asked if he took sugar in his tea. By a little girl, who was suggesting that it also might be hard if he had his glove on. This couldn’t fucking be real. “I’m more of a coffee person, kid.” He didn’t want any of her damn dream tea - he wanted to know what was wrong with her. There had to be some explanation. Someone like Kayla was different - she was a predator like himself, and she wasn’t a kid. Except no kid he’d ever met described what he did with such clear accuracy. No kid had ever told him his gift was ‘amazing’ - hell, most people in general never said anything like that. Kayla was the first. “You’re pretty perceptive for a little girl,” he said carefully, tapping a bladed finger against his chin. “I’m untouchable here, and no one knows who I really am in the waking world.” A slow, lazy grin spread across his face despite the circumstances. “You’re right, though. The police aren’t equipped to deal with someone like me, and the vigilantes...” He waved them off with a roll of his eyes. “Pathetic.”
For a moment her expression reminded him of something, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. “Yeah, I do.” He was still annoyed, but if he couldn’t hurt this one then he might as well find out what he could about what made her so different. “What’s your ability?”
The little girl giggled as he described why she should be afraid of him. It was almost the same thing Teddy said. The thought of it, brought the bear in her arms and she cuddled it affectionately as he continued to speak. When he said he was more of a coffee person, pursed her lips at the corner of her mouth. Coffee wasn't the proper drink at a tea party. Well, if tea wasn't his thing, then it meant more for her.
"I almost died once," she said quietly. "It's not that big of a deal. It hurt a lot, but everything hurts. Pain is a part of life." The bear had disappeared again and she now had a cup in her hands instead. She took another sip.
She was enjoying the way he reacted to her questions and statements. His voice was becoming increasingly terse and tinged with annoyance. It made her smile. She wondered what he looked like and who he was in the real world, what he did. The only thing she knew was from what she could tell, he was completely unapologetic. He enjoyed his work. He was also very tall.
"I make people kill themselves." It was a vague description, not exactly accurate. "It won't work on you, though. You like what you do too much." She picked up a cookie off the newly arranged tray between them. "And I like you," she said placing the cookie down and placing her hands in her lap. The table had disappeared and they were now sitting across each other in high backed chairs on either side of a large oak table. Her form was dwarfed. "I want to play with you."
Apparently his reasoning wasn’t sound enough, although he highly doubted anything he told this little girl would convince her to fear him. Besides, that wasn’t how he worked - listing a bunch of reasons supporting his terrifying image was boring, not frightening. Most of the ones who initially felt no fear didn’t understand who he was or what he could do, but once they got a little taste they straightened up soon enough. This girl, though, was well aware of what he did and still didn’t care. It would have been a lot less puzzling if she hadn’t been a kid, though. That was what he just couldn’t wrap his head around. “Ah. Near death experience.” Not that Charlie knew anything about that, but he recalled the memory from oh so long ago - the one where the person had died but apparently come back from the brink.
Suddenly, that annoying sense of familiarity clicked into place. One of the memories he’d gotten involved children, one in particular who watched one of the others fall down a well and simply laughed. He hadn’t quite made the connection yet, but for some reason that memory reminded him of this girl - even more so when she described what her ability was. “Very interesting,” he said thoughtfully. He wondered how exactly her ability worked - he liked what he did too much, so it wouldn’t work on him. Did that mean it would have worked n someone who killed and didn’t enjoy it? It was something he would have considered further had the dream not suddenly changed, and he found himself sitting behind an oak table.
Fuck, that was annoying. Charlie hated feeling powerless, but he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested by this point. “You do, do you? What do you want to play?”
The girl's face seem to light up when he asked her what she wanted to play. She clasped her hands together before her and looked exceptionally pleased. "I think I like you, Mr. Terror." The tone of her voice and the way that she worded things had been decidedly childish for most of their conversation. She liked that he saw her this way. This was what suited her. The pale dollish features and the little girl's clothing. Yes, she was feeling quite playful right now.
A digital picture frame appeared on the table and various children showed one after the other. It was a slideshow of little boys and girls in parks and playgrounds. Some of them might have been familiar to him, some of them might not have been. "The question is who do you want to play with first?"