Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > My Own Sins
“Well now,” Benzedrine began as he walked slowly around the bench upon which Patrick was seated, straining against whatever invisible force was holding him in place. Leaning over Patrick’s shoulder, Benzedrine’s fingers gripped the back of the bench. “Oh, please stop!” he snapped irritably.
“How are you doing this?” Patrick asked, refusing to stop trying to free himself.
Benzedrine sighed noisily and lowered himself stiffly, yet elegantly down onto the bench next to Patrick and began examining his nails.
“I had hoped that we could dispense with all of this and you would just help me kill him,” he grumbled, straightening his waistcoat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I did tell you about him, did I not?”
“I’m not gonna help you kill a guy just because…”
“Didn’t you hear me tell you what he’s going to do? Surely you realise this is no ordinary man, certainly not in the sense you understand.”
“I don’t know about him, but you’re sure as hell not ordinary!”
“Quite! I think you realise by now that this is not my world.” Benzedrine raised an eyebrow. “Am I right?”
“Yeah,” Patrick nodded solemnly. “But it seems different to hear it out loud.”
“Indeed,” he nodded indifferently. “And neither is Mr Sandman. So, if you help me kill him, you’re not killing anyone from your own world, are you? To all intent and purpose, he’s fictitious.”
“I thought you both were,” Patrick replied miserably as every attempt to free himself from Benzedrine’s hold failed.
“We exist in another reality, you just provided the link to allow us through,” came the surprisingly sympathetic reply.
“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Patrick finally gave in to exhaustion. “You have me pinned here, you’ve threatened me…”
“Threatened you!” Benzedrine stared wide-eyed at Patrick as if he had uttered a hurtful remark.
“Telling me that you can and will force me to do what you want! You don’t see that as threatening?” Patrick snapped at the surprise rebuttal.
Benzedrine’s expression melted into an unreadable smirk. “Well, maybe a little. But it’s only because I need to do this and I do need your help, I really do.”
“I want you to let me go,” Patrick insisted. “I won’t even listen to you if you keep me from moving like this.”
“All right!” Benzedrine snapped petulantly. “As a gesture of goodwill, I will let you move, but you will hear me out!”
“I told you, I don’t appreciate being threatened!” Patrick shouted back, determined to stand his ground, even though he doubted that Benzedrine would have let him walk away if he’d tried.
“Of course,” the brightly dressed image of himself sounded almost contrite.
“You were going to explain?” Patrick prompted, satisfied that they had reached some sort of compromise. The more he knew, the better his chances of deciding if Benzedrine was on the level and if not, perhaps he would gain some insight into how to escape him.
Benzedrine drew his lips into a thin frown and nodded.
“I’m from The Hills…”
“What Hills?”
“Are you going to let me tell this?”
“I will have questions!” Patrick snapped back, refusing to be intimidated.
“Yes…” Benzedrine growled. “Maybe they’re best left until after?”
Patrick nodded. There wasn’t much else he could do.
“My world is called Carousel. It’s not part of your world, as such, but it’s not entirely separate either. There are many districts, but mine is The Hills. I’m sure you’d like it, it’s bright, it’s cheerful and we revere celebrities.”
“I’m not a celebrity,” Patrick replied flatly.
“I’m afraid you are, whether you like it or not,” Benzedrine returned impatiently, before calming his voice to add: “But it would be different in The Hills, you can be yourself, whatever that really is.”
“Okay, skip the sales pitch,” Patrick gestured with his hand to keep the story moving. “Go on.”
“The Dream World exists adjacent to us, connected by a tunnel. Don’t be fooled by the name, it’s not all dreams believe me! It used to be once,” Benzedrine sighed reflectively. “We were connected by more than a tunnel once. Mr Sandman would weave the dreams and eventually they would become reality in The Hills. But then came the jealousy and the resentment. Mr Sandman stopped understanding that it was a two-part process. He grew bitter that when anyone’s dreams came true, they made no reference to his part in their success and happiness.”
“Reference? How?” Patrick asked.
Benzedrine fought back a frown and the urge to restate that questions should be left until the end. This particular question was leading onto the next part of his explanation anyway, so he let it slide.
“We have two celebrity magazines, both very, very different from each other.” Benzedrine allowed himself a slight smile. “They’re supposed to be rival magazines, but they’re actually run by the same man. You have to admire the man’s marketing techniques. People will buy one over the other almost in protest, all without realising that at the end of the day the money is going to the same man.”
“And you don’t question this man’s ethics?” Patrick asked bluntly.
Benzedrine frowned. “This man, you don’t question. Period.”
Patrick had suddenly so many more questions, but realised that the original story was in danger of derailing. Putting aside his curiosity for a while, Patrick urged Benzedrine to get back on track.
“So, Mr Sandman got angry?”
“You’re very astute, Patrick,” Benzedrine smiled appreciatively. “Yes, Mr Sandman got very angry. Sometimes he can be nothing but a spoiled brat, but this particular brat has power, a dangerous power for one so frequently immature.”
“So, what does he want from you?” Patrick asked to Benzedrine’s surprise.
“Want?” he asked guardedly.
“Yeah,” Patrick frowned as he asked what seemed to him to be an obvious question. “What does he want? Recognition? What?”
“I told you what he wants,” Benzedrine leaned back and looked away. “He wants to trap everyone in a permanent sleep state, strip them of all their dreams and desires and leave them with nothing but nightmares and fears.”
“Did you skip a bit?” Patrick asked calmly.
Benzedrine pouted. Behind his painted mask, it was easy to see he was angry as he fixed Patrick with a stern glare. Trying hard not to react to the fear the look instilled in him, Patrick returned the harsh gaze with one of his own.
“It seems a bit of an overreaction for a first response,” he explained.
“You clearly don’t know Mr Sandman,” Benzedrine gave a clipped reply.
Deciding to reserve judgement, Patrick rose to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Benzedrine placed a hand on his chest, the very action of doing so almost seem to drain Patrick of all energy. “You haven’t agreed to help yet.”
“I need to talk it over with the guys,” Patrick replied, buying time and finally thinking of a reason to be allowed to go to the studio.
Benzedrine gave a solemn nod. This was harder than he imagined it would be, but it was at least a step in the right direction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N - Please R&R! I have cookies for you all!
“How are you doing this?” Patrick asked, refusing to stop trying to free himself.
Benzedrine sighed noisily and lowered himself stiffly, yet elegantly down onto the bench next to Patrick and began examining his nails.
“I had hoped that we could dispense with all of this and you would just help me kill him,” he grumbled, straightening his waistcoat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I did tell you about him, did I not?”
“I’m not gonna help you kill a guy just because…”
“Didn’t you hear me tell you what he’s going to do? Surely you realise this is no ordinary man, certainly not in the sense you understand.”
“I don’t know about him, but you’re sure as hell not ordinary!”
“Quite! I think you realise by now that this is not my world.” Benzedrine raised an eyebrow. “Am I right?”
“Yeah,” Patrick nodded solemnly. “But it seems different to hear it out loud.”
“Indeed,” he nodded indifferently. “And neither is Mr Sandman. So, if you help me kill him, you’re not killing anyone from your own world, are you? To all intent and purpose, he’s fictitious.”
“I thought you both were,” Patrick replied miserably as every attempt to free himself from Benzedrine’s hold failed.
“We exist in another reality, you just provided the link to allow us through,” came the surprisingly sympathetic reply.
“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Patrick finally gave in to exhaustion. “You have me pinned here, you’ve threatened me…”
“Threatened you!” Benzedrine stared wide-eyed at Patrick as if he had uttered a hurtful remark.
“Telling me that you can and will force me to do what you want! You don’t see that as threatening?” Patrick snapped at the surprise rebuttal.
Benzedrine’s expression melted into an unreadable smirk. “Well, maybe a little. But it’s only because I need to do this and I do need your help, I really do.”
“I want you to let me go,” Patrick insisted. “I won’t even listen to you if you keep me from moving like this.”
“All right!” Benzedrine snapped petulantly. “As a gesture of goodwill, I will let you move, but you will hear me out!”
“I told you, I don’t appreciate being threatened!” Patrick shouted back, determined to stand his ground, even though he doubted that Benzedrine would have let him walk away if he’d tried.
“Of course,” the brightly dressed image of himself sounded almost contrite.
“You were going to explain?” Patrick prompted, satisfied that they had reached some sort of compromise. The more he knew, the better his chances of deciding if Benzedrine was on the level and if not, perhaps he would gain some insight into how to escape him.
Benzedrine drew his lips into a thin frown and nodded.
“I’m from The Hills…”
“What Hills?”
“Are you going to let me tell this?”
“I will have questions!” Patrick snapped back, refusing to be intimidated.
“Yes…” Benzedrine growled. “Maybe they’re best left until after?”
Patrick nodded. There wasn’t much else he could do.
“My world is called Carousel. It’s not part of your world, as such, but it’s not entirely separate either. There are many districts, but mine is The Hills. I’m sure you’d like it, it’s bright, it’s cheerful and we revere celebrities.”
“I’m not a celebrity,” Patrick replied flatly.
“I’m afraid you are, whether you like it or not,” Benzedrine returned impatiently, before calming his voice to add: “But it would be different in The Hills, you can be yourself, whatever that really is.”
“Okay, skip the sales pitch,” Patrick gestured with his hand to keep the story moving. “Go on.”
“The Dream World exists adjacent to us, connected by a tunnel. Don’t be fooled by the name, it’s not all dreams believe me! It used to be once,” Benzedrine sighed reflectively. “We were connected by more than a tunnel once. Mr Sandman would weave the dreams and eventually they would become reality in The Hills. But then came the jealousy and the resentment. Mr Sandman stopped understanding that it was a two-part process. He grew bitter that when anyone’s dreams came true, they made no reference to his part in their success and happiness.”
“Reference? How?” Patrick asked.
Benzedrine fought back a frown and the urge to restate that questions should be left until the end. This particular question was leading onto the next part of his explanation anyway, so he let it slide.
“We have two celebrity magazines, both very, very different from each other.” Benzedrine allowed himself a slight smile. “They’re supposed to be rival magazines, but they’re actually run by the same man. You have to admire the man’s marketing techniques. People will buy one over the other almost in protest, all without realising that at the end of the day the money is going to the same man.”
“And you don’t question this man’s ethics?” Patrick asked bluntly.
Benzedrine frowned. “This man, you don’t question. Period.”
Patrick had suddenly so many more questions, but realised that the original story was in danger of derailing. Putting aside his curiosity for a while, Patrick urged Benzedrine to get back on track.
“So, Mr Sandman got angry?”
“You’re very astute, Patrick,” Benzedrine smiled appreciatively. “Yes, Mr Sandman got very angry. Sometimes he can be nothing but a spoiled brat, but this particular brat has power, a dangerous power for one so frequently immature.”
“So, what does he want from you?” Patrick asked to Benzedrine’s surprise.
“Want?” he asked guardedly.
“Yeah,” Patrick frowned as he asked what seemed to him to be an obvious question. “What does he want? Recognition? What?”
“I told you what he wants,” Benzedrine leaned back and looked away. “He wants to trap everyone in a permanent sleep state, strip them of all their dreams and desires and leave them with nothing but nightmares and fears.”
“Did you skip a bit?” Patrick asked calmly.
Benzedrine pouted. Behind his painted mask, it was easy to see he was angry as he fixed Patrick with a stern glare. Trying hard not to react to the fear the look instilled in him, Patrick returned the harsh gaze with one of his own.
“It seems a bit of an overreaction for a first response,” he explained.
“You clearly don’t know Mr Sandman,” Benzedrine gave a clipped reply.
Deciding to reserve judgement, Patrick rose to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Benzedrine placed a hand on his chest, the very action of doing so almost seem to drain Patrick of all energy. “You haven’t agreed to help yet.”
“I need to talk it over with the guys,” Patrick replied, buying time and finally thinking of a reason to be allowed to go to the studio.
Benzedrine gave a solemn nod. This was harder than he imagined it would be, but it was at least a step in the right direction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N - Please R&R! I have cookies for you all!
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