Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > My Own Sins
Easing himself slowly up onto one hand as he cleared his head, Dr Benzedrine stared in panic as the nightmare bore down on his brother. Pushing himself to his feet, Mr Sandman staggered backwards as he tried to set his balance. The effort of using his energy to send out the electric charges, the physical exertion of kicking out the stopper, then finally the torturous exit from the bottle itself, had disorientated and exhausted him. Now with barely the energy to stand, Mr Sandman hadn't the strength to fight his hate-filled creation.
Benzedrine rose to his feet; the fact that nothing made a move to stop him or restrain him in any way merely emphasised how little of a threat he was considered. But wasn't it true? What could he do? He clearly couldn't fight the creature; its strength was far greater than his own, one simple swipe with the back of his oversized hand had floored him.
He had no powers in the Dream World. In Normal World or anywhere else in Carousel, he was able to trick people into forgetting they had seen him, or use his mind physically restrain someone. Patrick had seen both of those powers. But there was more; elsewhere, he could move at great speed, show unnatural strength and instil ideas into people's thoughts telepathically. All of these and the dozen or so more powers and capabilities he possessed could have helped right now, but he had none of them in the Dream World. No, here he had only one ability; that of the bare basics of his job. He could wake someone up. Benzedrine's brow furrowed. Yes, it was true that real people couldn't be woken whilst inside the dream - they were no longer real, but what about the nightmares? Surely the opposite applied? Within the nightmare, they were the reality. They could be woken!
Stretching out his arm, Benzedrine pointed directly at the lead nightmare, now almost at his brother's side. His other hand stretched out to the side, pointing in the general direction of the remaining three nightmares, still holding their captives.
“Time to wake up, boys!” he yelled with venom in his tone.
A brilliant yellow-white light emanated from him - mainly from his hands, but the light seemed to spread over him like water. Benzedrine beamed with relief as the lead nightmare stopped in his tracks, staggering back a few paces, his fingers relinquishing their hold on Patrick as he stumbled.
Wrenching the hand from around his neck as all the nightmares began to weaken, Pete ran forward, sliding to a skidding halt on the floor at Patrick's side.
“Trick? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
Anger bubbled within him as Pete received no reply from the now unconscious singer. Jumping up, Pete swung a vicious right hook into the twisted image of himself, watching with breathless pleasure at it spun to the floor and lay still.
Joe was next to free himself, finally peeling back the long bony fingers of the nightmare that now almost appeared transparent. Racing to help Andy, Joe was surprised that the two-handed grip the creature had on his friend almost fell away as he approached.
Benzedrine grinned happily as all three nightmares off to his right collapsed to the floor, still bathed in the light being emitted from Benzedrine.
Sandman looked up towards the ceiling as he noticed a crack appearing, through it, he could see the tall trees of the forest peeping through.
“Silas!” he cried. “Hold it there! Don't go any further, if you wake them fully, you'll get us out, but they'll escape back to the forest.”
“What do I do?” Benzedrine asked with uncertainty.
“Nothing, just hold them in pre-wakefulness, they can't move. I'll deal with them, like I should have done years ago.”
Pushing himself onto his knees, Sandman took a deep breath before rising unsteadily to his feet. Swaying momentarily, Sandman stumbled, only to find Donnie instantly at his side, supporting him by his arm.
“Always the greatest catcher,” he smiled before turning his attention to the nightmare lying near his feet. Extending his hand, he nodded, adding quietly. “Time to draw you back in.”
Slowly, the nightmare continued to fade, before appearing to nothing more than wispy smoke that seemed to be sucked toward Mr Sandman's outstretched hand. Assisted by Donnie, the weary Sandman moved closer to the last three nightmares, each one in turn following in the same way as the first until they were all gone.
Above them, the Fun House ceiling slowly faded, to be replaced by the dense dream forest. At the sight of finally returning to the safety of his home, Mr Sandman finally gave in to his exhaustion and passed out, crumpling against Donnie.
“I need help here!” Pete yelled, kneeling next to the still unconscious Patrick.
“Silas?” Donnie prompted as he scooped Mr Sandman into his arms.
“Is he okay?” Andy asked with a frown as Dr Benzedrine stooped to examine the singer.
Benzedrine gave a worried frown and heaved a deep sigh.
“He took a lot of the hatred that was meant for me.”
“What do you mean?” Pete asked, puzzled by the statement.
Benzedrine pulled at Patrick's shirt, revealing long purple web-like track marks extending from Patrick's neck and down his arms.
“The nightmare was unable to distinguish between us. It didn't seem to understand that Patrick wasn't me. If it had done this to me… I… I don't think I could have got us out. This would weaken me severely, but…”
“But what?” Pete pressed, his voice raised partly with anger, partly with fear for what Benzedrine was going to say.
“It's like he's been poisoned… well, that's how you'd understand it, anyway.”
“Poisoned?” Joe queried with disbelief. “By hatred?”
“Don't underestimate hatred,” Benzedrine replied not moving his eyes from Patrick.
“Will he be okay?” Andy asked.
“I need to get him to The Hills. My hospital's there, and my father will know what to do.”
“Don't you? You're a doctor… aren't you?” Andy pressed, concerned that Benzedrine hadn't answered his question.
“Yes, I'm a doctor! But my father has much more experience with this sort of thing.”
“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Pete asked urgently. “Let's go.”
“Donnie, can you bring Marcus, please? I need to know more about…” Benzedrine merely shrugged and nodded to end his sentence, which, somehow, Donnie seemed to understand, replying with a grim nod of his own.
“About what?” Pete demanded.
“About how much he hated me!” Benzedrine snapped bitterly. “Okay? Happy now?”
“I'm sorry,” Pete whispered in reply, genuinely contrite. “But he doesn't now. Doesn't that help?”
“Me or him?” Benzedrine sighed, nodding towards Patrick. “Let's go,” he sighed despondently again. “Follow Donnie, he knows the way back.”
Benzedrine rose to his feet; the fact that nothing made a move to stop him or restrain him in any way merely emphasised how little of a threat he was considered. But wasn't it true? What could he do? He clearly couldn't fight the creature; its strength was far greater than his own, one simple swipe with the back of his oversized hand had floored him.
He had no powers in the Dream World. In Normal World or anywhere else in Carousel, he was able to trick people into forgetting they had seen him, or use his mind physically restrain someone. Patrick had seen both of those powers. But there was more; elsewhere, he could move at great speed, show unnatural strength and instil ideas into people's thoughts telepathically. All of these and the dozen or so more powers and capabilities he possessed could have helped right now, but he had none of them in the Dream World. No, here he had only one ability; that of the bare basics of his job. He could wake someone up. Benzedrine's brow furrowed. Yes, it was true that real people couldn't be woken whilst inside the dream - they were no longer real, but what about the nightmares? Surely the opposite applied? Within the nightmare, they were the reality. They could be woken!
Stretching out his arm, Benzedrine pointed directly at the lead nightmare, now almost at his brother's side. His other hand stretched out to the side, pointing in the general direction of the remaining three nightmares, still holding their captives.
“Time to wake up, boys!” he yelled with venom in his tone.
A brilliant yellow-white light emanated from him - mainly from his hands, but the light seemed to spread over him like water. Benzedrine beamed with relief as the lead nightmare stopped in his tracks, staggering back a few paces, his fingers relinquishing their hold on Patrick as he stumbled.
Wrenching the hand from around his neck as all the nightmares began to weaken, Pete ran forward, sliding to a skidding halt on the floor at Patrick's side.
“Trick? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
Anger bubbled within him as Pete received no reply from the now unconscious singer. Jumping up, Pete swung a vicious right hook into the twisted image of himself, watching with breathless pleasure at it spun to the floor and lay still.
Joe was next to free himself, finally peeling back the long bony fingers of the nightmare that now almost appeared transparent. Racing to help Andy, Joe was surprised that the two-handed grip the creature had on his friend almost fell away as he approached.
Benzedrine grinned happily as all three nightmares off to his right collapsed to the floor, still bathed in the light being emitted from Benzedrine.
Sandman looked up towards the ceiling as he noticed a crack appearing, through it, he could see the tall trees of the forest peeping through.
“Silas!” he cried. “Hold it there! Don't go any further, if you wake them fully, you'll get us out, but they'll escape back to the forest.”
“What do I do?” Benzedrine asked with uncertainty.
“Nothing, just hold them in pre-wakefulness, they can't move. I'll deal with them, like I should have done years ago.”
Pushing himself onto his knees, Sandman took a deep breath before rising unsteadily to his feet. Swaying momentarily, Sandman stumbled, only to find Donnie instantly at his side, supporting him by his arm.
“Always the greatest catcher,” he smiled before turning his attention to the nightmare lying near his feet. Extending his hand, he nodded, adding quietly. “Time to draw you back in.”
Slowly, the nightmare continued to fade, before appearing to nothing more than wispy smoke that seemed to be sucked toward Mr Sandman's outstretched hand. Assisted by Donnie, the weary Sandman moved closer to the last three nightmares, each one in turn following in the same way as the first until they were all gone.
Above them, the Fun House ceiling slowly faded, to be replaced by the dense dream forest. At the sight of finally returning to the safety of his home, Mr Sandman finally gave in to his exhaustion and passed out, crumpling against Donnie.
“I need help here!” Pete yelled, kneeling next to the still unconscious Patrick.
“Silas?” Donnie prompted as he scooped Mr Sandman into his arms.
“Is he okay?” Andy asked with a frown as Dr Benzedrine stooped to examine the singer.
Benzedrine gave a worried frown and heaved a deep sigh.
“He took a lot of the hatred that was meant for me.”
“What do you mean?” Pete asked, puzzled by the statement.
Benzedrine pulled at Patrick's shirt, revealing long purple web-like track marks extending from Patrick's neck and down his arms.
“The nightmare was unable to distinguish between us. It didn't seem to understand that Patrick wasn't me. If it had done this to me… I… I don't think I could have got us out. This would weaken me severely, but…”
“But what?” Pete pressed, his voice raised partly with anger, partly with fear for what Benzedrine was going to say.
“It's like he's been poisoned… well, that's how you'd understand it, anyway.”
“Poisoned?” Joe queried with disbelief. “By hatred?”
“Don't underestimate hatred,” Benzedrine replied not moving his eyes from Patrick.
“Will he be okay?” Andy asked.
“I need to get him to The Hills. My hospital's there, and my father will know what to do.”
“Don't you? You're a doctor… aren't you?” Andy pressed, concerned that Benzedrine hadn't answered his question.
“Yes, I'm a doctor! But my father has much more experience with this sort of thing.”
“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Pete asked urgently. “Let's go.”
“Donnie, can you bring Marcus, please? I need to know more about…” Benzedrine merely shrugged and nodded to end his sentence, which, somehow, Donnie seemed to understand, replying with a grim nod of his own.
“About what?” Pete demanded.
“About how much he hated me!” Benzedrine snapped bitterly. “Okay? Happy now?”
“I'm sorry,” Pete whispered in reply, genuinely contrite. “But he doesn't now. Doesn't that help?”
“Me or him?” Benzedrine sighed, nodding towards Patrick. “Let's go,” he sighed despondently again. “Follow Donnie, he knows the way back.”
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