2016-02-12 The Repairer of Broken Dreams
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: Bucky and Phantasm
GMed by .
Title: The Repairer of Broken Dreams

*oO(In Dreams)

It's been a busy week planning rescue missions and with the final plan made up and having dropped Lissandra off, Phantasm is getting ready to head home the quick way. And so he hops into the nearest dream to act as his booster ride back home.

He hops in same as always, with no reason to expect anything other than a normal trip — and let's be fair, that's a pretty darn broad category when one is used to traveling by dream.

Even allowing for that, this one— this one is NOT normal; something's wrong. The dreamer is asleep, the kind of sleep that should be a dream— but it's like pushing through some sort of pulsing fractured thing where there should be a coherent whole. It's not just some chaotic nightmare, the dream itself is destabilized, as if the mind dreaming it didn't understand how to do the process right.

The purplish raven flies through, looking to the complimenting dark chaos of the dream. The flight slows as he glances around curiously. Who the hell did he pick for an entry point? A mystery present, he flies over to the edge of one part of the fracture. Using it as a perch. Still, Phantasm observes.

It's all so disjointed it's hard to tell what's what. He thinks he sees something red and shining in the distance— and over there the drone of words, questions, answers, firm statements. The fragment he ends up landing on seems bright— but contacting the fragment of dream, the purple raven may get a jolt— an impression that inside is a jumble of searing pain, fear, confusion— the hope the former will in time eradicate the rest. It's like all the pieces floating around that might normally form into a dream, if only they could gel.

Unfortunately being separate from the dream, Phantasm doesn't feel the jolt until the visual queue smacks him with it. Wings spread as he lifts up, cawing in reaction as he looks to the piece accusingly. He glances over to the other pieces before he flies over to a similar shaped piece, ramming into it in the hopes of moving the pieces closer to get a better picture. "Aren't you a bit of a mess."

With a bit of work, he ends up with…something, at least. There's a pool of light around a very expensive desk— a man with light hair and a trustworthy voice is on one side, talking about duty and missions and saving the world, while on the other side of the desk is a man with unkempt brown a metal arm. Outside the pool of light is the sound of water, a cold dark oppressive ocean, and a boat.. with a figure in red off in the distance…shining and unflappable and… also bleeding.

The bird frowns as he focuses on the metal arm. "Oh." The voice is less than enthused. He flies back, preparing to leave before his eyes set on another puzzle piece. That looks like it could fi- Shaking his head, he flies back down, form shifting to a more humanoid figure. Features missing, nothing but shadow. But, a helpful shadow. "I can't make it whole." Phantasm says, apologizing to the partial structure. "You can. If you want." He moves to the next piece, "But I can at least get the parts near where they should be." Taking a running start, barrels towards the next part, shoving it towards the gap where it seems to belong.

The dim waters crash around the small lit circle. The metal armed man catches hold of the desk as the blonde man is washed away in the torrent to the distress of the man remaining— the dreamer. He ends up floating on the fancy desk, and the bleeding figure in red— a woman, the director in fact drifts over on a dim boat filled with tense men. Something is wrong with the legs of one of them— there's medical supplies out.

The man on the floating desk looks around, trying to find the source of the voice he heard— Phantasm's voice.

The shadowy figure quiets down, locating another piece. The very one that shocked him earlier. He grumbles, looking to where that piece fits. Realizing it needs to go over there. "dammit." he mutters. He moves back, getting a running start to shove yet another piece in place, letting out a shout as the zap hits him again. "BLOODY 'ELL!"

It fades into the whole, becoming some sort of looming glowing thing beneath the ocean waves. The man on the desk startles at the noise of it, looking away for the moment from the boat full of figures. His eyes are bewildered and confused.. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Yeah that's the thing about dreams." Phantasm replies, pushing himself up from that last bit. "There's really no right or wrong thing to dream about. Dreams usually just happen." He glances around looking for other pieces. "Sometimes they're nonsense, but other times they're trying to tell you something." Oh hey! A tiny piece!" Grabbing it, he chucks it over to a gap in the image. "All I'm getting from yours though is that someone fucked you up good."

And the tiny piece puts a bridge over the water— a very old style bridge, faded oddly as from foggy morning light over the churning cold sea below..The bridge seems far too huge.

There's an elephant walking across it.

The metal armed man crouched on the desk looks away with a grimace. "This…this is a dream?"

Phantasm blinks, looking at the new addition. "Yeah you have a freaking Hannibal reference going on here. So I'm going to say, dream." He pauses, grabbing another piece of the screen, "I got to ask though. Any idea what the elephant is for?"

The man's face is cause enough to tell he has no idea what the purple talking bird is talking about. He won't look back at the bridge. "That doesn't matter. There's nothing like that." There's some other animals soon walking along behind the elephant— giraffes, lions, tigers. One of them has a hat on.

"Ok then, that must be the nonsensical elements then." Phantasm surmises, finding a remaining piece and pushing it in. "So we'll ignore the zoo." He frowns at the cracks. "It's not perfect but at least you're getting a better picture now. The healing is your responsibility."

"Healing what?" the man asks, still bewildered. He looks back in the direction the blonde man disappeared, where the crackling underwater lights now flash.

"Yourself." Phantasm answers, "You need to heal yourself. I haven't had or seen a dreamscape like this in a long while. Someone did a number on you. Your mind needs to mend. Best I can recommend is that you rest, and read some books so you can have some more pleasant stuff for your dream arsenal."

The man's face abruptly becomes wary as he bobs about on the dark water. "…You're with them. You left the books."

"You're with SHIELD, aren't you?" he asks.

Phantasm shakes his head, "I'm not an agent if that's what you're asking." He pauses, tilting his head curiously, "What books did I leave?" He turns his head, looking where Bucky had been looking before. "You know, that you're having a conversation now is pretty good progress."

The man seems all the more wary. "There were books.." he seems to grow tense when his talkativeness is called attention to. Slowly he draws a gun. He has quite a lot of them.

Phantasm sighs as the gun is drawn. "Really? Bringing out a gun? I'm just talking to you." He pauses, "Well, and helping put pieces together… oh yeah, I guess you don't like those guys." He shakes his head. "Well the feeling's kind of mutual towards the guys who messed up your head. Part of the same group that tried killing some friends of mine. No love."

The man keeps the gun in hand, keeping balance on the bobbing desk. He doesn't aim it, though. "Who are you talking about." the man responds.

"Hydra." Mike answers, "For the years I've been aware of them, all they've done is hurt people. Killed, good people. Destroyed homes. Destroyed lives. Tore apart families. Endangered the world on a multi-dimensional level. Experimented on the innocent. And the thing is I don't even know the full extent of what they do. So, if you feel that much anger towards SHIELD, well, right back at your group." He steps back, giving Bucky more space. "I'm not here to cause you trouble. I just saw a broken dream that needed to be put back together."

The man shakes his head with energy, "You're wrong about…They didn't…mess up my head. They keep it stable, they…but they're not here, this is a dream." the bird said as much.

He's not supposed to dream.

The gun snaps up, unloading in the bird's direction. The man's aim is shockingly good, even in his dreams. He expects to hit his target.

The woman on the boat looks disapproving.

The shadowy figure leaps back as the very much visible bullets strike true, a splash of red spritzing out from each opening hole and yet, the spray never breaks from the body. It simply fades away as Phantasm lays sprawled out on the floor. "…fair enough." The bloodied version shifts, standing up, looking to Bucky as he starts to become the mirror version of the star armed assassin. Blood oozing out, he brings up a hand to wipe at his bloodly lip. "I know just what book to bring. Sweet Dreams." Turning, he walks across the water, fading from view as he steps into the next dream.


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