Chapter Text
Waking up hurt. It was a skull-pounding ache that seemed to echo down his spine, hitting every single pain point in his back. It jumbled and tangled with his shoulder blades, and even disoriented he could feel the irritation at having to deal with what would be likely be a few days- if not a week- of his body losing its full range of motion.
Then he registered the music, the steering wheel, the darkness- and suddenly he pulled himself back from days and became hyper focused on the seconds in front of him.
No, not again.
He pushed himself off the steering wheel as best he could, trying to control his breathing even as his heart wanted to drown out the radio lull with its panic.
Light. He needed light. He scraped at the ceiling until he could find hard plastic, and pressed down. Instantly, the inside of the car was cast in dull yellow. His wrist comm was taken apart in the seat next to him.
The windows were still dark. Okay. Next thing. He squinted down at the buttons and pressed the window roller.
It only lasted an inch. Dirt, thick and dry, practically sprayed itself into the car. He yelped, slamming his hand down on the button to raise it even as his arm jolted and protested. The window struggled, but eventually crushed the dirt in its way and shut. Thank God. He struggled to breathe evenly.
The music was still playing. Classical. Chopin? Some guy. He turned it off. He needed all noise to go away for one minute while he figured something out.
A soft, pained noise came from the back seat. He whipped around, ignoring the way his vision briefly swum.
Dr. Philza Minecraft was half-covered by his wing, bloodied, bruised, and amazingly-not-dead in the back seat of Dream’s car. This was a very bad thing.
"Oh god." Dream's body protested, vehemently, to him crawling into the back. It wasn't important. "Philza, are you okay? Can you hear me?"
Another noise. Philza's wings shuddered and bent, one at an unnatural angle. Broken most likely. The other pulled back to reveal a bruised forehead, hair tacky with blood. In the darkness, Dream could just make out the way his eyes were unfocused and dilated unevenly. Concussion. He'd likely survive it, but it didn't make Dream feel any better.
"Philza?"
Quietly, voice slurring. "-told you its Phil, Dream."
All pressure released from his shoulders for a moment, and he hung his head, letting out a shaky chuckle. "Not a good time for that."
The dazed look on Philza's face didn't seem to abate, nor did he seem to react to the chipped scales of his Elytra and the blood sticking to its chitin. Drugged?
"Wh-where are we?" Philza asked. Dread pooled in Dream's stomach.
"Underground." He could feel his breath start to become uneven again, and he gripped the seat tightly. "He must have got us."
There was no comprehension in Philza's face. Definitely drugged. "Who?"
"The Gravedigger."
Philza furrowed his brow like he was struggling to think, and Dream struggled to breathe.
48 Hours Earlier
"My superiors told me to let you have a look at the flying saucer."
Dream snorted. "Flying saucer?"
"Its what it looks like." The ranger shrugged. She stepped back as Punz lifted the yellow tape, allowing Dream to step through. The terrain was more uneven than what he was used to, forcing him to lean a bit heavier on his cane. Punz came up beside him to offer his arm, but he shook his head, ignoring his partner's frown in favor of scanning the crime scene.
A group of teenagers were on the other side of the circle of tape- muddy bikes, cracked helmets- talking with a second ranger. They didn't seem hurt, but worry and fear were plain on their faces. As Dream and Punz passed by them, a taller boy dragged one of the younger kids close. He didn't really blame them; it wasn't every day you found dead bodies in the woods.
"Local kids were dirt-biking and saw something shiny in the dirt." She grimaced as she led them around a pile of boulders. "They dig it out, look through the window, and see aliens."
"Uh huh. Did you see them?"
"Yessir." She tipped her hat at the metal container below, partially covered in roots and autumn leaves. "They looked pretty alien to me."
Dream and Punz shared a glance. The agent shrugged, and Dream sighed before sliding down the hill to reach the base of it. The thing was filthy, covered in dirt and rust, and the window was no exception. He kneeled down to wipe at it, peering in to see the bodies inside.
Two corpses. Human corpses, protected from the elements judging by the dehydrated tissue (tank was sealed?), but still decomposed. Holding each other.
"You want to take a look?" He asked without tearing his gaze away. He heard the crunch of leaves as Punz approached, and leaned over to allow them space. Their breath was warm by his ear as they spoke.
"Huh. Are those our aliens?"
Dream stared at the dried red blood staining one of their clothes. "Human, actually. Adolescent human males."
"... How long?"
"Years."
He didn't have to look at Punz to see the disquiet on their face. "Hm. Let's bring them in then."
They stood, sounding perfectly unrushed as they went over to the Ranger to request assistance. Dream knew better. He traced the grime on the rim of the window, looking at their turned back. They thrust their hands into their pockets as they talked, likely thumbing at their wallet, and the picture of Purpled inside.
There wasn't anything Dream could say to reassure them. Still, he wanted...
He pushed away the thought. Bringing himself back up to stand, he groaned softly as his knees and hip protested the movement, even with his cane to lean on. He was putting too much weight on his good leg- his PT was going to fuss again.
Or Punz. Punz was much more likely actually.
Dream swiped his ID card, letting the light turn green before stepping onto Medico-Legal Lab's main platform. His assistant- former assistant, he reminded himself with a wistful pang- was the only one there, pacing between the two remains with a troubled look on his face.
He leaned against the guardrail. "What have you got?"
"One set of remains shows trauma to the legs- compound fractures." Ranboo told him immediately, gesturing to the slab. His tail curled, giving away his eagerness. "His pelvis is broken in three places."
Dream frowned. "And the other?"
"Virtually untouched."
A strange picture was being painted in his mind. One attacked the other? But held him close after. Hm. "Cause of death?"
"The amount of blood suggests one of them bled out, likely the one with the injuries." Ranboo said, and then tilted his head with a curious expression. "I've also noted a constellation of identical non-metric variants. Extra foramina."
Twins. Dream's lips thinned. Easier to identify then, if they were registered as missing persons.
A sharp rap on metal caught both of their attention. They turned to see Punz at the base of the stairs, knuckles against the card reader. They threw a grumpy look at it.
"Can I come up?"
"No." Dream snorted, and walked over to the stairs to swipe his card again long enough for Punz to prevent triggering the alarm. He led Punz up to the bodies. "The victims we're looking at are twins."
"I know."
Dream blinked. "You know?"
"I just got off the phone with an Assistant Overworld Attorney. They know about the kids found in the beer vat and I've had the pleasure of being told who they are, in great detail." Punz pinched the bridge of their nose. "Micah and Jordan Kent. Disappeared 4 years ago."
"That's... good, isn't it?" Ranboo asked hesitantly. When Punz shot him a weird look, he put his hands up. "N-not the fact that they're dead, of course. But at least they were able to identify them right away."
"How do they know? We haven't even told them anything yet."
"You're not going to like it." Punz said ruefully. Dream scowled.
"I already don't."
Oh, he hated this.
"The remains in the beer vat have been positively identified as Micah and Jordan Kent, you were correct." He stated blandly, sliding the photo over to the AOA and the agent beside her. Dream had his mask on, hiding any tells to show how much he definitely did not want to be in this office. Punz's foot nudged his in comfort, but it didn't make him feel any less sour.
Dream did not like serial killer cases.
"Oh god." The agent (Peter_Hoff00, according to Punz) recoiled in horror, fox ears flat against his head as he narrowly avoided clawing the table in his movement. The AOA threw him a pinched look.
"Come on, Peter, its better than never knowing."
He could be back in the lab right now running tests. He could be literally anywhere but here. "You were assigned to the case?"
"Not anymore." Agent Peter replied. His eyes seemed to avoid the picture at all costs. "I, uh, retired from the F.B.I. to pursue a different career. General contracting. This isn't mine anymore. Uh... Kimmie was the Assistant Overworld Attorney attached to the case."
"I'm still attached." Kimmie's wings fluffed up in irritation. "The file is still open."
He didn't like the way people changed during serial killer cases. They no longer saw the goal, crystal clear in front of them. It was a maze of emotions and grudges, and pushing for more, endlessly enduring the storm of demands until all that was left-
There was a hand on his knee, brushing upwards, and then it was gently nudging Dream's hand to let go of the tight grip he had on his thigh in favor of letting their fingers lace together. Punz squeezed. Their thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hand. Then it slipped away, and Dream exhaled.
"-snatched after a drinking party."
"Was the ransom paid?" Punz asked.
The pair looked at each other, one bitter, one resigned.
"As the duly sworn representative of the F.B.I, I advised Mr. Kent not to pay the ransom." Agent Peter said dully. "He listened to me, unfortunately, and not the K&R guy."
The fox hybrid curled in on himself. "And now his sons are dead."
"K&R?" Dream muttered to Punz. They tilted their head.
"Kidnap and Ransom experts."
That... didn't ring a bell. He frowned, though no one could see it. It certainly hadn't been around back. Then. He tapped his finger against the table.
"The Kent boys were the Gravediggers third victims." Kimmie explained. She pulled up her brief case and promptly unlocked it. "Third of the six we know of. Four paid the ransom and lived."
"And the other one that didn't?" Dream asked.
Agent Peter grimaced. "We never found him."
"That's why his name is the Gravedigger." Kimmie pulled out a folder and handed it to Punz. "He snatches his victims and buries them. You pay the ransom, and he gives you the location of their burial grounds. You don't? They're gone."
Dream leaned over as his partner opened the folder. Pages of the victims, where they were buried, what they were buried in. He barely needed to reach out before Punz was setting it in his hands.
"You're not going to catch him." Agent Peter said despondently. Punz scoffed and leaned back in his chair, confident and determined in a way that made Dream smile behind his mask.
"Watch us."
Kidnap and Ransom "expert", Thomas Vega. Former F.B.I. and now millionaire novelist. Dream leaned back into his couch as he inspected the book the man had brought with him. He felt more comfortable here, in his office, Punz by his side, but he still kept the mask on while his partner chatted with their subjects.
"I became a "kidnap and ransom" specialist after I realized that the Bureau's policy of nonpayment to kidnappers is antiquated. And Dangerous."
An emerald was practically gliding between Punz's fingers. Fidgeting. Uneasy. "How many times have you been involved in these cases?"
"Five." The journalist next to Vega smiled. The man waved a claw at her.
"Janine helped me write the book on the Gravedigger." He gave her a soft look, which she returned. "Next to me, she's the ranking expert on that son of a bitch."
Punz's face was the epitome of neutrality, but Dream could sense their dislike just beneath the surface. It didn't really surprise him- Punz had never found any problem with doing things for the money. They would always be a little bit mercenary at heart. They hated vultures, though. Loathed them with an icy viciousness that could linger for days after. You only play dirty with the people who deserve it, they had once said to Dream, and he stared at Vega's pictured plastered large over the back of the book and wondered how it felt to make millions off of someone else's suffering.
"The Gravedigger is totally consistent." Janine said. "No one ever sees the victim taken. The ransom demand is made using a digitally altered voice. A time limit it given."
She leaned forward. "There is never a second call."
Vega's ears flattened. "As soon as the ransom is paid to a numbered untraceable account in Bahrain, the Caribbean, et cetera, GPS coordinates are provided leading to the victim."
"None of the surviving members remember anything about being taken?" Dream asked.
"Nothing." Janine shook her head. She was still smiling, as if delighting in a retelling of a funny story. "Burn marks on the back of the neck suggest use of a stun gun or a cattle prod."
"That'll scramble your brains pretty good." Vega said ruefully. "Also, when you try to trace whatever container the boys were found in, well, you'll reach a dead end. He gets everything from landfills, or cash auctions."
Punz let the emerald slip into his sleeve. "No last chance to pay up?"
"Never."
There was a pause. Dream opened his mouth to speak, but Janine beat him to it.
"You know, most kidnappers are caught because they start negotiating the ransom." She said cheerfully. Vegas nodded vigorously next to her. It was a miracle, really, that he hadn't kicked them out of his office yet.
"Oh?" Dream spoke flatly.
There was something sickly satisfied in her expression as she leaned in, delivering her worthless secrets. "The Grave Digger simply won't play."
With a breath, Punz pushed himself up from the couch.
"Thank you for your time, it was appreciated." They said tersely. "We'll contact you if we need further information."
"Wait," Vegas rose as well. "Agent Punz, I have seen what this guy does to families, up close. If you keep me updated on the case, I can-"
"That won't be necessary." Punz cut him off. "We have everything we need from you; this meeting is over."
Vegas balled up his fists, but Janine grabbed his wrist and gave it a gentle tug. "Let's go."
He deflated, getting his things. Janine looked over to where Dream still had their novel. "You can keep the book, you might find it enlightening."
He was pretty sure the book in his hands would end up in a secondhand store somewhere, but it was probably a bad time to say so.
As Vega headed out the door, he turned back.
"You know what, dislike me as much as you want. But I'm still going to help you because I want this bastard caught."
When he swiped his card and walked back up the platform, it was to Hannah, Techno, and Ranboo working around the victims.
"-your cop-isms are showing." Techno spoke. "What, you suddenly the expert on all serial killers now?"
Hannah tilted her head left and right. "I worked as a coroner and things, uh, got a little, dicey sometimes, in the Nether."
"'Dicey' as in they diced people up? Or were there actual game dice involved?"
She threw him an amused smile. "I didn't know you could be funny, Ranboo."
"Now now, don't go bullying my protege." Techno patted Ranboo's head. Ranboo was taller than him, so it looked slightly ridiculous, especially when he leaned down a little to allow Techno access. "He's sensitive you know."
"Um, excuse me? Ranboo was my graduate student, he's my protege." Dream scowled.
"Hey, he can have more than one teacher, Dream! Don't gatekeep him. Besides, there's still a few things left I can teach him, y'know, outside of your very vast and totally wise wisdom."
"I highly doubt that." Dream muttered. Ranboo smiled comfortingly at him, and he relaxed, but only a little. "What are you even doing in the lab, Techno?"
"Can't I see my favorite person doing his favorite thing?"
Dream gave him a flat look, ignoring the snickering behind him. "I don't see Philza around."
"Oh that's unfair, Dream, that's unfair." Techno made a show of his heart being wounded, leaning over until he was just shy of putting his weight on Dream. "He might be my Phil, but you'll always be my bestie."
"Get out." Dream groaned, pushing the piglin's head away. "Don't you have your own job? I bet you have a mountain of paperwork you haven't done. Let us do our work."
"Nah, I think I'll stick around. Its not every day you get to catch a serial killer."
"Please don't jinx us." Hannah immediately knocked on the metal slab, eyes wide. "Oh god, is there any wood nearby?"
"Its not a big deal." Ranboo reassured her, though Dream's lip twitched as he spotted the nervous tail furling.
"Yes it is." Hannah argued. "You know how many cases I've been in where someone says something like that and we all get blown up?"
"I'm sure it will be fine-"
"It will be." A card swipe, and Tina climbed the platform steps, clipboard in hand. "Because I have wood."
Relief warred with softness on Hannah's face. Her knock was short and did not echo, but her focus was thoroughly taken now.
"You're a lifesaver."
Tina cupped her face, running her thumb along the high of her cheekbone, and smiled fondly. "Anything for you."
Dream abruptly turned around and examined the twins instead, avoiding the intimacy on display. "Ranboo did you catalogue this anomaly between C1 and C2 on Micah?"
"Yes!" Ranboo jolted and hurried over to the slab. "If you increase magnification on the atlanto-axial joint, you'll see calcining on the articular process."
Dream ignored the twinge of pain along his hip (random. Potential fibromyalgia flare up. Nothing to be done.) as he leaned forward. His brow furrowed. "Bone burn."
"Yes. Over 300 degrees."
"Stun gun..." Dream murmured. The book remained untouched in his office. "Does the same mark appear on Jordan?"
"No."
"Okay. Get the FBI to send you photos and medical exam results of the Grave Digger victims. See if he uses the same stun gun every time."
His former student nodded and turned towards their computer. Hannah had disappeared, alongside Tina, but Techno had taken it upon himself to shadow Ranboo instead of looking over Dream's shoulder like he expected magic and miracles to happen.
Another flick of a card, the reader chirping positive.
"Aluminum." Philza announced. Techno turned around, a delighted look on his face.
"Phil!"
"Aluminum?" Dream asked.
"Manganese alloy, strain-hardened and stabilized." He grinned at Techno. "Traces on both sets of clothing."
"From the vat?" Dream pressed. Philza and Techno got distracted when they occupied the same space. He could admire their intelligence, their ability, their friendship, but seeing it now only made him want to sit down and rest his aching joints.
"No, the inside of the vat is pure copper." The man corrected. "Both boys' clothing was stained in a sooty residue, made up of lead and carbon, benzene and aldehydes."
"Engine exhaust." Techno added. Philza batted him with his wing, playfully.
"Yeah, you got that right, mate. Particulates from lots of engines, both gasoline and diesel."
A lot of cars for a spaceship. Dream tilted his head. "A parking lot?"
"Underground, probably. Think that's where the Digger grabs his victims, mate?"
Isolated space, low chance of being spotted depending on lighting, cameras, time of day, etc. Definitely worse places to kill someone. "Compare your findings with the results found on the clothing of the surviving victims. See if they share anything in common. And measure oxygen volume in the vat; find out how long the twins survived."
"I'll get right on it." Philza said cheerfully. He waved at Ranboo as he left. He half expected Techno to leave like Hannah and Tina, but instead he turned back to Dream.
"Its a nice day out, a nice sunny day. You wanna take your break outside with us?"
The bodies on the table felt older than he was, despite the truth. "I'm going to be busy today."