/ Author's notes: This is a one-shot story. It doesn't have any background to it or any further development; just a random person tortured at the hands of the Dream Master.

Please do not ask if this is based on the original or the "remake". The remake does not exist in my universe. All of my writing is based on the original 1984 NOES. /

Steam hissed through old, rickety pipes. The sounds of clattering, clanking metal echoed all around. I grew aware of my surroundings gradually, alerted by all the noise. My eyes opened to see a boiler room.

A low, echoing cackle. It sent an odd shudder through me. Where was I? How did I get here? I sat up slowly, finding that I'd been lying on my back, on one of the catwalks. The metal surface pinched my skin through my pajamas.

This was surreal. I had to be dreaming. Nightmare, maybe?

Through the thick layer of reddish steam I spotted a moving shadow; an outline of a man. I winced at the fierce scraping sound of metal against metal.

The steam drifted back slowly, and the dark figure stepped forward. A burned face with a hideous sneer, dark, cruel eyes, leering at me from beneath a fedora's brim.

I didn't get up. I just sat there, dumbfounded, fear crawling up my spine. My heart was already starting to race.

He strode even closer, as if stalking. His blades trailed lightly along the railing, drawing out shrill metallic squeals. Then he was leaning over me – how had he gotten there so quickly? – his bare hand reaching for me.

I scrambled back, and up on my feet. Terrified yet trying not to show it.

His bare hand grasped at empty air. His face twisted into an ugly scowl for a second, and then smoothed back into a sinister grin. He straightened, blades clicking in response to the eager motions of his fingers.

"Go ahead. Run." He murmured in a monstrous rasping tone.

From his expression and the way he spoke, I could tell he was egging me on; encouraging me to act like prey. I paused where I stood.

"No." I answered, as firmly as I could manage.

"No?" A deceitful smirk. "You're just going to stand there and let me catch you?" He fanned his blades, threateningly, light darting across the sharp edges. "That probably isn't the best idea."

I narrowed my eyes, fingers curling into fists. I didn't know what I was doing. All I knew was that I was trying to look more angry than scared. He wasn't that much taller than me. His weapon – as creepy as it was – didn't look that dangerous. I could take him, right?

He chuckled softly. Without any warning, I was slammed down on the catwalk, dazed, with the heel of his boot pressed on my stomach, holding me there. I thought his grin might split his face. I hadn't even seen him until he hit me – how was that possible? Was I drunk?

"You wanna fight?" He sneered. "Good. It'll be more fun that way."

I groaned. My spine ached and my head was throbbing from the impact, but things were only going to get worse if I didn't do something. The moment my eyes focused again, I grabbed his ankle in both hands, hoping to throw him off balance.

He twisted, starting to fall to one side, and snatched the nearby rail to remain upright.

I was loose. I rolled away quickly, and discovered the catwalk was not as wide as I'd thought. I slipped off the edge and found myself grasping with only my hands, dangling over certain death.

I heard his heavy steps on the catwalk as he walked over, peering down at me calmly.

"Finished already?" He cackled. "And I thought we'd make a night out of this."

When he crouched and flicked his blades toward my fingers, I let go, screaming. Falling fast. I crashed into a crumpled heap on a catwalk below. I swore I'd heard something crack, and a pain stabbed into my left side. But I had to get up, I knew – and quickly.

He appeared there, at my level, his soft laugh mocking me. I couldn't figure out how he got down here so quickly. He moved closer, and I kicked out for his ankle. He stumbled for a second, then lunged at me, blades snapping open.

I didn't wait for him to hit me. I made a leap of faith, jumping toward another catwalk below. I made it, somehow. I landed, hard, but better than I had last time. Even so the pain in my side had me doubling over, grasping my ribs.

Recovering, I turned to look back up toward him, only to see him inches from my face. I staggered back, gasping. He had to have teleported somehow – there was no other way he could get here so fast! He flicked his blades, closing in, forcing me to back against the railing.

I felt my breath tighten in my throat; my heart racing, each beat bringing the pain in my side back to the surface. Suddenly he had my arm clutched in his bare hand. Again I hadn't even seen him move. Even as I fought him he pushed me against a nearby boiler, pinning me there with another wild grin.

It burned. I screamed, tearing away from him with newfound strength.

He caught hold of me by the wrist, jerking me back to him, splaying his blades in front of my face. I could see two of them, right near my eye.

"Don't go," He cackled. "I was just starting to enjoy this."

He pulled those silver talons away from my face, and that gave me the opportunity to move. I hit him right in the stomach with my knee. He snarled, his blades dropping to slash across my arm as he stepped back.

I screamed again, slapping my hand over the angry, bloody wounds.

He was already upright, and that awful grin returned at the sound of my screams; pleased to have drawn that shrill sound from my throat. It was like nothing phased him for more than a second.

I watched in horror as he lifted his blades and ran his tongue across one of the glinting edges, tasting my blood.

"Stings, doesn't it?" He snickered dryly.

Trembling, I lifted my clasping hand slowly to assess the damage to my arm. I was almost in shock. The pain was intense…and I was actually bleeding. This couldn't be a dream.

It was real.

He watched me, confidently, as I began to realize what was about to happen.

I was going to die.