The next time Eric opens his eyes, he knows he's in a dream. He doesn't really know how he knows, he just does; maybe it's the way that everything is fuzzy around the edges, like he's seeing it through a screen. Even though he knows that it's a dream, it doesn't make it feel any less real, which is why he much prefers to sleep without dreams. But he has no such luck, and instead of the dull black of sleep, he sees around him the bright, clean walls of Erudite headquarters. He walks down the empty hallway, footsteps echoing uncomfortably loudly in the silence. Once he reaches the end, he is standing in front of a door. There is nothing special about it, it's entirely average in every way; yet it fills him with a sense of dread, like he's been here before. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he reaches for the handle.
He pushes the door open, only to be greeted with a blast of chilled air and pitch black. The sense of dread only grows, but something is pulling him into the room, beckoning him to come in and see what's hiding in the shadows. As he steps into the room, he hears the door lock behind him, but he is preoccupied with the sudden lighting of the room. Harsh fluorescent lights cast even harsher shadows into the room's corners, and onto the face of Jeanine Mathews. She looks as neat and clean as ever; her natural composure was one of the things that intimidated him the most about her.
Suddenly, the reason for his dread becomes apparent. She holds out a gun to Eric, and he sees the child cowering against the wall. He looks like he's about 12, and he's clearly terrified, and rightfully so. They both know what Eric is about to do.
"Do it." She says it with such conviction that he wonders if she even realizes what she's doing. But those simple words mean so much more than just that. They mean, "Do it, or else I will do much worse to you." So he lifts the gun with shaking hands up until the boy's head is in the sights of the gun. He wishes that he couldn't see the tears streaking the kid's face, he wishes that he could tell the kid sorry, but most of all he wishes that he didn't have to do this. But he doesn't have any options, so he just stares coldly into the child's eyes as he pulls the trigger until he hears the bang of the bullet firing from it's chamber.
Blood coats the wall, along with mutilated skull and brain matter. And then he can't tell anymore if it's dream or reality, because both are just as clear.
AN: Hi, sorry that this chapter both took really long to do, is pretty short, and is not really relevant to the main story... blame writers block. I don't know, I just felt like doing something a little different. I hope you like it :)