Disclaimer: Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends does not belong to me. Thank you.

DIE does belong to me and those who have read S, S before it was killed (if anyone of you have any copies of that, send them to me post haste!). For those who are uninitiated, DIE is Destroy Imagination Everywhere and, in this world, rules. However, I don't think all the DIE members from S, S will resurface in here. I doubt it.

One last thing- though I said it in the summary, I feel I must say it again. Heavy Frankie/Herriman. If you've read No Bounds, you know I've got a thing for it. Well, they're a couple here. Deal with it or leave. I will hunt you down and make your life a living hell if you flame me. That is all.

Welcome to My Nightmare

Chapter One: Transgression

Rain streamed down the open windows and shattered both the silence and the warmth. Even so, the denizen hardly paid it any mind. Instead, he knelt by the small, blue imaginary friend and stroked his face. The creature shuddered, too weak to protest, eyes full of pain. The instant his hand touched him, he quaked and moaned. The color drained from him and he lay, white and prone on the hardwood floor.

Snickering to himself, the figure rose gracefully, his cloak sweeping around his black jeans as he began to pace. Every once in a while, his dark violet eyes would halt on Bloo, then resume glancing at whatever occupied his attention. The only sounds to break the silence were the pounding of rain on the windowsill and Bloo's rasps. Otherwise, boots scuffed silently and the stranger scarcely drew breath himself.

"Where is your master?" he said abruptly, stopping a good distance from the imaginary friend and scowling like he befouled him by existing. Indeed, he truly thought that.

"Huh?" he moaned, pushing against the floor with his stubby appendages to no avail. A wave of nausea and pain cascaded upon the poor friend and he slipped back down. Splinters wedged themselves inside and he cried out, picking at them agitatedly.

"Your master," the man spat, nudging him with a black boot. "Are you stupid? I know you're imaginary, but this is no excuse for ignorance."

Swallowing hard, aware of the abuse he had already suffered at this man's hands, he glanced once more, pleadingly up at him. Everything ached and what didn't ache throbbed. Even when he and Mac fought, he never received this level of torture. He'd never consciously attack him…or beat him to within an inch of his life. At the thought, his chest constricted and he bit back a howl. The boot nudged him harder, kicking him into the wall. Rain poured down, drenching the imaginary friend.

"If…I knew where he was, I'd tell you!" he squawked. Tears flooded his eyes and he whimpered, hugging himself tightly. Couldn't he leave him alone? It'd been hours and yet, no matter what answer he gave, he was never satisfied.

"Liar! You know perfectly well where he is! You're protecting him! Filth!" he sneered, kicking him square into the far corner. Bloo skidded, collecting dust that caused him to sneeze and aggravate an already tender body. His heart hammered in his chest- he was about to die here. His life flashed before his eyes…and he longed for Mac so badly, it rivaled his physical pain.

"I…I'm not! I swear!" he croaked, sobbing. Every wail drained more than he could afford and his world shimmered before his eyes. Maybe he'd be lucky and pass out. Already, his perceptions faded and dissipated. Don't let me betray them…

"Tell me!" he thundered, raining kick upon kick on his tender frame. Bloo screamed once more…the world dimmed…

"Worthless. Kill him."

It faded to black.

"He's late," he remarked, frowning lightly. "I knew he shouldn't have been allowed to go out to the surface."

Mac clenched his fists; he stared dully ahead of him at the microwave. All appliances and furnishings had been purchased by either helpers or people who weren't known as creators. That alone was difficult to hide since creators tended to be branded immediately once their creations were unleashed. They were permitted to keep them for a small amount of time- and then stand by as they were executed. Mac hadn't…and that made him a target.

Worse yet, he'd fallen in love with his imaginary friend and the two shared the sweetest love, but only below ground in their base. Otherwise, Bloo was forbidden to surface and Mac behaved like he'd never heard the name "Blooregard". It was better this way, despite his protests. It was either that or watch as his imaginary friend was blown to pieces. He couldn't handle that.

"He'll be fine," Frankie assured, laying a hand on his shoulder. He smiled weakly, hardly placated. A large, imaginary rabbit donning a mini vest, a top hat, and monocle scrutinized her and he scarcely refrained from rolling his eyes. Though they hadn't made it public, anyone with half a brain in their head knew why she lived down here with him. After all, she had no imaginary friend of her own and no stigma to keep her. Therefore, no logical reason to stay.

But Mac knew better. He caught the sidelong glances the two shared and spotted him slipping an arm around her when he thought no one was looking. He heard her blurt out odd things about him that she oughtn't to know and then there was the way she beheld him. Nothing could obscure the adoration in her green orbs…or the love in his. However, Mac was smart enough to know if they weren't ready to admit to anyone else, he wasn't going to spell out disaster.

"He's been gone for too long," he countered, laying his chin on the table morosely. "He just wanted a bag of chips from the corner store. He shouldn't have been stopped. He's wearing that disguise we rigged up that makes him look like a human."

All imaginary friends had one, in the rare instance they wished to venture to the surface or simply wanted fresh air. Some had even rigged theirs to be more than an illusion, which brought him back to Herriman and Frankie. However, his thoughts were too laden with concern for Bloo to ponder their peculiar situation for too long. Besides, that really wasn't any of his business.

He ground his teeth and glared at the cupboards. Of course, Bloo would risk everything to get a damn bag of chips. Never mind the last imaginary to wander to the surface had never been seen again. Never mind that Mac had begged and pleaded with him to reconsider. Never mind the physical danger implicit or the unspoken peril. Never mind everything; he had to go up there and get his damn chips!

Slamming his fist on the table (Frankie and Mr. Herriman jumped); he tore his gaze away from them and towards the open kitchen door. It swung back and forth thanks to the imaginary rabbit's entrance. Oddly, observing it made his blood rise and his fists clenched. He had to go after him. This was ludicrous. He'd been gone for too long.

"Don't," she pleaded, the hand on his shoulder tightening its grip threateningly. Mr. Herriman hopped closer, his paw brushing her free right hand. Unconsciously, she reached out to take it into her own, but their eyes fell upon Mac and they flinched.

"It is far too dangerous; regardless of the physical danger Master Blooregard may have placed himself in-" Mr. Herriman started, trying to show affection to Frankie subtly. He failed miserably.

"That's exactly why I have to go!" he replied, snatching his red blazer off the chair and tugging it on. Frankie frowned, placing both hands down upon his shoulders and forcing him to sit. Rebellious chestnut eyes fixed firmly on her verdant jade ones, but she neither forsook her position or relinquished any power. Her voice became steely.

"That's exactly why you have to stay here. It's bad enough he ran off; we don't need you dashing about like a chicken without a head," she snapped and frowned when Herriman winced at the analogy. Sometimes, she forgot he was an animal at all. With that device, it became very easy indeed.

"And I am quite certain that he took his transformation device, anyway. He would not be so foolhardy as to run to the store without it…" But his voice trailed off as a tall, lanky imaginary friend with only one arm, stitches, and a googly eye entered, sneakers squeaking. He glanced at Herriman, Frankie, and finally Mac with a look so grave, it gave them goosebumps.

He pulled out a belt, straps dangling off his hand. It was metallic with a green jewel inset in the center and it shone under the fluorescent lights. Once equipped, it fit any imaginary friend and could be activated with a press of the green jewel. However, this one clearly wasn't.

"You mean this?" he said slowly and silence descended upon the room. Not only had Bloo gone out alone, but he'd forgotten his most important item- the transformer.

Turning from her window ledge, she glanced at the pitiful specimen lain before her. The only indication it still lived was its occasional tremors. Otherwise, it could have been any random blue blob, well, nearly chalk white now thanks to the beatings. Raised purple welts decorated its upper body and dark red marks where blood occasionally still trickled. It pooled on her rich rug distastefully.

"I don't know whether I should kill you or serve you as dessert," she sneered, nudging the creature with her foot. It rasped, moaning pitifully. She'd never heard a creature closer to death than this, but it refused to give up. Hmm, extraordinary. Perhaps she'd abstain from plunging it into the pool and drowning it to study its habits.

"Mac…" it whispered, the softest sound she could ascertain. "Mac...help…"

Frowning lightly, she leaned down and stroked its face. It shivered, unconsciously sliding away from her. More blood pooled on the carpet. Even if it killed itself in the process, it was going to fight her every step of the way. Admirable, but foolish. It'd gain far more by working with her- she might actually save it. Otherwise, she'd fling it into the garbage like she did all the other useless imaginary friends.

"Mac isn't here right now," she murmured, scooping it up roughly. It struggled, protested, and finally passed out again.

"But I can take a message."

Digging her nails into its head, she hissed, "Tell me everything."