John enjoyed his job, really he did. The hours were regular, the contractors were normally cordial, and the pay was just enough to survive on—though not much beyond that. Most days, he spent his time at the office making calls to contacts, trying to organize the latest dream fulfillment for a child somewhere in the country.

John handled most of the background work: contacting venues and coordinating with suppliers. But whenever the “talent” needed to be wrangled, that task went to a whole separate team. Most of the “talent” Make a Dream Inc. worked with to fulfill a kid’s dream were superheroes—real-life supers with powers, gadgets, and whatever other gimmick they used to “fight crime.” That was well out of his wheelhouse, though. It took a super to talk to a super; most of them were so detached from day-to-day life they rarely spoke to regular humans without a camera pointed at them.

Looking at the clock, John let out a heavy breath. “Almost time for lunch,” he muttered. Talking to himself had become a habit; some days, he was the only person in the building, and hearing a voice—even his own—helped retain some sense of sanity.

Once, he’d tried playing music on a speaker he’d brought from home. But within minutes of starting up the soft tunes, his boss had called from the other side of the country, telling him to turn it off. Having a super for a boss could be inconvenient.

A click from the main office door caught his attention. He was supposed to be alone here until at least 4 p.m.—why was someone coming in early? Footsteps approached his small corner of the office, and he turned to see one of the Super Outreach team members.

“Tim, a bit odd to see you here,” John said as the large man walked over. “Weren’t you supposed to be overseeing Missile Man in Sydney?”

“Yeah, I’m there at the moment. Lucy loaned me a duplication burst for the next 24 hours. Borrowed her power enough that I can get to half her max number now. Had a job come in that we need you to take on, so I figured I should come in person.”

Tim was massive, like most supers—easily 6’8” and outweighing John by at least 100 kilos. His power allowed him to borrow a portion of another super’s ability for a limited time. The longer the duration, the weaker the power was meant to be. If he could get to half of Lucy’s maximum, he could have 50 copies of himself; a year ago, he could barely manage two.

“That’s… impressive,” John replied, deflecting away from the growing unease in his gut. “Have you been borrowing every job to get that efficient?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Helps clear some backlog, too.” Tim laughed, a deep rumble that John could feel in his bones. Tim must have borrowed another power along the way; he didn’t normally reverberate like that.

“Anyway, this new job,” Tim continued. “It needs a lighter touch.”

“Human, you mean,” John replied dryly.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Tim gave him a smirk. “Yeah, something like that. This one is big. If we pull it off, Make a Dream will be a household name—not just in Australia, but globally.”

“What, you need me to get Captain Outback? There’s no one here big enough to get that kind of international attention, Tim.”

Tim chuckled, leaning in with a conspiratorial glint. “That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. We’re not looking for a hero.”

John blinked, feeling the ground shift beneath him. Make a Dream was all about heroes—bright, shiny faces who could swoop in and save the day. Bringing in a villain wasn’t just unusual; it felt wrong.

“A villain? Who… who do you have in mind?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tim’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “We’re talking about Dream Catcher.”

John felt his stomach plummet. Dream Catcher. The name alone carried a shadow, a reputation for weaving nightmares instead of saving people from them. She wasn’t known for brute force or destruction; her powers lay in manipulation, bending dreams and twisting reality. She was practically a myth—a name whispered in warning rather than admiration.

“The Dream Catcher?” he repeated, his voice incredulous. “She’s… she’s nearly a myth herself. How do you even know where to find her?”

Tim’s grin widened. “That’s the beauty of it. She found us. Apparently, she’s got a soft spot for kids.”

John forced down the surge of emotion that rose within him. “And what exactly am I supposed to do?”

Tim handed him a sleek black card, blank except for a single number etched in silver. “You’re going to call her.”

John stared at the card as if it might burn him. “Me? I make calls to florists and caterers, Tim. I’m not trained to handle—”

“Villains?” Tim finished for him, grinning. “That’s the beauty of it, John. You’re the human touch—the sincerity. Just tell her what we need, and she’ll handle the rest.”

John’s mind spun, part of him wanting to bolt from the room right then. But something held him back—curiosity, perhaps, or pride. “Fine,” he said, gripping the card. “But don’t blame me if this goes sideways.”

“Trust me,” Tim said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just start with ‘hello.’”

With that, Tim turned and left, leaving John clutching the card like a lifeline—and a curse.

---

Alone in the office again, John’s mind raced. He looked down at the number, fingers tracing the edges of the card. Memories he thought he’d buried began surfacing.

Of all the people they could have chosen, why did it have to be her?

He hadn’t seen her in years—not since the day they’d parted ways under circumstances he tried not to remember. She’d already been powerful then, already dabbling in the darker paths of her powers. And her charisma… back then, it had been impossible to resist.

He almost put the card down, almost decided to leave the job to someone else. But he knew Tim would never let him live it down. Besides, no one here knew about his past with her, and he intended to keep it that way.

Finally, he dialed the number. The line rang once, twice. By the third ring, he almost hung up. Then, a soft click, and her voice slithered through like smoke.

“You took your time,” she said, her tone rich with amusement.

A shiver ran down his spine. Her voice was just as he remembered it—smooth, musical, with that edge of danger beneath the charm.

“Hello, Dream Catcher,” he managed, keeping his tone steady. “I’m calling on behalf of Make a Dream Inc. We have a… special request.”

“Oh, John,” she purred, her voice wrapping around his name. “It’s been so long. What a delightful surprise.”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “There’s a boy, a terminal diagnosis. His dream is to meet a real villain. We thought you’d be the perfect fit.”

Silence on the other end, and he could almost see her smirk. “How noble of you,” she said, tone dripping with mockery. “But tell me, John, is it really the boy’s dream—or yours?”

Her words struck harder than he wanted to admit. “You’re the one who wanted to clean up your image,” he shot back. “I figured it was a win-win.”

Dream Catcher laughed, a soft, knowing sound. “Oh, I’ll do it,” she said finally. “But only if the child has a specific dream I can fulfill. Tell him to dream of something truly unique.”

With that, she hung up, leaving him with a hollow silence and a pounding heart.

---

The office felt colder in the wake of the call. John sat alone, wrestling with the memories her voice had stirred. He’d spent years trying to forget her, to pretend he’d moved on. But the moment she’d spoken, he’d felt that familiar pull, the reminder of what they’d once been.

Switching off the lights, he stared back at the empty room, wondering if he could keep the past buried—or if, once again, he was destined to get pulled back into her shadow.