Flexmaster, Flex - Pure

This is a pure dream, free of the corruption of Leng. For the tainted version, see Flexmaster, Flex - Corrupted.
As the haze fades from your vision, you find yourself panning over a man's shoulder. He's sprinting down an ill-kept street, looking back every now and then to reveal a terrified expression, lit only by the flickering lights of the Spike, the slums of Absalom Station. The man turns suddenly, darting down a service corridor, and the tip of a white lab coat peaks out of a black jacket. There's a jumping cut, and you see in front of the man. He's holding a clear plastic pod, full of some kind of viscous fluid - with a baby Chad inside. The man looks down to check on the Barathu, and thus misses the debris at his feet, and trips. The plastic case shatters under his weight. The baby is squashed. Fluid oozes out of the man's fists as he screams, looks back the way he came, and sprints away - leaving his mess behind. For a moment, the camera hovers on that tiny form, its weak lungs still heaving, gleaming sickly in the streetlights. And then a thin, long shadow covers the babe. 
Phillis: "Heavens. Qwen, pick it up, and bring it to the Lotterbee’s. Sampson! Sampson Lotterbee! It’s Phillis. Open up. A baby. Oh, gods. It’s just a baby."
We fade, moving forward in time. The camera rotates around a small apartment in the Spike, where an ancient Halfling woman is sewing a banner. On it, in big sports font, reads: Flexmaster. There's a knock at the door, and the woman waddles over to answer. It's a Barathu, a younger Chad, who floats over the woman and into the room.
Phillis: “Oh, Marshmello. Did you forget your keys again?”
Chad: “Graham Cracker! What’s for dinner?”
Phillis: “Whatever you want, Marshmello. You just tell me, and I’ll make it.”
Chad begins to speak, but is interrupted by another knock at the door. Phillis’ face scrunches.
Phillis: “Must be Ms. Nob. She keeps forgetting her address, poor dear.”
The old woman opens the door. It’s a Barathu, a big one, covered in spines and glowing with a faint energy. A Confluence Agent. It pushes itself inside, much to the grandmother's protest. Chad’s tentacles pull closer to himself, the fear of a child taking over as he floats back into the kitchen corner.
Chad: “Graham Cracker?”
Phillis: "[To Chad] It’s okay sweetie. [To Agent] I've told you once and a thousand times, the boy will not go with you."
Agent: "Things have changed, Phillis. We’re not asking anymore."
The grandmother scowls, to which the Agent immediately responds. Phillis gasps as the Barathu slaps her across the face, sending her tumbling to the ground.
Phillis: "Chad, run!"
Agent: "What have you done to him?"
The camera spins from Phillis, focusing on Chad, slowly emerging from the shadows. His eyes are wide and milky-white, completely devoid of their typical kindness.
Phillis: “Chad?”
The Agent glides forward, and then stops, as if running into an invisible wall. Then it’s tentacles bend inwards. It’s spikes twist in its flesh, and push deep into the meat of its form.
Chad: “Get away from Graham Cracker.”
The creature tries to scream as the pressure increases, but after five seconds the Agent is already no bigger than a basketball, its blood wringing out onto the tile floor. Phillis gasps, which devolves into a sob as the horror continues. She says Chad’s name a few more times, but the Barathu doesn’t respond. Finally, she gets a hold of her cane, lifts herself up from the floor, and walks over.
Phillis: “Listen close now, Marshmello. You’ve made a very big mess. I want you to turn around, go to the bathroom, and get in the shower. Squeaky clean, you hear me?”
Chad: “...okay, Graham Cracker...”
Phillis: “That’s right. No funny business, young man. If you come out before fifteen minutes have passed I’m going to send you right back. Now go.”
Chad nods, and then hovers down the hall. Phillis watches him go, and then looking at the clock, she sighs. In a sped-up version of the dream, you see Phillis cutting the body to pieces, and then running it down the garbage disposal, piece by piece. The elderly woman quickly washes out the last of the sink before Chad arrives, turns to her boy, and smiles. His eyes are back to normal, although he looks sleepy, and perhaps confused.
Phillis: “Silly boy. Fell asleep in the shower, did you? Come, now. Help me cut up these carrots.”
Chad yawns, as if he is convinced of the lie, and then heads forward. The camera unfocuses, and like a bursting bubble, you leave the Dreamlands behind.