Pandemonium | Dream SMP

600k Special

Manburg has a lot of problems. From constant bar fights in our local saloon, the Crooked Raven. To the secret gambling den beneath our bank that Quackity swears isn't his—even though he's the sole owner of the building.

But the biggest problem of all comes from the individual known as Dream; a notorious bandit with a taste for destruction and mischief.

He's been around for almost two years, appearing briefly to cause mayhem only to vanish like a ghost days later. He's a slippery fellow to catch. Which would explain why half the town is out on the street now, cheering and booing and throwing stones at my latest catch as he's pulled along behind my horse, his wrists bound and his hat pulled low over his mask.

"Fuck you, green boy!" Tommy, one of our local troublemakers yells a little too happily, and throws a rock.

It skims Dream's head, cutting up the shell of his ear. The man doesn't the even flinch. He just lowers his head further.

I frown.

"Alright, that's enough rock throwing," I call over the crowd, pulling my steed to a halt and dismounting.

The reins are taken up by Ranboo, a tall kid with mismatched eyes and pointed ears. He likes horses, and tends to hang around the stable yard. He's a good friend of Tommy and Tubbo. The three of them have caused almost as much trouble as Dream since getting together.

Untying the rope from the saddle I allow Ranboo to lead the horse away.

"Nice job, Sheriff," Phil says, his arms crossed and an impressed smirk on his lips.

"Thanks, I got a few new bruises but he eventually came quietly."

Phil grins and the large black wings on his back twitch. Phil owns the only saloon in town; the Crooked Raven. His two sons help him run it, Tommy and Wilbur. Though Wilbur seems to be going through his musical phase and spends more time on the saloon piano than behind the bar serving drinks. He's a great pianist though so nobody really minds. A good singer, too.

"Don't let the doctor hear you. Ponk has been dying to find a patient to try out his new 'remedies' on for days now."

"And risk losing a limb? I think I'm good."

We smile and I receive a pat on the back as Phil returns to his saloon, dragging Tommy along with him.

The crowd send their last few glares and spit-wads Dream's way before they depart, returning to their drinks, hookers, or in some cases jobs.

I tug at Dream's hands as I lead him through the rest of town and to the one building I ever truly feel at home in.

The sheriff's office.

My office.

Sam is sitting at my desk, flipping through our collection of wanted posters when I enter with my prize.

"I thought I heard some noise outside." He muses, his nose and mouth hidden behind a green bandana. "Should have guessed it was you riling up the townsfolk again."

I shrug, smiling. "Not my fault I'm good at my job."

"Mm. Nice catch, by the way. I was wondering when you'd bring in the bandit king himself. It's been a while since you two caught up."

I roll my eyes good-naturedly, leading Dream to the small jail inside our office. It only has two cells, separated by iron bars. A single bed and a bucket are the only furnishings, which is still more than some jailhouses have.

Our local arsonist currently occupies one of the cells.

"'Sup, Dream." Sapnap smirks, tipping his hat to the masked man. "Fancy seeing you here."