The Puppet Master || DNF?

3

Dream didn't think he could miss a single person this much. Well, maybe that's because George was his best friend. He would give anything to be back with him, back in that warm embrace.

But it's raining now, and Dream is on the run. It's raining outside of Dream's small tent he knows he'll have to abandon soon. Explosions and screams in the distance tell him Sam is close, just fighting mobs.

Well, he could always stay. He could always sit here and wait for Sam to get him. Dream is tired, he wants to go home. He wants to sleep somewhere that isn't the outside. He wants to sleep in an enclosed space, inside and warm. Dream just wants to rest, but Lord knows Dream cannot rest. He must keep going, he must keep running.

But Dream does not want to run. Dream will not run, he will sit in this tent and wait. He won't wait for long, but he will wait.

As he guessed, the wait is not long for Sam to see him in his tent.

"Dream, just come with me," Sam calls out to the boy who sits in the tent. Sam's hair is wet, as well as the whole of him. He's been drenched by the rain falling from above.

"Yeah, I know," Dream rises to his feet. He's hesitant to step outside into the cold rain, but does anyway.

Sam walks toward the other, who does not move a single inch. Dream even holds out his own hands to be cuffed with, and does not use his abilities. Dream does not bother to control Sam and make him let him go.

Dream wants to go. He wants to be taken to a warm cell. It would be much better than tents that barely hold up during the rain and break under hail.

Sam does take him to a cell, one that is large inside the prison.

It's the nicest place Dream has been in for a while. They walk across a lever-activated bridge. It carries Dream across into the cell after emptying anything he could use to escape. Inside is a desk carrying an empty notebook and a quill. Inside a chest near the desk is potatoes, something Dream isn't really accustomed to eating. But, he doesn't mind it.

Allowing himself to be locked in here was a mistake. A huge mistake, one that Dream would regret for a long time after Quackity came in.

"Dream," Quackity had greeted him with something held behind his back. "I have a question for you. As soon as you answer it, I'll leave you be."

Dream stays silent and waits for the question to come.

"Dream, I want your powers. No, that's not the right wording– I want you to tell me how your powers work. Would you be up to that?" Quackity asks, clearly being impatient, and leans on a nearby wall.

"Why would you ever need to know?" Dream demands from the stone floor he sits on, his hands resting in his lap. "Besides, there are three things I can do with my powers. Which would you like to know?"

"Dream," Quackity calls his name and crouches down so he is level with the man sitting. "I want to know how to revive somebody, and I know that if I have the knowledge, I can do it."

"Well, tough luck, because I won't tell you," Dream shrugs and lets his head fall against the wall. "You would have too much power."

"It isn't a choice," Quackity stands back up and begins to crack his knuckles and neck. "This is the last time I will ask you. How do I bring back the dead?" He speaks slowly with a voice filled with irritation and anger.

"I will not tell you!" Dream shouts and springs to his feet. He's ready to run if it comes to it. Despite that fact, when Quackity manages to grab his arm he freezes for a second.

"Get off me!" Dream cries out and tries to pull his arm away to no avail.

Quackity's nails are digging into his arm. He's got a tight grip as he pulls him over to the bars of the cell. Dream tries to get out of the grasp but ends up not being able to even in the split second when Quackity lets go to hold his arm between the bars.

"Tell me," Quackity demands once again, earning no reply from the other.

Quackity shrugs and brings his arm away from the bar after aligning his elbow with it.

"What are you- what are you doing?" Dream asks and tries once more to free himself from the tight grip. "Quackity! What are you-" his sentence is interrupted by a loud scream sounding from his throat as Quackity slams his elbow down on the bar, resulting in an intense pain.

Tears sting in his eyes as he screams and holds the fractured elbow. Quackity stands by the bars, unphased by what he has done. The pain while it is straightened out is too much to bear, so he bends his arm and holds it in front of him.

"What the fuck?" Dream shouts and backs away from the other. He lands flat against the rough, stone wall, wincing as he does.

Quackity only comes forward once more to the boy pressed against the wall.

"Are you going to tell me?" Quackity asks once more, slowly and emphasizing each word. When Dream shakes his head, he grips the arm with a fractured elbow. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not telling you anything," Dream hisses. Quackity straightens out the arm roughly, pain immediately following with a short cry from the other and tears spilling out of his eyes.

"Tell me," Quackity demands once more,

"Fuck off," Dream spits out sourly, wincing slightly as the arm is roughly let go.

Quackity walks out of the cell, slamming the door roughly behind him. Sam comes in moments later and uses his own powers to let the elbow heal quicker, and by quiker I mean in about two hours.

The cycle continues for the next month. Quackity will ask if Dream will tell him, Dream will refuse, and Quackity will hurt him. Whether it be fracturing his bones in any way, or just beating him up until he has bruises all over his body. Either way, Dream would always refuse.

Then, without fail, Quackity would come again, but this time with a pair of scissors. Dream would look up, unbothered for he has already seen it all apparently.

"What do you plan to do with those?" Dream would ask, tilting his head to the side as Quackity steps closer.

The man in the button up holds out the scissors, blade facing the other on the floor as he holds the handles in his right hand. Quackity crosses his arms with a sigh and furrows his eyebrows together.

"Quackity?" Dream calls out nervously, his voice quavering slightly ask he speaks, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

Before he can utter another word, Quackity charges over to him and roughly takes hold of his jaw. Quackity opens the scissors wide and presses the blade against the very edge of his jawline. It's already begun to draw blood.

"Dream, let me tell you something," Quackity speaks slowly and in a whisper, as if he has a desire for only Dream to hear his next words. "This is your last chance to hand over that fucking information. And if you don't, it's only going to get a lot worse from here."

"I'm not telling you," Dream speaks in the same tone, taking a nervous swallow as he speaks. Dream is one that knows Quackity isn't joking around when it comes to these things.

Quackity shrugs and slices a sharp line on Dream's jaw. Dream yelps and clutches the cut with a wince. Already he knows it'll get worse than this. Quackity would ask him to tell the information, Dream would say no, and Quackity would cut him. He would cut him on his arms, his face, and his jaw over and over. The cycle continues until Dream's body is full of cuts, and Quackity has had enough.

Dream is tired. Dream wants to sleep in a bed again. In his tent in the woods that moved as he did. He did not want to be stuck in this cell anymore. It's driving him crazy. The ticking of the clock, the jingle of Sam's keys, the opening of the cell, the godforsaken sound of rain.

He used to dance in the rain. He used to sing and dance in the rain with George until their shirts were sticking to their skin. Until their throats were hoarse from shouting and rain dripped down their eyelashes, eyelids heavy with water. George used to hold his hands and spin him in circles, Dream would laugh and they would smile.

Just the two of them, but no longer the two of them anymore, for Dream fears the string might break.