Operation: Merciless

Chapter Forty-Two | Weee!

Dream tried to distance himself from George, who giggled playfully before reaching out. Dream swiftly snatched George's arm before he could make contact.

"No, hold on," Dream cautioned, swatting away one of George's prying hands. George chuckled in response and reclined, fingers wandering to his bleeding wound. Dream hurriedly smacked his hand away, realizing that time was running out to prevent George from bleeding out.

Rising to his feet, Dream grabbed bandages and returned to George's side. George's eyes flickered as he teetered on the brink of consciousness. Dream swiftly wrapped gauze around George's neck, all the while watching George's fascination with the disappearing gauze.

"Poof!" George giggled, a sight that brought a smile to Dream's face. It seemed that George's carefree state, induced by the drug, was a surprisingly enjoyable outcome.

"Dreamieeee..." George hummed, as though mesmerized by something before him. He attempted to touch Dream again, but Dream intercepted his hand once more.

"George," Dream gently scolded.

"Let meee touch youuu!" George whined.

Though George remained carefree, Dream was unaffected by the drug's influence. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, causing his hood to fall and his hair to cascade into view. It was unlikely that George would remember any of this.

George's eyes lit up. "Ooo!" He reached for Dream's hair, but Dream halted him again. "Flufffyy!"

Dream rolled his eyes beneath his mask before allowing George to run his fingers through his hair. He watched in fascination as George played with individual strands, only to see them fall neatly back into place.

George withdrew his hand and attempted to reach for Dream's mask. Dream acted swiftly. "No, Georgie: mask stays on," he instructed, as if speaking to a child. George seemed far too upset for his own good.

As the drug began to wear off, George grew more and more lucid. He groaned, tilting his head back, and Dream observed until George became completely still. Monitors sounded, alerting Dream to George's dropping heart rate and blood pressure. He sprang into action, placing an oxygen mask over George's face and administering a clear liquid through the IV to stabilize his condition.

With a sigh, Dream pulled up his hood, ensuring it aligned with his mask, and tucked away any stray hair. George needed rest now.

Exiting the room, Dream contemplated the need for something other than saving lives—a need for taking them.

Deep in thought, he navigated the corridors until he reached his desired room. The occupant looked up at the approaching killer.

"Hello?" they asked, catching Dream off guard. Dream attempted an intimidating tilt of his head, but the person mirrored him.

"Seriously? What are we doing? I've been in these chains for hours," the person complained, their hair featuring two contrasting colors, magenta and light blue.

An intriguing choice of hair colors...

They scrutinized Dream. "I know I'm not supposed to talk, but aren't you allowed to speak?"

Dream had hoped for a straightforward kill after the heroin incident, but fate seemed to have other plans. "You're quite talkative," he remarked smoothly, noting that this person might make the kill more interesting.

Since the "Floof" situation, Dream had learned to appreciate any reactions. He wouldn't let his victims get into his head again.

"Oh! You do speak!" The person beamed. "Hey! Question! Wait... I'm not supposed to ask questions." Their smile turned into a frown, but Dream detected a hidden smile of his own.

"What is it?" Dream crouched down to their level.

The person's eyes lit up. "Can I have a final request?"

Dream raised an eyebrow. "A request?"

"Can I choose how I die?" The person's unusual enthusiasm intrigued Dream.

"Only if it's an interesting suggestion."

"How about you fling me around like a ragdoll! Wouldn't that be interesting? Sounds fun, to be honest!"

Dream thought it was a brilliant idea. He had never tried anything like it. "You say 'Wee!' and it's a deal!" Dream smiled behind his mask, hidden from the victim's view.

"Sounds like a plan!" the person agreed with a grin.

Dream released their restraints and helped them to their feet.

"God, you should really think about decorating this place a bit more. It's rather plain."

Dream glanced around the room, somewhat surprised to find that they were right. George's room at Technoblade's house was similarly bare.

"Do you lift weights?" the person inquired.

Dream laughed in response. "I lift bodies, but it's a similar concept." He found himself oddly drawn to this person, but he couldn't let them live. One was enough.

"Do you have a name?" Dream asked, wanting to remember this particular victim.

"Lucie!" they chirped. "Nice meeting you, Dreamer! Perhaps in another life, we could have been friends."

"All right, time to go," Dream announced, motioning for Lucie to approach. They sighed but complied, walking over to him. He gripped their arm, ignoring their wince; he had developed a deathly grip over the years.

"Okay, clawed dragon, let's fly!" were Lucie's last words before they fulfilled their "Wee!" promise.

Dream had more fun today than he had in a long time, spinning Lucie around like a ragdoll until they fell silent.

When he glanced back, he saw Lucie flung against the wall, their dislocated arm still in Dream's grip. He released the arm and surveyed the mess. He would clean it up later; first, he needed to check on George.

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Hey yo! Keep the chapters coming am I right! Anyways had lots of fun with this chapter felt it was about time I killed my good friend Lucie in my book XD

hope it was entertaining enough for y'all! Seriously y'all are amazing!

Stay Calm, Stay alive
~Onyx

knocking these out for yall muah

-former editor han