Crack Of Dawn (Dream x GeorgeNotFound)

The Emperor

Clay was lying in bed, tossing a rubber ball up in the air. The thudding noise it made as it hit his palm was calming.

He was angry. Enraged. At himself, at his "friends", at George... Though he wasn't surprised. It wasn't like this had been his first escape attempt, and the fact that he should've seen it coming fed his self-disappointment even more. He'd have to do something about that later.

He replayed the events in his head. Everything from the walk there, to the look of disgust and terror on George's face, all the way to him catching his friends scheming against him.

What was it about George that made him so... helpable? Besides the ability to play the role of a damsel in distress flawlessly? He'd somehow manipulated Nick into giving his life for his freedom, and the same had just happened with Zak and Darryl.

Whatever he'd done, it was enough for seasoned criminals to risk their entire livelihood for his sake. Clay had experienced it first-hand. Those pleading brown eyes that made saying 'no' next to impossible.

But Darryl... He'd crossed the line a step too far. He was trying to embarrass him, to take George away. That scheming prick had set his eyes on what wasn't his.

"Um, Clay..." Darryl had lowered his voice, just enough for George to overhear. "Maybe this isn't my place to say but-" His eyes had been plotting something. "You look-"

Weak. Sick. On the verge of death?

Clay tightened his fingers around the rubber ball until they started trembling from the pressure.

No. He wouldn't take the blatant disrespect. He couldn't. If he let his reputation get smudged in the dirt, what else would he have? He was getting weaker day by day. His title was by far the most reliable crutch he leaned on.

Darryl wanted to destroy him. Tarnish his name, steal George. His blood boiled with anger. Well, he'd teach a very important lesson that day - he wasn't to be messed with.

He loosened his grip on the rubber ball. His anger had subsided and a familiar presence of assuredness descended onto him. The feeling was weightless, a detachable part of him that came every time he needed it. Without it... well, he'd be just like any common person.

His feet moved on their own, leading him towards what he needed. He bounded down the basement stairs soundlessly.

His hand dipped into the box of cards, pulling one out. He didn't look at which one he took. He didn't need to look; fate had a funny way of always making his plans fall in place. Whichever one he ended up with, it would fit.

George wasn't there. Weird. But nothing to worry about - the front door was sealed tight. He hoisted a hatchet over his shoulder and headed out.

The midnight sky hung above him, clear and speckled with countless stars. He took a moment to inhale the cool air and appreciate the scenery.

Though it shouldn't have been night... Time was passing far too quickly. The condensed barrier around the house was getting diluted.

He shook the concern off as he headed down the alley. There were far more important things to tend to. Far more pressing matters to deal with.

He could feel the former rage trying to claw its way inside his head again, desperately, fearfully, as if trying to intercept the clearness of his mind.

His legs carried him on their own and the next thing he knew, a neon sign reading 'The Halo Bar' shone right in front of his face.

A bell sounded above the door. Good. His entrance had been announced. Just how he liked it.