The Dream Case || Dreamnotfound

4

The next morning was a Sunday so George went to the place he usually went on Sundays— the shooting range.

He entered the large building and was greeted by his friend— Luke.

"Ah, you're back again," Luke greeted with a smile.

"You should know this by now," George replied, grabbing a pair of noise cancelling headphones, "I come here every Sunday."

"Yeah yeah, I just thought you liked to sleep."

"I slept well last night actually."

"Oh really?" Luke raised an eyebrow and studied George. "Hmm, you do look refreshed, did I miss something?"

"I- uh, I went on a date last night," George said and walked with Luke to the shooting range.

"A date! You? No way. You're literally the definition of a workaholic, how'd the lucky lady— or lucky gentleman— convince you to give up you're time?"

George shrugged. "I figured it would be a nice change. It doesn't hurt that he paid, so the meal was free."

"He?" Luke said in a teasing tone, "So who's the lucky guy?"

George rolled his eyes jokingly. "That's none of your business and, for your information, it was just dinner, nothing else happened."

"Ugh, fine," Luke mumbled. He turned to walk away and added, "Happy shooting."

George nodded with a smile and put on his headphones. He took his gun from his holster and turned off the safety. Taking a deep breath, he started the same routine, like every other Sunday.

He finished an hour later and headed to the nearest grocery store for his weekly shopping. After grabbing a shopping cart, he walked through the aisles and picked up his necessary items.

The store music switched off and a radio announcer turned on. The crackly voice stated, "Citizens of Orlando, this is a broadcast from your local news station. Just last night another killer had emerged—"

George paused his shopping to listen.

"I know you're all thinking it's Dream, but this one likes to call himself Sapnap— a discount Dream, if you will. A body was found by a citizen before the police and identified the note left behind. It read 'Hello Orlando, I'm here to prove a point. With much love, Sapnap."

The announcer laughed, "I wouldn't be to worried, this guy seems like a knock off. Your local police will catch him soon enough!"

And just like that, the announcer's voice left the crackly speakers and the music turned back on.

George sighed and muttered, "I'm gonna hear about this tomorrow."

~

The next morning George arrived at the station at his normal time, the place bustling with officers and assistants.

George was greeted with tired smiles and grumpy good mornings. He walked up to his fellow detective and asked, "Who's been assigned to Sapnap's case?"

Zak turned to him and offered a smile, "Me, actually. Technoblade offered me the case and I couldn't refuse."

George grinned. "Congratulations! I know you'll do well!"

"Thank you. Sapnap's motives seem unclear so far, but it's looking like he's trying to mimic Dream— hopefully he'll do a worse job and make it easier for me."

George nodded and said, "Well, good luck on your case."

"You as well."

They both smiled and George left the small room that was now dedicated to the new killer. He entered the room where all of the information on Dream was and let out a long sigh.

He crossed his arms as he stood in front of the wall full of photos and red lines. His eyes traced the lines as they travelled from one victim to the method of death to another victim.

It was a maze full of dead ends.

"He's going to mess up sooner or later," Niki commented from beside him.

George nodded. "Let's hope we get something good soon. I don't want any more deaths."

"I agree. The sooner we find his motives, the sooner we'll be able to find his next victim— if the victims are even connected in any way."

"There's gotta be something," George muttered.

"If there is, we haven't found it yet."

George opened his mouth to respond, but Niki was called away to look at some evidence. George rubbed his temples thinking, Something has to connect it all, right?

Why would Dream murder without motive? It wouldn't make sense, unless Dream was a psychopath who murdered with no specific intent other than to kill.

If that was the case, then George's job was ten times more difficult.

Just then one of the workers on the Dream Case burst into the room and shouted over the bustle of the office, "There's another body! Techno wants all the field workers at Oak Street in ten minutes! Victim is in apartment 312!"

Oak Street. Ten minutes. Apartment 312. George made a mental note and followed his coworkers out to their cars.

He and Jack jumped into his car and George drove quickly following the red and blue siren of the police car, which paved the way for George and his team.

Ten minutes later, George and Jack arrived at the apartment building and entered the proper room behind the police officers and forensic scientists.

George let them do their job before he walked around. The victim was a middle aged man. There was a dagger in his chest, which seemed to be pinning a note to the victim.

Jack wordlessly handed him a pair of latex gloves and George pulled them on, crouching over the body.

The note was larger than usual. Blood had seeped through some of it, but the majority of the paper was left skillfully untouched. A familiar black scrawl was easy to read.

It read, 'Turn that frown upside down... you look so much prettier when you smile :)'

George frowned, despite the note's message. He sighed and turned his attention to the blade in the victim's chest. It was the typical dagger that Dream liked to use; the killer seemed to have an endless supply. The silver blade was stained red towards the end and the black hilt was decorated with the notorious white smile.

George noticed something under the glare of the apartment light. He held out his hand to Jack, and without tearing his eyes away from the dagger, he said, "Flashlight please."

A flashlight was pressed into his palm moments later and George turned it on, focusing the light on the dagger's hilt. Nothing was visible, so George turned on the blue light filter.

And there it was, finally, a fingerprint.

"Well, well, well," George muttered with a grin, "what do we have here?"

There wasn't much to it, barely the side of a thumb. It wasn't planted there on purpose, George could tell. He wasn't even sure if there was enough there for it to be considered a fingerprint.

If Dream had ever been arrested, they would know his identity within days.

He handed the flashlight back to Jack and turned to one of Niki's interns. George instructed the young woman and she listened, taking note of everything George was saying.

George pulled off his gloves with a satisfied smile and said to Jack, "It looks like we're finally going to get somewhere."