Jump The Gun || DSMP

.CH 5.

TW;
This chapter will contain several warnings discussed in the description and prologue of this book, as well as torture.

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- - -
- THIRD PERSON POV -
Setting:
King's house

It was painful, to say the least. Eret sat in a chair across from him, a pair of tweezers in his hands that he squeezed and unsqueezed, creating a rhythmical clicking sound.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Clay."
"I'm not telling you anything."

The tweezers was brought up to his eyes, which were quickly closed tightly. Still, he managed get an eyelash between the metal tips, pulling harshly. He let out a slight sound of pain. His eyes watered at the burning sensation, but he blinked the water away before he cried.

Dream shook his head. "We can go at this for hours, I'm not telling you shit."
King merely shrugged, standing up and smiling down at him. "Have it your way then. I'm tired of you. Let me know when you've had enough." He turned towards the door, and Clay almost thought for just a moment that he was going to be left alone, "CREEP, DUCK. GET YOUR ARSES IN HERE." He shouted in the direction of the door.

Dream recognized the names. Creep and Duck, two of the men from an ally gang of theirs called Nevads. Their presence made a shiver run up his spine as he watched Duck walk in. "Creep is going to be keeping guard outside the door, if you don't mind."
King nodded, smiling. "Of course. Need anything?"
"Nope, I'm good. Thanks, though, I appreciate it, man."
"Of course, of course. You know where to find me if you need me."

With that, King left.
It was just Duck and Dream.

Duck was a short man with slightly tanned skin. His hair was darker than the night sky, and he wore a blue hoodie with black sweatpants and a random torn beanie on his head. The most threatening aspect of him, though, was the dark scars along his whole face, the most noticeable of which was slicing through his right eye. The others surrounded the corners of his mouth, and there were a few much less noticeable scars on his cheeks. Even though Dream practically towered over him sometimes, he was a force to be reckoned with. Wealthy beyond belief and allied with equally terrifying people, his list is not one that you'd want to be on.

It seems, today, that Dream is on that list.

Duck let out a sigh, shaking his head. "What happened, man?"
His vague statement left the blond confused as he sat there, his body aching with pain and blood due to hours of endless torture. "What are you talking about?"
"What am I- You're getting your ass beat on a daily, Dream." His voice was harsh, annoyed, his expression only portrayed what could be described as an angered dread looking upon him. "And all because of some shit you said about some kid? Really? What happened? You were on top of the world, Dream. You were about to be the most powerful leader in the city! GEN-t was going somewhere. You fucked it up. And now I'm hearing all this shit about you being threatening to one of your longest-lasting members? What happened?"

Dream let out an annoyed noise, biting the inside of his mouth. He hated being lectured. "It was a stupid bluff! I was to try and get those guys who were fighting us to leave us alone! You don't get it."
"No, no, I get it, Dream. You're selfish. You don't understand how words effect people. You don't need to explain it to me anymore."

The blond shook his head quickly. "No, no that's not what-" He paused for a moment as he saw the tanned man pull a pocket knife out of seemingly nowhere. Suddenly his words grew even more rushed, quick, and desperate. He sounded infinitely out of breath as he begged. "No, no no, Duck, Quackity! We can work this out! There's no reason to be taking out knives! We can talk, we can-"