Crack Of Dawn (Dream x GeorgeNotFound)

First Trip

Soft flicking across his forehead. He opened his eyes, trying to stave off the grogginess. His hands were raw from the friction against the ropes, and his bones and joints were aching from unuse.

As his vision focused, memories started to flood back to him. He groaned out as he tried to adjust himself into a more comfortable position, although none were convenient after being bound to a chair for god knows how long.

The basement was still dark, but George could see more or less clearly. The masked man stood in front of him, with his fingers floating right in front of his forehead. He glanced up, earning another flick.

"Good, you're awake. Not an ideal recovery time." He grabbed a notepad from the stool, jotting something down. "The best so far, though. I expected you to die."

George drew his head back, and spat right in his captor's face. "Go to hell."

The man grabbed a stained rag to wipe his mask, retrieving a makeshift gauntlet from the shelves and slipping it on. He flexed the fingers to test the flexibility before he lunged at George and wrapped the metallic fingers around his throat, squeezing tight.

"Now, as a guest, I expect you to behave." The close proximity voice as he leaned down sent goosebumps down George's spine. He gasped for air as the fingers tightened, cutting off the air to his windpipe. "Are we clear?"

George struggled for breath, slightly moving his head up and down as the grip was lifted. His face was flushed. The figure pulled out a second chair, taking a seat across from George. He slipped off the gauntlet, laying it on the floor far out of reach.

"Good." He leaned back, admiring his prey. Not so much a prey, since he'd already been captured. But his movements radiated nothing but malice and, as much as George hated to admit it, confidence. "Welcome to your home for the rest of your life."

He stranger held out his hand for a handshake, laughing to himself when he spotted George's bound arms. This situation seemed to amuse the captor - maybe he even got off on it like some sick power play.

"Listen, I don't know who the fuck you think I am, but you've got the wrong person." George forced out pained words through his stinging throat. "If you let me go, I'll-"

A booming laugh interrupted him. "Let you go? Now, why would I do that? You're the most promising subject yet. And the fiercest guest, that's for sure. The others gave up an hour in, begging and screaming for mercy, which-"

"That's enough!" George tried to kick the chair the figure was sitting in over, but it was just out of reach, the distance seemingly calculated down to the millimeter. "Please. I don't want any part of whatever the fuck you're doing down here."

The man crossed his legs, leaning back into his chair like he was having a casual conversation with an acquaintance. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What manners!" He retrieved a pill from his pocket. "Interrupting your host like that... No, I'll have to teach you not to be disrespectful."

He stood up, leaning over and forcing George's mouth open. He stuffed the pill in, which instantly fizzled and melted, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His tongue swole up, spreading a numb feeling throughout the entire area.

"The ffffuck did you jutht fffeed me?!" George slurred his words, unable to speak properly.

"Ah, you're probably just allergic to the drug. Suck it up." The man stood up, dusting himself off. "PCP. You might know it as 'angel dust'. I'm surprised you haven't had it, your friend has mentioned you're quite the party spirit."

The stranger giggled to himself. He picked up the notepad, writing something down on it.

"It's a drug that causes hallucinations. Out of body experiences, to be precise." He tapped the tip of the pen against the paper. "You're going to have a blast if your trip goes well. If not, then..."