Crack Of Dawn (Dream x GeorgeNotFound)

Execution

"My favorite... what?"

The man kneeled down to lay out a case of intricate tools on the stool, occasionally picking one up and examining it. An ornate dagger instantly caught George's eye, with swirling embellishments running up and down its hilt and blade.

The staring didn't go unnoticed, since it was carefully separated from the rest and brought closer to George, who instinctively flinched back as much as his restraints allowed him to.

George's breath hitched when the knife was lowered to the ropes on his hands, the thick coils instantly falling apart with just a single swift movement.

"Good choice." The man pulled the dagger back, cleaning it with a surprisingly spotless washcloth from the toolkit. "Extremely sharp, not to mention valuable. We'll make great memories with this."

He seemed to get lost in his own world as he gently caressed the knife. If George didn't know any better, he'd think the guy was really into collecting weapons. He was probably right, although people who collect them usually don't go on murder sprees.

Scott's cough snapped them both out of their train of thought. The man's fingers abruptly halted on their way down the delicate carvings on the blade.

"So, aren't you gonna let me go now?" George couldn't help but look at the cop while the masked figure remained kneeling, poring over the dagger. "The time's ticking, son. The more time you hold me here for, the more trouble you get in."

Another booming laugh met the demands. George didn't entirely like the idea of worldlessly submitting to the psychopath, but at least he had the brains not to talk back when he was not in the position of power. The cop, however, didn't seem to realize that, constantly having held that place over others throughout his life.

"You know, Scott..." The man twirled the dagger with his gloved fingers. "For a cop, you're surprisingly bad at negotiating."

George watched as the toolbox was stowed back away and the surgical table from the corner of the room was wheeled to the center.

He tried to pick at the ropes bounding the rest of his limbs with his one free hand, but to no avail. The dagger was entirely out of reach and the short intervals of time when the man's back was turned wasn't enough to really study the knots, either.

Scott's shouts suddenly filled the room, causing the figure to turn around."Hey, the kid's tryna escape!"

George shot the man a look of disbelief. As much of a jerk the guy was, he hadn't expected to be ratted out by him, considering they were more or less in the same boat.

"That's right, kiddo. If you ain't gonna help me, I ain't gonna play nice, either."

George cursed under his breath as the man walked over and stood between them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. Scott had a smug grin on his face as the figure leveled his gaze with him.

"Dear guests..." The hand was drawn back from George to make its way down to the stool. The man never broke eye contact as he leaned down and picked up the ornate dagger. "I would be oh so terribly sad if something were to happen because you weren't playing nice."

"I was helping you, you-"

"Quiet!" The grip on Scott's shoulder tightened, making him hiss out in pain. "As I was saying before you crudely interrupted me... Snitching isn't a very polite thing to do. Didn't your mom teach you that?"

The cop squirmed against the restraints, trying to break free. George thought that even if he managed to lunge at the psychopath, the chances of him winning were close to zero. He was unarmed, and this was the murderer's lair. It'd be like fighting a shark with your bare hands in the middle of an ocean.