Let the Games Begin DreamNotFound

Chapter 11

George POV

If this were an elevator, it was the Worst. Elevator. In. The. Fucking. Universe. 

George's stomach twisted, flipped inside out, and thrashed into a cherry smoothie. What started as a rickety descendant had soon turned into a full rattling fall that stuttered every few feet. He latched onto Dream's arm so hard his knuckles turned white, both long since fallen on their asses. 

Tommy spewed curses faster than a famous rapper, earning a glare from his brother who still had a comical grip on the blond's tracksuit collar. Sykunno had his eyes covered, Corpse gritting his teeth so hard his jaw jutted. Meanwhile Sapnap and Skeppy appeared to be in a competition to see who could scream the loudest. 

The world flashed by in a dizzying blur, and George was beginning to think they'd end up passed out in puddles of vomit before they made it down. 

BAM

The floor slammed hard into his back, and he groaned at the bruises he could already feel forming. 

"That," Dream choked out. "Was the worst fucking transportation yet. I'll take being drugged again over that." 

"Second that." Wilbur agreed. 

George's vision focused to see the gap between them had been filled, solid stone floors stretching without a blemish. They were somewhere in the ground, surrounded by four rocky walls with only a single door of yellow painted wood.

"These aliens make no sense." Tommy laid down flat on the shiny floor. "What's the point of killing us before the game?" 

"Entertainment." Sapnap muttered. "The sick fucks probably get a kick out of this." 

"Can we just stay here?" Tommy whined. "I feel like shit now." 

"We all do, get used to it." Sapnap sighed, pushing himself to his feet with a slight groan. 

Sykunno scooted closer to Tommy, hesitating slightly before tapping his shoulder. "Um, you're not hurt too badly, are you?" 

"He's fine." Wilbur answered before the blond could reply. "Tommy's always been dramatic." 

"SHUT UP WIL, NO ONE ASKED YOU!" 

George smiled at their antics, a slight tug in his hands making his head turn. Dream raised an eyebrow at him, standing up with his back slightly bent, his arm held captive in a crushing grip. George flushed, and released him immediately. "Sorry." 

Dream hummed, grinning with a slight shrug of his shoulders as if to say its fine. 

"What do you think is back there?" Wilbur eyed the yellow wood, brushing his fluffy chocolate hair out of his lashes. 

"I'll check it out." Corpse walked to the door, opening to peek inside. "What?" 

George pushed himself up, wobbling when his head rushed with blood. 

"It's a bedroom." Corpse turned so they could see. 

Sure enough, sky blue walls encased a small room of bunk beds. Their own reflection stared back at them from a massive mirror on the far wall, a singular door tucked in the corner. Thin grey sheets lined the beds, each with one puffy pillow. 

"The fuck?" Dream slipped past Corpse and entered the room. 

George followed, and soft steps signaled the others were right behind him. Upon closer inspection, he saw a bottle of water and packet of food beside every pillow.

"There's a note here." Dream picked up a piece of paper on one of the beds. "'Without recharge, the body will collapse. You may rest here before the next game begins. One hour until lights out.'"