Dream woke up with a throbbing headache. His arm didn't take long to remind him about the wound either.
It took a while to get used to the lightning but when his eyes had adjusted to the dark setting, it hit him where he was: The basement. However, this time it was Dream turn to be held captive. Judging by the lack of light from the window and the sleeping figure curled up on the opposite side of the cell, it was fair to assume that it was night.
"I see that you're finally awake." A bored voice stated out of nowhere. Dream swiftly turned to where he estimated the origin of the voice had come from. He found Techno looking at him with a bored expression.
"Techno, what the hell am I doing in here?" Techno wore a mask made out of a pig skull with all black clothes. The sight was terrifying, especially if you knew what the man behind the mask was capable of.
"You're in there to keep playing your part. Think of it as working as a double agent." Techno stated.
"Techno, this will never work! George is too smart; he'll see right through it." Dream hissed, careful not to wake George up by talking too loudly. Techno stood up and walked closer and crouched down on the other side of the fence.
"You're underestimating your charisma, Dream. You should've heard how he shouted and cursed as we dragged your body down here. We even had to sedate him." Techno said with a hint of amusement.
Dream glanced around to cell and found that neither of them were chained anymore and he was back in the same green shirt that he had worn the night he kidnapped George. Techno leaned closer. "Everything's a game, Dream. Play your part correctly and it will all be fine. Fail to do so..." The sentence was left unfinished, but Dream had no issues guessing potential outcomes. Both remained quiet until Techno stood up and started making his was up the stairs. Dream let out a breath when the hitman closed the door. He knew that the room didn't contain any cameras or interception devices. Therefore, he dared to approach the sleeping brunette. He cringed when he saw the bruise on the side of George's face, painfully aware that he had caused it. He carefully shook George's shoulder but only received a quiet mumble in response.
It must be so scary, being trapped here without knowing why. Pity caused Dream to slump down next to George and lifted him up slightly, so his head was resting against Dream chest. The brunette protested for a second before his breathing got even again. Dream let his fingers detangle the brown locks and removed the hair from the sleeping individual's face. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Fuck. Everything was a mess. If he only could get George to talk. But there was still no guarantee that the brit knew anything. And it wasn't like Schlatt had promised to let George go, even if he revealed that he knew something. It was more likely to assume that Schlatt would keep him captive for as long as he deemed George to be of use.
Project 404. What could Mr. Davidson have done that was so controversial that he lost his license and had to flee the country? It didn't make sense, George seemed like anyone else. The only feature that Dream could connect to genetic mutations was the eyes. But even Dream knew that it wasn't unheard of for people to have different colored eyes. It was rare, but not impossible.
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Bleak sunbeams slowly made their way into the room. Dream guessed that it was about six in the morning. George was still deep asleep, but Dream refused to wake him up. He would let him sleep as long as possible. Maybe it could redeem him from ending up in the lowest level of hell if he did some acts of kindness.
His body ached from the hard concrete floor and walls. His legs urged him to get up, yet he didn't obey. The brit stirred in his sleep and Dream suspected that he was about to wake up. He let his fingers run through the soft locks once more.
"I'm so sorry, Georgie." He mumbled. The brunette must've recognized his voice because he shot up right after Dream had uttered the sentence.
"Clay?" George's voice was nearly non-existent but still radiated suspicion, surprise, and relief all at the same time. Dream gave him a weak smile. George didn't move away from Dream's grip and it both warmed and broke his heart. George trusted him. Correction, George trusted 'Clay'.
A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Dream's torso. Dream tightened his own grip and allowed his chin to rest upon the brit's head.
"Are you okay, George?" George leaned closer against Dream's chest and shook his head.
"I don't know." The answer hinted about the mental fatigue that George must've felt. There was no answer that felt good enough, so Dream remained quiet.
"One minute I was with you and the next, I wake up in a cell with two creepy guys guarding me and questioning me about my family." Dream froze at the confession. Guilt was eating him alive.
"Why would they be interested in your family?" Dream said, trying to act oblivious. George shook his head once more. "I have no idea." Then George turned his head upwards and gave Dream a confused look. "How come you ended up here as well? And where were you until yesterday?"
Dream knew that it was a question he should've expected.
"They kept me upstairs and tried to grill me about you, thinking I might know something. They sent me down after I failed to provide them with any useful information." The lie rolled of his tongue way too easy. George's eyes were once again closed.
"I apologize that you got pulled into all of this because of me." George mumble against his chest. Something about the fact that George was the one apologizing awoke a tremendous anger. Though, he couldn't let it show. As much as it hurt, he would just have to play along.
"Don't apologize. You didn't do this." George tried to object but Dream cut him off. "It's you're dad they're after, from my understanding anyways."
"Did they explain why?" The question sounded so sincere that Dream made the conclusion that there was no way George could know about his dad's past. An idea sparked in his brain.
"No, but they did show me a research paper made by your dad."
George shot up. "Research paper? About what?" Dream shrugged.
"Something called 'Project 404'" George furrowed his brows. "That all you remember from the paper?"
"It was the only thing I could understand. The rest was written in some weird way." George sighed and leaned himself against Dream's chest once more. "Then they kidnapped the wrong brother. Wilbur's the English major, not me."
Dream chewed on the inside of his cheek. They hadn't given him any guidelines on how much he was allowed to reveal.
So, he made a choice on his own. "They said that it probably wasn't an existing language, more likely just encrypted English. There were no spaces between the words and a lot of extra vowels."
Dream glanced down at the brunette in his arms. The beautiful eyes seemed clouded with thoughts.
"Which vowel was it?" The brit's voice sounded oddly firm, compared to earlier. Dream tried to recall the letters on the paper.
"'O' I think." George huffed condescending. "They must be bloody stupid or something."
Dream furrowed his brows. "George, I can confirm that it looked like pure gibberish."
"Sosomome popeopoplole momusostot'vove bobeenon dodroropop asos a cochohiloldod." George said. Dream just stared at him. It sounded like George just had a stroke or something.
"Every heard of a book for children called Bill Bergson, master detective?"
No, of course he hadn't. To call Dream's childhood a childhood was extremely generous. It consisted more of heated argument and mutual hatred, rather than reading bedtime stories by a fire. So, it wasn't surprising that he didn't know about a book for children.
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"Well, you're apparently not the only one who didn't have a proper upbringing." George said jokingly, unaware how true and hurtful that statement was.
"Okay stop beating around the bush. How's this book connected to you dad's science paper?"
George quickly glanced around the room, probably to make sure that they were alone. "It's a language used in the book. My parents taught me it after I had read the book. It's fairly simple. Although, it doesn't explain why my dad would write a serious scientific report in a language made for children."
Bingo. Now all Dream needed to do was come up with a plan on how to get those papers to George. A tiny piece of hope flared up in his chest. Maybe there was a chance to get out of this mess after all.