Chapter Text
His first death was an accident.
Things like this happen, he supposed, when working on such large, expansive projects. He was alone in the shell of what would soon become his downfall his greatest build; the Prison. It wasn’t that tragic or interesting a death; just a small collapse in the walls as he was working. Wrong place wrong time. Nobody else seemed to have been near enough to have seen it through their comms, so Sam merely took a 5-minute break and went back to his work.
His second death was a lesson.
He hadn’t known. It had been so much stress for so long. He would be the first to admit (privately, in his head) that he hadn’t been treating himself the best as of late. One day, ironically in the same place as his first, Sam found himself facing another prison death.
He didn’t think that a creature such as himself--a king nonetheless, would succumb to death by explosion. Self-explosion, that is.
He sat in the prison lobby, and he was just so overwhelmed --
His mask filled with smoke, his throat releasing involuntary hisses. His hands lifted to the sides of his head as he closed his eyes tight and curled up and suddenly--
[Awesamdude blew up.]
He woke up suddenly, his body on fire and--where was he? What happened to the Prison? Why does he hurt so much?
Wrapping his arms around himself for some semblance of comfort, he began to sit up and looked around.
He was...in his house? When was the last time he’d slept , let alone sit in his base? A glance at his comm had his stomach ill with dread.
He was much more careful after that.
His final death was--
Wait, what --
“Foolish,” Ponk began. “You hardly even have to do anything, you big bully .”
Foolish sighed, wringing his hands. “I dunno, Ponk. I didn’t wanna do this, to begin with, and I’m having second thoughts,” he laughed nervously.
Ponk poked at the shrunken Foolish’s chest. “All you have to do is keep watch! Maybe help me corner him. You’re hardly even part of it. And besides,” they said, pulling their arm back towards themself. “Taking away a single life from him? After what he’s done? It’s hardly even justice. It’s just a little playful revenge. If anything, he’ll probably just laugh it off like he has all my other attempts.”
Foolish decided against commenting on the admittance of this not being Ponk’s first time making an attempt on Sam’s life.
“It’s just his first life, Foolish,” Ponk goaded.
“I know, I know! I already agreed to it, and I’m a man of my word. Nobody’s coming, let’s just get it over with.”
Ponk’s pointed grin nearly made it all worth it.
When Ponk had shown up, Sam felt himself prickle with nerves. He took a few deep breaths, steeling himself for this encounter. He didn’t want to risk another blowup, let alone one around someone else.
A part of him, bigger than he’d like to admit, mused that it wouldn’t mean much what the others knew if he was totally dead.
“Hello Ponk,” Sam’s monotone voice rang. Ponk thought he sounded tired. Sam always sounded tired, nowadays.
“Sam!” Ponk barked giddily. “It’s been quite a while since last we met up, yeah, friend?”
Friend, Sam thought dully.
“Not too long, I don’t think, Ponk. What brings you here?”
Ponk’s sweet smile grew all the more dangerous at that. “Just here with Foolish, walking around. I take it you’re on a break from the Prison, yeah? Awfully close to it for that, but I know your dedication.” He spared a glance towards his long-gone arm.
“Oh, yes, I suppose. I’ve been doing it a bit more recently.”
Sam had been given no other choice, really. Give himself regular breaks or risk blowing up again. He chose the former.
“Good, good. It would have been a lot harder doing this if you were camping it out in the Prison like you usually do.
Sam felt his heart rate spike once again. His breathing quickened. “What?”
Ponk pulled out a long sword. An involuntary hiss left Sam’s mouth as he jerked back. “Ponkie?”
“Don’t you ‘Ponkie’ me, Sam! You should be intimately familiar with the idea of teaching others lessons, what with the stealing my arm and all. I’m just here to finally repay the favor! That’s all I want, y’know? And in a pretty ironic way, too.”
Sam began backing up, heaving in short gasps. “Ponk-”
The sword made its first hit. Sam jolted, his mind focusing on the damage dealt to his final life. His dodging got sloppy in his panic. He was beginning to realize he wasn’t ready to die. He didn’t want to not exist.
Was this was Ghostbur had felt, when Dream had taken him?
Was this how Tommy had felt?
The sword hit again, and again. Dimly, Sam recognized Foolish standing nervously behind Ponk.
“Ponk, Ponk please--” Sam wheezed. “I’m-I’m so low--” half hearts, he felt with terror. “My health is so low--” 3 hearts. “Ponk--P--” he gasped out his breaths in terror, unable to stop the tears welling in his eyes. “I can’t--This is my last--”
A strangled shriek left the creeper’s throat, his body slumping as his eyes grew dull and lifeless.
The final shot was quick, leaving little time for the processing of pain on Sam’s end; the sword stabbed straight through his heart, coating its blade with a red, almost powdery shimmering blood.
[Awesamdude was killed by DropsByPonk using Mama Mia </3 ]
Ponk clapped his hands together after putting away his sword, almost as if cleaning off possible dust. “That’s a job well done then, ey, Foolish?”
Something felt... wrong about Sam’s death. Shaking, Foolish gave a small nod.
Sam’s last death had been revenge. It was all he deserved, probably , he had thought after awakening, trapped once more in a frigidly cold yet scaldingly hot, brutally dry obsidian cell.