Archive of Our Own ^beta

A strange feeling was swirling around inside of Killer’s chest as he swiftly made his way down the halls of the dark castle he had grown to call home. Was it nerves? Anxiety? Those were feelings Killer rarely came across. It wouldn’t even make sense, why would he feel nervous anyway?

The skeleton of “perfectly average” stature noticed his pace had slowed as he seemed to subconsciously take his time proceeding forward. His dark eyes gazed over the lush, red carpets sprawled across the mahogany floors, and the paintings of various, beautiful landscapes as they decorated the ebony stone brick walls. His mind flickered fondly to his boss, memories of the black goo monster adamantly denying liking the paintings flickering through his mind.

Riiight, they’re not here because he likes them. It’s just for “our” benefit. Killer let out an amused snort and continued his way to his boss’s office. He was on an important mission after all, he couldn’t afford to get distracted by meaningless scenery.

He and his comrades had been worried about their dear ol’ boss as of late. It had been a long time since Nightmare had left his palace. He hardly even left his office or bedroom anymore. He always had some well-crafted excuse that was typical of him, a “I’m busy with important matters” here and a “I’m biding my time” there. It got to a point Horror had to personally deliver meals to Nightmare’s room on account of him never leaving. Granted, before, he hadn’t usually joined them for meals anyway, but they would still usually see him at some point during the day. Now, Killer could easily go over a week without seeing his boss at all.

And despite his constant planning, Nightmare had neglected to send any of them on a single mission. The whole gang had been as much of a sitting duck as him. Maybe their boss enjoyed all this being cooped up, but frankly, Killer was being driven stir-crazy.

It was only made worse when none other than the Destroyer himself showed up at their doorstep that morning.

“Where the hell have you guys been? It’s been like, months. Ink said Dream’s been worrying about Lord Octopus nonstop.”

Killer grumbled aloud to himself as he marched along. It was one thing Error had to refer to Boss by that infuriating nickname, but the reason he even came in the first place was another. Why did the Destroyer even know what the Protector of all people was saying? Killer hadn’t the slightest clue, but it was annoying. Error spent too much time with those stupid Star Shits anyway. If you asked him, that Destroyer of Worlds was getting soft.

“That’s it! I’m going to get Nightmare to come out of his office, once and for all!” Killer remembered declaring right after Error left.

“Good luck.” Dust had scoffed.

Cross hadn’t been any more supportive, instead mumbling as he continuously poked holes in the ground with his large, magical knife, “As if you’re going to do anything we haven’t tried yet.”

Horror had been the only one slightly on Killer’s side, although it was less of ‘on a side’ than it was a neutral stance, “...I hope Boss’s okay.”

So, here Killer was, marching determinedly to Nightmare’s office. He didn’t even have a plan. But hey, Killer wasn’t much of a planner guy anyway. That was Dust’s thing.

Nonetheless, he halted as he stood in front of the large, dark, wooden doors leading to the elusive office. Killer stared at the warm, golden door knobs, softly lit by the medieval lamps and chandeliers lining the expansive halls. Should he? Or was this just a stupid idea in general…

The door silently gave way to a dark room as Killer’s hands moved before his brain could. His eyebrows lowered as he noticed the absence of light within the room, making the bookshelves against the walls and the luxurious desk at the far end across from him hard to see. The only light illuminating the room was from a grand window to the right of the room, its deep blue curtains spread apart to allow in the light from the perpetual moon of this locked AU.

It took a moment for Killer’s eyes to adjust, but he soon spotted Nightmare sitting in that crimson, cushioned swivel chair behind the desk. He was sitting motionlessly, turned to the window as he stared through it with half-lidded eyes, not making any effort to move closer. The tendrils on his back appeared to almost be lifeless as they hung behind him, trailing over and under the arms of the chair.

For a few moments, Killer just stood there, his awkwardness growing worse with each passing moment as Nightmare remained in his comatose state. He seemed to not even realize he was there. Eventually, Killer cleared his throat, the sound echoing like gunfire throughout the silent room.

He had to suppress a chuckle as Nightmare jumped several inches from his chair, whirling around to face him as his tentacles sprung back to life. He didn’t look that much unlike a cat, “Killer! What- What do you want?!” He roughly snapped as he glared at him.

“Uh, just checking up on ya, Boss.” Killer gave him a mock salute before eyeing the papers on the desk in front of him, “I thought you said you were getting to work on those.”

Nightmare’s one good eyelight flickered down to the table in front of him and he started pushing aside and moving papers, files and books in a haphazard attempt to organize them, “I was! Or, I am. Before I got so rudely interrupted.”

A brief feeling of concern blossomed in Killer’s chest. That’s what he said a week ago. Even from here, he could recognize some of those papers being the exact same as the ones he was supposedly ‘finishing up’ all those days ago, “Right. Gotcha.”

Killer awkwardly shuffled inside, shutting the door behind him as Nightmare continued to sort through his mess. It was as if the boss got momentarily distracted. Killer leaned back and forth on his feet, swinging his hands forward to clap them together as sounds of incessant paper rustling filled the quiet office. Minute after minute seemed to pass, Nightmare intently focused on his papers and Killer getting increasingly bored. Killer started whistling as his hands clapping together grew louder, seeking to disrupt the constant sound of paper.

Eventually, Nightmare paused in his paper shuffling and glared back upward with an unamused eyelight. Killer hadn’t noticed at first, continuing his own noise making until he could feel the aura of negativity increase in the room. He stopped whistling and swinging his arms forward, his mouth still in a mid-pucker as he shifted his gaze over to meet Nightmare’s. That was when Killer determined what feeling the aura of negativity was; annoyance.

“What… are you doing?” Nightmare snarled, his hands frozen as they held onto pieces of paper waiting their turn to be sorted.

“Just, uh, passing the time.” Killer shrugged.

“For what?” Nightmare’s irritated gaze blinked as he shook his head with a scowl, “Why are you even here? Can’t you go be annoying elsewhere?”

“I could, but then that will beat the purpose of being here.” Killer’s chirpy statement was left with a murderous look from Nightmare. The already suffocating aura of annoyance was growing worse with every passing second. So, therefore, Killer decided to answer Nightmare’s question, by speeding over to his desk and sprawling on top of it with a whine, making the goopy skeleton reel back in perhaps a mixture of shock and disgust, “Why are you staying in here so much, Boss? We don’t even see you anymore! And we’re not even going anywhere either, I’m so boreeedd.”

Killer’s eyeless gaze stared back up at Nightmare, who twitched as he glared down at him. His hands eventually relaxed their neck-gripping stance as he placed one on his forehead and dragged it down with a long sigh. Killer let out a surprised yelp as a tentacle wrapped around his arm and dragged him upward and off the desk.

“First off, I’m not responsible for your entertainment,” Nightmare snarled as he shifted that cold, cyan eye up to Killer, “Second, I told all of you. I’m…” Nightmare trailed off as he looked away. Killer furrowed his eyebrows as he noticed Nightmare’s gaze lost any sort of light or spark in it. It looked almost as empty as his own eyes as he stared blankly ahead.

Finally, he seemed to snap out of it and continued, although his voice sounded strangely hollow, “I’m busy.” Nightmare rather unceremoniously dropped Killer, who plopped onto the ground with an audible thump.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for weeks.” Killer stood up, rubbing his sacrum, “Why don’tcha take a break? Everyone could use a break every once and a while.”

Nightmare was silent as he just blinked at Killer through a half-lidded eye, “A break?” He echoed skeptically after a moment.

“Yeah! Just call in sick.” Killer gave him a wink as he noticed Nightmare’s further apprehension, “You make the rules after all, Boss. You can give yourself as many sick days as you want.”

Nightmare stared at Killer for a few long moments before groaning and letting his head fall into his hand, although Killer swore he saw the very ends of the dark skeleton’s mouth turn upward, “Unbelievable. Call in sick to myself.”

“What’s wrong with that? I hear the boss is pretty prickly, but understanding when he wants to be.” Killer flashed Nightmare a cocky grin before it twitched with nerves as the other monster in question turned his gaze to shoot daggers at him.

“You better be careful before I throw you out of my quarters.” Nightmare gave a warning growl. His voice then lowered as he seemed to mumble to himself, “Arguably the thing I should have done in the damn first place.”

Killer had his hands placed in pretend confidence on Nightmare’s desk as he waited to see if Nightmare would stay true to his word. Luckily, after a minute, he was still standing there, so he determined it safe to continue talking, “So, what’d ya say, Boss? Wanna take a break?”

“And do what?!” Nightmare suddenly exploded, glaring up at Killer. He threw out an exasperated hand to his side as the tentacles writhed behind him in frustration, “What could I possibly do that would warrant pushing aside important work for?!”

“I don’t know, explore an AU maybe?!” Killer shouted back, just to pause as a bitter laugh answered him.

“That’s cute, that’s real cute.” Nightmare’s laughter sounded just as chilling as always. His gaze sharpened and his expression twisted into the same frightening smile he often used to terrorize innocent civilians, managing to send a shameful shiver down Killer’s spine, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been alive for years. Far longer than you, you insignificant speck. If there’s something that exists that I haven’t witnessed, I’ve yet to see it.”

Killer stood back from the desk, placing a hand on his chin partially in an attempt to appear thoughtful, and partially in an attempt to hide the slight trembles of his body. He stayed silent for a long while, his mind doing somersaults as he struggled to think of a way to prove his boss wrong. He could feel the dark, goopy skeleton staring at him, the aura of negativity that constantly surrounded him making room for the new feeling of smugness.

He was enjoying this, wasn’t he? Seeing his underling struggle to prove him wrong, but ultimately drowning in his own helplessness as he couldn’t find any answer. He had to prove him wrong. Nightmare couldn’t stay in his office forever… could he?

Suddenly, an idea hit Killer, “What if… you haven’t seen everything?”

Nightmare had his hands clasped in front of him, his expression thankfully returning to normal. He simply raised an eyebrow and his voice had an edge of intrigue to it, “Like what?”

A swell of encouragement washed through Killer. He was interested, this was progress! “Like something so out of the ordinary, so insane, so ludicrous, that no one has even dreamed of it.” Killer was pacing back and forth, his demeanor and voice confident enough, he was managing to convince himself. He whirled around and faced Nightmare, throwing his arms out in a grand display, “Something so out of this multiverse, that not even those stupid creators thought of it!”

“If even the creators haven’t thought of it, then how would it exist?” Nightmare questioned, his expression condescending as he seemed to think he caught Killer in a checkmate.

“Ah, but that’s the mystery of it, Boss.” Killer gave him another wink as he held a hand to the side of his mouth as he mock whispered, “It shouldn’t exist, but it does. So, what if I told you, I know where to find it?”

“You? You know where to find something that supposedly no one in the multiverse has ever seen?” Nightmare shook his head in a disappointed manner as Killer nodded enthusiastically. 

“And as a special VIP, I’ll show you for absolute free. Just for you, special all-time offer!” Killer leaned forward on the desk and slightly devolved into begging, “Come on, just take a little break and I’ll show you, I promise. Just one little day. How ‘bout this Saturday? Come on, please, you need a break, Boss.”

A long pause of silence passed as Nightmare just glared at Killer as he leaned on his desk, Killer giving him the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. Finally, Nightmare let out a loud groan, acting like it physically pained him as he relented, “Fine. I’ll take a stupid break.”

“Hell yeah! Ya won’t regret it, Boss!” Killer whirled around and marched to the door, waving over his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to your boring work, but don’t forget, this Saturday!”

As Killer’s hand wrapped around the door knob, he was suddenly paused as he heard Nightmare’s voice speak up, “Oh, and Killer?”

Turning back, Killer saw Nightmare once again leaning on his desk, his elbows resting against it as he clasped his hands in front of his mouth. His cyan eyelight glowed in the darkness of the room and had a dangerous sort of intrigue to it, “It better be worth my time.”

“Y-yeah, it sure will be, Boss!” Killer let out a chuckle, mentally kicking himself at how nervous it sounded. He quickly exited the room and shut the door behind him. What should have been a happy moment was filled with dread.

He convinced his boss to have a break! That was a victory in his book! There was just one problem. Killer was lying out of his ass. He had no idea what he was going to show Nightmare.

Oh shit, oh shit, what the hell am I going to do- Killer’s mind was a whirlwind as he rushed down the hall. He better calm down and find out. Fast. Preferably before Nightmare picked up on his negative feelings.

******

The sound of a sharp blade piercing tightly wound fibers filled the air of Killer’s room as he threw a knife into the abused dart board hanging on his wall. The sound was immediately followed by the sound of Killer marching across the dusty rug covering his hardwood floor as he retrieved his weapon, before he marched right back to his starting position. He then would whirl around and throw his knife again, restarting the cycle.

This was how Killer liked to think. True, this would be a very tedious process for a lazier person, but for some reason, the unhinged skeleton found the constant movement to be helpful. It was as if he was making his body move as constantly as the thoughts in his brain.

Plus, Killer’s “thinking ritual” tended to annoy the hell out of everyone he shared this dark palace with.

“I could just make some stupid contraption, maybe steal Dust’s hoodie and make a stupid ass scarecrow-” Killer mumbled as the dartboard being struck filled the room again.

Nightmare’s not so subtle warning flashed through Killer’s head again, sending an unwelcome shiver down his spine as he yanked his knife out of the dartboard. He had to make it worth Boss’s time. Despite how hilarious it would be, he doubted Nightmare would consider viewing a miniature, scarecrow version of Dust as worth the trip.

“Hey, maybe I can get Horror to make some ungodly food dish or something!” Killer cried out in revelation before a pained grimace immediately took over his features. Scratch that; Horror might murder him in his sleep if he even suggested that to him. The big galoot hardly got offended over anything, except when it came to food.

Killer rolled his eyes as he grumbled, “That would be a stupid tombstone; ‘Here lies Killer, murdered for food crimes.’” He marched back and threw his knife into the dartboard again, pouting as every idea seemed to end in failure.

Suddenly, an idea struck him, “Ink!” That was right; he was the Protector of the multiverse, after all. The pseudo Creator, if you will. Or, if you wanted to get completely technical, he was the little brush the actual creators used to paint with, but just sometimes calling him “The Creator” was much easier.

Killer let out evil chuckles as he diabolically rubbed his hands together, “Yeah, I’ll just make HIM make me something and we’ll be good to go-” He suddenly paused as realization hit him. Perhaps making Ink do anything was the wrong way to go about it. The little asshole would probably make a faulty or broken version of whatever Killer requested. So what if he kidnapped him or threatened him and the lives of his friends to get what he wanted? That still didn’t excuse poor workmanship!

“That’ll be so unfair though.” Killer whined to himself, “He could literally create something no one has ever seen before, it’ll be so helpful.” That’s when another thought struck him. Maybe he didn’t have to kidnap the Creator, he could just… ask nicely. Or beg.

Just as quickly as the thought appeared, Killer violently shook the thought out of his head with a look of disgust, “Fuck no.” He’d rather be caught dead in a ballerina outfit than do that. It looked like Killer would just have to make do without Ink.

“Besides, he’s probably still mad about the Jelly Bunny Incident.” Killer growled as he collapsed into the chair located next to his bed.

The “Jelly Bunny Incident” was the name everyone referred to as what Killer thought of as one of his greatest prank achievements ever. How was he supposed to know Ink didn’t know of the popular children’s fairytale and actually think Jelly Bunnies were real? Who would seriously believe that there existed a secret AU filled with bunnies the colors of jelly beans? 

Sure, maybe Killer did word it as the Jelly Bunnies were in grave danger because their AU crumbled and everyone was looking to capture them because they, theoretically, tasted just like jelly beans, but how could he have possibly known Ink would actually believe him? Oh yes, Killer completely meant for the Creator to go on a desperate 8 day search throughout the multiverse, neglecting to eat or sleep, all in a quest to save these little things that didn’t exist. Needless to say, Killer had a lot of people angry with him afterward.

Killer sunk deeper into the chair with infuriated grumbles. This was getting ridiculous. He couldn’t think of anything to be worth Nightmare’s time. What could he possibly show a guardian that had been alive for centuries? There wasn’t anything. Anything that was serious anyway.

The annoyance swirling inside of Killer dimmed until it sunk into something darker. His grumpy expression softened as heavy thoughts entered his mind. Would showing Nightmare something serious even be beneficial for him? The boss had been so serious all of the time lately…

All of those snarky jabs or insults at him and the crew had vanished a long time ago. That chilling yet endearing laugh as Nightmare gleefully went about his most recent diabolical scheme had become so rare, Killer could hardly remember it. Although Killer would see Nightmare smile, it never felt as real as it once did. Those quiet instances of catching him stare dully into nothingness were becoming more common than Killer would have liked to admit.

Maybe the worrywart Cross had been right, maybe the revered King of Darkness truly was dealing with some mental troubles. Killer had been quick to dismiss the idea like Dust had at the time, but now…

A bright flicker of hope blinked through Killer’s mind as he remembered possibly seeing the curves of a smile as he badgered Nightmare in his office. He was being silly and arguably quite annoying, yet that behavior was the closest thing to getting Nightmare to actually smile in a long time.

That was it, he just had to stick to his original plan. Something so out of the ordinary, so insane, and so ludicrous, that even the creators wouldn’t have thought of it. But what could this idea possibly be?

******

“That’s it! I found it!” Killer cried out in victory as he sat upon his bed. He laughed to himself in such a way, it would have convinced an unknowing bystander he was insane. He certainly felt insane. He had spent six hours holed up in his room theorizing the most random, stupid shit he could ever imagine. His ideas rivaled that of even Fresh, as evidenced by the hundreds of scattered papers of brainstorming thrown around his room.

He only noticed Horror standing in his doorway after his crazy laughter died down, allowing him to hear the slightly labored breathing of his comrade. The other skeleton was peeking inside the room, standing partially inside and partially back out in the hall as he slowly looked around the room. He held a tray of something that smelled delicious as an expression of concern sat on his face, his singular red eyelight very slowly landing on Killer after having thoroughly surveyed the room.

“Uh, if this is a bad time-” Horror began after a moment, but was promptly interrupted by Killer.

“No, you’re just in time, my friend! I’ve found it.” Killer snickered. He beckoned for Horror to come inside, who reluctantly did after a moment. Killer snatched the plate to be greeted with a warm serving of a pasta of some kind. He shoved forkfuls into his mouth as he talked around it, not caring if it was bad table manners. They were well aware of his eating habits by now, “See? I’ve been thinking all day and I finally found it.”

Horror looked a bit turned off by Killer talking with his mouth full, but he remained seated in the chair next to the bed, “...Found what?”

“How to get Boss to leave his room!” Killer exclaimed. He roughly placed the plate of pasta onto the bed, “Long story short; I lied to Boss and said I’d show him something no one’s ever seen before. So, I had to come up with something, got it?”

Horror just stared at Killer with a slightly gaped open mouth. To practically anyone else, it would have looked like he certainly did not get it. However, Killer shrugged off the notion; Horror would get it eventually.

Killer scrambled around until he was gripping multiple pieces of paper. He shoved them in Horror’s face and pointed to relevant papers as he jabbered on, “I was thinking ‘What would be so crazy, no one would have ever seen it?’ So, I thought potato pirates! But, then I figured that’d be really boring, ‘cus you know, potatoes don’t move, so then I thought ‘How ‘bout snakes on a plane?’ But uh, apparently, that actually does exist.”

He paused as he noticed Horror’s bewildered expression. Poor guy, he must have been so confused why such a thing did exist, he was too, “Yeeah,” Killer nudged Horror playfully, “Just think of some AUs having really weird movie tastes.” He continued right on to the next picture, not noticing that his reassurance just served to confuse Horror more.

“Then! Bikes with wings! But I ran into an issue of actually being able to make those, so that was a no-go. Oh, and this-” Killer held up a piece of paper with a crude drawing. It looked suspiciously like an ice cream cone with some red splotches all over the top of it. Although it was extremely difficult to read with the abysmal handwriting, an arrow and the word “ketchup” pointed to the red splotches.

A brief look of sheer panic crossed Killer’s face and he yanked the drawing away and hid it behind his back, hoping he hid it before Horror had a chance to make it out. Luckily, it looked like the gears inside Horror’s head were moving in slow motion, “Don’t worry about that one, it was nothing. Promise.”

Finally, Killer pulled out the drawing to triumph over all of them, “But I found it. Imagine this!” He declared while shoving the drawing in Horror’s face.

Horror was silent for a long moment before letting out a breathy wheeze, “I can’t. I guess the drawing helps? But…”

“Exactly!” Killer cried out, making the larger skeleton jump, “No one’s ever thought of it before! They don’t exist!”

“I guess? I just… surely they exist somewhere?” Horror squinted as he stared at the drawing longer before finally leaning back in the chair with a sigh, “Kills? What exactly am I looking at?”

Killer fell into a stunned silence as he glared at Horror, “Dude, It was obvious. Look!” He pointed to the stick figure wearing what looked to be a brown vest, a cowboy hat and boots, and a pair of brightly colored tropical swim trunks. The stick figure appeared to be standing on a pink rectangle that sat on top of… blue squiggles, “It’s surfer cowboys! How could you not tell?”

Horror just blinked slowly as he stared at the drawing before just as slowly shifting his red eyelight to meet Killer’s gaze, “Surfer… cowboys?”

“Yeah! Isn’t it great?!” Killer grinned.

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight-” Horror ran a hand down his head as if he had a headache, “In order to get Boss out of his office, you have to show him something… no one’s ever seen before?” His apprehensive frown grew bigger as Killer nodded enthusiastically, “And your big idea… is surfer cowboys?”

“What’s wrong with that?!” Killer cried out with indignation, “Yeah, it’s stupid as all hell, but has anyone ever seen one before? Have you ever seen one?”

“...No.”

“Then, see?! It fucking works!”

Horror seemed to deflate in his chair, staring off at the far wall in what seemed like disbelief, “Shit. I guess you’re right. You shouldn’t be, yet…” He shook his head in some emotion, although Killer couldn’t tell whether it was just more disbelief or disappointment.

Killer beamed, “So, there ya go. I figured out what the hell to show Boss. However, there’s just one teensy, itsy bitsy problem.”

Horror snapped his gaze back over to Killer, “Oh no.”

Deciding to get it over with, Killer bluntly stated, “I need actors.”

Horror abruptly stood up from the chair, “Oh hell no.”

Killer got up and clung onto Horror’s sleeve, preventing him from immediately stomping out of the room, “Come on, bro! Please, man, it’ll just be for a little bit and then we can never talk about it again.”

Horror sputtered, “I’m not going to dress up like a stupid surfer cowboy for you, Kills!”

“It’s not for me!” Killer shouted. The two came to a standstill and stared at each other in complete silence, frozen as the implication of that statement sunk in.

Eventually, Killer let go of Horror’s sleeve and stumbled back. He looked away, his expression significantly softer as he mumbled, “I won’t make you, big guy. I just, I don’t know… wanted to do something, I guess.”

It remained silent for a long while, Horror not making any effort to leave. Finally, a heavy hand reached forward and rested it on Killer’s shoulder, making him look back up. The intimidating skeleton with a significant portion of his skull missing looked surprisingly warm as a gentle smile graced his face, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out. For Boss.”

A smile found its own way across Killer’s face as he gave a determined nod, “For Boss.”

That gentle expression of Horror’s then hardened as he urged, “Now, eat your dinner. It’s probably cold by now.”

******

 “You could just ask them nicely… Why do you have to use words like ‘threaten’ or ‘blackmail…’”

“Because it’s those two, no one’s as nice as you are, big guy.”

Killer and Horror were standing together in the hallway, whispering to each other as they eyed their first target. Horror had to lean down significantly to be able to adequately hear Killer’s hisses as they stared into the mostly empty living room.

Only one soul was in the living room, the skeleton staring ahead of him at the antique television. It was playing a show with overly dramatic music as a goat monster with golden hair and beard yelled in Spanish as subtitles translated what he said.

It would have seemed like the skeleton dressed almost solely in black and white was enjoying the show, if Killer and Horror couldn’t hear him grumbling from here. It sounded like he was saying something along the lines of, “I can’t believe the Destroyer even likes this crap.”

Killer might have snickered at the thought if he weren’t so busy. Cross was lucky the Destroyer wasn’t in earshot right now, “Huh, the freako is talking to himself again.”

Horror had a thoughtful hand on his chin as he murmured, “You know, you’d think it would be less weird considering two out of the five of us do talk to themselves.”

Killer shot the leaning over skeleton a glare, “Just because more than one does it, doesn’t make the behavior normal.” He then looked back in front of him as a wicked smile formed on his face. He motioned for Horror to follow as he hissed, “Come on, time to execute part two.”

“...Do we have to, though…” Horror lamented with a low moan, but still followed Killer nonetheless.

Killer crept into the room in an overly conspicuous manner until he came to the side of the couch Cross was sitting on. It was then he switched to a casual stroll as if he weren’t sneaking up like a cartoon villain just seconds before, managing to make Horror stop abruptly and give him a confused yet judgemental stare.

Strolling around as he nonchalantly whistled, Killer came to a stop directly in front of Cross, interrupting his line of sight to the television. He beamed down at him, seeming unbothered as the other skeleton’s seething white and red eyelights slowly rolled up to look at him.

A few seconds of the two just staring at each other passed before a low growl rumbled out from Cross, “What?”

Killer tilted his head and gave a pretend confused expression, “Aw, what’s with the tone? Can’t a guy just check up on his buds every now and then?”

Cross slightly narrowed his eyes as he glared at Killer. A female voice suddenly shouted behind Killer and Cross leaned over to his side in a vain attempt to see around him, “Come on, man, move, you’re in the way.”

Killer looked behind him, but remained in his position to still prevent Cross from seeing properly, “Oh, what, this? But I thought you said you hated this show.”

His clueless smile was beginning to become hard to maintain when he caught sight of Cross’s murderous glare, “I do,” Cross grumbled, “But nothing else is on and I’d much rather watch this than interact with you.”

“My heart!” Killer cried out, clutching at his ribcage dramatically, “How cruel. Fine. Watch your show, I can see when I’m not wanted!” He moved away from the front of the TV, finding it hilarious how immediately engrossed Cross became in the show again. He moved around to the back of the television set, the mischievous grin growing wider as he noticed Cross was too distracted to even notice him.

His sneaky hand slowly reached up, aiming to wrap itself around one of the antennas extending from the top of the TV. However, he glanced over to see Horror giving him a warning look from where he stood beside Cross. Once they made eye contact, Horror gave rapid, small shakes of his head.

Killer narrowed his eye sockets and gave a thoughtful look to the antennas to humor Horror, his hand still poised to grab. He had already made up his mind, but it was fun to make Horror think he was considering it. With an evil grin, Killer made eye contact with his taller friend as he gripped one of the antennas and pulled it sideways.

The dramatic music and Spanish yelling abruptly cut off and got replaced with the sound of static as Cross sat up with an infuriated expression, “What the hell!” He cried out as he shot his gaze up at Killer, who just stared back down at him with a smug expression.

“Well, looks like there’s nothing on now.”

Cross was giving Killer a look that conveyed he should watch over his shoulder when he goes to sleep that night, “...You asshole.”

“I know~” Killer purred as he skirted around the TV and plopped himself next to Cross on the couch, scooting closer as the soldier attempted to scoot away, “Ya guys love me though.”

Cross gave an unexpected snort, “Pff, no we don’t.”

“We don’t?” Horror echoed in confusion, looking like a bewildered, overgrown toddler as he held a finger up to his mouth with his head slightly tilted.

Cross had his face turned away from Killer, presumably giving Horror his own death glare. Killer swung his arm around Cross and dragged him closer, ignoring his curses of protest as he declared, “Haha, see? You guys love me, admit it.”

“I’d rather swallow hot coals and get buried alive with my eyes stapled open.” Killer managed to hear Cross through his grumbles as he struggled to get out of his grip.

“Wow, that’s, uh, oddly specific.” Killer chuckled as he eventually relented and let Cross go. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Cross’s threat sounded rehearsed. Almost as if he had thought about what he would say in that situation beforehand.

However, Killer didn’t pay much attention to it as he switched the subject, “So, pal, we came to ask a teensy favor of you.”

“No, I’m not going to bail you out again.” Cross hardly even let Killer get the sentence out before he responded, “It’s your own fault for pissing Dust off. If you insist on playing around a sleeping tiger, don’t be surprised if you get mauled.”

“Stealing Boss’s weird metaphors again, eh? Or is it-” Killer suddenly broke himself off as a delightfully evil idea formed in his head. Boss wasn’t the only one who made odd metaphors like that. He knew just the idea to get Cross to help them out. However, it was an idea that relied heavily on speculation.

Killer decided to wait before trying out that risky idea, looking to Horror as the giant came to sit on the other side of Cross, unknowingly aiding Killer in trapping the poor black and white skeleton in, “Why don’t you tell him, Spooky? We’re a team in this plan, after all!”

Truthfully, Killer could have just gone straight ahead to the blackmailing and cut out the middleman altogether. He had no way to know his idea would actually work, but he needed to try. If it worked, it would be hilarious. Besides, maybe it was just a sadistic characteristic of his, but Killer just loved toying with his prey.

Horror leaned back, a look of apprehension on his face, “No way, this isn’t even my idea. I’m just helping.” He flashed an apologetic look to Cross and mouthed what looked like the words, “I’m sorry.”

“Dude, come on, you act like it’s really ba-” Killer was abruptly cut off as a fist clenched around the fabric of his shirt underneath his neck. Cross’s death grip tightened as he pulled Killer closer until they were staring eye-to-eye.

“What the hell do you want this time? I swear to the stars above, if you messed with a fucking god again, I’ll-”

Killer threw his hands up in surrender with the most innocent smile he could muster, “No! I didn’t, I promise!”

Cross narrowed his eyes in suspicion as they searched Killer’s eyeless gaze, “Why am I even asking, your promises don’t mean shit.”

Killer opened his mouth to object before closing it with a shrug, “Yeah, that’s fair.” The grip on his shirt grew tighter and Cross’s growls more threatening, making Killer start desperately excusing himself, “Hey, hey, but look! Dude, dude, wouldn’t Error have said something if I did?!”

Cross’s other fist which had raised up remained frozen as it sat about eye level with Killer. Killer gradually let his protective hands blocking his face lower as he saw the gears turning in Cross’s head, “See? I didn’t mess with them.”

Killer fell back on the couch as Cross’s firm grip roughly let him go. He turned to glare in front of him as he directed a snarl toward Killer’s direction, “This time.”

Sticking his red tongue out at him, Killer scoffed, “No, it’s about Boss.”

Cross jolted at that and slowly turned, his harsh, annoyed expression significantly softened as he looked at Killer, “What… about Boss?”

“Well, you know how he’s been holed up in his room all the time and won’t leave?” Killer’s chipper tone starkly contrasted against the solemn expressions of his teammates, “I know how to make him leave.”

Cross looked slightly intrigued at that statement but his eyebrows furrowed as a jolt shook the couch. Killer shot Horror a glare. Why’d he have to flinch so badly?

The soldier didn’t seem to have the same sentiment though, having looked over to see the annoyingly apprehensive expression on Horror’s face. He then whipped his head back over to glare at Killer as if he had just broken one of Horror’s dishes again, “What did you do?!”

Killer gaped open his mouth in disbelief, “What?! Why you hafta sound like that?! I didn’t do shit! I came up with a brilliant plan, that’s all.”

“I wouldn’t say brilliant…” Horror choked, making Killer shoot him daggers out of his black gaze again.

“Dude, come on, what the f-” Killer was cut off as Cross gripped his shirt again. He sure did like doing that, didn’t he?

“No plan out of you is ever brilliant. What problem do I have to fix for you now?” Cross snarled.

Killer wrapped his hand around Cross’s wrist in a vain attempt to pull him away, “First off, ouch. Second, it is, although it won’t sound like it at first.”

Cross’s face twisted with an expression half between disgust and fury, making Killer flash him a cheeky grin. However, before he could interrupt him, Killer dumped out the entire story within a matter of seconds. How he went to talk to Nightmare, how he convinced him to finally leave his room, how he had to lie to do it, and finally, his glorious idea of men from the wild, wild west riding the waves.

“Now, I just need the actual cowboys to ride said waves, sooo-” Killer was suddenly tossed back onto the couch cushions with an “ack” as Cross scrambled away from him, backing into Horror in the process. Cross, instead of his grumpy or stoic expression that was usually frozen on his face, was looking at Killer as if he just admitted he liked drinking vanilla extract.

“No, no, no, no, there is no way I’m doing that, get yourself some other patsy.” Cross said as he violently shook his head.

“Even if it’s for Boss?” Horror’s deep voice asked as he blinked down at Cross with a concerned look. Finally, he was helping Killer out instead of actively going against him.

“Why. The Hell. Would Boss ever want to see surfer cowboys?” Cross was staring at Horror with the same disgusted expression, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was dealing with two crazy people. Not that they were crazy. If you asked Killer, Cross was the crazy one for not wanting to help dear ol’ Boss.

Cross jumped up from the couch and glared at Killer, “I am not going to play dress up with you two psychos. So, good luck with your ‘brilliant’ plan, while I go and actually do something productive.” With that, the monochrome skeleton turned on his heel and began to stomp away.

Time for his risky idea. Killer forced a wicked smile, hoping it was convincing. Oh, he hoped he was right about this, it would be so funny, “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, buddy. You’re going to be begging to help us in a minute.”

That abruptly stopped Cross in his tracks. Very slowly, he turned to look at Killer. He scoffed as he smiled in disbelief, “Oh, really now? And what do you mean by that?” 

“Oh, you know,” Killer shrugged as he looked at his fingertips in a nonchalant manner, “Let’s just say you shouldn’t leave your door unlocked so often.”

Cross’s eyebrows started to lower in concern as Killer felt Horror glaring down at him. Killer tsked as he shook his head, he hoped his lying would work again, “Seriously, your hiding places suck. I thought you’d be better at hiding secrets, considering you used to work for a government, royalty thing.”

Glancing back upward, Killer abruptly choked on his own breath. Cross was extremely pale, he looked like he had just seen a ghost.

Holy shit, my lying actually worked?! Killer thought as he desperately tried to regain composure. He was sure on one hell of a lucky streak today, maybe he should have gone gambling.

“Okay, look, I can explain! Those letters don’t mean anything, okay?!” Cross’s voice was desperate as he made odd, frantic gestures with his hands, “He was never even supposed to see them, they’re just a little thing, that’s like, private.”

Killer was staring at Cross with a bewildered expression. Letters? What the hell was he talking about? However, Cross was too flustered to even notice his confusion and kept continuing on as if Killer knew, even if he let down his façade a while ago.

 “A-and the doll! It doesn’t mean anything! It was j-just a gift, I didn’t even ask for it!” Cross’s cheeks were growing a brighter purple by the second and he was waving his hands back and forth as if trying to deny any wrongdoing, “And the reason it was under the bed was just b-because, uh, I didn’t want Boss seeing it and getting upset by it! That’s all, I swear!”

A few moments of silence passed as all three skeletons stared at each other, one standing with a face that looked more purple than white and two very confused ones sitting on the couch. Finally, it was broken with roaring laughter as Killer fell back against the couch, clutching his stomach.

“No way, I can’t believe it!” Killer roared, earning him a judgemental look from Horror.

“You didn’t even know he had secret stuff in his room, did you?” Horror grumbled as Killer nodded with breathless wheezes. He broke into another fit of laughter as a look of realization dawned on Cross’s face and his blush grew worse with the added humiliation.

“Oh-ho, but I do now.” Killer chuckled as he finally stopped laughing enough to be heard. He got up and approached the former Royal Guard, swinging an arm up around his shoulders as the mortified skeleton fidgeted under his touch. He leaned in and whispered with an evil grin, “There’s just one little person that would make Boss that upset over if he saw a doll of him, aren’t I right?”

Cross shamefully avoided eye contact as his blush seemed to glow even brighter. Killer desperately tried not to crack up again, despite the sight making him want to keel over and cackle. He struck out a hand in front of Cross, outstretched as he waited for the handshake that would inevitably come, “So, whatcha say, Crossy boy? Help me out and maybe little Sundrop will neeever hear about this.”

******

A hunched figure in a grayish blue hoodie sat all alone in the softly billowing grass, facing the dark, never-ending expanse of forest in front of him. Even the penetrating gaze of the moon that illuminated the figure couldn’t pierce the deep darkness that encompassed the silent woods. Only the sound of crickets chirping filled the night air, the figure just as silent as the trees as he faced ahead, his head bowed as it was covered by the light gray hood of his jacket.

Killer stood on the grand walkway to the palace of nightmares, staring at the small, hunched over figure as he sat far away. He was practically just sitting out in the wilderness, electing to sit even away from the maintained gardens stretching away from the palace’s walkway. Why such a dark and foreboding palace even had gardens to begin with? 

“To bring in a false sense of security.” Killer remembered Boss’s eloquent answer. And Killer believed him. It was a brilliant reason, he should expect nothing less from their malevolent leader. He had decided to ignore when Cross had mumbled of there being no other people or living souls in this locked AU. What did that brain-dead guard know anyway? That just proved Boss was thinking ahead, after all.

Killer let out a wistful sigh. Boss was so smart. He was suddenly brought back to the present day when none other than the brain-dead guard spoke, “What is he even doing? We finally found him and he’s just… sitting there.”

Turning around to his two companions, Killer swung an arm around Cross’s shoulders, the former groaning something about ‘How many times do you have to do that?’

“Ah, of course you wouldn’t know, my tragically brain cell deficient amigo,” Killer whirled back around and stared back at the hunched figure with his hands on his hips, blissfully unaware that Horror was straining to hold Cross back as he had one fist in the air and was attempting to stomp toward Killer, “Dust is just being his dark and brooding self as usual. I guess his room wasn’t good enough for him this time.”

“Is he… okay?” Horror managed to say through his wheezes. Killer thought it was just his usual breathiness until he turned around and saw the strange spectacle of the giant holding one of Cross’s wrists in the air while his other arm was wrapped around his chest, preventing him from even moving.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at them, even further confused why Cross was glaring at him so harshly, but went on to answer Horror’s question, “Yeah, he’s fine. He just had to get his daily ‘It’s not a phase’ sesh in.”

Whipping back around, Killer declared, “But he’s been doing it long enough. Time to go recruit Dusty too.”

Sounds of scuffling as it sounded like Horror abruptly let Cross go came from behind him. Then, Horror’s nervous chuckles rumbled through the air, “W-well, would you look at the time. Looks like someone’s gotta get dinner on.”

Killer turned around in disbelief to stare at Horror as he was quickly shuffling his way back to the castle, waving a hand over his shoulder, “Good luck with your, uh, convincing, fellas.”

“Hey! Get back here! Time doesn’t move here, it’s always fucking night!” Killer cursed after Horror. He growled and kicked up some dust as Horror ignored him and retreated back into the castle, unmoved by his words. He glared at the closed door, unable to see Horror anymore through the door’s dark windows as he shouted, “You coward!”

“Let him go,” Cross’s monotone voice said. Killer turned and glared at him as the ex-Royal Guard rubbed his wrist as he continued talking, “He’s obviously doing the smarter thing, letting sleeping dogs lie.”

Killer’s mouth twisted further in annoyance as he shot daggers at Cross. He eventually straightened up and huffed, “Fine, we don’t need him anyway. Besides, it might be nice coming in to a meal after this.” He paused as he looked over his shoulder at the hunched figure in the distance, “Not that this is going to take a long time. He’ll agree, you’ll see.”

“You say as if I’m going to help you.”

“Wha-” Killer snapped his head back over to glare at Cross in disbelief, “Hell yeah you’re going to help me. It’s either that or we see who can reach your room the fastest.” A cheeky smile crossed his face as he looked at Cross through smug, half-lidded eyes, delighting in the fact that his threat made the other grumpy skeleton squirm. 

“Fine, let’s just get this over with, alright?” Cross growled, purposely avoiding eye contact as he continued to rub his wrist, but it seemed to be less in pain and more like he was trying to distract himself from the slight flustered blush on his face.

Killer led the way as he marched toward Dust, not making any effort to quiet his footsteps against the lush grass as he approached. Finally, he stopped right next to Dust as he beamed down at him, aware that Cross had stopped a bit behind both of them. After a minute of silence, Killer impatiently cleared his throat, “Ahem! So, hey, Dusty, howzit going?”

Silence surrounded them again as Dust didn’t answer, only the quiet chirping of crickets breaking the still night air. In all honesty, Killer thought it was mind-numbingly boring. How could Dust stand all this?

Narrowing his empty eye sockets, Killer’s almost ever present smile faltered and he shifted his weight to one leg as he moved a foot toward Dust’s arm, intending to nudge him, “Dusty, did ya hear me-”

The silent, hunched over figure’s hand shot out and gripped Killer’s ankle, his cold blue and red eyelight snapping up to glare at him from under the darkness of the hood covering his head, “What do you want?”

“A favor, now let go, let go, will ya?! You’re making me off-balan-” Killer’s protest was suddenly cut off with a yelp as Dust shoved away his leg. The yelp subsequently didn’t last long either as it was interrupted with the dull thud as Killer crashed into the grass.

Killer scrambled up to a seated position and hollered, “Ow! Come on, bro, what the hell?!”

Dust wasn’t even looking at Killer, instead having his chilling gaze locked onto Cross, “What favor?”

“Eh, it’s uh, stupid…” Cross mumbled. His squirming seemed to have resumed as Dust’s unrelenting stare bored into him.

“It’s not stupid! It’s for Boss!” Killer retorted furiously. As Dust switched attention back to him, Killer didn’t beat around the bush as he got straight to the point. Starting with the knowledge of Nightmare never leaving his room, all the way to the glorious plan Killer had devised to get him out of it.

He was sure his explanation hadn’t lasted a long time, but by the time he was done, Dust’s dumbfounded stare had turned into an empty expression of boredom as he lazily held up his head with one hand, smushing his cheek as his hand slowly crawled upward. Cross had also sat down at some point, cross-legged as he gave awkward glances between the two of them.

Pursing his mouth, Killer threw out his hands, “There, the end! You don’t have to be so pissy about it.”

“Wow, how very interesting.” Dust’s voice was practically dripping with sarcasm, “Now, how ‘bout you answer my actual question?”

Killer furrowed his eyebrows in a brief moment of confusion before recoiling backward as Dust leaned forward, his hood casting a shadow over his face. His mismatched eyes seemed to glow from underneath as the air around them crackled with magical energy. His voice was a low snarl as he spoke very slowly, “What favor?”

“I need you guys to be surfer cowboys with me!” Killer blurted out. His confusion returned as he was met with abrupt silence. Dust had a blank expression as he just stared at him. It felt like multiple minutes passed as Dust remained frozen in that position. Killer began to feel as uncomfortable as Cross did, his fidgety gaze soon meeting Cross’s, concern written all over his face.

Finally, the awkward silence was broken. Boisterous laughter filled the night air as Dust leaned back and laughed. Dust then leaned over and hooked an arm around Cross, bringing the uncomfortable soldier closer, “Did you hear him? Is he for real right now?”

He glanced back over to Killer, whose mouth had become a straight line as he prepared to get laughed at more. He ended up being right as Dust howled, falling backward onto the grass, leaving Cross still sitting up as he slowly scooted away from him, “Oh my god, get a load of this guy!”

Killer’s expression darkened with annoyance. Here was Happy Dust again. The first time he had ever experienced Dust’s rapid mood swings, it had been unnerving. Now, it was just infuriating.

His annoyance was replaced with a jump as Dust’s laughter abruptly stopped and he shot back up to give him a blank stare, “The answer’s no.”

Killer about choked on his own breath, “Wha- wait, w-what do you mean no?!”

“I mean no.” Dust stated rather bluntly. He stood up and turned toward the castle, obviously to walk away from them like the rude jerk he was.

Killer scrambled to his feet and stood in front of Dust, glaring up at the taller skeleton, “It’s not even for me! It’s for Boss, you want to help Boss, don’t you?!”

Dust was silent as he stared back down at Killer, his gaze cold and unfeeling once again.

“You can’t just walk out of this! You are going to help us! Or I’ll… uh… I’ll…” Killer’s voice faltered as his mind raced to think of a way to convince Dust to help them. There was nothing he could threaten him with! But there had to be something, everyone had something they wanted to hide-

A sinister smile suddenly crossed Dust’s face, making him look uncanny as it was paired with his almost dead looking eyes, “Oh, trying to blackmail now, are we?” He leaned down until he was eye level with Killer and barely a few centimeters away from his face. His voice was frighteningly low as he grinned, “How can you blackmail a man who has nothing left?”

Killer was speechless as he stumbled back. He just looked up at Dust, weakly attempting to shrug off Cross who had come to gently touch his shoulder, although he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He wasn’t scared, he was just taken off-guard. And his slight trembling didn’t mean anything, just that it was starting to get chilly out here.

Dust straightened up and lifted his head as a delicious smell floated through the air, “Mmm, looks like dinner’s ready.” He gave one last glance back at Killer before he began the walk back to the palace, “Good luck with your plan, but don’t expect me to help you.”

The wind softly billowed Killer’s jacket as he stared after Dust, completely silent as the other skeleton got further and further away. Eventually, he felt Cross’s hand on his shoulder give it a firm squeeze. He looked over to meet Cross’s red and white gaze. He had a small, encouraging smile on his face as his voice sounded surprisingly supportive, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Kills. We don’t need him. You’ll still, uh,” His voice lowered with reluctance as he added, “have me. I’ll be one of your… surfer cowboys.”

Cross reached up and gripped the air in front of his forehead, as if gripping onto the brim of a cowboy hat, “...Yeehaw.”

Killer snorted, nudging Cross as he fought back against the chuckles, “Thanks, bud.” Looking back in front of him at the skeleton in the distance, he narrowed his eyes as he gave a determined growl, “Just you wait. He is going to help us. One way or the other.”

******

The gentle knocking of bony fingers as they rattled against Killer’s head brought him out of his slumber. “H-hey, woah, I’m up!” He cried out as he shot upward and put up his fists as he wildly looked side-to-side. He only paused when he realized his only threat was a startled Horror, clutching a bowl filled with something close to his chest, presumably to save it from Killer’s erratic movements. 

This isn’t my room. Killer gradually lowered his defensive stance as he scratched the back of his head in confusion, blankly staring down at the kitchen counter he was seated at. He eventually looked up to Horror as he gave a smirk, “I guess I fell asleep for a bit, huh?”

Horror gave a deep chuckle as he set back down the bowl of cereal in front of Killer, “You could say that.”

Killer hunched over the cereal and poked it with his spoon as he glared at it, looking suspiciously like a gremlin as he exclaimed, “Cereal?! Weren’t you making pancakes when I fell asleep?”

“I was,” Horror rolled his eyes, “but you looked too peaceful to wake up, so I didn’t bother you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet.” Killer pretended to sniffle as he batted his eyes upward at Horror. He stuck a spoonful in his mouth as Horror pulled up a seat to sit across from him at the kitchen counter.

“Well, you did say that you didn’t sleep much the night before, right?”

“Riiight.” Killer leaned back on his stool with a groan. He thudded the stool back to the ground after noticing Horror’s expression getting panicked, as if he thought Killer were going to cave his skull in from falling, “I told Boss that the special day off was Saturday, right? That’s a whooping two days from now. I WOULD have had three, but some asshat had to refuse to help us.”

Horror brought up a finger to his mouth, “Shh, he might hear you.”

Killer turned his head and shouted, “Let him hear!” He looked back at his cereal and grumbled as he twirled his spoon in it, “The bastard. I don’t even care if he comes and clobbers me. I don’t think I can even do this thing if I can’t get everyone’s help…” He suddenly paused as a new thought entered his head. His defeated expression gradually shifted until he had a wicked smile, “That’s it, Spooky.”

“Oh dear…” Horror sighed as he rested on the counter holding his head. However, the lumbering giant of a skeleton had already looked worried as soon as he saw the smile form on Killer’s face.

“Clobber. That’s all I need to do.” Killer grasped the spoon in his hand and wobbly stood up on his stool. He ignored Horror’s outcries of concern as he triumphantly placed one foot onto the counter and held his spoon in the air, like a pirate captain would stand at the bow of his ship holding up his magnificent sword, “To get Dust on our side, all I need to do is challenge him to a duel!”

Horror was staring up at him, flabbergasted, “Duel??”

Killer snapped his head back down and gestured wildly, “Yeah, Spooky! A duel! If I fight him and win, then he’ll have -” His statement got interrupted as his foot slipped on the counter and he plummeted forward.

His screams were cut short as he landed into Horror’s arms with a grunt. He let out additional grunts as he scrambled his way around in his arms until he was staring back up at the frightened expression on Horror’s face, “Dust will have to help us if I win! You know, with the noble honor code of knights and stuff.” Killer continued on as if he weren’t just screaming bloody murder just seconds before.

It took a moment before it seemed Horror had calmed down enough to speak, “I… I don’t think Dust will care all that much for a knight honor code or anything…”

“Aw, sure he will! We live in a freaking palace, after all!” Killer shuffled out of Horror’s arms and back to his feet. He gave his friend a confident pose, “Who are we, if not Boss’s loyal Knights of the Round Table! It’s perfect, isn’t it? The meeting table is a circle!”

“It’s more like an oval.”

Killer decided to ignore Horror’s remark as he gulped down the rest of his cereal and bolted out of the kitchen, dressed solely in a gray t-shirt and striped boxers, “Thanks, pal! You’re a genius, you know that?!”

“I didn’t give you the idea!” Horror shouted after him. He lowered his eyebrows as he then remarked, mostly to himself, “Did I?” He remained in thought for a few seconds longer before an angered look of realization crossed his face, “And hey! Get some clothes on!”

******

“Behold, ladies and gentlemen! The event of the ceeentury!” Killer mimicked the voice of an old radio announcer. He lifted his arms to the dark night sky above him, the knife grasped tightly in one hand glinting from the moon, “This is going to be one exciting showdown, folks! So make sure you hang onto your seats!”

He noticed he held Horror and Cross’s attention as they stood off to the sidelines, however he didn’t see a certain someone among them. Killer knew he shouldn’t feel bad, that was why he was even doing this duel in the first place. It just… didn’t feel great knowing he slipped that letter where he knew Boss would probably see it, only for nothing to come out of it.

He probably just didn’t notice it. Killer reasoned, his smile not faltering on his face despite the negative feelings. He just had to remember, this was the reason why he was trying so hard to make surfer cowboys a reality in the first place. It was all for Boss, so he could see the happy absurdities in life again.

He pointed his knife in front of him at his less than enthusiastic sparring partner in front of him, who held his hands in his hoodie pockets as he stared unamused from underneath his hood, “Unsheathe your weapon, mighty warrior! Let’s show the fine folks here today who really has what it takes!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Killer saw Cross lean over and ask Horror something, “Is he serious? He’s really doing this right now?”

“I heard that!” Killer broke his announcer voice as he snapped at Cross, shooting him a glare, “You better shut the hell up, lest I remind you of who ‘ladies’ stood for!”

It took a moment before Cross understood, before eventually a loud “Hey!” erupted from him. Killer didn’t give him the attention though, still aiming his knife at Dust while holding his other arm in the air, as if he were having a fencing competition rather than the crude knife duel it actually was.

Dust looked unimpressed, flickering his dull gaze from Killer’s knife back to his face, “So, if I remember right, I win and you leave me the fuck alone?”

“Well, yeah, if you win. When I win, you have to help us out with our plan, remember?” Killer had to admit, he had been a little surprised when Dust agreed to the duel. He wouldn’t have been that worried if it wasn’t for Horror, who seemed convinced that Dust wouldn’t have agreed. However, to both of their surprise, Dust had agreed rather quickly, even if he did mumble something about “This being a piece of cake.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dust rolled his eyes before taking a stance. Killer twitched as he felt the air crackle with energy and snapped his gaze to Dust’s, determined not to flinch as a maniacal smile formed on the other skeleton’s skull, “Don’t worry,” Dust snickered, the blue and red electricity bouncing around him matching his glowing eyelights perfectly, “this will only take a little bit.”

With that, Dust seemingly disappeared as he flashed forward. Killer couldn’t tell if he had actually disappeared or if he was just that fast. His question was soon answered as suddenly Dust appeared right beside him, slashing his own knife downward in an attempt to hit him.

Killer whirled around and slammed his knife against Dust’s, the sound of metal striking against metal filling the night air. Throwing a foot outward, Killer forced Dust to step back as he jumped away from harm’s reach, “Dude, you teleported! That’s cheating!”

His yells got caught in his throat as the other skeleton was nowhere to be seen. Killer snapped his head back and forth as he searched before a whisper tickled his ear, “But you didn’t say that I couldn’t teleport.”

Killer spun around, slashing his knife in crazy, erratic movements. A force gripped the back of his jacket though, and spun around with him, preventing Killer from even seeing his attacker. Frustration built up as this humiliating dance continued, Killer slashing blindly as he followed his opponent, all as they pranced directly behind him.

Suddenly, it seemed as if Dust grew bored of toying with his prey, when the force on the back of Killer’s jacket tightened and hauled upward. Killer couldn’t help but let out a startled cry when he abruptly couldn’t touch the ground anymore. He then was whirled around and around Dust before being flung away.

Killer screamed in outrage as he flew before it was interrupted as he collided into the grass. He sputtered and spat out grass blades as he rapidly scrambled to his feet, turning and giving Dust a murderous glare. Or, would have if Dust was still standing there.

The faintest sound of the fabric of reality being split whispered on Killer’s side. It was an odd sound, like the branches of a willow tree gently being pushed apart by a flowing breeze. Killer leaped back, slashing with his knife as he went, “Oh no, you don’t!”

As he leaped back, he decided to play the same game as Dust did, sucking in a breath of air as he willed reality to part for him. He teleported in and out of reality multiple times before he finally came to a jittery halt multiple feet away. 

His teleportation was always weird, not as fluid or smooth as Dust’s was. Unlike the multiple solid seconds of disappearance that Dust would do, sneaking up and creeping upon his victims like a tiger would stalk its prey through the jungle, Killer’s teleportation would be quick, rapid, mini teleports. He looked more like rapid snapshots of a camera catching the same movement, snapping a picture of every little difference as its subject moved.

Killer might be able to force himself to teleport like Dust could, but quite frankly, he didn’t want to. Not many things scared Killer, but teleporting did. Teleportation magic wasn’t like a teleport portal. No, those were more like windows, letting you step through and enter whatever place you wished it to open. Teleportation magic, on the other hand, quite literally let you split apart reality and move through space and time. 

But the space locked and hidden between planes of reality functioned differently. It was dark and so, so cold. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. It didn’t even feel like you were sinking through thick sludge or floating through nothing. No, you became nothing. All your senses, all your thoughts, all your sensations. They would just cease to exist. Until, suddenly, the time limit of your teleportation magic would expire and there you were, heaving as you could suddenly breathe, think, and move again. You suddenly existed again.

If Killer were to be honest, he didn’t want to spend longer than he had to in that dark abyss of nothingness. He didn’t want to entertain the thought of what would happen if that time limit he set for his teleportation magic just… ceased to work too.

Whipping his head around again, Killer let out a growl when he couldn’t find Dust again, “Fighting you is real annoying, you know that?!” He cried out, turning and twisting around himself as he expected the other skeleton to pop out at any time, “You’re like a one trick pony-Ahh!”

Killer leaped away as a sharp pain sliced against the back of his arm. He shot his hand up to the wound and grimaced as he felt something warm and wet coat it. He whirled around and glared at his attacker.

Dust twirled his knife as he brought it up toward his face. He trailed a finger down the blade, now tainted with crimson liquid, as a sinister smile adorned his features, “Hey, no need to drag this out any longer than it has to. You can give up any time now~”

“In your dreams.” Killer charged forward, slashing his knife at the other skeleton. Dust easily avoided his attack, sinking back into the inky void as he teleported again. 

As expected. Killer thought, whirling around to look for where Dust would appear next. He had a plan, but it required Dust to be present rather than playing around in the nothing abyss.

That soft whisper brushed past the side of his skull, making Killer spin around on his heel as he cut through the air. As he thought he would, Dust dodged underneath the attack and began to move upward, his head low to the ground. An evil smile formed on Killer’s face and he flung down his knife as he declared, “Gotcha.”

The knife shot downward and pierced through the hood of Dust’s jacket. Dust barely even managed to let out a surprised grunt before the momentum of the knife slammed his chin into the ground.

Killer didn’t need to have the boss’s unique ability of feeling negative emotions to know that Dust was pissed. 

A frightening surge of energy rumbled through the air and a sharp flash of a magical glow shot out from under the hood, Killer making eye contact with Dust’s seering eyelight, “I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” 

Killer winced as Dust roared. He flashed Dust a cocky smile as he violently twisted under the knife, reaching up and ripping the knife from out of his hood as he was rapidly getting to his feet, “You’ll have to catch me first, buddy.”

And with that, Killer turned tail and fled into the dark woods surrounding them. He figured most of his comrades hadn’t expected such a turn of events, for it took a moment before he heard the outraged yells of Dust following him as his feet dangerously pounded against the ground.

He heard a faint cry from Cross as it grew fainter by the minute, “H-hey, but, Kills! What’re doing, ya left your knife!”

“This is why you’re stupid, Crossy!” Killer shouted back over his shoulder as he sped through the undergrowth, rapidly shuffling his way down a sharp incline as he yanked out another knife hiding within his jacket. He was so busy running, the thought of his statement bearing zero context for Cross didn’t even register in his mind. Who did Cross think he was? Of course Killer would have brought more than one knife to a duel.

The forest was silent except for the hushed rustling of Killer as he raced through the bushes, his breathing coming out in quick little pants in almost a comedic fashion. Even the furious roars of Dust were growing fainter as the taller skeleton was having a hard time keeping up. That was where Killer’s strength lied. Dust could teleport all he wanted, but he could never be as speedy as Killer was.

Once he was sure he had enough of a distance from Dust, Killer came to an abrupt halt as he faced the nearest tree. With a huff, he threw his arms around the trunk and furiously climbed his way up the tree. Finally, he was high enough off the ground to avoid being seen right away, and he crouched upon a tree branch as he waited. He looked highly reminiscent to a gargoyle as he kept his eyes trained downward, straining his hearing as he waited for that murderous string of obscenities that had been following him to grow louder.

Eventually, there his prey was, stomping into view as he cursed outward into the dark woods. He was swinging his head around as he dual-wielded two knives, one being the one he started out with and the other being the one Killer snagged him with. Killer could now clearly see that Dust’s hood had a large, jagged tear through it. Oh yeah, he was mad, Dust loved that hoodie. However, he was about to be even more mad.

As soon as Dust came into position underneath Killer’s hiding spot, Killer leaped out of the tree, screaming like a territorial barbarian. Dust only had time to look up in shock, having been stunned into silence, before Killer slammed on top of him. 

The thud of Dust crumpling to the ground underneath Killer was enough to sound like it hurt. The knives he had been wielding were thrown out of his grasp as he simultaneously heaved a harsh intake of air, almost like the air was knocked out of him. He scrambled underneath him as breathless curses exited his mouth before he abruptly sucked them back in as Killer stuck his knife to his throat.

Killer was sure he had the smuggest expression known to man as he stared back down at him through satisfied, half-lidded eyes. He only half paid attention to Cross and Horror as the two broke out of the undergrowth, panting as they took in the scene.

“Well, buddy, old friend,” Killer grinned as he slowly pushed the knife down lower, making his victory clear as he reveled in the furious yet helpless expression on Dust’s face, “looks like I won.”

******

“Dude, Cross, come out! We’ve only got like, a day to get this right!” Killer shouted, holding a hand on his neon pink swim trunk clad hip as he held another arm in front of his face as if looking at a wristwatch despite the lack of such an instrument. A soft sea breeze brushed past his face, bringing the pleasant scent of sea salt. 

Even for him, Killer had to admit to being a little sentimental and enjoying the breeze. Gentle, flowing breezes by the sea shore were one of the little luxuries in life, were they not? He didn’t know what Dust was talking about. The little bitch had been whining about sand getting blown into his eyes all day. Well, look at Killer, that hadn’t happened to him once, Dust was just being a pill.

“No!” Cross’s shout answered him as it came out from the tropical undergrowth further away from the beach, the palm trees casting enough shade to prevent Killer from seeing him, “I look like a fucking clown, I’m not coming out there!”

“Quit being a baby, we all look like clowns! It’s for a good cause!” Killer reached up and gripped the rim of his dark cowboy hat while his other hand sat against the dusty brown vest on his bare ribcage.

“Uh… Do we look… that weird?” A deep, insecure voice came from behind Killer. He turned to see Horror standing there, holding four colorfully patterned surfboards. The poor giant was standing there in his crimson swim trunks, black vest and cowboy hat looking very unsure of himself. It was almost funny considering he still looked intimidating despite his wacky attire, his cracked skull and singular red eyelight looming down upon everyone with a large shadow being cast over his face by the hat on his head.

Killer marched over to Horror and gave him a hearty smack on what he could reach of his arm, “Naah, big guy, you look awesome. You’re the most badass looking one out of all of us.”

A small smile crossed Horror’s face as he looked down at Killer, “Really?”

Answering him with an enthusiastic nod, he momentarily paused as he heard Dust snarl, “Oh, yes, as badass as a stupid surfer cowboy can look.”

“Hey! I let you wear the black swim trunks ‘cus you wanted them, asshole!” Killer snapped, turning his head to look at the other skeleton, who sat crouched in the sand as it looked like he was attempting to build a sand castle.

“Whoopeee, I get to wear the least ridiculous swim trunks yet have it immediately contradicted with this stupid red vest and white hat.” Dust wasn’t even looking at Killer as he growled, shoving up a pile of sand to make a tower.

“Ya say that like it looks stupid! You look great, bro!” Killer was backed up by Horror as he added his support, to which Dust only grumbled some more and hunched further behind his developing sand castle.

Turning back to the tropical undergrowth, Killer raised his voice, “See? We all look great, stupid, or like clowns. Just come on out, you’re not going to be any more different looking than we are.”

“Besides,” Horror spoke up, “the faster we get this practiced, the faster we can be done.”

For a moment, no reply came. Only the sound of crashing waves and the caws of some tropical birds served as an answer. Finally, the large, leafy branches of plants were pushed aside as Cross reluctantly stepped out, clad only in blue swim trunks, a light brown hat and a darker brown cowboy vest.

If feet made much sound when walking across soft sand, Killer was sure he would have heard Cross stomping as he marched over to them. He was glaring downward and avoiding eye contact as a soft purple blush was dusted over his cheeks. Killer almost didn’t hear Cross when he mumbled, “This better be worth it.”

Horror reached down and patted Cross’s shoulder, seeming oblivious that the action made the much shorter skeleton stumble, “It will be worth it. Not just for Boss, but uh,” He paused as he looked at the surfboards still in his grasp, “it might be fun to try this, I’ve never been on a surfboard before.”

Killer grinned and ignored Cross’s grumble of ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better.’ He slapped a hand on Cross’s other shoulder and said, “Eeexactly. All the better we get to practicing, no?”

After distributing the surfboards and dragging a surprisingly reluctant Dust from his sand castle, the four got to work learning how to use the surfboards. Killer thought it would be easy. Just swim out in the water, get on top of the board, and slowly get to a standing position on the board. Piece of cake. Only, it wasn’t easy. That became more and more apparent as soon, three straight hours of trying to get the hang of things passed and none of them showed any progress. If anything, they showed more progress at almost drowning than surfing.

“Oh, goddamn it!” Killer screamed once he had spit out all the sand after being forcibly shoved onto shore again from the strong waves. His green surfboard came to a bopping halt beside him, seemingly unaffected by the embarrassing display of almost having drowned the 56th time that day.

“Aww, you mad?” Dust’s voice faintly cooed as he stood atop his blue board out in the water.

Killer reached out and gripped his cowboy hat floating in the water beside him, plopping it back on his head with an audible squelch, “Shut up, you bastard! Just ‘cus you can stand on the board for longer than two minutes doesn’t make you better than the rest of us!”

“Ooh, I’m pretty sure it does.” Dust grinned as he struck a pose, Killer hating that he managed to look cool.

“No, it doesn’t! I see you wobbling, that doesn’t count!” Killer glared at Dust before jumping as he heard a choked voice beside him. 

He turned to see the new voice belonged to Cross, who had washed up beside him. He looked so still with his hat covering his face, he would have looked like a corpse if Killer didn’t hear his voice coming up from underneath, “Wobbling still counts, man. Especially if no one else can even get to wobbling.”

Killer found he didn’t have a response for that, instead turning and fuming as he grumbled to himself. Eventually, he sucked up the furious determination again and stood back up, turning his board to begin to paddle his way back out into the water. However, before he could move, a loud, drawn out sip rang annoyingly through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

He knew Cross wasn’t doing it, since he jolted and scrambled up to a seated position, looking around wildly despite not being able to see anything from the cowboy hat covering his face. Killer looked to his other side and saw a complete newcomer.

Unfortunately, Killer knew exactly who this newcomer was. It was another skeleton monster, although calling him a “monster” would be seriously underplaying his role. It was none other than the God of Death, leaned back in the air as if reclining in a chair as his billowy, black robe wisped around him. He was taking ridiculously loud sips from a pink straw as it sat in a coconut with its top cut off, making it clear that whatever liquid used to be in it was either gone or about to be.

Killer narrowed his eyes as he pursed his mouth. Greaaat. There weren’t many people that he thought were annoying. Hell, if anything, Killer was often the person people cited as being the annoying one. But, Reaper… He just had a way of getting under the skin of most souls, mortal and immortal alike.

“What are you doing here, Reaper?” Killer finally forced out through clenched teeth.

The infantile slurping stopped rather abruptly as Reaper shifted his gaze over to look at Killer with a raised eyebrow, as if pretending he just now saw them, “Aww, you act like I’m bothering you.”

Killer just raised his own eyebrow as he awaited an answer, vaguely noticing Cross as he hesitantly peeked out from under his cowboy hat.

“Ah, I’m just taking a little break,” Reaper continued once he knew he wasn’t getting a response. He nonchalantly twirled the coconut in his grasp, making the straw inside do rapid circles, “Duty calls. Just making the rounds here to claim all those lost, little crab souls.”

“No, why are you really here?” Killer growled, his already thin patience being tested. He only had a day to practice and get this right. Even if the God of Death had all the time in the multiverse, he sure didn’t.

Reaper did a pretend gasp and sat up straighter in the air, putting a hand on his chest in an aghast manner, “I’m not lying! My role applies to all beings, not just humans and monsters, you know.” He leaned forward as he gave Killer an irritating wink, “You better be careful, sweetie. To untrained ears, you sound like you don’t believe crabs have souls.”

Killer just gave him a dumb look. Did he think he was being funny or something? “Dude, what the hell do you want?”

Reaper let out a wistful sigh before lounging back in the air again, “Fine, I’ll go ahead and tell you. It looks like you’re not in a fun mood anyway.” He glanced at Killer before smugly smiling after presumably seeing the irritation written plainly over Killer’s face, “Let’s just say the Destroyer wasn’t lying.”

It took a moment for Reaper’s words to register. Luckily, Killer didn’t need to find his words since Cross spoke for him, his voice low and threatening with just the smallest twinge of fear to it, “What?"

“Oh, you don’t know?” Reaper tilted his head innocently. He let out a series of chuckles as he shook his head, “Error had come into little Geno’s place, hacking and wheezing. He acted like he could hardly breathe. To be honest, I was a little concerned, although that’s probably just because of my job. I’m extra sensitive to the signs of death, you see.”

The god snickered at his own joke, even though neither Killer or Cross laughed with him. Killer wasn’t paying too much attention to his friend, but he could tell Cross was acting a little queasy. Killer wasn’t nervous though, if anything, he was ticked.

“But not to worry. Our favorite destroyer was fine. He wasn’t outrunning peril or contracted a fatal disease or anything. He was just laughing so hard, he forgot to breathe.” Reaper let out a wistful sigh and made a dismissive hand motion, “It took a long while to get him to even calm down enough to tell us what he found so humorous. But finally, he told us about you guys, erm, delightful little vacation.”

With a flamboyant twirl in the air, Reaper threw his hands outward, almost sending the straw on a flight of its own from his coconut, “So, I just had to come see for myself! You understand, right?”

“Oh, perfectly.” Killer formed a fist and slammed it into his open palm, “Just remind me that I need to try and kill a certain god later.” When did that glitchy bastard even come here? Why did he even come here? And he couldn’t even confront them like a man. No, he had to go cackle behind their backs, not even giving them a chance to explain their situation.

“I am terribly sorry he couldn’t come with me, I tried to get him to come along, I really did.” Reaper put a thoughtful finger to his chin, “But alas, he had other things to do. I believe he said something about ‘Having to tell Ink’ before he left me and Genny alone again.”

“What?!” Killer suddenly erupted, looking upward to glare at Reaper, “No, that little inkstain can’t keep his mouth shut to save his fucking life!” Killer suddenly paused as a grimace took over his features, “Although, it looks like that stupid glitch can’t either…”

“That’s it.” Killer turned his head as a quiet voice spoke up. Cross was sitting there in the water in his drenched vest, hat and swim trunks, face pale with a blank expression on his face, “My life is done. It’s ruined. Reputation? Gone. Strangled dead.” 

Cross attempted to pat the sand underneath him, although the action did more to smack the water instead, “Just…drown me, okay? Just do me this little favor and let me drown-” He kept mumbling to himself as he shifted to attempt to lie down in the water.

“Cross, you’re not going to freaking die, get up. You’ll be fine.” Killer turned back to Reaper and said in a passive aggressive voice, “Thank you, oh, so very much for that information. Truly. Absolute rib-tickler that one is.” 

Killer whipped around and grabbed his surfboard determinedly before addressing Cross again, “I’ll tell you what, we get this over with and we can go kill ‘im together.”

Before making his way fully out into the water, he froze as that annoying slurping sound started up again. Killer felt his eye twitch as he slowly turned to look behind him, the saltwater lapping at his shins, “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Reaper momentarily paused in his slurping as he flashed Killer a smile, “Oh, no, you don’t have to worry about me! I make my own schedule, so I can spend as long as I want.” He put the straw to his mouth again and resumed his incessant sipping. 

Well, I guess that’s a no. Killer gave Reaper a sarcastic smile back before whipping around. It looked like they would just have to make do with a sassy audience.

******

The gang of four skeletons, along with a spectating god of death who really didn’t seem to have anything more productive to do, practiced riding the waves until sundown. Luckily enough, the tropical island AU they chose as their practice spot was warm enough that it wasn’t too cold by the time they finally stopped, although that didn’t stop some people from whining about it. Killer swore, he couldn’t take stupid Dust or Cross anywhere.

“Well, we did good, gang! We can, uh, stand on our boards now.” Killer beamed at the group, the sinking sun painting the sky colors of orange, purple and pink.

Dust had already seemed to make a point of stripping off the cowboy gear as he scoffed with a hint of pride, “You guys can at least stand on your boards. I can actually surf.”

Killer was giving his “comrade” a sullen look as he debated whether Nightmare would be really mad if one of his underlings suddenly went missing, “No you can’t.”

“Yes, I can. Did you see me out there?”

“Sure, okay, if you call wobbly standing on top your board on some little wave surfing, then yeah, maybe- ”

“That’s literally the fucking definition of surfing. How stupid can you-”

“Guys!” Horror’s raspy voice interrupted the two’s arguing match, “Is anyone else… hungry? I know you picked a rather unoccupied AU, Kills, but uh, I think a little village isn’t far from here…” The giant’s singular red eyelight seemed to be glowing hungrily as he gazed off into the tropical wilderness further away from the shore.

Killer’s growing sense of panic from Horror’s remark was abruptly halted with annoyance as Reaper chirped up, “There sure is, dearie. It’s where I got my lovely little drink. Would you care for the same refreshment-”

The black cloaked skeleton suddenly cut himself off. His face then shifted into a knowing expression as he purred, “Ah, you probably mean a very different kind of refreshment, hmm? I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t leave after all. Duty just might end up call-”

“Duty’s not calling anybody!” Killer shouted. He marched in front of Horror in an attempt to direct his attention away, even though he barely came above the other monster’s chest, “We are not causing a scene, alright? That’s just gonna get the stupid Star Shits’ attention and then we can’t do this thing for Boss at all.”

Horror’s expression fell as he sheepishly grumbled, “Oh, right.”

Dust let out a loud moan and tossed his cowboy hat into the sand, “Come on! Let’s get their attention, that’ll be the most fun I had on this godforsaken day.” He stomped over to Horror, “Where is the village? I need something to make this day worthwhile.”

“Hey, no! Dust, go back and get your hat!” Killer demanded as he glared at Dust, “We’re not going to go cause a scene, hear me!”

“Oh, that’s rich. Killer, not wanting to go cause a little bloodshed?” Dust looked down at Killer with a patronizing look, “What’s wrong? Left your knife at home?”

“No! We just can’t afford to have the Star Shits come and mess shit up!” Killer’s angry tone of voice lowered as he grumbled, “Or… before they get messed up further than they already are.” He figured it was just a matter of time before Ink spilled the beans if Reaper’s statement about Error telling him were to be believed.

Dust slightly leaned down to become eye level with Killer as a sadistic grin crossed his face, still managing to look frightening despite only being clad in dark swim trunks, “Don’t you think Boss will appreciate a little spike of negativity rather than this incredibly juvenile surfer cowboy idea?”

Killer opened his mouth to retort back but was broken out of it as a hand slammed on both his and Dust’s shoulders. He glanced over to see Cross, whose cheeks were strangely dusted with a blush. He had a strained smile stretched across his face as he loudly declared, “OR, we can just go home and get some sleep before the big day tomorrow, right fellas? We need all the energy we can get if we’re gonna convince Boss.”

Cross finished talking with possibly the most forced laughter Killer had ever heard. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at his friend. It was almost as if he was trying to distract them from something.

Dust was side-eyeing Cross as he snarled in a low voice, “Way to be a party pooper, Crossy. Just admit you don’t want your little crush catching you in your stupid outfit.”

Killer roughly choked on his own breath from how quickly Cross’s face went from an ivory white to a dark purple as he flailed his hands and attempted to excuse himself through the incoherent noises that exited his mouth. Killer patted Horror on the arm as he half-coughed and half-laughed, “Oh my god, alright, come along, big guy, let’s save Crossy from some humiliation.”

Horror nodded in agreement as he joined Killer's laughter and followed him as he led the way back to the teleport portal spot. Dust begrudgingly followed along as he reluctantly carried back his cowboy hat and vest, all as Cross rushed after them, still trying to excuse himself.

“Guys, no, it’s not because of that! N-not that I do, ‘cus I freaking don’t, I’m just saying-”

Killer stepped upon the device that opened the teleport portal that he hid in the bushes, since none of them actually possessed the ability to open them and had to rely on specially made devices using Nightmare’s magic. 

Before he entered the portal, he heard Reaper call out, “Good luck and have a good night! I’ll be looking forward to the big show tomorrow!”

“Hey! Who said you could come-” Killer grimaced as all that greeted him when he whirled around was a few smoky black wisps floating in the air, signaling the God of Death had already taken his leave. With a sigh and shake of his head, Killer turned and walked back through the teleportation window that had opened within Nightmare’s palace. Did Reaper really not have anything better to do? Were gods really that bored?

Heh, maybe they’re just curious because they’ve never seen anything like this either. Killer thought with a smile as he closed the portal behind him with the device in his hand. If that was the truth, maybe his “silly idea” about surfer cowboys wasn’t so silly after all.

******

With an annoyed and tired cyan eyelight, Nightmare glared at the grand clock in the middle of one of his large bookcases, waiting for the designated time. He could hardly believe it was Saturday. Did he really agree to such a preposterous idea?

In fact, he wouldn’t have remembered it at all if Killer didn’t spin into his office “early that morning.” The skeleton monster who Nightmare was convinced was just a gremlin hiding in an oversized costume took the opportunity to gleefully remind him of the day’s engagements Nightmare had so blissfully forgotten about.

After handing him a mysterious AU’s coordinates, Killer had sped out of the room with a wink, “And don’t come until after the little hand hits the 10!”

So, that was what Nightmare had been doing, waiting until that blasted little hand on the clock crawled toward the 10. With a long sigh, he rested his head atop his arms and glared at the pile of work in front of him. He had so much work to do, he didn’t have time to go around and play Killer’s juvenile games.

Slowly lifting a certain letter with one of his appendages, Nightmare winced as he recognized the cursive handwriting. He abruptly dropped the letter on his desk and swiftly averted his gaze away. It was just one of the many pieces of paper he had promised himself he would deal with a little over a week ago.

What’s a couple more days? His own thought sounded weak as it hummed in his head, the goopy skeleton shifting a weary eyelight to look out the window of his office. Days. He had plenty of those. They just dragged on and on, relentless as the march of time continued forward, not waiting for anyone. Did it matter if someone didn’t have the energy to keep fighting? Did it matter if someone was seriously questioning the point of existence? Hell, did it matter even if someone had dropped to their knees and begged, pleaded with time, just to slow down for a little bit… Just enough for them to catch their breath.

No, none of it mattered. It never did. Time would simply gaze down, unfeeling and distant, before kicking that desperate individual away. It wouldn’t stop and check on them, even if the sound of a skull cracking against solid ground exploded through the air. Time didn’t care. So why should he?

Nightmare’s chest felt hollow as he continued to stare out of that window. The same old questions spun around in his head, questions he couldn’t seem to find an answer to, no matter how long he would spend holed up in his room. A small part of him would always whisper something about living a more productive life if he just stopped questioning these same unfair circumstances of life. How much happier would he be if he just decided to quit wondering why things were despite those things never having answers? Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t seem to force himself to care. Sure, he may be happier, but what worth did that happiness really have if it was all based on delusion and denial?

I should probably check on the clock. A whisper reminded Nightmare and he dully looked back over to the clock. He stirred a little in his seat as he noticed it had passed 10:00, the time he was supposed to have left, and was bordering close to 10:30 now.

Shifting up to lean back on his cushioned seat, Nightmare debated whether it was even worth it to go at this point. He already missed the deadline. He already failed, so why even bother making the commitment now?

However, one little thought made Nightmare let out a small groan. He couldn’t seem to shake the face of a very sad skeleton with eyelightless eyes and black streaks down his cheeks from his mind. Every time he would turn his head to the side in an attempt to escape the image, the face would follow him, slightly poking out his bottom lip as if to ask what he did to get ignored so blatantly.

“Fine, whatever! Sure, I’ll go.” Nightmare snapped out loud as if that action could get rid of the image internally tormenting him. He waved his hand and summoned a teleport portal and stepped through as he trailed his eyes over the snippet of paper Killer had scribbled the AU’s coordinates on. This was it, right? Why had it gotten so bright all of a sudden-

Nightmare’s slipper sank into something soft as he stepped out of the portal. He nearly let out a screech of disgust as his foot was suddenly covered in sand, and he yanked his foot up, sadly leaving his black slipper behind as he violently shook his foot. The action made him lean heavily on his other foot, causing that one to be helplessly covered too.

With a dejected sigh, Nightmare resigned to his defeat of a million, tiny, coarse rocks as he set his foot back down in his now sandy slipper. He shut the portal behind him with a growl as he darted his gaze around suspiciously. Would it have hurt Killer to say he was dragging him to a beach?

“Ooh, strike one, Killer, my boy.” Nightmare snickered as various images of how to make Killer pay flashed through his mind, “I told you to make it worth it, and this is where you bring me?”

Stomping as best as an individual could among sand, Nightmare paused along the shore as he glared outward into the sea lapping at the island’s shores. The mesmerizing deep blue of the water and the light green seafoam atop of it as it reflected the crystal blue of the sky, the towering palm trees with their emerald leaves draping over bushes with blossoms of eye catching pinks, reds and oranges, all as they sat along a cinnamon brown shore. It was beautiful. How nauseating.

Already, Nightmare could feel a dull headache whispering behind his eyes. Although he could tell he was a ways off from any resident who lived in this AU, he could feel how happy and positive they were.

Oh wow, yes, Killer. This is lovely. Do remind me how I can murder you when we get back. Nightmare snarled inwardly as he glared out at the stunning scenery. Suddenly, a loud slurp seemed to manifest beside him, and the self-proclaimed King of Darkness whirled around to face the potential attacker, his tentacles forming into sharp spikes to stab whoever had the gall to slurp in his ear.

His “attacker” only looked mildly surprised as he held onto a coconut cut in half, sipping from a neon blue straw as he blinked his empty eyes back at Nightmare. He slightly lifted the hood of the dark, wispy cloak that whisked around him as if to get a better look, “Ah, Nightmare, how wonderful it is you finally came! I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up. I had enough time to go get another one of these tropical delights while I waited.”

“Reaper.” One could hardly say Nightmare sounded cordial as he grumbled out a greeting. Casting a suspicious look around again, he asked, “Do you know where I can find my sorry excuses for lackeys? I was dragged out here not by my own will and I’m beginning to think it was a grand mistake.”

A strange sound erupted from Reaper, like a mixture between choking and laughing, making Nightmare raise an eyebrow as he looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“Oh, it’ll be worth it all right.” Reaper managed to say once he caught his breath. He shook the coconut in his hand and offered it to Nightmare, making the latter slightly recoil from the assault of a pleasant aroma hitting his nose, “Would you like one of these? I could go get one while you wait~”

“No. I just want to find these bunch of idiots and get the hell out of here-”

Nightmare was suddenly cut off from his tirade against Reaper when an enthusiastic scream interrupted him.

“Boss! Boss, over here!”

With a furrowed set of eyebrows, Nightmare turned his head in the direction of the sound. If he didn’t know better, he would say it came from… the water?

For a second, he could hardly believe his eyes. There stood Killer out in the water, but possibly in the most ridiculous outfit he had ever seen him in. He had what looked to be a cowboy hat and vest on, all atop bright swim trunks, as he shakily stood on top of a flashy surfboard. However, most bewildering of all, were that the others had joined him too. Dust, Horror and Cross, all wearing their own version of the same dumb outfit standing on top of their own surfboards.

Nightmare couldn’t find the ability to speak, but ultimately didn’t need to as Killer rather proudly declared, “Behold! Something so out of the ordinary, so insane, and so ludicrous, that even the creators haven’t thought of it!” Then gesturing to himself and his insane comrades as if to make the unbelievable point more absurd, “Surfer cowboys!”

“What… the… fuck…” Nightmare barely even registered his own voice as he just stared, dumbfounded at the group of “elite monsters” he had assembled to do his bidding. What were they doing? What were they thinking? Were they even aware of how stupid they looked?

“Let’s show him, boys!” Killer roared, and then plopped down on his surfboard as he paddled away, shouting behind him in his best impression of a cowboy, “Let’s wrangle them waves! Yeehaw!”

A battle cry of “yeehaws” followed Killer’s, all coming from the other insane skeletons as they followed his lead. Nightmare just watched with a slightly agape mouth as they all paddled into the steadily increasing waves, screaming in a determined fury.

It was almost admirable. Even from the distance between them, Nightmare saw how wobbly they were on top of their surfboards. And as they all swam away to tackle something they were obviously not skilled enough to handle… Didn’t they know it was just going to end badly?

And it did. Oh, so, so badly. Nightmare watched as that gang of idiots swam into the largest wave they could and attempted to stand and balance atop their boards before the wave hit. Each one of them failed. Even Dust, who was noticeably the most skilled among them, lost to the forces of nature, as the wave bowled him over into the storm of flailing arms, legs, cowboy hats and colorful boards before they all disappeared under the water.

Nightmare was silent as he just stared at the spot of crashing ocean each moron disappeared into. He couldn’t even seem to find what to think. They were absolute idiots. Morons. Dimwits. Complete imbeciles.

But they were his imbeciles.

Reaper slightly scooted up in his relaxed sitting position in the air, gazing out into the waves, “Don’t worry, none of them are dead. I would feel it if their soul broke apart-” The God of Death didn’t even get to finish before Nightmare interrupted him. With laughter.

It started off small, but gradually grew and grew, until Nightmare was clutching his stomach. It took a moment before Reaper’s initially put off expression changed to one of amusement too and he joined in with Nightmare, presumably because Nightmare was often told how chilling his laugh came off to others. His laughter only became worse when Killer, Horror, Dust and Cross finally emerged from under the waves, each with their mouths gaped open so wide, they looked more like mouths than skulls from here.

Finally, Nightmare quit laughing, his breath coming out ragged as he raised an appendage to wipe away a tear that had slipped out. He noted that those idiots had taken notice of him, and he could see the beaming smile across Killer’s face from where he stood. With a shake of his head, Nightmare motioned with one of his tendrils for the four to come.

At last, when the four came upon shore, Nightmare gave them all a stern glare before letting it fall on Killer, “So, I assume this was all your idea?”

Killer’s smile faltered at Nightmare’s shift in demeanor, a hint of dejection to his voice, “Um, yeah…”

“How’d he even get you guys wrapped into it?” Nightmare’s voice was bewildered as he turned his attention to the others.

Horror had a sheepish expression, “He just… convinced me, I suppose…”

Cross had quickly averted his gaze and grumbled as if he were harboring a grudge, “Blackmail.”

“He held a knife to my throat.” Dust just deadpanned as he stared dully back at Nightmare, making him pause as he just furrowed his eyebrows in a confused expression at the taller skeleton.

Looking back down at Killer, the skeleton in question smiled a hesitant smile, as if he were a disobedient child who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Dragging a hand down his face, Nightmare groaned, “First off, you drag me out here without even telling me where I’m going. I stepped in sand. I’m never going to be rid of it, you know that, right? I’ll be finding little sand particles in my grave, and it’s all because you chose not to tell me.”

Nightmare continued, even as Killer slightly shrank from being reprimanded, “Second, you picked a happy AU. Couldn’t you have picked one with a little negativity? Doesn’t even have to be depression, just a bit of melancholy.” He gestured out with both his arms and appendages, directing his underlings and Reaper to their surroundings, “Look at this! It’s disgusting! I can literally feel people dancing in their sickening happiness as they sing kumbaya around a fucking campfire.

“Yeah, maybe a more negative AU wouldn’t have had such a bright sun, but do we really need it though?” Nightmare threw his head back and groaned, “It burns, Killer. Just beating down, relentlessly, as I am forced to stand here. And in case you have forgotten, black absorbs heat. So while you can blissfully swim around in the water and reflect the sun’s wonderful rays, I sit here getting microwaved.

“And finally,” Nightmare stepped closer to Killer as he glared down at him. However, the longer he looked at him, the harder it became to maintain a serious expression. A smile creeped along his face until he broke, lowering his head into his hand as a series of chuckles escaped him, “You all are a bunch of idiots.”

A beaming smile formed on Killer as he exclaimed, “Really?! It worked?! Was it worth it?!”

“You wish.” Nightmare shook his head with another laugh, shaking his head as he was pulled into a hug by Killer.

Killer threw out his other arm, “Come on in, everybody! Group hug!”

And so, Nightmare resigned to his next fate, being sandwiched in between Cross and Killer as they hugged him from both sides, with Dust reluctantly squeezing in and Reaper draped over the top of them as he hugged from the air, before finally being brought all together into a tight bundle by Horror.

Continuously shaking his head as chuckles betrayed him, Nightmare couldn’t understand this. He didn’t know why Killer would do such a stupid thing. It didn’t make any sense and was beyond dumb. Surfer cowboys? What kind of dumb idea was that?

However, watching the group as they gleefully talked about their ridiculous plan working and Killer suggesting to a very happy Reaper to show them where he kept getting his little refreshments, Nightmare couldn’t help but let the smile form on his face. 

It was stupid. That was undeniable. But perhaps, in life, it’s okay to let yourself be a little stupid with the people you care about.