Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life was hard; especially when you were an Outcode, because having a bigger world to explore only brought bigger problems. If you thought being stuck in an ever-winding time loop with a seven year old holding too much power in their tiny little body was rough...

Well, let's just say that in the grander scope of the multiverse, you should prepare to multiply that hardship by fifty. And then square it.

However, that wasn't to say that everything was bleak and miserable. And if you managed to keep to the rules, then your first experience could even be damn rosy.

When one first began to establish themselves in the multiverse, it was greatly advised to take those delicate, tentative steps under the guiding hand of another veteran Outcode; or if one was incredibly lucky - or unlucky, perhaps - under the wing of a God. Not ones the humans were familiar with, mind you, but otherworldly beings of incredible power and ego nonetheless.

The Gods, after all, were respected far and wide for their power for a reason, and those who were fortunate enough to gain their interest were often destined to be favored among the multiverse's inhabitants and the Creators alike. Though whether the latter resulted in more suffrage or not was really up to the luck of the draw.

But even with such guidance, the road taken in traveling the worlds beyond one's own was never without a great risk of peril and danger. The multiverse was surprisingly cruel despite its inhabitants themselves not often being such. All it could take is a single misstep to send you hurtling into the void.

Still, with a good head on their shoulders and a healthy dose of determination, even the most unlikely of schmucks could last a week outside of their AU at the very least. Maybe...

Not that anybody was around to tell Killer these things, when his AU first glitched out and spat him out to face the wolves. Though, Killer had managed to score some fun as the wolf for a couple of years, before he eventually caught the eye of a certain collection of 'grand heroes'.

Or better known as... The Star Sanses.

Admittedly, finding himself on the run as some kind of world-hopping criminal was cool as fuck... For about a week, at best.

There were only so many times he could listen to the yellow idiot’s self-righteous and pitying monologues before wanting to stab out his ear canals- or more preferably the twat’s soul. That would also be great.

. . . .

He was not going back. Never.

The day Killer let himself fall back into that living hell was the day he'd RESET for the last time. A sentiment he was certain shared among his cohorts; skeletons much like himself.

Dust was fun. He brought a new dynamic to the game Chara had brought him into so long ago, challenging him in ways that were more than just physical. It was mental. Emotional. As much as Killer hated the word and everything associated with it.

It was risky, more high stakes than if it was just his life on the line. Because at the end of it all, Killer could always RESET. His mortality was a thing of the past now. Probably. His emotions, however, were a bomb lying under the table. Dust knew how to drag them out of their grave and expose them for all to see, and taking the bet to see if he’d be able to rebury them again sent a special kind of thrill through him every time.

Plus... Dust helped him keep his head straight, when it mattered most. He was just the kind of asshole who could cut through Killer’s deflections with a single glare, like those stupidly overcompensating blasters he loved shooting off so much. It was impressive, in a way. Annoying as hell, but impressive.

There was a time where they might've killed each other. The pair were too alike in all the ways they both hated- and just different enough to piss the other off.

The only reason they haven't was because of their third.

Horror was the 'support' man. If Dust was the guy who dragged his emotions out of the grave, then Horror was the one who looked at the mess, shrugged, and handed Killer a shovel. He never pushed, never pried. He just existed in that quiet, stubborn way of his, all gruff patience and an eerie, knowing humor that made Killer squirm. Like he could see past all the layers, right to the core of whatever was left of his soul.

That was the thing about them. Dust and Horror. They were infuriatingly, undeniably real.

They weren’t the kind of friends Killer had back in his old AU- though maybe friends was a strong word to use in itself, when they tried to stab each other at least once a week. But they were certainly something.

Something solid. Something that made the endless, chaotic tumble through the multiverse a little less lonely. A little more bearable. More fun~

And so, here they were.

Three Outcodes, infamous across the multiverse, sitting in a dingy little bar on some backwater AU, pretending like they weren’t completely screwed.

All because of a babbling bunch of babies with savior complexes.

Dust looked like someone just shat on his computer, which of course only made it harder for Killer to keep his amusement to himself. Like, c'mon? Gods? He threw that belief away long ago.

Too bad Dust didn't seem to share the same humor.

“You- are you fucking with me right now...?” Uh oh, Killer knew that tone. “You’ve been shitting around the multiverse for up to a year now, and you’re telling me you didn’t even know shit about the Gods?”

“You guys are so mean to me..!”

Neither of them so much as bat an eye to his dramatics, and with the lack of attention, Killer felt his energy slowly subside.

. . . .

Killer allowed the brief silence to settle over their heads for maybe three minutes, only interrupted by Dust's glasses clanking and Killer's soul releasing soft hisses as it cycled back into a perfect circle.

But of course he got bored, like he was prone to. And given that neither of his playmates were likely to fall into a fight with him over just leaving, he decided to return to the interesting little conversation Dust was brewing up before.

That sounded... torturous; even for him.

He was fine. Just a little moment. Assholes.

Whatever. Killer waved off the passive urge to get his knives involved, instead choosing to lighten the mood with a joke. "Damn, sounds like a party pooper.”

Dust gave Killer a dark look, a flicker of frustration passing over his features. “That other God? Yeah, that’s Ink. Calls himself ‘the Creator’ or something tacky like that. He supposedly plays a hand in making AUs, but I don’t know how legitimate that rumor is.”

Holy fuck. Seriously...?

Killer’s grin faltered slightly, a shiver running down his spine at the thought. “Great. So, we’ve got one God who can mess with our minds and another who sees us as runaway pets... That’s fantastic.”

This is how we continue the game.

Chapter Text

The Grillby's of Underfells were among the best places for travelers like them. Fells knew better than to ask unnecessary questions or stir trouble around powder kegs like them.

...Of course, there were times their ridiculously high LV proved too enticing for those with less restraint. One of them would end up kicking off, trigger a LV rush; next thing you knew the whole timeline was coated with a fresh sprinkle of dust.

Which was why they've taken to the AUs more acquainted with interdimensional travel. Sure, they drove higher prices and carried the risk of recognition, but monsters in those AUs seemed to have better survival instincts. And information.

And that suited the trio just fine. Even if it never got any less strange to be amongst a living crowd.

Dust slouched in a corner booth, his hood pulled low over his face. The only reason they knew he wasn't asleep was due to the glint of his eyelights shining from beneath the cotton as he nursed an ill-gotten bourbon.

Killer was 85% sure Dust didn't even like bourbon. He just took it 'cause he's an asshole. And an addict.

Killer himself sat across from him, absently spinning a knife on the table, humming a jaunty little song he couldn't place the name of. Horror sat between them as per usual, his massive frame taking up most of the floor space.

But the Grillby didn't dare complain. He was even smart enough to stay out of their periphery unless it was to bring over a shot to keep him and Dust from having to scare away the barfolks again. Killer would have appreciated the attentiveness if he gave a shit.

Or wasn't stuck in a shitty mood.

None of them really wanted to talk about the ass-kicking that brought them here.

...Except for Dust, apparently.

"We’re screwed," the moody asshole announced. For the fifth time in an hour. The moment he chucked the rest of the bourbon with a pinched expression, Killer’s 85% jumped up to 93%, and he made a mental note to grab more of the stuff in the future.

Couldn't Dusty-Musty not rub it in for five seconds?

"Astute observation," Killer drawled with false cheer. He tossed back his drink to crunch on the small blocks of ice he pressured the bartender for, enjoying the brisk lances of pain the chill brought. "Got any other revelations in that noggin of yer's Dusty? Sky still blue? Stars still assholes?"

Horror’s fist slammed the table before anymore insults could fly. Glasses jumped. The bartender’s flames flickered warily.

Nobody stood up, though. Not against Horror.

"Enough," he growled. "Ain’t helpin’." The larger monster levelled each of them with a glare harder than stone, and then whirled on the gawkers who forgot themselves- having almost a sixth sense for intent so finely tuned that Killer sometimes wondered if the bastard didn't have some kind of fucked-up version of precognition.

It's saved their asses before many times before in the past, but now, that sensitivity only seemed to make the eggshells around Horror's disgustingly bottled temper ready to cave-in at the slightest disturbance.

Killer’s grin grew strained, knowing the piling stress probably wasn't doing any favors for his patience with them

That wasn't good. Not at all.

Killer actually liked Horror; the last thing they needed was for their only emotionally-functioning member to give up and let them implode. Or worse yet, light the dynamite himself.

Stars, this whole 'team' thing was so much work... Who knew all these interpersonal semantics would be so difficult for an apathetic, emotion-numb monster to manage?

Hissing through his teeth, Killer tried to find something in him that was still determined to put up a face of consideration and actual adult maturity...

. . . .

He did not find it. (He wanted to say he really put the effort in this time, but anybody would know that to be a lie).

"What’s your genius plan, then? Keep getting pummeled ‘til we’re paste?" Killer eventually grouched unkindly- cause he's an asshole like that. Feeling nothing as Horror’s face screwed up in frustration, only to fall back into his own devices dejectedly.

Fuckfuckfuck, why was he screwing this up? He should be encouraging them to confide in one another, not taking out their bullshit on one another.

A bottle shattered to the floor and seeped through the floorboards. Dust’s fingers twitched around nothing, face twisting with irritation as he belatedly realized the drink had slipped from his grasp. "Could annoy ‘em to death..." he murmured.

Horror huffed, but otherwise didn't try to speak up anymore.

Nice going, dickhead.

"Strategic," Killer deadpanned- only to frown as Dust continued to ignore him as well. Both him and Horror slowly retreating to their vices and blocking Killer out.

The other skeleton has been doing that a lot more lately too...

He didn't like this. It felt like the beginning of the end. Game Over...

Everything was going wrong. Killer was fucking it all up. He knew it.

Ever since the goody-goodies started to pay more attention to them. Ever since their names have apparently been spread across the multiverse. Everything has been going tits up.

Killer had to focus double-time to keep the other two from backing out prematurely at every tough break. Practically putting his metaphorical nose to the grindstone to keep his investment in their wellbeing from burning out.

...Great deal of good that went.

Their LV surges were getting tedious as well. Whether it was from the constant company, or from their antagonism of each other (cough, cough, Killer and Dust, cough, cough), bloodthirsty episodes came more frequently and tempers were on the rise.

It was taking all the fun out of everything. And instead of getting over himself and stepping up to keep them together, he was doubling down on his own bullshit and avoiding responsibility.

Killer crunched on more ice, letting the ache marinate in his marrow, preventing his own nerves from getting to him.

At the rate things were going, it was only a matter of time before...

He really didn't want to think about that. Couldn't there be anything else?

Luckily, a boisterous voice exclaimed at just the right moment to pull him out of what was likely to be a very ugly crashout.

"You're shitting me! There ain't no way that's true!"

Killer glanced back to see a couple of Fell monsters - ones not native to this timeline - boisterously arguing over something, effectively setting aside the troubles tangling up his thoughts and subconsciously drawing him to their conversation.

A quick evaluation of the two told him they were well-travelled: their armour was a mishmash of gear from different AUs he recognized off the bat, and the decent collection of EXP one wouldn't find in a singular universe- and still be sane, was a dead giveaway.

Their conversation was probably worthless gossip. But it was a distraction from his own issues, and Killer latched onto it like a lifeline.

"Is so true!" The Astigmatism insisted. "I've never seen anything like it before! Guy was fucking huge! Four tentacles twice as thick as that Onion prick! And black as fucking tar! I'm telling you- it had to be Nightmare!"

The Snowdrake simply rolled their eyes and nursed their drink in disinterest. "And I'm saying you're sauced. Nightmare's just a rumor those meddling brats spread to make us complacent. If Dream really had a brother like that-"

Thnk...!

Killer’s knife embedded itself in the pair's table, causing both Fells to jump at the suddenness, looking years more sober.

They could probably feel his LV bearing down on them like the entirety of the mountain had fallen upon their shoulders...

But Killer didn't give a flying fuck. There was only one thing concerning him.

"Sorry fellas," he lied, sweet as poison as he sauntered over. "But could ya repeat that? About this... Nightmare?"

The Astigmatism looked to his companion, blinking his ridiculously large eye slowly as if to get the fog out of his head. "Uh- yeah. N- Nightmare. Rumors in the multiverse say that Dream, y'know, the sunny little-"

"I know who Dream is," Killer grated, twisting the knife a little deeper into the wood.

"Shit, right- right. Fuck. So uh, Nightmare's like his twin-"

"And his opposite balance-holder," the other monster tacked on.

"Yeah, that too. He's the god of Negativity? Anyway, he and Dream hate each other's guts- got some real ancient beef or some shit. Dude's supposed to be like- worse than bad news. A total sadist, megalomaniac."

Killer felt his eyes crease, mulling this new information in his head with an enthusiasm that had been lost for too long. "And why is it I've never heard of this god before if he's such a big deal?"

"That's-"

"'Cause he don't exist," the Snowdrake groused, giving his companion an annoyed glare before giving Killer a flat look. Apparently managing to get over their fear enough to talk upfront to him.

"Dream goes around telling people about his boogeyman brother, but ain't nobody ever seen or heard of a god like that before. 'Sides, even if this Nightmare guy did exist - which he doesn't," they elbowed their fellow when he opened his mouth to protest, "he's probably long gone dormant. Only Ink and Error ever really stick around forever, even Death vanishes for a decade or two before popping up again."

"In other words: he's a ghost story, pal." The monster huffed.

Killer wrenched his knife free, thumbing the edge of the blade thoughtfully, his ever-present smile taking on a familiar, sharp quality; and he savored it.

He could feel his soul warming up with interest, determination slowly crackling back from the embers and into a proper flame.

"A ghost story," he repeated, his voice a low, considering hum. He turned the knife over, watching the dim bar light glint off the steel. "A ghost story that just so happens to be the sworn enemy of our favorite set of shining heroes... and a god, you said?"

What a lucky break.

The skeleton knew the makings of direction when he saw it. The multiverse was still a game after all- if not put on a large, grander scale. And he'd be an idiot not to recognize a new 'chapter' when he saw it.

The Astigmatism, emboldened by Killer's apparent interest, nodded vigorously. "Yeah! A real god, like Dream and Ink! The god of Negativity! They say he feeds off the fear and suffering of humans and monsters alike! Real bad shit!"

Snowdrake hissed at the other monster, "will you shut up? You're gonna get us fuckin' killed feeding this crap to-"

BNNK!

Once again the table was marred with yet another stab wound, this time however, it was just shy from clipping a few feathers off the Snowdrake's wings. Instead of freaking out, the monster had enough sense to keep quiet, all color draining from their body as if they'd fall down any moment.

"I wasn't talking to you," Killer said, his voice a childish, dangerous purr. He kept his sockets locked on the more talkative monster. "Go on."

Sweating now, the Astigmatism stammered, "Th- That's all I know, swear it! Just the rumors! Nobody knows where he is, or- or anything about him, really! Most folks think Dream made him up to scare people into playin' nice!"

"Most people are idiots," Killer murmured, more to himself. He yanked his knife free and patted the terrified monster on the head in a patronizing manner. "Thanks for the chat. You've been... incredibly helpful."

He doesn't know why he did it; though to be fair, a lot of his decisions are made on whims based off the vague, muted vestiges of emotion from his soul. But before he fully turned away, Killer dug into his inventory and tossed a small pouch of G onto the table.

Maybe it was for gratitude. Maybe it was a threat. Maybe it was even guilt for all he fuckin' knew. It didn't really matter anyway.

What he did know, was that suddenly, things were looking a hell of a lot more brighter.

Back at their booth, Horror exchanged an exasperated look with Dust. "...Is he seriously gonna have us... chase after a ghost story...?"

Dust simply gave him a dead look before chugging down another bottle from who-knows-where. Probably already too mentally checked out to come up with a sarcastic response.

Killer slid back into his seat, his self-satisfied, almost downright giddy smirk being met with two no-nonsense stares.

"You want us to go myth hunting now?" Dust muttered, already reaching for another bottle. Before he grabbed it, Killer’s hand shot out- though not to stop him, mind you, but to slide it just out of reach.

The bastard's twitchy expression of clear murder was the first real bit of emotion he's seen all night.

"Correction: we’re recruiting the Stars’ worst Nightmare." Heh, pun. It at least worked to lighten Horror up a bit, as the lug huffed amusedly before catching himself.

"I can't believe you're buying this shit." Dust groused, curling up to avoid Killer's stupidly stab-able face.

"I'm not."

Killer made a whiney, affronted sound, "ay- what's that supposed to mean?"

Horror conveniently avoided his gaze. "Nothin'..."

Ugh. He can seriously never catch a break with these two. Good, they'd get boring otherwise.

"Well, I'm willing to bet good money that he does exist. And-! Bet we'd have everything to gain from finding him."

"What kind of mental damage have you gone through to come to that conclusion?"

Killer’s grin was razor-edged. "Oh c'mon Dust? Ain't you supposed to be the smart one? Think about it; Dream's merry band are all about spreading sunshine and rainbows. Why the fuck would he start a fake rumor about some 'evil twin' just to scare people into working with his bullshit? That ain't his style and you know it."

Dust kept his face smothered in the table, but even without seeing his expression, Killer could tell that the gears were finally starting to turn in the drunkard's washed up skull. "...Yer right, that... that doesn't sound like him," he finally conceded, his voice muffled by the wood. He turned his head, face groggy yet pensive. "Dream's too... sincere for that kind of psychological warfare. He'd just try to talk your ear off about hope."

"Exactly!" Killer crowed, slapping the table. The sound made both Horror and Dust flinch, but Killer was too energized to care. "So, if Dream's scared enough of this guy to go around warnin' folks about him, that means he's definitely real. And more importantly, he's a problem. A big, god-sized problem for the shiny little golden boy."

He leaned in. "This guy's supposedly an arrogant megalomaniac, so the fact that he's apparently so elusive brings to reason that he's probably in a pinch."

Horror's sockets narrowed thoughtfully. "He could also just be a hermit like Error..."

"Unlikely," Killer waved away the consideration, "I mean, Error's a special brand of crazy- I mean, c'mon. If there were two Errors in the multiverse, don't you think a lot more people would have heard that by now?"

"Huh." Nobody argued against that.

"My guess is that Dream and his Star idiots are probably starving him of the bad vibes he loves so much. That's where we come in."

Dust suddenly sat up, face flushed with both alcohol and what could have been alarm. "Waitwaitwait, you're not suggesting what I think you're fucking suggesting."

"Bingo!" Killer cheerfully flicked him a pair of finger guns.

"The three of us, each an expert in suffering and terror, humbly offer our services to feed the man! And in exchange, we humbly request some shelter, food, protection, and some team management."

And then Killer can finally dump this stupid 'leadership responsibility'!

"Are you fucking insane?"

"Well, that was kind of a mean way to put it, Dust. But-"

"You want us to enter a pact with a God who's only descriptions are 'bad-news' and 'sadist'?!" Dust finally snatched the bottle Killer had been guarding and took a long, desperate swig, as if the idea itself required alcohol to process. "He'll laugh in our faces as he sucks our souls dry!"

"Of course he won't," Killer reassured him. "It's too good of an offer for him to pass up!"

"It's a terrible offer!" Dust hissed. The alcohol seemed to have burned away, leaving behind a sharp, paranoid clarity. "We walk up to a God, the literal embodiment of everything dark and nasty in the multiverse, and say 'hey, we're three fuck-ups who just got our asses handed to us, wanna hire us as low-level goons in exchange for every living requirement excepting the clothes on our backs?' He'll dust us on the spot for the audacity alone!"

"Or," Killer countered, his smile returning, all sharp edges and cunning, "he'll see three resourceful, highly motivated sources of negativity who are volunteering for the job!"

The two stared each other down, neither willing to give in...

"I think it's worth a shot."

Dust whirled onto Horror with a gasp, almost choking on his own outrage. "You what?!"

Horror didn't flinch under the twin stares of disbelief. He just shrugged his massive shoulders, the motion weary but resolute. "...We ain’t got many other shots." He gestured vaguely to their dirty, matted clothes. "At this point... we'll have to go with something this drastic."

Dust opened his mouth to argue, then shut it.

He looked from Killer's unwavering, insane confidence to Horror's reluctant but growing acceptance. The logic was sound, in the most deranged way possible. It was a gamble with astronomically high stakes, but the alternative... the alternative was repeating their destructive cycle until the Stars finally got the drop on them... Or they dusted each other out of sheer frustration.

And ughhh. As much as Dust would rather shoot his own brains out than admit it aloud, he... he didn't really want to end up killing these two fuckers.

. . . .

"...Where do we even start?"

Killer lit up like a damn flashlight, his grin stretching wide enough to make Dust regret ever opening his mouth. "Now you're speaking my language, Dusty!" The rat bastard leaned in, all the tension melting away under the skeletons' building excitement.

Reluctant as Dust liked to play it, he was just as open for a change.

"As for where we start," Killer's smirk widened, suddenly turning back to the Fell monsters he had approached before. Feeling his intent return, they both jumped upon his notice, visibly shaken and wanting nothing more than to flee the confrontation.

"Where did you say you saw this 'black and tentacled' monster again?"

Chapter Text

The transdimensional highways between AUs was not a place many dared to traverse. For good reasons. Plural.

One being that among all the forms of interdimensional travel, this was by far the most dangerous. One wrong step could accidentally pull you into a wormhole, or slip through a crack into the Void or Anti-Void respectively. Some even said there were fissures that housed nightmarish realms not even Ink himself fucked with.

And that wasn't even touching on all the manners of Void-native beasts ranging from the theroid to the downright grotesque slipping in and hunting unsuspecting travellers.

Another was the sheer mind-fuckery it brought to those unprepared. The barriers between worlds were especially thin here; oftentimes, you'd walk by warped windows offering glimpses of the reality on the other side- only not quite right. Conversations would sometimes trickle through in the form of unsettling whispers.

However, it was also the most discrete and unmanaged. If you wanted to travel around without having to worry about being tailed or tracked by unwanted eyes, this was the way to go. It was too unstable for beings on the outside to gaze within, and just about anybody could get in with some basic knowledge.

It was resorting to this method that the three of them have been able to avoid the Stars as much as they have. Even if it meant more scraps with Rust Slugs than Dust could stomach. (Dude was surprisingly squeamish for such a cold-blooded killer).

Though, maybe travelling this way also wasn't the greatest for their current mental states, since Killer was pretty sure they were a few snaps away from trying to shove each other into a space fissure of unknown origins.

"So let me get this straight," he said, voice sharp with mockery, stoked by many hours of seemingly endless wandering. "Mr. ‘I’ve-seen-every-shit-hole-in-the-multiverse’ never heard of a god called Nightmare, once?"

Dust’s scowl deepened, but he didn't rise to anger quite yet. "I said what I said."

"You don't got anything about this guy? If he's supposed to be Dream's twin or whatever, then he must've been around for just as long. How can you not have anything?"

Horror hummed, adjusting his grip on his axe as they trudged through a few rough crags and bumps. "Maybe he's shy."

"Or smart," Dust countered. "If I was some ancient deity, I wouldn't want every two-bit multiversal traveler knowing my business either."

Killer grit his teeth, not wanting to agree that Dust probably had a point.

He just wanted a reason to argue at this point.

Like the awkward bastards they were, nobody spoke up again to revive the flow of - admittedly failing - conversation. In the place of their voices, the sound of life beyond the dimensional curtains, feral creatures skittering around the expanse and the ever present, always droning buzz of unstable code took up the space.

The first time Killer experienced this not-silence, he remembered feeling itchy the whole time. Antsy. The crawling of his sins and otherworldly eyes on his back. It was some real disturbing shit, when you thought about it...

So he stopped thinking about it as much; and eventually, that vague feeling of invasiveness and soul-deep discomfort ebbed away.

And yapping to Dust and Horror helped take it away, too.

The trio walked along the shimmering pathways, keeping wary eyelights upon the black cracks and vivid bubbles that would dance along the safety barrier encompassing their vicinity; sure, it was made to withhold the pressure of thousands of AUs...

But it was better not to push it. Especially with the unknown.

After what could have been a couple more miles into their journey, Killer finally found his voice.

"Sooo~" He hummed casually, swinging his arms in boredom as he kept an eye out for signs of their target. "How do you figure we sell ourselves to the guy once he find him?"

Dust stopped and whirled onto him so fast that Killer thought he'd crack a vertebrae.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'how do we figure'? This was all your fucking idea!"

The hooded monster was practically fuming, showing the most emotion any of them had seen since his hangover settled. "Are you fucking telling me that you dragged us into this stupid goose chase and you don't even have a fucking clue what to do when we find him?!"

Horror cursed as he nearly trampled into the other monster, huffing as the code around them fizzled slightly, as if sensing the volatile turn in mood.

"Uhhh, well you guys followed me. So you must have some ideas."

"What kind of bullshit is that?!"

"What? You sayin' you decided to follow me without even having somewhat of an idea of what we'll do yourself?"

Killer allowed his cheeks to flush in a provocative, smarmy grin that only grew two-fold as Dust's bone-deep scowl twisted into disgust. "Damn, Dust... I didn't know you trusted me like that~"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT THIS IS AND YOU KNOW IT!"

Dust's voice echoed strangely in the non-space, causing a nearby rift to pulse with a sickly green light. The color was an unusual shade to see around here- which was why it caught Killer's attention as it flared in vibrancy.

At least until he checked back into Dust's venting to see the monster now sweaty and frenzied. Or at least more frenzied.

"The only reason I went along with this shit, was because the only other option was to wind up a basket case for the Dumb-keteers to toss around like a feral animal! Not! Because I had any faith in your dumbass, half-baked scheme- which you pulled out of your ass!"

"Coulda fooled me."

"Oh, fuck you-!"

"Would ya both shut it?!"

To both the squabbling monsters startled at Horror's snarl. Bringing in a rush of clarity to find that many more rifts around them have dimmed to darker, oddly foreboding colors. Killer has never seen the dimensional pathways look so dull...

"Yer both gon' attract every Void-crawler inna ten-mile radius, makin' noise like that. Save the domestic... for when we ain't at risk of being food."

The threat was enough to make both of them settle again, though the glare Dust shot Killer - after Horror turned around - could have melted steel.

. . . .

So they started walking in silence again; and maybe Killer was overthinking things, maybe it was just the dimension crawling getting to him, but the atmosphere felt... not as safe as it was before. He felt eyes on him, which was admittedly a common symptom of overexposure to this place.

But this was the first time he felt it so intently. In the past, the prickling gaze - or at least the sensation of one - laying heavy over his back was reminiscent of a passive stare, like watching people walk down the sidewalk from your passenger seat in the car. It was uncomfortable, but harmless. Knowing the intruder was simply an observer.

This was not like that. This gaze held purpose. There was an unknown intent painting their interest. And that implied that the intruder could choose to actively interfere with them at any moment.

Stars, Killer couldn't wait to get out of this place...

He managed to ignore it for a few moments longer before Dust broke the silence this time.

"I thought we were offerin' to enter a pact with him," the grumpy skeleton grumbled mostly into his shoulder.

"What? I don't think I caught that, Dust-bin."

Dust grit his teeth in annoyance, but still mindful of Horror's warning - and deteriorating patience - he didn't let Killer's mostly unintentional instigation get to him. "I thought the plan was to offer ourselves as violence-for-hire in exchange for security."

Killer just stared at him blankly for a moment. Neither blinked, nor did they turn away, until Killer slowly tore his gaze back to the road ahead of them. "Well... Yeah, that kinda is the plan. But, like, how do we actually convince him?"

. . . .

If looks could kill... Killer would be six hundred and sixty six feet under. Without his dust.

"Are you telling me... you haven't even thought past the premise?" Killer refused to face Dust's empty sockets and burst into inappropriate laughter.

"Heh heh heh, of course I have. But... Y'know... Thought I'd hear a couple suggestions from you two as well. Y'know, for... for team bonding...?"

Killer could practically feel the judgment radiating from the skeleton beside him. Dust was not having it. "Y'know what? I have an idea for ya! Why don't you fucking-"

"We be upfront with him."

Once again, the two had to take a moment to register that answer before turning to Horror, looking almost bored with their chattering.

"Uh...care to elaborate on that, big guy?"

Horror grunted, drumming his fingers over his axe methodically. Killer interestingly noticed that he, too, seemed to have been hyperaware of the darker clouds of broken code slowly overtaking the vibrant ones. It was an anomaly neither of them knew what to make of.

"He's... Golden boy's brother. So he probably has the... the..." The larger monster began to fidget, growing agitated as the word eluded him. "The empathy thing." He spat the phrase out, annoyed at his own struggling vocabulary- or maybe just voicing his contempt for the invasive power, either way, neither of the other found it in them to needle him over it.

"He'll know we're bullshitin' him if we... try to suck up to him... or play it cool."

That... Huh. "Shit. I didn't even think of that," Killer vocalized to himself. Though, a knowing part of him whispered, that only applies to you two.

"So you think we should just- what? Beg him?" Dust challenged.

"No... Beggin' will only make us look weak. Desperate. He's a god. He's probably... seen it all before."

Horror adjusted his grip on his axe, his single eyelight scanning the increasingly dark and turbulent code around them. The air felt thicker, charged with a static that wasn't there before.

None of them liked it, but nobody was willing to bring it up first, it seems.

"We tell him the truth," Horror stated with absolute confidence, like he's been in situations like this too many times before. "We're strong. We're good at what we do... a service that benefits him. But we're losin' and... and in need of a patron. We offer our 'skills' for his... schemes or whatever, and we get our shit together. Not only is it a win for him... but he'll feel more confident in our 'loyalty' knowin' we rely on him. So there's... no risk in takin' us in."

"...That actually... sounds like a great idea?"

Killer whooped at Dust's reluctant admission, the sound unnaturally loud and quickly swallowed by the oppressive non-silence of the highway. Now they were rolling! A set plan of action!

No game could truly start without a set course of action! 

This was all looking almost too easy now, and Killer's morale was only growing higher at the sight of his slowly detaching playmates starting to get their heads in the game once more.

"See?! Teamwork, fellas! We got a game plan! Once we find Nightmare-!"

W̴̷̶͖͉͆̑h̶̵̶̹͌̃͜ò̸̷̴̖͖̎ ̷̶̴̼̥̆͛d̸̷̸̻̼̈́̊i̷̵̷̛͇̫͝d̸̶̶̜̪̉̏ ̶̵̶̪͔́̚y̶̸̸̲͝o̴ǘ̴̵̵̳̭͗ ̷̷̷̲̄̋͜s̶̸̴̲͉͗͝a̶̸̸̖͓̽̚y̶̷̵̤̰̓̾ ̴̵̷̻͇̂̄ẙ̶̸̸̙̔͜ò̸̸̸̧̅ͅu̸̵̷̢̖͌̆ ̴̸̵͙͎̚͝ẅ̷̶̶͍̻͊ẹ̴̵̶̱͂̋r̶̴̶͇̈́̃ͅe̷̵̴̘̭͆̍ ̶̸̵̖̝͑̔l̶̶̵͙̭̇̾o̸̵̸̻͎͐̚o̵̵̷̭̪̅̚k̶̵̵͙̙̀̚ȋ̵̵̷̛̯̱ņ̸̵̶̗͊͂g̶̴̷̟̼̑͛ ̷̷̷͕̣͌̉f̸̶̸̗̰̔̆ǫ̵̵̵̹̋͠r̶̷̴̰̤̈́̑?̵̶̶̣͙̓̇

Reality around them shuddered.

"What the fuck?!" Dust jumped as the dark clouds all suddenly began to emit a low hiss, steadily glowing in various shades of teal to seafoam.

They immediately jumped to one another's backs, ensuring they had a complete 360° view of their surroundings.

S̵̸̸͔͇̓̈́i̸̸̴̹̲͑͠g̷̴̸̤͗̂͜ḫ̴̴̷̠́͌.̶̶̷̺̙͆̒.̷̷̷͕̣̀̌.̵̸̶̥̣̐͝ ̵̵̸̧̛̩̀I̶̵̶͚͍̓̇ ̷̸̵̻̭̀̈́h̶̸̵͙̖̋̅a̶̸̴̲͊̏͜d̸̷̴̹̣̄̕ ̴̸̵͖̩͆͌h̶̸̷̳̹͐̎o̵̴̶̗̥͊͐p̶̸̴̮̠͒͝ẹ̷̷̋ď̶̴̸̜̼͐ ̸̵̶̭̦̈́͗t̸̷̴̨̪̐̂h̵̵̶̥͚̓̕e̷̵̸͉̖͌̍ ̸̴̶̗̱͂̽m̵̶̴̫͖̏́u̸̶̵̞̥͛̇ĺ̵̵̴̤̩̈́t̶̷̷̟̻̽͗ỉ̵̷̶̮̤̏v̸̸̸̱͖̊̕e̸̷̸̥͖͂͆r̵̴̵̺͑̀͜s̷̷̴̛̤̤͊ë̶̷̶̜̬́͝ ̷̵̸̬̠̓̆l̵̸̸̹͚̐͌ȇ̸̴̶̡̠̿a̶̴̶̻̭͐̂r̵n̴̴̸͉̓̌͜ê̴̸̶̡̪̍d̵̷̷̝̘̄̀ ̸̶̴̪͕̆̐ẗ̴̸̴̨̪́ǫ̸̸̸͕͆̑ ̷̴̷͚͉̇͛l̵̵̸͓͊e̶̷̸̪̱͒͋ą̶̸̸̮̑̀v̸̷̸̝͎͌͠e̴̸̸̮̓̂͜ ̴̴̸̱͙̐̍t̶̶̷̩͕͗͛h̷̵̵̭̩̀̏ǒ̶̶̷͉̬̋ŝ̸̶̶̯͔͆e̵̵̷͉̝̅͊ ̵̸̷̹͚͐͝ů̸̵̸̬̬̌n̸̴̵͈͍̄̽w̵̸̵̢̙͛̓ả̷̶̶̡̛͚n̷̸̸̹͙̔̍t̷̷̶̺̞́̋ȩ̶̸̵̭̃̅d̴̷̷̺͓̃͑ ̷̸̸͎̤̽́f̸̶̵̽ͅö̴̴̸̞͖̌r̴̷̷͙̝̈́͝g̶̴̵̘̀ỡ̵̴̵̥̣t̸̸̵̨̲̀͝t̶̸̶̢̓̀ͅḙ̵̸̶̰͐̓n̴̵̸̜͖̆͑.̷̸̷̣̰̅̀.̵̶̵̪̦̓̾.̴̵̶̘̮̾͒

This was not the random magic-interference of interdimensional travel; this was deeper. Intentional. As if some greater power had singled out their presence and prodded at the bubble responsible for keeping them intact against the weight of all reality.

"...Uh," Horror's expression immediately went stark with fear, realizing just how precarious their position was. "Guys... this ain' lookin' good..."

On the contrary, Killer thought this was looking great!

N̵̷̴̨͍̎͆o̸̷̵̬͎͂̀ ̶̷̵̧̰́̍m̴̸̷̫̩̔̽á̷̸̸̢͍̚ț̷̸̵̖̔́t̷̸̵͔̙̒̂e̵̵̸̼̺̔̚r̶̴̵̟̣̎̈́.̴̸̴̭̬̓̒.̴̴̶̡̛͈̏.̵̸̴̞̀͜͠ ̷̸̷̘̲̋͐M̵̸̵͔̞̓̌į̵̴̸̯͛͛ḡ̵̷̶̞̠̾h̷̷̷̗̮́̕t̵̴̷͖̻̿̀ ̶̴̵̢͇͌̾a̵̸̷̝̔͝ͅs̴̸̸̖̚͜͝ ̷̵̶̝̮̑͝w̷̷̷̡̥͋͐ē̴̸̴͓̰̄l̸̸̷̰͉̅͝l̶̷̷͙̦̊̏ ̶̵̶̝͈̋̄ḡ̶̴̵̗͉͠ĕ̷̶̵̢̫̂t̶̷̴͎͕̆̾ ̴̴̵̢̰͑́t̴̶̸̫̭̓̀ḫ̵̵̸͇̄̿i̴̸̷̖͕͐̋s̴̵̸̫̲̾̄ ̴̸̸̭͈̃͑ớ̴̸̶̬̩v̵̷̴͓̩̄̄e̵̵̶̗͉̒̉r̸̶̶̢͎͗̉ ̸̸̷̨̮̉͑w̴̵̵̱̬͂̾i̵̶̶̮͒t̶̴̷͙͚̃͋h̶̶̵̙̪̅̉.̷̶̸̘͇̒͝

"Killer- Killer, you absolute bastard snap the fuck out of it before I-!"

Before anyone else could say anything, something suddenly tugged them down, dragging them into an unknown gateway of some unidentified timeline.

Chapter Text

There wasn't even the faintest hint of sunlight. Even after trekking through what must've been hours of ashen moorlands and sad little plains with sad little shrubs and bushes, Killer couldn't help but feel overly aware of how the thin crescent moon above their heads hadn't budged once since they got here. Dawn was not coming, and while that notion may have brought him some kind of soul-deep dismay a lifetime ago...

For some reason, he couldn't help but feel all the more content for it. Knowing the blanket of night would help keep them hidden from potential enemies in an unfamiliar environment. His eyes never really got used to the brightness of the Overworld anyway, with their incessant, all-consuming sun that would swallow up the stars.

This... This was better. The gloom was a familiar weight, a less judgemental, more comfortable state of being. The darkness was a perfect cover, it did not force yourself to bare your presence, didn't betray you to those you did not wish to be known by. Best of all, the blanket of night would bring with it a hush that mirrored the numb static in his soul.

Maybe that was why he was feeling all poetic and shit...

Dust and Horror certainly seemed to feel some similar way, considering how calm and quiet the pair became after the first half hour here.

Dust walked with his frame completely relaxed beside him, eyelights almost lazily hooded as he mindlessly put one foot after the other, apparently lulled by the pervasive, silent rhythm of this forgotten world. Even his usual restless energy had bled away, soaked up by the soft, almost mushy earth beneath their feet.

Make no mistake- the neurotic bastard had his magic at the ready. The moment a single thing felt off, Killer wouldn't be surprised if every foot of wilted grass within a twenty foot radius would turn into ground zero. But instead of obsessively and suspiciously jumping at every little chirp from a bird, he was composed. Locked in- but in a relaxed, zen-like way, you could say.

Horror, too, seemed... different. The big guy was actually the one leading their little venture. At first, Killer just assumed he took to one direction and stuck with it to get away from his and Dust's... argument. But after catching up with him and observing his movements, Killer recognized that was not the case.

They would go down a hill- and then the larger skeleton would pause for half a moment and suddenly change course. It was both fascinating and unsettling. A reminder that there were things that Horror had a sense for that he couldn't even perceive. Killer didn't even have a name for it. He didn't like it.

"Y'know... considering all the places we coulda gotten dragged into, this place ain't that half bad."

Horror hummed noncommittally, openly staring at a collection of ruins as they ambled by. It wasn't even enough to bother investigating, just a mass of rotten timber, crumbled stone, and mud. Lots of mud. Dust said something about "wattle and daub" which Killer didn't really know a lick about, but apparently, that meant that the style of these has-been buildings were old.

As in, really old. They were talking about before humans rediscovered electricity old. Which was way beyond Killer really bothered to care about; he was never a history person- especially since his old man had a habit of rambling about the past while he was running him like a horse until the candle-lit hours.

Dust continued to ramble on about some theories that this timeline was some post-apocalyptic version set thousands of years before modern time, but neither him or Horror seemed to have been listening.

"Do you think this is literally all there is in this place?" Dust paused in his own mumblings to scan the horizon for anything that stuck out. "For all we know, we could be walking in circles at this rate."

At that, Horror actually stopped on his silent venture and turned back to give Dust a proper shake of the head. "No. There's... more. Can feel it." And that was all the answers he was willing to give them. Dust didn't seem content with the vague and admittedly nonsensical reasoning, but was either too lazy to push it, or somehow understood what Horror was on about.

Killer, for one, had no fucking clue.

...But whatever it was, it worked. Because after ages of travelling through lonely expanses of land and ruins without a name, they eventually caught sight of something else.

A forest.

From a glimpse, the trees seemed dead and stripped bare, their branches clawing at the dark sky like withered spires. But as they carefully traversed through the thorns and shrubs, Killer could hear life. Despite not having leaves, the trees rustled in the hollow wind as they passed by, as if groaning from their disturbance.

It was a pretty eerie set-up, but he guesses that was why Nightmare decided to settle his roots here... Assuming it was Nightmare that brought them here.

"We're gettin' closer," Horror rumbled softly, low enough to just barely be heard. Beside him, Dust allowed some minor form of alertness to return to him, slowly coming to warily eye the shadows around them.

The air within the forest was much too still, the silence so profound that the soft crunch of their footsteps and the hooting of owls from miles around echoed with stark clarity.

"...To Nightmare?" Killer prodded.

Horror didn't answer immediately. His eyelight was fixed on a point deep within the skeletal trees, his head tilted as if listening to a frequency only he could hear. The low, constant thrum of his LV, which usually twisted and warbled with a hungry anticipation, was still. On the hunt. Like his magic - as weak as it was - was putting it's all in pinpointing a bountiful quarry.

"...To somethin' powerful," Horror finally corrected, his voice a low rumble that didn't seem to disturb the profound silence. "The... The oldest thing here. 'S what my senses... are telling me."

The trio pressed on, until the twisted branches began to form a canopy above them, shutting out even the faint light of the unmoving crescent moon.

It was Dust who saw it first.

He stopped dead, a hand shooting out to grip Killer’s arm. His earlier zen-like calm was gone, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity. He didn't speak, just lifted his chin, pointing through a break in the trees.

There, on a distant rise, silhouetted against the unmoving crescent moon, was a castle.

...Or what was left of one.

Killer's first thought was how imposing it must've been in it's heyday, more out of disappointment than any real mourning for the dated architecture. One of the main towers had collapsed entirely, carving a gaping wound in its silhouette. More windows were shattered than not, and the grand iron gate near the foot of the wreckage was completely and utterly rusted.

All in all, it looked like they arrived a few thousand years too late for the party; even worse, this was all starting to feel pretty bland. It was like expecting a grand boss room, only to find another shitty, unskippable side-quest with repetitive, convoluted mechanics.

Killer was getting bored.

"...S' that the place you were talkin' 'bout Horror?"

The larger skeleton eyed him warily, as if sensing his faltering stability. "Yeah..." Horror shuffled closer to Dust, eyeing the ruins with a blank stare Killer was beginning to associate with confusion.

He didn't bother to stop the other monster from picking at his socket. "Wasn't expecting... the place to look like this though..."

"I don't think any of us did." Dust's flat tone said it all.

(If whatever they found there didn't meet their expectations, Killer was afraid this truly will be their last day as a trio.)

Alright, time to get his head back into the game.

"WELL THEN!" Both of his companions jumped at his overly loud voice.

Ignoring their glares, he straightened his hoodie to look presentable- or at least more presentable than the guy who never showers and Mr. I-raided-a-zombie's-closet. Killer made sure to give Dust a particularly cheeky grin before trudging to the castle's dirt path. Just to make sure he'd actually follow- if only to start another petty squabble.

Was that a low blow? Eh, whatever, Dust was a big enough boy to curb his own LV.

"Look alive boys, time to play it smart. Remember- power-hungry, egotistical, probably compensating for something."

Dust snorted once he caught up, lurking under his hood like the emo motherfucker he was. "So, like you?"

"Exactly. Just-"

"T̴̵̸̴̷̵̸̴̷̶̶̵̷͍̽ḫ̴̸̶̶̶̸̸̴̶̷̷̷̴͆ȁ̶̶̵̵̴̷̵̴̵̷̶̵̵̲t̶̵̴̷̷̷̶̴̷̴̶̵̸̛͙'̴̴̶̷̶̶̶̴̵̷̷̵̶̨̉s̴̴̴̸̸̸̸̴̶̴̶̷̵̡̽ ̷̷̷̶̶̴̷̸̷̶̷̴̷̩́á̶̶̸̶̴̸̵̸̵̷̸̴̴̝s̶̸̶̷̵̸̸̶̸̵̷̴̴̡̋ ̷̶̵̴̸̸̷̷̷̷̷̸̵̛̬f̷̵̴̸̴̴̸̶̸̴̶̴̵̥̃ạ̵̸̵̷̸̸̵̴̶̸̷̷̶͑r̴̵̵̴̸̶̷̴̵̸̷̴̴̥̋ ̷̸̷̵̸̶̴̴̶̷̷̸̸̘̊a̴̴̴̶̴̶̵̶̶̴̷̷̴̡̒s̵̴̸̶̸̶̶̸̶̵̷̴̴͇̒ ̵̵̴̶̵̶̴̸̴̵̸̴̴͉͑y̷̵̵̵̷̸̸̵̸̶̶̸̵̧̌ọ̸̵̷̴̷̸̵̸̶̵̸̴̸̿u̵̶̷̴̸̶̸̶̴̵̶̶̵̟͛ ̴̷̸̵̷̶̶̸̸̴̴̴̷͍̓g̷̶̴̶̵̷̸̶̷̸̷̴̶͔̅o̶̶̶̵̴̸̴̵̴̵̷̶̴̹͗.̵̸̸̷̷̶̵̷̶̵̴̶̸̖̄"

The trio took a swift shortcut away from the treeline as soon as they felt it (Horror being dragged along the teleport via Dust): an intent so thick that you could taste it's bitterness in the back of your throat. Killer felt his pulse jackrabbit as a black mass of unknown origin rippled through the baren trees, the power of its intent so strong that the surrounding air was distorting like heat off asphalt.

It was less than a meter away from where they were standing just moments ago.

. . . .

Now this is what he's been waiting for!

An icy gleam bloomed in the black. It took a few moments for it to fully register in his brain, but the feeling of being watched instantly made it click that the gleam was an eye. The same one that had been stalking them since the in-between.

For the first time in a very long time, Killer felt... trepidation. Felt his weight take root in his feet and refuse to budge. It wasn't just the voice, the whispers vividly flowing into his very skull. It was the pressure. The magic density was spilling out indiscriminately; a frothing overflow that made Horror grab his axe defensively on instinct.

Dust hadn't even twitched once since the god's arrival. Which spoke a lot more about his self-restraint than Killer thought possible. If it weren't for the possible life-ending threat forming before them, he might've made a joke of it.

"Hmph... more of the multiverse's strays, I presume."

The voice was a rasp, worn thin and boggy by centuries of disuse. Nightmare slowly bled from the shadows of the canopy without a sound, with only a wince- as if the very act of acknowledging them pained him. His form was less a body and more the concept of one: tendrils (and sure enough there were four of them) limp and pooling around the shapeless mass that was his form.

Killer... didn't quite know what to do for a moment. As instead of bursting into a monologue, or falling into some dramatic spiel for his own entertainment, the god just... sat there, waiting for them to make the first move.

He exchanged a discreet glance with Dust, only to find the other just as lost. Turning to Horror, he pretty much got the same thing, even as the big guy refused to fully take his eye off the strange new entity.

Well shit.

Killer was expecting... a lot more theatrics. But whatever, okay. Maybe Nightmare took himself more seriously? Old fashioned? They could work with that, an uptight boss was better than an eccentric one, but sure less fun.

Whatever, time to get this script running!

"L- Lord Nightmare!" He bowed, arm sweeping out in a flourish that felt even more ridiculous than when he practiced. "Excuse our-"

"Spare me the drivel and leave."

. . . .

Uh...?

Killer risked a glance back at his companions, only to see Dust staring back at the god like he just cursed him out in wingdings. Horror's grin twitched nervously when their eyes met, not so discreetly gesturing for Killer to do something other than looking to him as if he had any better ideas for what to do.

Okay. Okay. Let's try that again, maybe he was putting the sycophant vibes on too strong.

"Heh, well not to be rude, my lord, but the three of us have..." Killer's practiced spiel trailed off when he rose to face the dark king once more, realizing that Nightmare wasn't even looking at them anymore. The monster's misty eyelight was trained on the moon, unfocused and dull.

It was enough to make the rehearsed words die in Killer’s throat.

...There was something painfully familiar in that gaze...

Before he could put his finger on it, another voice spoke up. "Uh... We just wanted to-" Horror tried to make their case, only for Nightmare to sigh loudly, the dead limbs of ichor twitching with the embers of annoyance.

"Whatever you came here for, I assure you I have no interest in it." A tendril flicked harshly against the dirt, heavy and firm. "Leave."

It was the utter removal of any compromise in the god's voice that gave Killer the kick to the ass he needed, his smile jerking up in twice the bullshit as his sockets gushed hate in a reflection of anxiety. He forced out a laugh, trying to play off the itchiness in his limbs and the unsteady rhythm in his soul as nothing more than startlement.

"W- Woah, wait a second! Don't cut things short when we just got here!" In a bold move, Killer took a few steps closer, making sure to keep his hands raised in a show of peace. "You’re Dream’s enemy, right? Well, we’re-"

"Testing my patience...?" Nightmare’s head turned back towards them, a deep frown gracing his features.

. . . .

Killer quickly clanked his mouth shut.

Now that he'd gotten closer, Killer couldn't help but catch the details the shadows had obscured from a distance: like how the amorphous body of the god was pooling where he stood, like melting candy in Hotland. Or how his eyelight held a weary glow, low and flickering along the edges. He dressed like a classic Sans, if not slightly more baggy, and his posture looked hunched.

This... This felt less like appealing to a tyrant and more like confronting an injured animal.

Nightmare’s frown deepened, noticing Killer’s prolonged silence and intense scrutiny. A flicker of something - irritation? Vulnerability? - crossed his features before folding neatly into that tight, mocking grin. "Are you lot deaf as well as you are foolish? Or was it your intent to bring me a death wish?"

Ah, fuck.

"You're not even giving us a chance here!" Dust finally snapped, rising to the obvious rage bait.

AH, FUCK.

Before the god could respond to that, Killer immediately flew on autopilot. With reflexes specifically honed for situations like this, Killer elbowed the other skeleton so hard that he was left doubled-over. Gasping and hacking up air he didn't even need, magic short circuiting uselessly in response to the perceived attack but too scrambled to form.

Nightmare's eyelight - that dull, fractured blue - brightened as he regarded them. A faint flicker of amusement ghosting over his features before he was dead again.

They had a stare down that only lasted maybe two seconds before Nightmare glanced down at Dust. His voice was free of any inflection, but there was something hidden under the detachment.

"...You mistake me for someone who cares."

This wasn't going anywhere.

Killer’s mind raced, already adlibbing a new gameplan.

Time to change tactics.

"Can we at least have a few days to recover before heading off again?" Even with hidden intent, Killer knew Horror was staring him down hard, he could feel that eye glaring into the back of his head anywhere. But he didn't let the vibes distract him, already deciding to keep to his plan. "Our journey here wasn't exactly the easiest, and if we head out as we are without taking the time to rest an' shit, Dream and his Star buddies will have our asses floating higher than a Whimsun on shrooms."

If the namedrop of his brother had any effect, Nightmare didn't show it. At least, not in any way they could easily read. The shadows around him seemed to congeal for a fraction of a second, and the air grew several degrees colder. But his expression remained one of profound, bone-deep displeasure.

Nightmare had no reason to grant them mercy. If he was anything like Error, their souls would already be hanging off his ceiling as morbid trophies. The spirit had every reason to metaphorically fuck them over and reap the benefits of their suffering.

And yet. He didn't object. The god's brow was pinched, as if weighing the pros and cons of letting three deranged mortals hideout in his dimension. And wasn't that interesting?

Killer decided to play it off before Nightmare could make a definitive answer. "Well then, if it's all the same to you, we'll keep to ourselves and focus on regaining our bearings. Five days should be en-

"One night," Nightmare grit out.

"One night? C'mon your lordship, we need three at least! Dust has been tweaking like, every other day since we started, and Horror's a big boy with a bigger stomach!" He gestured none too flatteringly to his playmates, both of whom all but writing his death warrant in their intent.

"...Three nights," Nightmare conceded at last, already dissolving into the dark. "But know this: despite what you may think, I have nothing to offer you."

Once the god's presence had fully retreated back to the dark from whence he came, all the pressure came hurtling down, and Killer nearly flopped over from the relief if Horror hadn't caught him.

And then promptly tossed him across the clearing.

Killer hit the ashen ground with a grunt, but otherwise ignored the jarring aches that arose from impact. He laid there, staring up at the perpetual night sky, the crescent moon bearing down on him now with a sense of judgment.

Or maybe that was just the two very pissed-off skeletons now looming over him.

Dust stood above, dual eyelights burning with a cold fire. "You," the murderer hissed, his voice low and venomous, "next time you try to pull that shit with me again, I'll fuckin fork your sockets you shit-faced pothole."

"...You really gotta tell me where you get these insults from, Dusty."

"Fuck you." For good measure, Dust kicked his arm before huffing off. Leaving Horror alone to stare him down.

"What?"

"...I'm not... that big..." Horror pouted with a muffled grumble, turning away to sulk properly.

Killer cracked a grin at that. "Nah man, you're huge. At least enough to help a fella out." Killer reached out and made a grabby motion, too lazy to get up himself.

Horror turned back but didn't take the hand. "Nightmare... wasn't like we thought."

"...No." Killer let his hand fall, slumping back into the ground with a sigh, already feeling his skull churning over that conversation over and over again. Despite having gotten out of it without losing their shot indefinitely, his soul still felt taut with unease. "No he was not."

Under other circumstances, he'd be thrilled with the challenge, the chance for something new. But they were on a time crunch, and this time Killer cared enough about the stakes to feel the pressure. Especially since he couldn't find any Save Stars in this dimension.

There would be no do-overs.

"You actually have a plan in your garbage dump of a head, or are we going to spend the next three days seriously moping?"

"Moping? Us? Never." Killer pushed himself up onto his elbows, reluctantly righting himself back up with a roll of his shoulders. "What we do now, though?"

He looked to his companions expectantly, "that depends... do we think it's still worth it?"