#basically me wanting to write a fic about the murder trio forcing dadmare to adopt them

[mochi-munchies]

Practice Prologue: How to Snag Yourself a Dadmare! (Fanfic)

This is basically a pilot chapter or unofficial prologue to a fanfic I have in my backburner (the number is so big 😭). The plot summed up is basically if the Murder Trio sought out Nightmare to be their boss instead of Nightmare collecting them as his minions. A Reverse AU, if you will. (The reason I'm posting it here instead of AO3 is bc I'm honestly not quite happy with the result and feel it fits more as a beta version of the work.)

Fandom: Undertale (UTMV)

TAGS/WARNINGS: Canon-typical Violence, The Stars being Annoying, Minor Gore Mention (if you think about it), Sprinkles of Angst, Gratuitous Amounts of Banter, I'm Really Bad at Doing Killer's POV.

Word Count: 5937

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When one first started up establishing themselves in the multiverse, it was greatly advised to take those delicate, tentative steps under the guiding hand of another veteran Outcode - or if someone was incredibly lucky, under the wing of one of the few gods who not only possessed an impossible amount of understanding to the happenings of the multiverse, but could even bend it to their will within a certain degree.

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 multiverse was never without great risk of peril and danger. The multiverse was surprisingly cruel despite its inhabitants themselves not often being as such, and 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 into some no-name alternative timeline of Candytale.

Which, for the record, was weird as fuck. He spent four days at the very least wondering if this was like some kind of major psychotic breakdown, albeit a low-key hyperrealistic one.

Maybe smoking four packs of dog treats in one sitting was a really bad idea. Maybe this was Chara’s one last parting shot for stealing the RESET. Maybe this was his subconsciousness’ way to process through his trauma or some bullshit. Mmn, all good theories, but they never really did much to explain why there was another him included in this strange reality mixup.

Though, not like watching Gumdyne - heh, still funny - melt into a deformed.. sticky.. syrupy puddle of sugar goo wasn’t enough to shake him out of his funk. Like, the regular melting blood and bones took a while to lose its gross factor on him, but this was an entirely different kind of yuck.

Especially when some Temmies started scuttling in from out of nowhere licking the shit up, that was kinda much.. even for him.

He tried a few things at first, like RESETing a few times, trying out a few genocide runs, he even let Asgorito - seriously, who came up with this shit? - kill him a couple of times before he finally came to the conclusion that, yo, maybe there was something more at play here than a few screws being loose in his noggin.

As he lay there, surrounded by the sugary wreckage of what used to be ‘Minthee Town’ - which was an absolute garbage ass name, the atrocity wasn’t even a proper pun, it was practically sacrilege - anyway, he had an epiphany.

He knew of there being such a thing as alternative timelines. He went through the whole science phase, after all, back when he was still a hopeful little bag o’ bones with a future set in his sights. At least.. before the incident with Gas- NOPE! Been there, done that! Didn’t need that particular memory springing up again!

…Where was he going with this again..? Oh, yeah! The fact that he was stuck within a transdimensional nightmare! Right, if this wasn’t a warped figment of his mind again, then the logical explanation would likely have something to do with the timeline itself.

But what if there was more than that..? What if this goofy candy hell-ucination, was in actuality, an alternative universe? Because there was no way there was a path where the kid somehow made everyone reinvent themselves as tacky snacks for shits and giggles.

Shit.

The idea sent a shiver down his spine as he gazed out at the ruins of Minthee Town. Soul cycling into a fuzzy mess as his teeth chattered in a physical tic, he could somewhat distantly feel the freezing burn of his hate splattering down his cheeks as he considered all of the possibilities.

So much FUN..!

It took a lot of fucking around to figure it out. But, finally, Killer pieced together the basics of this alternate universe. This was a reality, a world with its own rules and physics and inhabitants. And most importantly, it had its own loopholes! Now THAT he had to take some special time with!

Before this entire mess began, he remembered the last memory he had before everything turned upside down. It was a few days after his last genocide run, the Underground was void of all life, and the world - figuratively speaking - was his stage. So of course, he did what anybody else would do..

He jumped off the craggy area’s peak and LOADed his save file on repeat to keep himself stuck in a perpetual loop of falling!

The adrenaline rush was therapeutic. Not as great as a mid-fight exchange of blows, but it was the best substitute he could think up at the time.

And somewhere during his antics, the save file gave off an off-tune ding as the entire world around him shuddered unsettlingly. Next thing he knew, he was in candy world.

So, if it was the weird bug that happened back then that caused him to be dropped into an alternative universe, theoretically, he just had to do something equally as dumb to get himself into another new timeline!

And thus, Killer, the timeline jumping, genocidal maniac was born! And boy! Was it fun! Especially after he learned that the machine the old man left behind in the basement could be used to similar, less exhausting effect! (Which was great because he was starting to run out of high places to jump off of in the Underground.)

The thrill of the unknown, the rush of adrenaline when he found a new kind of toy to take apart and use up to its fullest! Nothing could ever beat it! Although..

There were times where he found himself thinking that something was missing, somehow..

No matter how many bodies he went through, how much EXP he racked up in his runs, the euphoric rush was definitely losing its buzz, and his emotions were slowly breaking out the ice of apathy as the something he was missing became more and more prevalent.

He was sure he was going to lose whatever was left of his mind, at this rate.

Until he met them.

~ ~ ~

It was a chance encounter, as most significant events tend to be in the chaotic fabric of the multiverse. Despite the near limitless potential brought about by countless worlds reaching across the yawning void and grasping the power to cross over the dimensional plane, outside of the more ‘popular’ worlds, interactions between travelers were embarrassingly rare as they were often messy. Again, not like anyone was around to tell him all this shit at the time.

But Killer being the lucky duck he was, somehow beat those odds not even a full month after his antics began.

It was like any other day. He had just jumped into a new timeline, expecting to distract himself in the usual rush of short-lived blood and dust.

Only to find that someone had already beat him to it.

He didn’t think too much about it at the time, figuring the human of the world was probably in the middle of their own little killing spree. Yet, as he sped walked somewhat impatiently through the petrified woods, he came to a stop as he noticed the dark figure slouching in front of the bridge.

"You're not from here," Dust's voice echoed faintly, emotionally dead and flatter than MTT’s ass. The edgelord couldn’t even be bothered to lend him a glance, which - rude - rubbed Killer the wrong way.

The skeleton in front of him had a sizable amount of LV. More than what was possible in a single Underground, and he immediately recognized the other as something similar to himself. But Killer wasn’t too worried about his chances.

He didn’t know how long this guy was at the game, but his LV was nowhere near his, if he could feel it so strongly from this distance, that either meant he hadn’t accumulated enough to warrant teaching himself to suppress it, or the bastard’s stats hadn’t burnt out yet. He was clearly at the advantage here.

Killer palmed the knife in his hoodie pocket, mulling over his options. “Neither are you,” he quipped. His grin twitching upwards as the atmosphere grew dense with killing intent, his soul wobbled in excitement, as if wanting to taste the preludes to their combined violence.

Finally, something to spice things up a bit!

Thank the stars, it’s been getting harder and harder to find a good distraction.

He stepped closer in eagerness, posed ready for anything. Squeezing the hilt of his knife as the other skeleton finally straightened up and regarded the other with a dull stare.

“..You’re a monster,” Dust stated. Factually. Dead. Not even spoken as an accusation.

“So are you,” Killer chuckled, toeing just a bit further as he prepared himself for a lunge. Should he start off old-fashioned with the Blaster barrage, or kick things off with a good slice-and-jab? He cocked his head, feigning curiosity, “What’s your game, pal? You here for some fun, too?”

Dust’s face scrunched up in faint distaste at his words, though his empty sockets did nothing to betray any emotion. It was like looking in a strangely warped mirror now that he thought about it. One expressive and devoid of anything, the other too burnt out to showcase anything but stoicism.

"Fun?" he echoed, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. "There's nothing fun about this."

..Huh. Dust’s words hung heavy in the stale air, the weary bitterness in that statement so strong that it even managed to break past his lofty dissociation for a moment. Giving Killer pause.

For a brief moment, he felt the other giving off the same emptiness growing inside of him. And for some reason, that pissed him off big time.

He didn’t like it. Felt too much like the old him.

Without any hesitation, Killer rushed forwards to stab the offensive fucker.

And the rest was history.

After that, it was like the two were somehow linked by some invisible force. Always running into each other at the absolute worst times. Whether it be during a bad clash with the locals or during a particularly bad LV rush, it always ended up in a fight between the two that resulted in more and more insults landing than actual blows.

Dust couldn’t stand Killer’s flippant decadence as much as Killer couldn’t stand his self-righteous and equally self-destructive nihilism.

Yet, no matter how much they couldn’t stand the other, there was an undeniable but fundamental change as things fell into a routine. Each encounter seemed to escalate into verbal sparring and sometimes outright physical skirmishes, yet they somehow - miraculously, one could say - managed to survive each other’s onslaughts.

And every time they walked away, they were inadvertently already looking towards the next time, thinking to the future- which was something neither had done for such a long time. Honestly, Killer nearly shocked himself into a coma when he realized what it was that he had been missing before, why neither could outright finish off the other and end the game.

It was the feeling of having a playmate.

Chara - as much as Killer was all too proud to be rid of the little shit - was good at keeping things interesting. Especially considering how they were limited to the one timeline at the time. It’s incredible the kid managed to keep him entertained for so damn long looking back on it. But Dust was a different kind of fun. He brought a new dynamic to the game, challenging him more 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 riskier, 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. His emotions, however, was 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 and again sent a special kind of thrill through him every time.

There were times he had caught himself thinking about the other skeleton more times than he cared to admit.

And as months transitioned to years, Killer found himself drawn to Dust's unpredictability and mystery. Dust, on the other hand, though initially repulsed by Killer's carefree attitude towards violence, began to see a twisted sort of honesty in Killer's actions. At least someone could still enjoy his jokes. They were both monsters, yes, but where Dust saw only despair and inevitability, Killer saw opportunity and freedom. They pushed each other to confront uncomfortable truths about themselves and their existence in the multiverse.

It wasn't until one particularly brutal skirmish that the third member of their future trio entered the picture.

~ ~ ~

They just so happened to have been in Horrortale at the time. Once again falling into a spat over something neither could even remember now. Not like it was anything important, what Killer did remember was that he just wanted a good fight. Something Dust could only ever give him when he was forced full-throttle.

Killer’s laughter echoed eerily through the trees as he dodged another volley of attacks from Dust, his knife flashing in the dim light of the Underground. “Come on, Dusty! You can do better than that!” he taunted, his voice dripping with gleeful malice as the flaky snow crunched beneath their shoes.

The other skeleton summoned a furious wave of bones in response, his face set in a taut grimace that grit with anger when the bastard simply danced between the trees, making it difficult for the constructs to land. “Shut up and fight, you damn psychopath!” he spat, frustration and anger fueling his attacks.

Killer giggled with an exaggerated waggle of his sockets as he wove behind another tree, only to lean out with a shit eating grin as he felt the killing intent soak up the surrounding area. “Aw, don’t be like that, Dusty! What’s wrong? Can’t keep up?” He dipped back when a slew of bones were fired, teleporting to the other side of Dust before brandishing his knife.

Dust barely managed to block the attack with another bone - pah, the guy really relied on his magic too much - gritting his teeth as the force pushed him back. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Killer only laughed in response, a wild, unhinged sound that didn’t make it far through the stale, dead air. “Oh, I know! And that’s why you love me!” Expecting the slash, Killer skipped back and watched cheekily as Dust proceeded to charge him.

“You son of a-!”

CHNK..!

Without so much as a warning, it was at that moment a sizable hatchet whizzed out from the darkness of the trees and embedded itself within a trunk. Just shy of lopping Dust’s head clean off, if it weren’t for his quick flash of blue magic to manually pull his body away.

Killer hadn’t even noticed it until it landed right where his own head used to be. A double miss.

He shivered as he stared at the rusty weapon, feeling excitement wrack through his body as his LV pumped up in anticipation. He probably would’ve died if that was aimed at him first.

Neither of them thought much of it back then. How easily they side-stepped as one and stood together, brandishing their weapons without even the slightest consideration of the other taking advantage of the opportunity to stick it in their back.

“Show yourself, you dirty cheat!”

At first there was nothing. Just dead silence from the vacant forest until someone lumbered out from one of the closer trees.

Emerging from the shadows was a hulking figure, his single eyelight gleaming dimly in his socket as he stared the pair down with a mix of amusement and disdain. His expression was one of a very tight, very sharp smile, too rigid to fool anybody, as if a tired mask that was worn too many times before.

"You two.. done screwing around?" His voice rumbled like an avalanche, low and authoritative. Killer felt a shiver go down his spine as that eyelight dilated, staring them down in a way that made himself feel pinned under a microscope despite the lack of a CHECK.

It made him uneasy. “Hey pal, nobody ever told you it was bad manners to crash a party? Not even gonna invite yourself first, big guy?” Killer’s grin twitched wider, regaining its manic edge even as he felt the buzz of LV slowly dropping from the high. “What’s your deal?”

Dust shuffled a bit uneasily beside him, likely feeling the same wrongness he was getting from the giant. Though of course he was saying that a bit dramatically, as the stranger was probably only a head or two taller than himself. Maybe up to Undyne’s chin if he was being generous.

But, to be fair, a head or two was a lot for bags of bones like them..

The skeleton sighed, as if already annoyed with them, "my deal is.. I'm tired of hearing you two idiots fucking around in my forest... These are my hunting grounds.. and no humans are gonna come by with all your bullshit."

Dust's sockets narrowed, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "It’s Horror.. right? Heard stories about you.. Though, I thought you'd be.. taller."

The skeleton - or Horror - snorted, a hint of humor in his eyes. "And cruder and uglier and dumb as a rock, I bet?" His socket curled up into a crescent as his grin broadened somewhat mean spiritedly. “Sorry I’m not the.. hulking, stupid bonehead you were expecting,” he teased with a dry snicker.

Hm..? There seemed to have been a story there, or maybe an inside joke? He’d have to remember this exchange the next time he caught Dust in an amendable mood. It seemed like something that could be useful to have in future encounters.

Because he’d surely be making a return trip if that initial toss was more than a fluke…

“Ey.” He perked up, not having noticed that he had been drifting off in his mind until Dust not-too gently elbowed his rib, snapping him back into the moment to find Horror giving him a grin.

“Heh.. easy there pal… I know I’m handsome and all, but I don’t think you’re my type.”

Killer's grin only widened at Horror's taunts, the tension in the air somehow diffusing through the newcomer’s unusually relaxed and strange demeanor. Which he would later learn was due to the fact that the guy had no fucking magic, what the fuck. "Is that so? Your loss then.”

They were getting too comfortable..

Killer twirled the knife in his hand, subconsciously putting himself back in the mindset for a hard, dirty fight, ”So, big guy, you here to join the fun, or are you just gonna stand there and glare at us all day?"

Horror growled, eyelight narrowing as if he was disgusted by the suggestion. “Depends… Are you brats always this loud.. or is today an unlucky occasion?”

Dust tensed beside Killer, sensing some shift in Horror that Killer must’ve missed as his LV suddenly flared up in brief warning, letting the intent bleed out just a bit more threateningly as if to ward off some rabid animal. "..We don't back down from a fight," Dust muttered, his grip tightening on his bone construct.

Immediately, he recognized the stance Dust was falling into. Knew the moment he kicked off, the bastard would spring forwards and swipe with his magic attack, only to nail him with a hidden construct spearing out from the snow at his feet .

Killer braced himself, feeling the instinct to follow Dust’s intuition and using it as an excuse to test out the new toy. "Well then, big guy, let's see what you've got!" Without warning, Killer launched himself at the other, Dust following not too far behind.

They had their asses handed to them, in the end. Though, Horror wouldn’t walk away afterwards without his own wounds to lick- courtesy of one clever crack across the chin from Dust’s sneaky usage of Killer’s knife, but that didn’t discount the fact that they lost! Ugh, and the bastard didn’t even kill them afterwards! He just gave them a stupid warning before watching them slink out of the AU.

Ugh! He’ll have to pay the bastard back twice over next time! The sour ache in his bones only fuelled the sentiment, angry and spitting at having all of his hard work in winding Dust up to that point having been utterly wasted. Leaving his LV unfulfilled and pulsing like an open wound.

Well.. At least this could only be the worst of it.

~ ~ ~

Things only got worse from there, as his little jaunts across the dimensions finally seemed to catch the attention of the.. Star Sanses. Which, for the record, was the corniest ass name he had ever heard. They sounded like some cheesy music group, and certainly looked the part with those vomit-inducing colors.

Who the fuck even dressed in yellow, unironically..? That was like, the ugliest color of all time and the idiot had literally draped himself in it!

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

Besides, once he found out that the idiots were less about fighting and more dead set on ‘returning him to his rightful AU!’ All the fun and games were sucked right out of it.

The day Killer went back to that brain-rotting, monotonous, day-by-day, script-driven mockery of a life would be the day he RESET for the last time. And he was certain the sentiment was well shared, if Dust’s absolute frustration upon any mention of them was anything to go by.

Unfortunately, avoiding the goody-goodies - or ridding himself of them altogether - was something easier said than done. Because as much as they were naive, and overly optimistic, and laughably underleveled, one thing they were not was incompetent. Because apparently, two out of the three Sanses, were in fact not real Sanses, but Gods.

“Wait, waitwait waitwait wait.” He ignored the warning sneer Dust leveled him with for his theatrics, actually focusing more on their discussion for once than the idea of driving Dusty boy up a wall. “There’s Gods? Like- Gods exist, for real?” He had to grit his teeth to hide the doubtful laughter in his tone, though judging from the way Dust’s LV was starting to flicker to life, he was doing a shit job of it.

“You- are you fucking with me right now..?” Uh oh, he 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?”

Killer tilted his head. Then looked around the dusty pub they were seated in, a reflection of his own Grillby’s if not considerably more stocked. He looked around as if someone would seriously appear to clear his good name, but when none of the dusted remains of the regulars saw fit to do so, he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Uhhh.. nope.” Killer looked over to Horror with a hopeful look, only for the larger skeleton to pointedly ignore his beseeching, winning smile in favor of cleaning the rest of his plate with a wry curve of his teeth. Traitor.

Dust slammed his bony hand on the table, rattling the city of half-empty glasses he had scattered about his side of the bar top. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Do you even take anything seriously?”

“Nah,” without looking, he took one of Dust’s many abandoned shot glasses and threw it back, slamming the empty cup a little more exaggeratedly just to play on the asshole’s nerves. “What’s the big deal anyway? Aside from being super annoying to shake off, they don’t really seem all that threatening..”

Dust took a deep, exaggerated breath, clearly struggling to keep his temper in check as his phalanges tore a small line through the wood. “That’s because they don’t see you as enough of a threat to treat you seriously, you fucking doughnut.”

That momentarily took him off guard. “Doughnut..?” He whispered to himself. Over his shoulder, he could hear Horror chuckling to himself, repeating the insult under his breath.

“That yellow fucker? Dream, or whatever? He’s the God of ‘Positivity’ or some shit,” as if recalling a particularly upsetting memory, Dust suddenly uncorked a new bottle before chugging it back. “First time I came across the little bastard, I was gathering up some EXP in an AU..” the psycho’s eyelights shuddered out, a bitter look growing over his mug as his wrist absentmindedly swirled the contents of his bottle.

“Came outta nowhere, suddenly confronting me about all this bullshit about ‘helping me become a better person’ and ‘easing my suffering’ or whatever.” He took another swig, “Been a long time since someone pissed me off like that..” his empty gaze suddenly jerked back to Killer as his voice trailed off. “Well, since someone who didn’t deserve it pissed me off, that is..”

Several glasses along the bar top went scattering across the floor as Killer lurched up in half-genuine annoyance- thankfully all empty, or Dust would’ve torn him a new one. “Ey! What’s that supposed to mean, Dusty?! I thought we were friends?!”

Both skeletons seated beside him leaned away in disgust.

“Yeah.. no thanks pal.” As if to make a point, Horror took his plate and scooted just a bit away from them, a motion that Dust was quick to imitate. Bastards, the both of them. Why did Killer even think of these two as friends playmates, again?

“You guys are so mean to me..!” Killer allowed a brief silence to settle overhead for maybe three minutes, as his soul cycled itself back into a completely perfect circle. “So what happened..?”

Dust side-eyed him with a completely new bottle in his hands, “Mmm..?”

“About Dreamy?”

Again, the same look of disdain flashed over the hooded monster’s features before he resolutely pinned his glare to the contents of his drink. “Tried to kill him.”

Horror snorted from where he was rummaging under the counter, his grin widening as he pulled back with something that looked like a mini-fridge. “Bet that went well.”

Dust's grip on the bottle tightened, the glass creaking under the pressure. “Bastard just kept dodging everything, wasn’t breaking so much as a sweat even after I busted out the blasters.. Even worse, when he hit me with those arrows…” He stopped for a moment, suddenly leveling them both a serious look, “have either of you ever been hit by those?”

“Hah, I’m not that unlucky,” Killer replied, a playful smirk dancing on his face. Horror only made a questioning sound behind him, seeming to take interest in the conversation with Dust’s seriousness.

“It felt like my skull was being.. hotboxed or some shit.. Like, the bastard’s magic was seeping into my head and- and I don’t even know how to describe it.. I could still feel my LV burning, but whatever the bastard did was making it harder and harder to summon enough intent to attack. I didn’t want to fight anymore, but my magic still did- and- and it..” Dust's grip on the bottle relaxed slightly as he exhaled, a mix of frustration and resignation evident in his tone. “I had to bail before I overheated.”

That… Killer didn’t exactly know what to expect after Dust said ‘God of Positivity’ but that.. that was not it. He imagined briefly what it would be like to feel his LV screaming at him, not being able to summon any attacks. Experiencing his intent seeping through his fingers as some hopeless kid with a hero-complex tried to reprimand him for his life decisions as his magic burned itself outside-in.

He had to hunch over the counter as an intense wave of nausea radiated from his soul, causing large splatters of hate to spillover from his sockets.

Oh… that.. that was not a great feeling.

Killer leaned back, ignoring the pointed looks the two were giving him for his outburst. “Damn, sounds like a party pooper.”

Well, if he didn’t have enough reason to avoid the Star shits before..

Horror grunted, phalanges slowly creeping towards the socket housing his ill-gotten eye with a contemplative frown, “they've been a thorn in my side too.” He admitted.

“Sometimes, when things are getting a bit too rough for Traps, I try and do some ‘grocery shopping’ y’know..? But more often than not.. that stupid Ink-asshole shows up to ruin everything,” Horror grumbled, his fingers now hooked along his socket. “Like he’s got nothing better to do than meddle in my business.”

Killer snorted, shaking his head. “Ink..? Seriously? What’s he gonna do, paint you to death?”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Dust interjected, his voice low and serious. “Ink might be a brainless loon, but he’s also probably the most dangerous out of the three of them. He’s got crazy power and little to no consciousness in wielding it. You think Dream and his arrows are bad? Try pissing off someone who goes around warping timelines into ones like ours for shits and giggles.”

..What..?

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.”

Seriously..?

Killer remembered Ink, even thought of the bumbling moron as the most palatable of the trio - at least he didn’t seem to be so obsessed with forcing his morals down other people’s throats - but the idea of the scatterbrained artist being a God was almost laughable. Almost.

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 customizable pets.. That’s fantastic.”

Usually, he’d be all for a good challenge or two to mix things up, but this was clearly looking to be an inevitable nightmare. Would his RESET be able to pull him through his code being rewired, or his own head being fucked with..?

The uncertainty in that was very disconcerting.

“Oh..? You finally realizing how fucked you are?” Dust's tone was filled with bitter amusement, though his glare spoke of a deeper frustration. “These guys are playing on a whole different level. And we're nothing but misbehaving brats where they’re coming from..”

Killer slouched back in his seat, rubbing his sternum as if to physically dispel the unease creeping through him. He didn’t like seeing the unease wobbling in his soul. He didn’t like feeling.

“So we’re supposed to just keep running and hiding like a bunch of beat dogs?!” Killer himself was startled by just how virulent his tone came out. However, he was quick to wave it off- he was mad, of course he was fucking mad. He came out into this multiverse, slayed the kid once and for all, gave up his very character, thinking he was finally set free from the monotony, the pain.

And now, just because of a couple of idiot gods with hero-complexes, he was back to bowing down in the face of some untouchable power..?

NO. FUCK THAT.

Emboldened by the frustrated growls sounding out in response to his outburst, Killer darted up from his seat, sockets fixed upon the wooden grooves of the bar top as his soul fizzled with sparks of determination.

Immediately, he could feel the heavy intent hovering over the back of his neck. As well as saw the tell-tale glow of Dust’s magic reflecting in the multitude of abandoned bottles.

He didn’t even flinch as he craned his skull back to see the craggily ridges in Horror’s axe glint menacingly under the dim light. In the corner of his eye, he could see Dust braced for a lunge, a slew of bones twirling over his shoulder in caution.  But instead of feeling threatened, Killer felt a spark of inspiration.

“Let’s team up.” He proposed, his voice cutting through the tension much like his favored knives.

Dust’s sockets narrowed, and Horror’s grip tightened on his axe. “What kind of bullshit are you on now..?”

Killer shook his head, a manic grin twitching wider, meaner, sharper across his face. “So you’re just gonna spend the rest of your lives living under the thumbs of those sanctimonious pricks? You two hated your worlds enough to find a way out into this multiverse, but now that the enemy ain’t some cheating little brat, you wanna call it quits?”

Neither looked amused - good, that’s exactly what he wanted - and Killer could taste the bitterness feeding into their LV. 

Dust was the first to speak, his voice dripping with skepticism as he let the bones drop- but not yet dissipate. “So, you think teaming up will solve all our problems? You think we can take on Gods, Killer? Seriously?”

He didn’t let his expression waver. He leaned backwards instead, forcing his bones to languidly stretch out along the bar top in a show of confidence. “I’m saying we can be stronger together. We’ve all had enough of our lives being determined by someone else, haven’t we?”

Feeling a bit audacious, Killer reached out and flicked the remaining bone attack from Dust’s loose hold, sending it clattering to the floor in a playful, teasing manner. The typically neurotic maniac didn’t even seem to flinch.

“C’mon Dusty… don’t tell me you went and collected all that LV just to play it safe.. Maybe getting out of that comfort zone of your’s will finally help you loosen up a lil’.”

Horror's grip on his axe loosened slightly, a malicious grin slowly growing along his features as he let it settle over his shoulder. “You know what..? Fuck it.. why the hell not? I’ve been wanting to show that little… blue pet of theirs a thing or two.”

Dust still looked skeptical, but there was a flicker of interest, of temptation, in his sockets that Killer was quick to latch on to. “You really think we can take them on..? The Star Sanses aren’t just powerful, they’re connected. They’ve got resources, allies, and a moral high ground that makes them practically untouchable.”

Killer’s head tilted, a coy smirk rising up in the shadows of his features as he chuckled, “the game wouldn’t be half as fun though, would it..?”

. . . . .

He knew the moment Dust’s grin rose to match his own, he’d won himself a couple of new playmates.