A collection of inane nonsense (ranging from Error being reincarnated as Palette to Dust finding a new love for the color pink) circling around the many AUs and Multiverses of the Undertale world. Some stories will be connected; Others will be rando...
Summary: Cross' first battle against the Star Sanses. (Sequel to "Is It Too Late To Get A Refund?")
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Nightmare stood in the shadows alongside his three oldest companions (Killer, Horror, and Dust), concealed by the lush foliage of the AU's Surface- i.e., a bush. The tendrils on his back swayed anxiously as his worried gaze fixed itself onto his newest gang member's black/white-clothed back.
He possessed some (quite possibly many) reservations about allowing the monochrome warrior to participate in his and Dream's ongoing war, especially since Cross wanted to fight the Star Sanses alone. In a one against three battle. Because the other held this twisted notion that he was required to prove his worth to the Guardian of Negativity and his fellow teammates.
But despite how much Nightmare yearned to stop this nonsense, he would respect the Sans' wishes. For now. Thus, leaving him watching - and prepared to intervene if need be - when Ink, Dream, and Blue appeared, looking for a fight.
They glance around in confusion, eyelights eventually landing on the one figure visible in the forest: Cross.
"You're not who we expected." Ink frowned, adding as an afterthought, "Have we met before?"
"No," Cross replied blandly.
Nightmare didn't like the playful grin that soon spread across Ink's face.
"Well, I'm Ink!" The soulless skeleton cheered, quickly followed by his friends chiming their own names. Next, the three fell into a dramatic formation, shouting. "Together, we are the Star Sanses!"
Killer shook his head in disapproval in the corner of the dark lord's vision, and Dust made a fake gagging noise.
"Prepare to be defeated!" Ink said smugly. All the while, pointing the bristly end of his paintbrush at the monochrome warrior.
Cross blinked, unintimidated. "I have researched all of you. I know what you eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, when/where you go to sleep, where you hang out, who your friend and enemies are, and the best way to defeat each and every one of you.
The Guardian of AUs gave a nervous chuckle. "Okay. Creepy."
Nightmare couldn't help but share the sentiment, and given the many hours Cross spent completing mundane tasks around the castle, the negativity-laden being had no idea when the armor-clad skeleton had time to create such a detailed portfolio about their foes. Or to stalk them.
Ink was promptly leveled with an unnerving, dead stare. A stare as emotionless as the soulless skeleton when off his paint.
Yet something slithered beneath the surface, only evident inside Cross' aura; something sly, considering. His white/red eyelights examined the art-loving guardian before he said, "No matter how flashy you are or how many people you save, at the end of the day, nobody will remember you."
The artist froze, taken aback in a way the Guardian of Negativity had never seen prior. Then he doubled over, collapsing to his knees, and spewed his namesake across the grass- promptly laying in it, much to his friends' dismay (and to the Dark Sanses disgust).
Cross proceeded to turn toward Dream, voice deadpan as he asked, "Don't you find it ironic to call yourself the Guardian of Positivity when not even you yourself are content and happy?"
"Wait, what? Dream, is that true?" Blue said, glancing at the yellow-clad skeleton.
"Yes, it's true! I'm miserable." Dream's confident stance quickly vanished; his lower jaw wobbled, and a sob broke past his invisible throat. "What kind of terrible guardian am I? How am I supposed to make people happy when I wish they'd all die?"
"Even me?" Ink whined from his position on the ground.
"Especially you!"
While the two "heroes" started to bicker in the background, the monochrome warrior and Blue locked eyelights.
"And you..." Cross moved his blank gaze away and simply stated, "Meh."
"What does that mean?!" The blue-clad skeleton demanded, offense lacing his voice.
"Nothing. Just that your so-called tacos are a disgrace to all tacos throughout the Multiverse."
"You take that back! My tacos are to die for, and I'll have you know, they killed someone just last week." Light blue, liquidy magic gathered around the Underswap Sans' eye sockets.
"Make me, taco desecrater."
Nightmare pinched the bridge of his nasal cavity, watching with an expression that could only be described as a tired/completely done with life. He then murmured under his breath, "Stars, we need to get him a therapist."
"Yeah."
"Agreed."
Killer and Dust chimed simultaneously while Horror merely nodded.
The dark lord's cyan eyelight shifted to land on his brother, who had apparently decided to take fate into his own hands and began to strangle Ink.
While I'm at it, I may need to find one for Dream too.
