Challenges!!

Kross Week [Day 2] | Freedom

HUSH NO ONE MENTION HOW LONG ITS BEEN, IVE TOLD YALL HOW SLOW I AM OKAY

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Killer flexed his fingers, his ever-present smile stale as he adjusted his gloves. Of course, as always, Nightmare was sending him to recruit the newbies. He had always said that Killer could 'wield words as expertly as his blade.' Really, it felt more like a curse than a skill. So what if he could smooth talk someone into literally selling their freedom to work for some Creator's half-assed attempt at making an eldritch god?? [Stars help him if Nightmare ever knew he thought that.]

Just because he was a slick talker didn't mean he was okay with cutting his break short. And it was cut real short. His last outing had been less than a week ago, for fucks sake. He shoved his feet into his sneakers, yanking the laces back with a huff and tying them sloppily. The ends, he tucked under the tongue. It had been a tough mission, too. The amount of finesse and tip-toeing it took to escape that stupid undyne and her troops was rightfully exhausting.

Killer slipped a knife into his sleeve, and grabbed ahold of a little vial of Nightmare's magic, cracking the thing with as much ill intent as he could. "Xtale," he snarled, kicking at the floor with a rare scowl and tossing the muck on the floor. He'd just wanted to rest after such a taxing mission, but nooooo. Boss had to go out and find a shiny new toy. At least, with a new plaything to ogle, maybe the boss won't harass Killer as much.

The goop bubbled into a doorway, splitting open outwards from the center and leaving a thin, bubble like film that popped under Killer's poke. He swore loudly as blinding white light poured through the portal, the light leaving an afterimage that was just as bad.

Who the fuck could possibly be living in this tanning bed lookin ass hell??? Killer straightened his coat, and stepped inside, cramming his hands in his pocket. Time to find out.

He fiddled with the second vial as he walked aimlessly, his eyes throbbing from the overly bright whiteness. He resorted to extinguishing his eyelight after a while, relying on his rusty skills from those few years spent blind. Hopefully the newbie won't be blind. That would royally piss Nightmare off.

Impatiently, Killer sent a short burst of magic over the ground, trying to pinpoint any SOULS in this wasteland. He kept it up for as long as he could, magic straining from the distance after a minute of zero feedback. Just as he let it go, the tiniest hint of someone's magical signature brushed against his fading wave, and Killer perked up. "There you are.." They were pretty fucking far off too, unfortunately.

Killer stepped into a risky shortcut, trying to cut the space at least in half. He had to bite back a yelp when he could suddenly sense that same magical signature right fuckin beside him. He blinked his eyelights back on, looking around quickly, hoping to at least keep the element of surprise if an attack came, but nothing.

No blasters in the air, no bone attacks, not even a single sign of movement. Just an alternate sitting on the floor, staring at him with a deadpan expression. A Sans. The guy didn't even react to Killer's appearance. He tipped his head, widening his grin. "Sup' pal."

Still nothing. Killer crouched, trying for a charming smile, extending a hand. "Aintcha gonna say hi back?" Fake pleasantries always did the trick.

"..Yeah. Guess they do," the Sans snorted. He flopped back onto the white floor with a puff of laughter, though the sound was hollow in every way. "What do you want me to do about it? Talk back?"

Killer's eye twitched. Great. Another hallucinating teammate. Just fuckin wonderful. Maybe this could be Dust's new best friend. He stuck out his hand, insistent. "C'mon, dontcha know how to greet a new pal?"