To Kill A Killer

Chapter 10: Knife To Meet You

Killer was bored.

He was bored of being bored.

He was even bored of complaining about being bored, which was rare enough that he could count the amount of times it had happened on one hand and still have fingers left over, since, in his experience, people were entertaining when they were annoyed and they tended to get annoyed at excessive complaining.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone else around. His only company was a small spider, patching up its web in the stonework above the window in which he was sitting, and its reactions to his complaints so far had been remarkably lacking.

He didn't regret his decision to come to the castle – it had been a better option than staying in his AU, where he'd already seen everything there was to see – but damn, didn't these guys do anything? Sure, yesterday's game with Cross had been kind of fun, but even doing stuff in the training room was getting old. He had thought he'd be getting more LV, meeting new people, experiencing new worlds. Instead, here he was, lounging in an ornate, gothic window frame, one foot dangling out into the rather large gap between him and the throne room floor, his skull resting against the glass as he absently watched the spider tether a new line of silk to the web.

The problem, he decided, was that he didn't have anyone to mess around with. His own company was quick to become tedious – while he was an exceedingly interesting and charismatic individual, he already knew himself, and that took all the fun out of it. It was like replaying a game you'd completed a million times before. He'd much rather spend his time figuring out his teammates instead, a feat that would've been easier if they'd deign to stay in the same room as him for more than half an hour. Even Cross, who was at least willing to have a civil conversation with him, was usually either busy or nowhere to be found. He was alone most of the time, something he'd thought he didn't mind until he had realised how dull it was.

The spider had repaired the biggest hole and was starting on a smaller one when the door creaked open.

Footsteps clicked against the tiled floor below, a precise, unhurried rhythm echoing throughout the ornate hall. It was the sort of sound that made conversations fall silent and people sit a little straighter, the sort that was attached to a title and a reputation and a whole bunch of rumours, the sort that good old King Fluffybuns had never quite managed. It was the sound of someone powerful.

Grinning, he swung around so that both his legs were hanging over the edge, leaning out precariously to wave at the dark figure below. "Up here, boss."

Nightmare paused, his gaze immediately finding Killer's spot. If he was at all surprised to find his newest recruit sitting on a windowsill near the ceiling of his throne room, he didn't show it. Killer couldn't decide if he'd somehow expected it, or if he just had an impressive poker face.

"Killer. What are you doing?

"I was bored," Killer shrugged, his phalanges drumming excitedly against the wood beneath him. "Speaking of which, don't suppose you've got anything for me to do?"

"Well –" Nightmare started, only for Killer to barrel on, words going straight from his mind to his mouth without regard for whether interrupting the boss was a good idea.

"Except cleaning. I don't clean. It's against my beliefs. Violation of the Lazybones Code and all that. Although," he added thoughtfully, swiping a finger through the layer of dust on the windowsill, "this place could probably use it."

"I ha–"

"Not that I give a damn about mess, of course, just thought I'd... mention..." He trailed off at the look Nightmare was giving him, shifting uncomfortably under his boss' cold stare. "Uh. You were saying?"