To Kill A Killer

Chapter 11: It's So Cold

Killer wasn't even looking as his knife hit bone.

He didn't pay attention to Blue's gasp of pain, or the door slamming open nearby, or the scrape of the snow as Stretch spun to defend himself from some more immediate threat. The clashes and cries of fighting were nothing more than background noise.

His gaze was entirely fixed on the new skeleton.

The newcomer was weird, there was no other way of putting it. From their impractically long scarf to the giant paintbrush slung across their back to the half-formed edges that were still emerging from the blobs of bright yellow liquid floating around them, they were distinctly and unabashedly strange. Their eyelights changed as they blinked at him, shifting from circles to question marks to diamonds, green to purple to orange. Their voice was quick and confident, hopping from one sound to the next like they were rushing to get their words out.

"Huh. Killer, you're not supposed to be..." They trailed off, pulling their scarf away from their neck to scan the inside of the fabric, then facepalmed. "Ohhhh. That's happening now. Sorry, never mind, just forget about that."

Killer blinked. "What's happening now? Who are you? How the hell do you know my name?"

A laugh, weak with both pain and relief, rattled from below him, and he broke off his stare to cast a surprised glance downwards. There was a smile on Blue's face.

He raised a slightly incredulous brow. "You know that's a weird reaction to being stabbed in the arm, right?"

Despite the pain he must have been in, Blue's eyelights were sparkling. "INK!" he exclaimed, ignoring Killer's question.

The new skeleton grinned. "Heya, Blue. Dream's on his way. Need some help?"

Blue shook his head, determined. "I CAN HANDLE KILLER. GO TAKE CARE OF THE OTHERS!"

Ink shot him a pair of finger guns and dashed off, unslinging their paintbrush as they ran past Killer and Blue. A moment later, the sounds of the fight behind them were interrupted by the muffled thud of someone hitting the snow, followed by a light-hearted cackle that quickly vanished into the general chaos the town had devolved into.

"Huh." Killer looked back at Blue. "So that's Ink? One of your Star buddies?" He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the hilt of the knife, making Blue wince. "You sure you don't need 'em to help? 'Cause, uh, you're looking kinda rough there, pal."

Before Blue could answer, Killer tugged the knife from his arm, causing a cry of pain to escape from Blue's gritted teeth, a dissonant harmony to the cacophony of frantic footsteps and clashing weapons around them. Blue's right hand reflexively covered the wound, liquid magic dribbling from between his gloved fingers, a bright, dripping azure.

Killer smirked. "Well, if you're sure... why don't we play a game?" He tapped Blue playfully on the nose with the tip of his knife, another bead of azure appearing as the blade nicked the bone. "Would you rather –"

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. Something brushed against his SOUL, swirling lazily around it.

He paused, about to glance down.

And suddenly he was wrenched upwards, knives torn from his hands, black liquid flying from his sockets, the world rushing past him as he hurtled towards the gem-strewn ceiling of the cavern, his gravity reversed, his exposed SOUL now glowing a deep, smoky blue. As he tumbled through the snowy air, he caught a glimpse of Stretch below him, one hand raised and glowing with magic.

His magic should have been pounding frantically in his bones. His SOUL should have tightened, seized with instinctive terror. He should have been reaching to summon a blaster, counter the magic with his own, use these precious seconds to do something, anything, to save himself from crashing into the rocky ceiling.