Archaic ||Peterick||

Spiderman Skellington

Pete hugged himself as he followed Patrick down the dark, narrow hall. The further he walked the less picture frames lined the walls. Everything was covered in a thick lair of dust. He didn't want to touch anything, they may have been low but he did have standards.

Pete spotted Patrick as he rounded a corner and went to call his name, terrified of being alone in this place. He pulled Patrick's orange jumper tighter around himself. He let out a small gasp and hid back behind the corner as quick as he could.

Patrick stood facing a giant, or maybe just extremely tall man. He was a tangle of limbs. Half of his face was obscured by his swooping hair. Pete gasped. It was the creepy boy from the picture.

"Why exactly?" The man spoke.

"Don't ask questions, Dallon."

Pete frowned and peeked out at them. You couldn't blame a guy for being curious.

"You're so pious sometimes. Should I make it look like a suicide? Should I scatter his insides across the interstate highway? Should I let him choke on my-"

"I just need him dead. Okay? You couldn't just do one thing for me?"

Pete froze up. His felt his eyes widen and an almost inaudible whimper escape his lips. Patrick wanted someone dead. And Pete had an awful feeling that that someone was him. He continued to listen. Dallon clicked his tongue.

"Who is it, then?" He sighed, wearily.

Pete shivered as he heard Patrick whisper. He started backing up. He felt burning hot tears pool in his eyes.

Pete knew he sounded pathetic but he was in love and love was pathetic.

It was in that moment Pete realised how bad his love streak was. One bad break up, one he accidental murder and now one that wanted to intentionally get him killed.. again.

He heard a sigh but couldn't quite place who it came from.

"Why him?"

"I told you; no questions." Patrick snapped back.

"But G-"

Everything went a deadly silent. The dim light illuminating the room burned out and Pete was plunged into total darkness.

Pete began to shake and sniffle. He looked around at the red lines for any sign of movement. This was it. This was his end.

Then the light came back. Pete shrieked and jumped back, resulting with him falling on his ass. He quickly scrambled up again.

"..Pete?" Patrick called cautiously.

"You brought somebody?" Dallon asked, now curious.

"I brought him. Told him not to-"

"Did Mikey not tell you not to bring anyone?"

Mikey. Pete remembered that name. He remembered the man it belonged to, and all his little quirks. Mikey fucking Way. Why were they talking about Mikey?

"I couldn't see him in-"

"Because he forbid me from devouring you but..."

"You are not eating Pete."

Pete coughed a few sepia-coloured petals onto the floor, revealing his hiding place around the side of the wall.

"You see... you just can't say that and expect me to follow your rules."

"You're not eating Pete."

Dallon unfolded his lanky limbs, and stepped down from his makeshift throne into the the tastefully decorated room's centre. He towered over Patrick.

"Well then the deal is off." He said, looking down at the short man.

"It can't be! Mikes sai-"

"Mikey can say what he likes, he never told me I couldn't complicate things. He told you not to..."

"Please! You have to!" Patrick yelled, trying to be commanding, but there was a note of desperation in his voice. Pete poked his head around the corner, and Dallon looked over at precisely the same moment. Oh shit. Pete had been rumbled now. A spout of purple petals erupted from between his teeth.

"Oh you poor thing with your Hanahaki disease... want me to end your miserable existence?"

Pete had been about to stand up for Patrick, but now felt considerably less brave than he had when hiding behind the wall.

"Umm... no..."

"Dallon. Don't." Patrick said. Dallon rolled his eyes.

"You're such a buzzkill, Ricky... you always were, I guess. And I guess... it's always been like me to have you snap my olive branch in half... and for me to have my fun anyway."

There was a horrible crackling noise, and Pete watched on in awestruck horror as Dallon, before his eyes, simply changed. Extra limbs unfolded like flat pack furniture, black ran over his skin, and extra eyes opened up on his face. Within about thirty seconds, standing over him, was a six foot three inch tall spider.

Pete gulped, frozen in horror as the SpiderDallon opened its great jaws, and clasped them around his neck like a pair of huge, serrated scissors.

"Nice spider?" He asked hopefully, but felt the jaws of death begin to tighten, drawing blood from his neck and ready to-

A blazing heat rose against him, and the spider screeched as its legs were chopped to bits by a flaming longsword in the hands of a very, very  pissed off Patrick Stump.

He put a pen cap against the tip, and the sword slowly retreated, until it was an ordinary blue ballpoint pen. The same ballpoint pen which constantly resided tucked behind Patrick's left ear.

"So that's why you tell me not to use your stationery." Pete said. A little bit of ash flew off the tip of his nose.

"Yep. Exactly. Let's go." Patrick said, walking past him.

"Hey where are w-"

"Our work here... is done."