A/N: To be clear, I am never going to be doing a Genocide run. I could never do it, anyway, it would break my heart in the worst of ways.
Anyway, I'm very interested (nonetheless) in the fight with Sans if you do happen to go Genocide. It's what really scares me about his character- that the friendly sort of guy who could practically be your uncle (and let's be honest, pretty much everyone's got an uncle a bit like Sans, don't they?) could turn into this utterly terrifying creature that will cheat and lie and kill you without a second thought, if you happen to go and kill his brother. Yup, Sans terrifies me.
Anyway, there should probably be WARNINGS HERE FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, INSANITY, and SPOILERS FOR THE GENOCIDE ROUTE.
That's about it. For the record, I'm continuously blaming my friends for getting me into this fandom. I'm never going to escape, am I? I'm now Undertale trash for the rest of my life. Sighhh…
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Back, forth, back, forth- fighting's almost like dancing, when you think about it- up, down, to the side, quick jump upwards to dodge that flurry of bones coming towards you, and-
You've both done this tired old routine hundreds of times before. You know exactly what to expect from each other and you're evenly matched in every way. There's no possible way that either of you can win, but you keep on fighting on through everything. You'll die, and come back only moments later, and you know it.
It's at times like this; you've got to wonder- why do you bother? Is there any point to this? There's no chance you're going to pass him. Maybe you're doing it because there's nothing left to do. You've mined this world of its money, inhabitants, life, and many things besides. You've done everything there's worth doing, and now there's only two things left in the world. You, and the skeleton grinning at you from the end of the corridor.
"that expression on your face," he says, eye socket flaring the brightest blue as you re-enter the hall, murder in your eyes and fingers wrapped around your knife so tightly that they're white. "that's the look of someone who's died more times than i can count, isn't it? i missed that look. it looks good on ya."
You glare at him, and flip forwards directly at him in a desperate bid to surprise him. It doesn't work. He steps sideways- he keeps dodging you, why does he keep dodging you-
"Knock knock," you pant quite casually as he unleashes a flurry of bone-related attacks, making you leap up and down and duck sideways to avoid them. His eye glows, and you slam into the ceiling and the walls and-
"who's there?" he says, a momentary look of disgust flitting over his face- oh, that's right, he and the goat woman used to tell these sort of jokes all the time, too bad he's dead- you land on your feet, knife between your teeth. You pull it out and grin savagely.
"The voice in my head," you reply, lunging towards him- he dodged again, the nerve of that skeleton- and he spreads his bony fingers out towards you, flicking his wrist so you have to twist yourself sideways to avoid being hit. One nicks you on the arm anyway, and you feel your lifeforce draining. Time to just get on with it, then. You breathe in deeply, and prepare to-
"the voice in your head who?"
Oh, that's right, you're telling a joke. Well, you wouldn't want to spoil the punchline, would you? You take another deep breath, and-
"The voice in my head who's screaming to get out and to stop me from killing youright now."
He looks nonplussed. Thrown off. Good. You tap the side of your head with the hilt of the toy knife and grin at him. "Oh, didn't you realize?"
"realize what?" He's raising his hands in the air again, and the air's rippling, and he's summoning those dragon heads that rip your soul directly from your body in the most painful way possible. Rude.
"They're screaming at me. Right. Now." Another savage grin, splitting your face into darkness from ear to ear. "D'you know what they're saying?"
Pure white light blasts forwards, and you vault, landing on your hands, and flip back to avoid a second flurry of attacks.
"They're screaming PLEASE DON'T HURT HIM," you say. "Stupid, right? You're more likely to hurt me, but I don't think they know that."
The blue in his left eye flares in anger, and he flicks you up, down, bouncing off the walls, and you can feel something snap-
You come back into yourself for the two hundred and twenty-sixth time (and counting) and don't bother to even pause before entering the Hall and throwing yourself at him. The fighting is vicious and dirty and you're both cheating but he's cheating better. And you're annoyed because there's no possible way you can pass him but you need to. Although you're not quite sure why.
"They're still screaming," you call across the room in a slight lull in the battle. "I think they're crying, too. I'm not paying much attention."
He meets your red-tinged gaze with a blue-tinged gaze of his own- a look that you can't quite identify. "you're twisted, kid."
"I know," you laugh. "Isn't it great?"
And you attack and he dodges and it goes on and on, and neither of you speak for a very long time.
After your two hundred and sixty-second death and return, you begin talking again. Just casual conversation, mainly to stave off the unbearable loneliness that comes from being the only two people who know what's really going on.
"if you're not the kid," he asks. "who are you, really?"
You take a moment to consider this, taking your time. "I'm the demon that comes when you call its name."
"pleasure to make your acquaintance," he replies, but his voice is as cold as ice, and the chill of the bones that whip up to cleave your body to pieces are even colder. You can feel them burning into your flesh as you die.
On your two hundred and sixty-third try, you offer to let the other resident in your head out- just for a bit. You can see the look of temptation that flashes across your opponent's face, and it's enough to distract you at a crucial moment. Bones slash across your chest, left and right, and it takes you longer than usual for your soul to disappear and for you to phase into the next timeline of events.
So you decide, in a moment of spite, to make good on your offer, and you let the other presence in your head float to the surface from where they've been cowering in the back of your shared mind for most of the time. You're very proud to say that you've never made a sound, not even once, when being killed. It's more the principle of the thing, more than anything else. Never let the enemy see you in a moment of weakness. Never let them see you scream.
The Other One has no such qualms. Maybe it's the shock of being suddenly shoved into a world of pain, or the backlash from being stuck, unable to move, for such a long time, but they scream and wail, tears streaming down your face. Hands tear at the bones skewering your body. Blood's pooling, red and dark, all around you, hot and warm and sticky. It's mixing with the thin layer of monster dust streaked across your skin and clothing.
It makes them scream all the louder.
Idiot, you think mildly, mentally folding your arms and waiting for it to all end.
The skeleton's seen that there's something wrong with this particular death. He's coming closer. He's an idiot, too. Doesn't he realise that you could just reach out and kill him while he's distracted?
But you don't. You're not even sure why.
The Other One's quieter now, although tears are still blurring their eyes, and they're trying to speak. The skeleton's lifted your body carefully off the ground, and is holding it carefully, stroking your hair.
"S-Sans," they choke out, and you remember- yes, that's the skeleton's name. You had forgotten. Well, never mind.
"hey, shh, it's not your fault." The blue's all but faded from his eye, and you realize that this would be a perfect time to hit him. When he's unguarded. But there would be no point, would there? You're just on the verge of death as it is. Maybe next time.
"It was…" they mutter. It's barely audible. "…kinda. I let them out… sorry…"
There's a gentle pressure. It takes you a moment to identify it as a hug, and you instantly react, struggling backwards before realizing- oh, right- you don't have control of your body right now. Well, that's easy to remedy- just a quick jerk over there, and-
The tears stop as quickly as they emerged, and you're back in your close-to-death body even as the Other One is behind the virtual bars of the mental prison, screaming and wailing and begging to be let out. You wish they'd shut up. The pain's bad enough as it is without an unwanted passenger. The skeleton- and you've already forgotten his name, names are pointless where you are right now- has dropped you and moved away before you could take the chance to attack him sneakily. He must have realized when you stopped twitching. Oh, well. Better luck next time.
He glances over you distastefully. "hello again."
You laugh, fully aware of how insane you sound, blood bubbling from your throat and trickling down your chin to mix with the pool that's formed around you. "Hi. Sorry I couldn't finish this round. I'll do better next time, promise."
He gives you that same look that he gave you forty-or-so deaths ago, and you still can't identify it- maybe it's pity, or maybe it's distaste, or maybe something in-between. "i said you were twisted, didn't i?"
"Mmhmm," you sigh, lying back in the wet stain that's your blood and letting your hair drift in it, dying it bright red. You wish you could keep it that way, but that's not how the resets work.
"i was wrong. you're not just twisted. you're depraved and disturbed, and there's something majorly wrong with your head."
"What could be possibly wrong with me?" you beam, flicking out your arms, splashing flecks of red across the walls and pillars of the Hall, and the skeleton doesn't respond.
Outside, the birds are singing and the flowers are blooming, and it's a lovely day for a game of catch. Or it would be, if you were interested in that sort of thing. You're not.
All you want to do is kill, kill, kill, because it makes you feel better and it makes you feel happy. Add to the buildup of dust all over you, make it so you're completely covered, head to toe, in soft white-grey powder. You wonder what the skeleton's dust will feel like, when you've finally killed him. Maybe it'll be all hard and flaky, or maybe it'll be soft, like his brother's. Whatever.
It's a lovely day outside. A lovely day to be burning in hell. Hell's probably a nice place. You think you'd like it there.
The skeleton turns his back on you, and stares out the window, the bright light from outside shining off his skull. It's a lovely day outside, like it's been the past two hundred and sixty-three times that you've been through this fight.
Let's make it one more, shall we? you think to the Other One, who presses up against the mental walls of their cell and whimpers. Pathetic.
With a flash of white, a flash of black, and the sensation of your soul shattering into tiny little pieces, you're gone from this timeline.
You think, as you fade into your two hundred and sixty-fourth attempt, that you can faintly hear music.