It only took one attack.

More specifically, it took five bone constructs bursting out from below the kid, forming one attack.

It was extremely anti-climatic. Too anti-climatic, in fact. He had an entire speech planned, he had already said part of it, but the kid wasn't prepared for him to steal the first move. He had raised his hand and snapped his fingers, causing a wave of bones to rise from the ground. There had been shock on their face, before they had gotten impaled and destroyed. Their SOUL cracked, and split into a million pieces. Good to know the element of surprise was effective.

(The world stuttered.)

He sighed, but turned around, meeting glowing red eyes.

.

"why not relax and take a load off?" He grinned as he dodged the attack. The kid had managed to survive that same first attack twice in a row now. It wasn't coincidence. They were learning his pattern. He should mix it up a little more.

.

"let's just get to the point."

No more words or fancy theatrics were needed as the FIGHT scene came into view.

"here we go."

Comic launched his normal attack, not really seeing the point of changing when eventually, the human was probably gonna learn all his patterns so why not keep up the mystery as much as possible.

.

"you can't understand how this feels."

The human laughed.

It was high, maniacal, and that pause for laughter was what it took for them to slip up this time. Three bones rammed straight into them, in succession.

They only laughed louder.

.

"just lay down your weapon, and… well, my job will be a lot easier."

Comic feigned relaxation, letting his shoulders go limp, wings drooping to the floor. He looked down, stopped facing the human, tilting his skull towards the ground, but still keeping a watchful eye, just in case they attacked.

There was a clatter as the Burnt Pan fell to the ground. He looked up, the shock and relief in his eye sockets far from faked.

"... you're sparing me? finally. buddy. pal. i know how hard it must be... to make that choice. to go back on everything you've worked up to. i want you to know... i won't let it go to waste."

He hesitated a bit, and spread his arms open for a hug. "… c'mere, pal."

The human took a step forward, and two, and three, until they were right in front of him and-

A series of bones pierced through them.

The look on their face was one of pure betrayal.

"get dunked on," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

He noticed the human still hadn't died yet. "if we're really friends… you won't come back."

There was an unreadable expression on their face as their SOUL cracked and shattered into pieces.

.

There was an apathy inside him, a numbness, as he stared at their dead body, their trademark blue and purple sweater soaked with blood. He turned away, and sat there, waiting for the LOAD that was sure to come.

It never did.

.

Comic didn't know how long it took before he finally broke out of his stupor. The Last Corridor was bathed in silver light instead of golden, so it must've been enough time for the night cycle to take effect.

He sat there for a little while longer, phalanges clenched around the dusty scarf around his neck, eye sockets dark and empty. His jacket was splattered with bloodstains, as were his wings. Blood and feathers didn't go well together. The human's dead body was still lying there. He stood up, and inspected the body, just to make sure the kid was dead.

The bone constructs had long faded away, but the holes where they had ripped through their body were red and raw, and Sans swore he caught sight of some bone fragments because what else could the white have been? The human themselves was pale, their blood pooled beneath them, and, after so long of waiting, had dried.

Comic looked away, not really wanting to keep staring at a dead body. It felt impolite and wrong, like he was looking at something he wasn't supposed to. He shuffled his feet, and snapped his fingers. Then, with a ripple of magic, he teleported away from the corridor and the dead body.

There was another ripple of magic, and he appeared in his workshop at the back of his and Papyrus's house. He roughly shook his head, shaking thoughts of Papyrus out of his head.

Comic lit his eye lights, and switched on the lights. He stumbled towards the machine, and pulled off the purple cloth covering it. His small frame trembled at the memories the machine brought back, but he shoved them to a corner of his head, and continued working on the machine. He was nearing a breakthrough, he knew it…

And a sharp pain blossomed along his chest.

.

Comic snapped up, eye lights wild and unfocused, in his bed, in his room. His wings were twitching and flapping limply at the sides, like they always did after a bad nightmare.

Maniac laughter echoed within his skull, and he swore he saw blood and dust everywhere. Nothing was safe no one was safe nothing would ever be safe-

He took a deep breath, then ran his phalanges through his feathers, glancing to double check there wasn't any blood. Satisfied that his black and blue wings weren't bloodstained, he moved on to his ribcage. His shirt wasn't soaked through with blood, so that was one thing. He couldn't feel the slash that caused his death in so many timelines, which was a pretty good sign, but there was something else there.

He sighed, but lifted his shirt. His eye sockets blacked out, and a strangled gasp escaped his non-existent throat.

Flowers and leaves climbed their way along his spine, a blend of red, blue and green. Bluebells (but not quite bluebells) that faced up and big spiky red towers of - Sans touched it, and looked at his phalanges in confusion - seeds?

Confusion.

Then pain. His eye sockets blanked out completely, not seeing anything for a couple seconds while he coughed something up and into his hand. It tickled his magical throat. His eye lights relit themselves, and darkened again.

He had hacked up a fistful of blue petals and red petal-seeds. And a red liquid - blood, his mind supplied - that definitely wasn't supposed to be there.

Red liquid - blood, he reminded himself - trickled through his phalanges. Blue petals and red petal-seeds, both bloodstained, fell to the ground.

None of this was a good sign.

"Comic?" He heard Blossom call out for him, and instantly reacted, tossing the bloodstained flower petals into the trash tornado (huh, so it was useful) and wiping off any blood or petals with his arm.

"yeah 'som?"

His voice was croaky. He would have liked to blame it on the sleep, but after coughing up flower petals and blood, he wasn't too sure anymore.

"Oh good!" Blossom exclaimed, a smile on his face. "You're awake! Hurry up and get ready, the other us's are coming over today - remember?"

Comic remembered alright. And for some reason, though none of their counterparts were particularly dislikable, and that he usually got along splendidly with them, there was a stirring in his SOUL that told him that he wasn't going to enjoy the day very much.

He was just going to be proved right.

Word Count: 1276 words

(A/N: I have no idea where this is going, I don't own Undertale, or anything else. Etcetera. You know the drill. -Summer)