The first time that Frisk met you could only be described with one word: fate.
They had just gone for ice cream and were contentedly savoring their treat when they turned around the corner—
"Oof!"
"Oh jeez. Sorry kid! You okay?" you coughed out. Though Frisk was young, their head had slammed straight into your chest and forced the air out of you.
Frisk had fallen flat on their butt as you offered your hand to help them up. They gave you an apologetic look as you pulled them to their feet.
"Don't sweat it. I should be the one apologizing," you said, gesturing to the fallen ice cream. They looked at it forlornly. "Hey, hey. How about I treat you to another one? You seemed like you were just starting on this one."
They nodded enthusiastically, and the both of you headed back to the parlor.
"So kid. What's your name?" you asked.
Frisk. They told you that their name was Frisk.
"The monster ambassador? Ha. Fancy meeting you here," you smiled rather calmly. Frisk thought you were a little too calm compared to other people's reactions. It was refreshing though, and they thought nothing of it. Perhaps you were just special. "Anyways, I'm [Reader]. Nice to meet you. Monster ambassador though—it's gotta be a tough job for a kid like you."
The two of you shake hands, and Frisk noticed that you wear thick leather gloves.
"I'm not a kid! I'm responsible!"
"Hehe…hi responsible," you teased, but continued before they could reply. "But honestly, what do you do? Do you have anyone to help you?"
"I meet a lot of grownups and tell them about monsters. I explain things that others are too afraid of experiencing. My mom helps me when I ask for it, and dad's there too! It's not that bad," they said, ordering another vanilla cone once at the parlor.
"I wouldn't be able to be up for the job," you laughed lightly. "So many things that could fail and turn wrong in an instant, as well as the hopes of so many other people placed upon a single person…that's too much pressure for me."
There was a somber mood as the ice cream man passed the cone to Frisk.
"Well, I just think you're a pretty awesome kid," you said to break the silence. "Kids your age usually stay indoors all day and play video games. You though…heh. You're leading the world with your actions."
Frisk scrunched their face up in a mockery of the politician frown and puffed up their chest in obvious pride, and you laugh at their ridiculously cute expression.
The two of you continued to chat until the sun started to set, and Frisk realized they had a surprisingly good time with you. However, good things never last. It was time to head home, or Toriel would be extremely worried, and then mad that she had to worry.
Frisk bid you a farewell and a thanks for the treat but—
You pulled out a gun.
Black gleamed in the dull evening light.
"Sorry kid. Nothing against you, but a job's a job."
BANG!
SNK.
They were dead before they could scream.
Frisk took a huge breath and opened their eyes.
The ice cream cone in their hand was starting to melt, but they didn't pay it much attention. Instead, they looked at the corner and saw you coming around. Quickly walking the other way, they tried to calm their beating heart.
It wasn't working.
Polishing off their ice cream, they headed home with the Papyrus-speed walk cycle, soul throbbing in fear the whole way. They could remember the gleam of the gun, the bite of the bullet, and oh gosh the expression on your face was so terrifying—
You didn't look scary.
It wasn't the glare or the frowns that made a killer look scary. It was the smile. The empty haunting expression—no, not expression. The empty haunting mask of apathy, pasted onto your face was what terrified Frisk. It reminded them of Chara and the hurt and loneliness buried underneath, hidden by lies like "I'm fine" or "I don't care."
But you weren't Chara.
You weren't a misunderstood kid or a monster they could simply pacify. You were a human adult, a human adult killer, and Frisk was sure that they should avoid you.
Toriel would definitely agree.
Even once they reached home and Toriel's motherly greeting soothed them slightly, their fear of you was still there. They went to bed checking if you were there—after all, you were wearing dark street clothes, black shades, and black gloves, and was clearly a hitman. People like that lurked in the dark, right? They should have known the moment they bumped into you that you were a person up to no good. What upstanding person wears leather anyway?
In the morning, they had bags under their eyes.
They couldn't understand why they were so afraid of you. They've been killed many times before by monsters for all sorts of reasons, and they always came back with a smile to greet those monsters. You had already killed them once and the world was quick to prove your murder technique was no different from the monsters since Frisk could still load, so why were they so afraid?
Maybe it was because adult humans seemed so much more powerful. The whole monster race could be killed by a single child, but it was the adult humans that forced a single child to be a killer.
A week after the encounter that did not happen, Frisk attended a public speaking ceremony. Toriel had opened up with a greeting speech, her commanding voice inspiring awe through the crowd—
BANG!
Frisk couldn't breathe.
Red bloomed on their chest.
In the distance, a black smoking barrel gleamed in the sunlight.
Maybe they could convince you not to kill them.
Maybe they just had to talk to you more and get to know you better. Frisk was sure that you didn't want to kill them because you hated them. On the contrary, you had said it was a job the first time around. Maybe they could change your mind.
Tasting the sweet treat that they bought over a week ago—and wasn't that a gross yet awesome fact? Week-old ice cream, fresh from DETERMINATION—they sought out the fated corner. Walking back to the same path with their head down, they anticipated bumping into you, but was still knocked down by your iron-frame.
"Oh jeez. Sorry kid! You okay?"
They tell you that they're okay, but still shake a little, likely from nerves. You assumed they were just a shy kid not used to getting into trouble rather than a traumatized youth who had been killed by you, once upon a time. Patting them on the shoulder, you gave them a friendly smile.
"How about I treat you to a new ice cream cone?" you asked, eyes twinkling with something familiar to Frisk. It was…kind of like how Sans offered to take them to Grillby's.
Frisk nodded, and the two of you set off for the ice cream parlor.
"This isn't a date, is it?" Frisk wiggled their eyebrows at you, throwing away their anxiety. They didn't escape underground with ANXIETY. No, they were DETERMINED to make you a friend.
You laughed, "I guess if you want it to be. Though it'll be a bit weird on my part, dating a middle schooler."
"I can't help it. You attract me like a bee to honey."
"That is so cliché," you grinned. "Try something less sappy."
Once again, you pay for their ice cream and the two of you chat for a while. You never ask for their name, and perhaps you were distracted from how entertained Frisk was keeping you, but you never asked about the ambassadorial duties either. Instead, the two of you subtly flirted back and forth, which was mainly Frisk's pick-up lines and your critiques. When it got dark, you were the one who started to leave.
"Well, it's time for me to head home. I got a job bright and early tomorrow," you winked at them. Sometime along the way, you had started to grow warmer and more relaxed around Frisk.
Frisk decided to ask for your phone number.
"No need for that. You were great company kid, but I doubt we'll see each other again."
Downtrodden, Frisk nodded. Perhaps it was for the best. After a few years on the surface, they've realized that they couldn't befriend every single person out there. Some things just weren't meant to be, and friendly assassins were just hard to come by.
The two of you parted ways, and that night, Frisk slept a bit more soundly.
In the morning, the news broadcasted an arsonist attack on the monster queen's home.
There were no survivors.
Frisk opened their eyes to a squished ice cream cone in their hand, and sighed.
Asking the nearby vendors for some napkins, they cleaned up their mess and wondered which approach they should take with you next. Naturally, avoiding you wouldn't work. Accidental acquaintance didn't seem to work either. Perhaps a straight up confrontation…?
While they contemplated their next move, you had already moved past the corner and were making your way to a coffee shop. Aha! Perhaps the ice cream parlor was simply too childish for you. Maybe that's why you never got an ice cream cone like Frisk did, and just watched Frisk eat.
Determined once again, they followed in after you for a real date this time. Or as really as their thirteen year-old mind could make it.
The place was packed, easily a good excuse to sit next to you. And so they did.
"Oh. Hey there. Place sure is crowded, huh?" you smiled when they asked if they could take a seat. "Knock yourself out."
"Can we date? Because you're hotter than the bottom of my laptop," Frisk grinned.
"Oh gosh," you laughed. Your eyebrow twitched a little. Perhaps they came onto you a little bit too strong? "Heh. Kid, aren't you a bit too young to know these things?"
"Eh. Old enough to be in adult meetings, old enough to hear adult things," Frisk waved off huffily.
"Hmm? What adult meetings?" you asked, curious.
Frisk tells you about their ambassadorial duties, and relayed just how "adult" they were.
"Wow. Sounds tough. Hey, you want something? My treat," you offered. Frisk was torn; should they accept? Last time you offered because they lost their ice cream cone due to the collision. Now, you had no reason to offer anything. Reluctantly, they decided to decline.
"I just came here for your handsome face," Frisk bluffed. Yes, they wanted something, but they'd rather not screw this up with you.
"My face is very handsome," you nodded sagely, and the two of you easily traded banter.
"My name's Frisk. What's yours?"
"[Reader.] I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I don't often say it to people who hit on me," you replied in good nature.
"I'm not hitting on you. I'm just giving you BACKHANDED compliments," Frisk gestured to you with finger guns.
"Oh gosh, who in the world raises you?!" you chuckled.
"People who love jokes. They're very…punny," Frisk answered.
When your order of coffee cake arrives, Frisk eyes it with a sort of predator gaze. When they make eye contact with you, they quickly looked down with a pout. You stifled your laughter.
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Babyface."
"Babyface who?"
"Baby face me when you want something!" you said.
It wasn't the best joke in the world—really it was more of a pun than a joke—but it was the first one Frisk hear you say. It was the first time you reciprocated their efforts—so they laugh a little.
"Heheh—mmfph!"
You stuck a piece of cake into their mouth. They chewed and savored the strangely milky piece of coffee confectionery.
"Hey this is really good. It tastes kind of stra—"
The colors of the world faded to black except for blue…
The fork you held gleamed with a strange blue liquid—something that didn't belong in cake.
Frisk was almost at the end of their wits.
It was like—it was like battling Undyne all over again! You were unrelenting in your conviction to kill Frisk, even if it wasn't because you REALLY want to kill them. They shuddered to think of when you actually DO want to kill someone.
Avoiding you doesn't work. Accidentally bumping into you was a fail. Directly confronting but staging it like a coincidence was a mistake. Perhaps they should just straight up ask you for a date?
"Hel-lo handsome! Want to go on a date with me?"
"W-what…?"
Frisk looked up, startled. Holy baloney, you were actually standing right there! Recovering quick, Frisk repeated themselves.
"Oh…you're serious," you stared for a bit before laughing slightly. "Geez, to think I get asked by a middle schooler for a date. You have more balls than half the men and women I know."
"You up for it sexy?"
"Haha, as long as you stop wiggling your eyebrows like that," you grinned, playing along. You were quite interested as to what this child had in store for you. Perhaps subconsciously, you recognized the anomaly in Frisk. "What do you have in mind?"
"I was just thinking of the park. I would suggest going to the movies, but the lights don't exactly know what they're doing."
"The lighting is…manually controlled by the film directors…?" you commented, confused.
"Exactly. And they're all blind because the spotlight isn't on you," Frisk gave a wolf whistle.
"Alright, calm down there Casanova," you shook your head with mirth. Frisk internally smirked. They still got it.
"My name's Frisk."
"Alright Frisk. I'm [Reader]."
The rest of the afternoon was done in a fashion similar to the past three resets. Talk, banter, flirt, joke…it was in a different location, but it was the same song and dance. It wasn't a surprise when Frisk accidentally tripped on a rock, only to head downwards toward a steep lake.
SPLASH!
Something sharp collides with Frisk's head.
The last thing they see was your hand, and the last thing they felt was you pushing down.
Your black gloves gleamed with aquatic lights.
Frisk sighed. They hadn't ever reset or loaded as much as dealing with you.
Sure, there were many times that battles did them in, but you weren't a battle, were you? You were just a person that they failed to befriend.
Or maybe they've succeeded, but you had to kill them anyway? You did say it was a job. That would be quite the romantic plot, but Frisk knew it wasn't true. If you had any feelings of friendship, they doubted you would act all murder-y with them.
Then again, friendship takes more than one day to develop—unless you were a monster—but Frisk never had more than one day with you. Even if they did, once they told you their name, you were sure to kill them by the end of the day. That was the recurring pattern, wasn't it? The longest they went without resetting was a week, and you still killed them at the end of the day. What a disaster.
However, maybe you weren't the problem. Maybe your employer was the problem.
Yeah, that had to be it! Frisk resolved to do a little reconnaissance, and what better way than to do it now? You turn around the corner, enter the café like predicted, and ordered a coffee cake.
A few minutes passed when you finished your food and waited around for a while. Someone walks into the café and sits down across from you—a woman. She looked twice as suspicious with her high collar turtleneck and ball cap, a shadow over her angular face. It was another few minutes before she left, and another few minutes after that before you left. Frisk decided that they would have to wait another time to find out the identity of the woman.
(In truth, it was just a random woman who had no other place to sit. As you shared a table with her, you had a feeling that in another time, you had more pleasant company.)
Curious, Frisk sneakily trailed after you, making sure to duck behind buildings or lampposts every once in a while. Their light blue and purple sweater did little to help them blend in to the dull grey buildings, but they snuck into Alphys' True Lab! They could handle trailing after you!
Or so they thought.
They lose sight of you as you turn around a corner, and dejected, they decided to head back—
Click.
They came face to face at the end of a gleaming black gun, muzzle pointed straight to their head. The world around them faded to black.
*ACT
*CHECK
[Reader]LV MAXHP 1/1DEF 1ATK 99
"I don't know who you think you are, but I don't appreciate your attention," you smiled lightly. "I would tell you to run home to your mom, but I get the feeling that you know too much for your own good. Sorry kid."
BANG!
Alright.
This time, Frisk was going to be cool.
Frisk was going to be casual.
Frisk was going to be a complete dork.
"Uh…hi."
Great going Frisk.
"Hi," you replied in a clipped tone.
"Uh…you okay? You look to be in a bit of a bad mood."
"It's what happens when people won't leave me alone."
"Oh…I guess I'll go now."
Yup. You were completely like Undyne. Frisk would rather lose the battle and win the war another day, because any longer and your glare would have struck their soul down.
Who needs guns or whatever when you had deadly eyes of death? It was almost on par with Sans' empty-eyed stare.
(Little did Frisk know that you were feeling foul that day because someone requested the death of a certain child. While you've pulled off many assassinations with all the people that could tug heartstrings, you didn't want to kill this particular one. Why? Well. You didn't have an answer for that, and perhaps that was what made you annoyed.)
Needless to say, Frisk was dead again within the week.
(In the end, you killed the child anyway, ignoring the tug in your SOUL.)
Alright, that didn't work.
Time to get some advice.
"Hey mom?"
"Yes my child?"
"How do I get a person to like me?"
"What's wrong dear? Is someone bullying you at school again?"
"Kind of."
"that's easy kiddo. patella me who they are and i'll beat them up."
"Sans!" Toriel scolded, trying to keep a straight face.
"But Saaans! I WANT them to LIKE me!"
"welp. i dunno what to tell ya kiddo. take them on dates and swoon them with your charm. if you could do it to my bro, you could do it to anyone."
"But I couldn't! They keep ignoring me afterwards, or go back to being mean!"
"Some people just aren't meant to be together," Toriel soothed, patting Frisk on the back. "Like your dad for example."
There was a sob from the living room. Poor Asgore.
"But at least you could tolerate dad. I'm not sure this person even TOLERATES me. They don't show any emotion other than…"
Frisk slowly turned to Sans.
"what."
"THEY'RE JUST LIKE YOU!"
"what."
"Oh my gosh, I'm right! They're just like you. They always have a smile on their face, but they get annoyed easily when I do something that may or may not pry into their secrets, and it doesn't show in their smile but it shows in their eyebrows! It scrunches up like this—"
Frisk scrunches up their nose and ends up looking ridiculous trying to imitate your empty-eyed smile.
"by the stars, kiddo. what kind of people have you been seeing?"
"The kind that paid for my ice cream."
"and you say they hate you?"
"They probably do. I'm not sure yet."
"W-well, I'm sure it could all be fixed with a cup of tea, and maybe some pie?" Asgore comes in, trying to hide the fact that he was weeping in the other room.
"Maybe," Toriel huffed.
"so there you have it kiddo. dates."
"I've taken them to the café and the park. Where else can we go?"
"try a fig then."
"Really Sans?"
Frisk gave Sans an unimpressed look.
"no? alright, dates aren't just about going to generic locations. ya gotta know what they like, bucko."
"Well…they like guns."
"I'm not sure how comfortable I am with your developing friendship, my child."
"Don't worry mom! They're not overly violent!"
Sans and Toriel gave Frisk a dubious look.
"right. welp, it's a long shot, but i guess you could try the paintball range…"
"Oh my gosh. You're right! Thanks Sans!"
"Long shot, hoho! Good one Sans."
"thanks tori."
Frisk finally had a game plan, but continued to ask their other friends for ideas. Papyrus lent Frisk his dating manual, and Undyne was quick to suggest a workout. It was ludicrous, but Frisk kept all the ideas in mind anyway. They were sure at least ONE of them would work for you.
Throughout the week, they tried to find you, but there wasn't a single trace. It was understandable—it was a fairly big city, but they would have caught a GLIMPSE of you by now, right?
By the end of the week, the public ceremony took place—
BANG!
Frisk took a deep breath and slapped their hands on their cheeks, smooshing their face together.
"Alright, Frisk, you can do this!"
Taking a running start, they bend around the corner and slam into you.
"Oof!"
Even with the running force, you were still a bastion of iron will, wobbling only slightly while Frisk rubbed their forehead. Running into you was like running into a brick wall.
"Watch where you're going kiddo," you said, patting them on the head. Frisk almost froze. That…that never happened before. You were never overly familiar, always distant, and any pats of reassurance would be on the shoulder.
Shaking away their shock, Frisk quickly apologized.
"Heh. No foul, no harm. Where are you going in such a hurry, anyway?"
Frisk tells you that they wanted to check out the paintball range. They ask you if you want to come with them.
"E-eh? Me?" you said, feigning surprise. "Why?"
Frisk points to where they remember you keep your gun. Its sleek black leather holster sticks out, and you pat it self-consciously.
"Huh. I should be hiding it better, shouldn't I?" you laugh sheepishly. "Anyways, sure. I'll go check out the kiddie range with you. Sounds fun."
"Awesome! I had no one to go with since I wanted to go on such a short notice," Frisk absentmindedly said, omitting parts of the truth where it was such a short notice that they technically didn't ask anybody yet. To be honest, they were quite surprised you said yes so easily.
"They have people who play there all day, no? You would've had fun anyway," you commented, hand occasionally tugging down your jacket to hide the gun. Frisk didn't mention it.
"Yeah, but now I got a handsome face to go with me," Frisk winked at you.
(Somehow, that felt really familiar to you.)
"Handsome, sure. Butter me up, why don't you?" you grinned back. "I won't go easy on you."
When the two of you arrived, the range was fairly empty. However, that didn't mean there weren't a lot of people. The range was simply big—obstacle courses and barricades made of hay, cardboard, duct tape, and scrap metal littered the field. There were even old playgrounds disguised as spaceships for people to roam.
"Woah. I didn't know they had that here," you whistled, impressed.
"I know! Well, I didn't know. My uncle told me about it hidden behind the park and I just had to check it out!" Frisk half-lied. But it was half-truth, so that was fine. You were in too much awe of the fun you could potentially have here to call Frisk out for anything.
"Alright then, what are we waiting for?!" you pulled Frisk along, heading to the ticket stall for admission.
Frisk stared at you, slightly stunned at your enthusiasm.
"Good morning, what can I do for you today?"
"We'd like two admissions please," you smiled.
"Right. Here you are," the two of you were handed a suit and a visor. "The suit is just to protect your current clothes. The visor though, is how to mark your opponent "out." You can't shoot if your visor's all stained with paint after all. That'll be $20." You hand over the money, paying for both you and Frisk without prompting.
"Come on!" you said to an immobile Frisk. They snapped out of it and put on the suit, quick to follow in your footsteps. "Alright, so I have blue pellets. You?"
"Red."
"You better run then," you grinned mischievously, deft fingers already loading your plastic shooter. When Frisk continued to stare at you, you pointed the gun at their bum—
Pew! Pew, pew, pew!
They squealed and started fleeing, giggling as you chased after them with exaggeratedly loud footsteps.
"I'm GONNA GETCHA!" you roared, cackling all the way.
Splat!
You turned around, and see that some of the red players that were already there were trying to buy Frisk time. When they saw you spotting them, they ducked behind their covers.
"You wanna play dirty, ohhh we're gonna get dirty," you chuckled darkly.
*The First Linebreak that doesn't signify a RESET.*
"Huff…huff…hff…surrender…hff…" you waved your gun threateningly. You were the only blue player left.
"NEVER!" the leader of the red team shouted back down at you, before ducking back into their fort.
"Surrender…hff…or face my…WRATH!" you cackled, waving around a paint bomb.
"Where in the fresh hells did they get that?!" the red team panicked as you launched it.
As time went on, the people who came in the range chose red team as the blue team slowly died and dwindled away, leaving you the sole survivor. The admissions worker had thought it a normal thing, because in the next few hours, more blue players would come in and overwhelm the red team. It was a vicious cycle of teeter-and-totter…or so he thought.
What really happened was that you aggressively took out all the red team members, and the former blue team felt sympathy. They decided to gang up on you. It didn't help that the only red paint bullet that hit you was the one in the very beginning, when you were distracted by chasing after Frisk instead.
The admissions worker had popcorn now, enjoying what used to be a boring job of watching people shoot each other, to watching people shoot at you. Of course, he felt a little smidgen of pity for you and let you have some paint grenades too.
SPLASH!
Blue splattered on multiple people, not exactly staining their visors, but covering them with enough azure shades that it was clear that if this was a real battlefield, their bodies would be gone.
"DO YOU SURRENDER NOW?!" you shouted, almost breathlessly.
"NEVE—"
The red team leader was going to repeat his refusal but Frisk pulled him down and whispered.
You stared impatiently, waiting for their next move.
"State your terms!"
"Uh…" you stared. "What?"
"You wanted us to surrender. State your terms."
You continued to stare, stunned. You didn't really expect them to ask for…well. If they wanted, then you'll play your part.
"Fully unconditional surrender. Basically, your traitors, who I will execute," you grinned evilly at one of the people you knew switched teams. He flinched. "Your money, your ammunition, your family, wives, and children."
"GASP! YOU HEAR THAT, RED TEAM? BLUE IS A TYRANT! A TYRANT WE MUST STAND UP AGAINST!"
You rolled your eyes in good nature and grinned like silly.
"WE WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS TYRANNY!"
"You gotta catch me first!" you taunted, sticking out your tongue in a mocking manner. "I'll h—"
SPLAT!
You froze.
Turned around.
Frisk grinned at you. They had shot you at point blank range, having snuck behind you when the red team leader traded chitchat with you.
"Oh, it's on."
Frisk started to flee but you didn't let them. With the handy use of your arm, you put them under a headlock while your other hand rummaged in the bag that held all your ammo. Whipping out your bombs, you forgo pulling the plastic zipper and straight out cracked it like an egg onto Frisk's head and into Frisk's hair.
"Get smashed!" you crowed, using all your grenades on Frisk. The blue goo splattered everywhere, and to make it worse, you rubbed it in thoroughly like shampoo. You were still winded from taking out half of the original red team solo, but you had enough energy to dunk this sneaky gremlin. Their hair was a messy of blue when—
SPLAT!
Frisk's hand slaps onto your visor, red paint obscuring your view.
"Oh no," you gasped breathlessly and collapsed dramatically. "I've been defeated."
Suddenly, the sound of the red team whooping and applause sounded from around you. Despite not being able to see the happy expressions of every stranger that became a friend in the span of a paintball war, you could imagine it, and the image was infectious.
You laughed out loud, genuine and belly-achingly infectious, and Frisk grinned at you. It was the most they've ever seen of you, and they wanted more.
They wanted to genuinely be your friend.
*The Last Linebreak that doesn't signify a RESET.*
"You're a pretty cool kid, you know that?" you said, once the two of you got out of the range and cleaned up slightly. The admissions worker had given both of you complementary towels, and though it wasn't the best, it did clean up quite a bit of paint. Your clothes were stiff with sweat and small splatters of paint, but nothing a nice bath wouldn't fix. Your hair on the other hand, well. You would probably need a trim. Luckily, you weren't as bad as Frisk's mess.
"Not as cool as the person who faced a whole battalion of soldiers," Frisk replied. "I never expected you to go solo! That was so COOL!"
"Yeah, well, it's hard NOT to be cool when all your teammates abandon you," you laughed, jamming your hands into your pockets. You had taken off your gloves as those had long since been ruined by a combination of purple paint. It felt weird having bare hands. "Sure, I slaughtered red team, but you gotta pity me for being left behind by my own team."
"If you didn't get left behind, then we would have nobody to face against. There are no heroes if there are no tyrants to fight against!"
"True," you chuckled at their enthusiasm. "Anyways, sorry about your hair. It'll be a pain to get all that paint out."
"I should say the same for you. Why didn't you take off your gloves when we were playing around? Your hands would've been easier to wash than leather," Frisk asked.
"Aesthetics," you shrugged. "What can I say? I like dominating, but I like dominating and looking good even more."
"But what about when it gets really hot?! You'll still wear that?"
"Hell yes. Aesthetics," you grinned easily. "Well, maybe I'll change to fingerless gloves."
(In truth, you wore gloves so you wouldn't leave evidence from crime scenes. There was no hope of killing anyone today though, seeing that the gloves were all covered ruined.)
"Hey, my house is just around the corner. I can ask mom to lend you a shower," Frisk offered.
"No thanks buddy. My place isn't that far, and you need that shower more than I do," you smiled. "By the way, what's your name?"
Frisk froze. Should they…should they tell you now? Would you kill them, once 6 o'clock comes?
"Kiddo? You okay?"
"Frisk. My name…is Frisk."
"…oh. Uh, I'm [Reader,]" you replied, looking a few shades paler.
(You had let your guard down, what the hell were you thinking? Don't get attached to the target. The first rule of assassination, and you broke it willy nilly. Some assassin you were.)
"Uh, kid, I gotta go. I got work early tomorrow morning and all…so yeah. I'll see you later, kay?"
"Yeah."
They knew it. They messed up. They shouldn't have told you. They really thought they've gotten through to you! They—they just needed one more day.
A week later, at the public ceremony—
BANG!
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Frisk heard whispered words in the wind, and a gleam of something other than a weapon—a gleam of a droplet—
("I'm sorry.")
No matter how many times Frisk tried, they never got the same result again.
Every invite to the paintball range was shot down, and you simply walked on. The resulting deaths were always at the public ceremony, a single sniping shot, quick and painlessly in the head. Frisk faintly remembered in the first public ceremony death that the shots were more painfully aimed at their torso.
Trudging with a melting ice cream cone, they turn around the corner once more—
"Oof!"
Your body was as anchored as ever.
"Oh jeez. Sorry kid! You okay?"
Ice cream splattered on the ground.
"Hey, how about I treat you to another one?"
It was all the same.
"Gee kiddo, you look so glum," you said once you got them their vanilla cone. "What's up?"
"The sky," Frisk grinned weakly.
"C'mon now, don't be like that. I'm a stranger, so it's easy to spill your guts to me!" you grinned back. You had no idea how literal your statement was, but you continued. "Whatever's bothering you, I won't judge."
"Well…it's just…I got a lot on my mind," Frisk started slowly, but it was quick to come pouring out. "There are a lot of things I want to do, things that aren't easy, and things that people certainly don't like. I'm trying my best, but sometimes, even my best doesn't work! It's so frustrating, you know? Trying so hard for something, only for it to mean nothing in the end. I…I started out really determined, but now? I just…"
"Feel like giving up?" you finished.
"No! I'll never give up! Giving up does nothing. I want it, so I'll do it!" Frisk huffed.
"That's a good outlook on life. It'll probably get you far kiddo," you chuckled bitterly. "But sometimes, don't you think it's easier to just not care?"
Frisk stared at you. "What?"
"I used to be like you kid. If I want something done, I'd do it myself," you shrugged. "But life doesn't work that way. It's got rules it wants us to follow, and follow it we do. Eventually, I just found myself not caring. Things are the way things are. It's easier that way."
And wasn't that the truth? After all, an assassin has nothing to fight for. Nothing but money.
People who had something to fight for—friends, family, convictions—would never take up the life of a hired killer. Even psychopaths and serial killers were better than assassins in that regard.
"No!" Frisk crossed their arms. "If nobody in the world cared about anything, then what's the point in living?! If only one person cared, then that person would rule over all the others who don't have an opinion! The only reason the world is the way it is, is because people FIGHT for it! People don't ju-just, just…GIVE UP!"
All of a sudden, they realized—they were right. If you didn't care, and they didn't care, who would? Frisk realized that they still had to care, for your sake. Even if you probably didn't feel the same, all these resets have turned you into a sorta-friend already. While the dates weren't really that revealing about you, the times were enjoyable, and when they took you to the shooting range, they saw a human side of you.
Even if your LOVE was high as heaven on a scale of 1 to 20, you were still capable of some good things.
You stared, stunned at the passion Frisk launched at you. Then, slowly, you began to laugh. The way their nose scrunched up when trying to say the words "give up," as if it was wasn't in their vocabulary, was hilarious. "Ha. Haha! Oh, kiddo. Look at me, unloading my burden on you when I offered to listen to yours…"
"N-no, it's fine," Frisk turned away, embarrassed. "I…I think I found my determination again."
"Heh. Well, you spilled your heart to me. Think you can answer me a question?"
"W-what?"
"What's got your spirit to be all down like that in the first place? You don't seem old enough for anything that big. I mean, kids like you stay indoors and play video games!" you commented.
"I'm the monster ambassador."
It spilled out of their mouth before they could stop it.
"Ah. I see," you nodded calmly. Frisk stared at you, not sure if you were truly unfazed or masking it with another one of those assassin personas again. You were such a confusing character—sometimes you were happy throughout the whole timeline, sometimes you got annoyed with no cause at all, and only one time did you show your true face. The one time Frisk could have succeeded in befriending you, and they failed…
Their earlier sour mood began to come back and Frisk stared at the ground. How were they going to bring that human side of you back out again?
(Little did they know, you were already starting to remember what it was like to be human again.)
"Hey, kid. I know it seems really hard right now, but hang in there," you said, patting their head and shaking them out of their reverie. "You remind me of someone—I don't know who really—but it makes me want to root for you. So hang in there."
Frisk just nodded.
"Well, see ya around kiddo."
Frisk hung around, finishing their ice cream before heading home. By the time they were in their room, they waited for their death. It was either tonight or tomorrow morning—at least no two deaths were alike. They wondered what you would do next. Maybe pump the vents with laughing gas? It would be an interesting way to go.
They stared at the ceiling, slowly drifting off in an uneasily sleep.
When morning came and they were still alive, they shook their head. Well, maybe you'll kill them at the public ceremony again. You were just so unpredictable sometimes, but at the same time, you made your enmity rather boring.
No, Frisk wasn't bored, per say. No, they were more…sad. Sad that you weren't a straight out fri—
A piece of paper slipped from their pocket.
(XXX)XXX-XXXX. If you ever need someone to help you.
Frisk's heart skipped a beat.
You never gave them your phone number before. Was it really that easy to get your friendship? Just a few words exchanged over how unfair and tiring the world was? They didn't get you at all.
What did they do different this time? Was this it? Would you stop killing them now?
Frisk allowed their guard to drop. Maybe…yeah. Maybe this was it. Absentmindedly, they remembered that you didn't wear gloves that day. Maybe…you…remember?
A week later, Frisk heard the public ceremony speech again.
"Welcome ladies, gentlemen, and gentle-monsters," Toriel spoke, her voice booming but soft at the same time. "Today, we celebrate the fourth year anniversary of the Surfacing. We monsters knew next to nothing and it took time, but we've integrated into welcoming parts of your society and flourished. For that, I thank you. I thank your open hearts and your open minds, for—"
BANG!
Screams filled the air as a gunshot was recognized. Frisk sat in a daze—they weren't in pain. For once, they were not the ones shot. Instead, a black-clad body was falling from one of the buildings, clearly the victim—oh god, was that you?!
…no…
The body was too bulky. Sure you were a wall of steel, but you weren't that buff. They could also see that the body's hands were bare, and it couldn't be you because you were always wear leather gloves. Always.
The crowds parted as security rushed onto the scene.
"—bzzt—identified—rooftop shooter—bzzt."
Frisk took in a deep breath. So…the shooter wasn't you?
No.
They see you on the other building, close enough to identify your gleaming shades and familiar casual clothes. The large gun you held looked misplaced next to your street apparel. You were the shooter, but today, instead of shooting them, you shot the other shooters.
You seemed to notice their eyes on you. Giving a jaunty wave, you were quick to disappear.
"Good luck, kiddo."
Frisk
Thanks for the save.
(XXX)XXX-XXXX
No problem. I'm rooting for ya.
Frisk clutched their cell phone with a smile.
They were filled with DETERMINATION.
A/N: I'm back babeh! This is actually just a repost of a story I had on Ao3. It was a two-shot that never got updated from a one-shot, but I'm working on it now!