Justice
The boy sighed. He gazed down the deep hole that spread before him. Piles of garbage distant silhouettes below, the rushing of the waterfall at his feet pleasantly echoing around the cavern. He slowly opened the cylinder of the revolver he carried. It was empty. He knew he had left empty cartridges laden throughout the underground. The six original shots long gone. In his other hand sat his cowboy hat, cheap leather, a child's toy. Where nothing else had, these two items had accompanied him so closely throughout the underground. They had been his salvation, his freedom, his survival on too many occasions to count. But at what cost? The monsters feared him. the thunderclap of the revolver's shot the loudest thing many had ever heard in their lives. Pure terror incarnate, and put in the hands of someone they could never trust. He was alone, so alone. He was the person he never wanted to be. Back on the surface, he was the hero, he was always the hero, that's how he played, that's who he was. Down here he was the bandit, the outlaw, the villain, just waiting for the right monster to bring the rest of the underground their happy ending. And he hated it.
When he had first fallen, he was scared. His heart covered in strands of dread, the inherent hopelessness of the unknown. For a while he had simply cried out into the darkness. But nobody came. Eventually he had stood, shaken himself off, and decided who he was going to be, an intrepid explorer, a paragon of justice in a brand new world. So he had marched onwards, the overgrown brick cavern walls his only company. The echoing of distant life his orchestra. His first bullet was spent in the Ruins. A large frog had leapt at him from the shadows, trying to fight him. In fear, he had pulled the trigger. The face of the monster screamed shock for only a moment before it simply crumbled into dust. The bellow of the gunshot seemed sentient, imposing itself in each brick, each corner, each fibre of the Ruins, threatening swift death to any who approached. The boy had stood there in shock, dropping the empty bullet casing upon the ground. As he continued further, he began to notice the eyes of monsters from all angles. He saw them slink away into the shadows, hiding each other from the human, trying desperately not to meet his eyes. He had learned all his life that monsters had no feelings. So then why did he hate himself so much?
Eventually, he reached a small house at the end of the Ruins. It was pleasant enough, if a little lifeless. It looked to be the only place in the Ruins which was kept clean, was kept alive. Inside sat an old monster, one that did not flee from the boy, but simply sat in her chair, looking at the fire. The boy had greeted her. Her head turned, and for a moment, recollection flashed in her eyes, then excitement, then sadness. She looked back to the fire. The boy had asked her name. She had laughed lightly to herself. She told the boy that she wished that she could get her hopes up, that she wished that the boy would listen to her if she told him to stay here with her, but knew he wouldn't. He had asked her what she meant by that. She addressed the boy directly. She told him that she knew that he, like all the other humans, would leave, that they would walk and walk until they met ASGORE, then they would die. She told him that no matter what they tried, they could never beat him, even being as kind as they possibly could. She told him that she knew he would never stay, and that if he was going to leave, to not give ASGORE mercy, as she knew that the second he did, he was vulnerable. The boy had listened to her intently, painting Asgore as the real villain in his mind. He was on a quest to stop the evil ruler of the underground, the killer of humans, the dead to rights murderer. He assured her that no matter what, he would see that Asgore was never to commit a crime again. She stood, hugging the boy as tightly as she could, before leading him by the hand down to the exit to the Ruins. She told him that killing Asgore would be just as bad as what he had performed, that violence should never beget violence. He nodded, opening the door to the Ruins, and stepping out into the icy depths of the underground.
He could remember where each and every bullet he spent laid. Two in Snowdin as he was accosted by a monster in the woods, and a member of the so called "Royal guard" further down the path. Then Snowdin was a ghost town. The other three had been spent in Waterfall. Two as more Royal Guardsmen had appeared to stop him, and one in fear at the screams of an echo flower. He had met no one else in Waterfall.
Still he stared down into the pit. His gun...his one weapon, had done him no good. Had made him the bad guy. His hat reminded him too much of the looks the monsters gave him, the pleads they made as he came close. the fear in their eyes. With a deep breath, he released both, watching them plummet deep into the abyss, joining the piles of garbage which lay at it's base. He exhaled. From this point onwards, he was the hero. He wasn't the murderous human who needed to be stopped by Royal Guardsmen, but was instead the salvation of the underground. The dethroner of a murderous king.
He kept walking. Still monsters shied from him, avoided his gaze, disappeared into shadow. None dared come close. He smiled at them, greeted them, complimented them, but everstill they disappeared. Each failure staining upon his soul, dragging him further from the light he had envisioned. He passed through Waterfall, into Hotland, all the way to the Core, all the while ignored, feared, stigmatised. By the time he reached the large hotel, he was hopeless. He knew he was the bad guy, for the very first time in his life. He hated it, he hated the monsters for what they had made him, but most of all, he hated himself.
It was at the entrance to the CORE that he encountered Asgore. He stood there, in full glinting armour, a large trident resting in his left hand. Their eyes met.
"Human. Are you the one I have heard so much about?" he said in a deep, yet kind voice.
The boy nodded, looking at his feet, heart too crushed to feel anything but a deep disappointment. He was standing here, being lectured to by the last proficient fighter of the underground. Presumably far behind him there were dozens of monsters hiding, the innocent monsters ASGORE was protecting. The hero.
The King adjusted his trident in his hands, looking deeply uncomfortable.
"So you are the one who has been…"
The boy nodded, eyes still pointed at the ground.
"And you did this on purpose?"
The boy hesitated. He certainly knew what pulling the trigger would do. He certainly knew the ramifications of his weapon. But did he do it on purpose? He did it on instinct absolutely. He saw the threat and acted back. If he could have seen any other way, would he have done it? He liked to think he would have. He noticed the King's kind eyes still on him.
The boy shook his head.
"I see."
The boy's insides tore at him.
"Regardless of whether you meant to do it or not, it still comes down to you. The fear that my people hold, the reason they hid from you, you must understand, is all down to you."
The boy nodded, mouth running dry as a mixture of fear and deep regret ran through him.
"And from that, you must know what I must do now."
The boy nodded his head. It was time he supposed for the good guys to get their happy ending.
"I'm sorry human. Goodbye."
The King's eyes fell to the floor, pulling back his trident to make the first thrust. The boy simply stood there, tears running down his cheeks, staring at the ground.
Asgore hesitated. He could see the regret painted on the boy's face. He felt for the child. A young boy forced into action, forced into consequences by hasty actions made a great while ago.
His trident wavered in the air for a moment. His hands trembled. He knew what this would mean. This one strike would bring them just one more strike from freedom. He couldn't give up now, his people needed him. He thrust his trident forward. The boy made not a single effort to dodge. Blood stained the walkway, the boy's cry of pain somehow overpowering the din of the CORE.
The boy crumpled. There was not a shadow of a doubt in his mind that this was the end. He lay there. Knowing that if nothing else, he had done what every good villain should do. The good guys, won. Was he any more of a hero now?
Asgore crouched beside the boy. Cradling his head in his hands. Through the pain, the boy choked out this question to him. A single tear landed on the boy's chest.
"Yes...you always were."
The boy smiled. The pain was nothing. Sure, tears ran down his face, his throat closed , his mouth dry, but through it all, he was the hero. He was the outcome of justice. That's all he ever wanted.
Then he was gone.