DoubleTale: Rewritten

by XWolf26

What if two humans were in the Underground at once? What if one human was DETERMINED to stop the other? What if they could both SAVE? What happens when an Unstoppable Force meets an Immovable Object? When a certain scientist pulls enough of himself together, he finally finds a way to stop the destruction of his world. (Undertale AU. Rewrite of DT.)

85. Chapter 85: Fortune River

Thanks go to Skele, MrChizzle, Eternal, Zillowzest, Wingah, The Real Cooper, adam,mat2007, 10burgers, Doctah Sawbones, 2Strong2SignIn, Acoolnamme, TiredWhiteMayge, GMLxAwesome, Prominent, XelaZagity, Genowar, sauceman95, Zack Frost, CornierComet, Cyan Dynamo, DuckLIT122000, Guest, and ZeraoraTheKnight!

(Woooo 1 AM update this chapter was longer than I thought it would be please god never again this late-)

Holy moly, everybody came outta the woodwork to review last chapter! Thank you guys so so much, I really appreciate it! I'm really happy about all the reviews DT:R got in the last two weeks, because it finally pushed us over the reviews on original DoubleTale! DoubleTale: Rewritten is officially the second most reviewed story in the whole Undertale section, second only to Home by artofskating. It's been a long time getting here, and I really appreciate you guys so much for enjoying my story and being kind enough to leave reviews.

I know it doesn't seem like much, but every review really means a lot to me. I read them all, they all bring me joy. And DT:R finally having more reviews that original DoubleTale really means a lot to me too. Part of the reason I started the Rewrite was that the original felt like this... Thing, looming over me. This work that I couldn't out do, even though I knew it wasn't really that good. At least, it wasn't to me. So, even though most of those feelings have went away seeing how great the Rewrite has been received and how my hard work has paid off, it still really meant and means a lot to me to see it have a higher review count than original DoubleTale. And, hey, who knows! Maybe by the time this thing is wrapped up DoubleTale: Rewritten will hold the number one spot? Wishful thinking.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed because they always review, thank you to everyone who leaves a review just every once in awhile, and thank you to everyone who left their first ever review on last chapter. They all mean a lot to me, and I appreciate you all more than you will ever know.

Anyway, I think I've held you guys up long enough. You probably wanna see what happens with that wacky Gatherer guy and the albino dude, right? Enjoy. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale.

---

I've been thinking, Angel.

On the ground, away from the fight and resting beside the corpse of his Martyr, was Angel The KIND. His eyes were closed, his body taking the rest it had earned. He was so out of it that his skin did not crawl as The Dark slithered around him... Or, perhaps he trusted it. Because he did not flinch as evil set its sights on him, his sleep did not grow restless as the shadows crept closer.

About you, about me. About this thing we've been doing for all these years.

Vantablack stretched in towards Angel, slithered over the scorched ground. Closer and closer. Until a pair of massive, scarlet eyes appeared within the flat, waveless waters. Ruby gemstones with black slit pupils let their gaze rest on the wingless Angel, contemplated the sight of him. Struck down from the sky and laying flat in the earth, just like Anarchy had wanted...

And y'know, for some reason I can't stop thinking about that story you told me. The corny one, with the Scorpion and the Frog.

Slowly, the snout of a Wyrm gradually rose from the inky black waters. The same beast that had clipped Angel's wings and driven him into the dirt was now rising from those mad waters, blinking its massive eyes into the dimming light of this world. Staring, with a maw that could swallow him in an instant, at Angel The KIND.

I think you're right, Angel. I think you are the Scorpion. And I think you already tried to sting me, because I think it's in your nature.

And as its massive form slithered out of the black waters of Anarchy's chaos, it inhaled the smoky air. For the first time it seemed that the beast had some concept of the devastation it had caused, it knew what its thirst for blood had done to the world outside its waters. And it glanced from the molten lake it had turned to stone, back to The KIND man it had struck down.

But, here's the thing, Angel. I'm not a Frog. If I was, we'd both be underwater by now.

From the river of The Anarchist's soul The Wyrm slithered. Its massive body revealed more and more of itself, and it began to coil. It twisted, curled round and round... Shielded him. Angel The KIND, and the Martyr he would morn if The Wyrm's master failed. That monstrosity curled carefully around the both of them, rose its head and parted its jaws. But not to drink The Angel's blood, not this time. Instead, the abomination glared furiously out at the war grounds around it. It watched with the eyes of a guard dog, prepared to rip apart any being that dare try to harm Angel The KIND.

I think I'm a Turtle, Angel. Because I don't think you can kill me.

Across the valley of shadow and death, a good distance from The Wyrm and The Angel it protected, was Anthony The Anarchist. Soaked in blood, as a Killer was meant to be. And yet there he stood between a good man and a tyrant. That crowbar in his hand was suddenly many things that it had never been before. A line of defense, a weapon against tyranny. For the very first time... Anthony wielded his Inheritance not to end a life, but to protect one.

And even though I heard your stinger snap on my shell, and I know you tried to kill me, it's my choice whether you live or die.

Across from Anthony was the most Unfortunate Son a Killer like him could ever know. Hair out of place, soot and sweat alike stained The Gatherer's skin. On his arms those serpentine brands twisted and coiled, filled his head with their lies. Far behind him, The Wingless fusion had been knocked aside and removed from the battle. The Traitor too had hastily disappeared, as was their way. They abandoned their lord and master there, alone with the enemy. And Anarchy's scarlet eyes burned holes in Xander's forehead, his stare was unyielding.

I can see the other side of the river too, Angel.

Anny turned his head then, glanced briefly over his shoulder and back towards The Angel he'd dragged from the sky. He was shielded now, protected by the might of his Darkness. But, a little ways ahead of the coiled Wyrm, Anny thought he could see something else. Through the steam that still trickled off the obsidian floor, staring out at him with KIND green eyes, Anny thought he could see his brother. A little boy in a hoodie that he wouldn't grow into for a few years, staring with pleading emerald eyes. Eyes that remembered the beginning more clearly than Anny. Eyes that hoped for a good ending more than Anny had let himself hope in years. Silently, The Anarchist nodded to that boy. Then, he turned his eyes back to The Balor King. And in The Angel's name, he bared his fangs.

And I'm gonna get you there.

Chapter 85: Fortune River

Or: The Scorpion And The Frog Part 3

---

The whole multiverse watched on the edge of their seat. Somewhere, Asriel was trying not to pull fur out of his head. The Dreemurr family found themselves in a tense silence, each of them wrestling with the fact that the only person left to root for was Anthony The Anarchist.

Somewhere, Aliza was once again reassured of the purity of Anarchy's soul. He'd heard her name and he had recognized it, and once again she had to wonder what her value was to him. But that wasn't important, what was important was that her hero was facing a tyrant. And he needed her too cheer him on.

Somewhere, pink eyes watched the horde of humanity scramble with newfound FEAR of the banner they'd rallied under. Betty had watched the truth be dragged out of Xander The Gatherer with everyone else, and she just might have smiled if it wasn't for the albino that had done it.

Somewhere, Nephilim remembered what the Angel in them knew. A unique ache was created in their soul when they watched Gatherer steal Chara's soul, because they knew what it was like to be an Angel and they knew that part of them would destroy itself to prevent such a thing from happening. But, at the same time... Seeing Anthony stand in defense of an Angel, it brought that same part of them a form of peace. Some lingering scab healed over, cured by the knowledge that the bright eyed boy Cter remembered so fondly was not gone.

Everywhere, CORE Frisk watched with wide eyes and a shaken soul. They did not know what to think, did not know where to place their faith. The Angel had failed, but they did not care for him. The Anarchist had switched teams, but CORE hated him more than all the others. So they stood there, perplexed and frozen, as the page turned before their very eyes and the next chapter in this new era began.

And somewhere... Mako had tears streaming down her face. The Angel had reached Anthony, but at what cost? The beast that stood between The Angel and Xander now did in fact kill in the name of peace, but it killed all the same. The Ivory Ghoul was not the man Mako had come to care for, so she did not know if she should feel relief or horror to see it dragged from her Anthony.

Regardless of the opinions of those Anthony loved and those Anthony hated, he marched forward all the same. Brandished his Inheritance all the same. If not for the soul hidden in his inventory, Xander would have already been made into a red smear beneath The Anarchist's crowbar. But The Balor King still had something that Anthony needed, so he would have to make this slow and painful.

"Of all the people to buy into Angel's bullshit..!" Gatherer snarled, lightning crackling on his fingers. He threw up his hand and blasted magenta voltage from all five finger tips, sneering while he watched his lightning merge into one bolt and fire out towards The Ivory Ghoul. Gatherer shouted over the roar of his firepower, "I believed in you, Anthony! How could you betray me?!"

"You've needed an ass beating your whole life, Xander!" Anthony snapped while he yanked back his right hand and opened his palm, clenching his fingers together. Red energy exploded to life up his hand, before he swung it forward and effortlessly bitch slapped that lightning bolt aside. The moment his energy crackling hand connected with that electricity it was sent exploding out in the opposite direction. It crashed across the obsidian floor, exploded against a jagged stone wall while The Ivory Ghoul continued his unstoppable march forward. "If you didn't want me to deliver it, you shoulda stayed honest!"

"After all the lies he's told! All the people he's killed!" Gatherer's words were punctuated by the roar of his flames. He threw his other hand out towards Anarchy, and on his command a wave of fire swept out towards The Ivory Ghoul in a white flare. And Gatherer watched him walk right into the blaring flames, screaming over their crackle. "He left you to die! He stabbed you in the back! You think a liar like him deserves any honesty at all?!"

"Oh but it isn't Angel you lied to, now is it?" Anthony's scarlet glare appeared in the twisting flames, the glow of his soul pierced through the fires of Xander's magic. In the next instant The Anarchist marched out the other side of that ivory torrent, embers burning out against his unharmed skin. Frown carved into his face and Inheritance clenched in his fist, The Anarchist continued on his warpath towards The Gatherer. "Take it from me, Xander. Two wrongs ain't gonna make a right."

"Save your hero speech for someone who gives a shit!" Gatherer snarled, flames exploding to life on his horns. Pupils shrunk and eyes bloodshot, his face twisted with rage as he threw his crackling palm forward. But before any flames could blast out of his grasp, Anarchy darted forward at sonic speed. In an instant he had closed the distance between the two of them, yanked back that crowbar so fast Gatherer didn't even have a chance to recoil.

Pain crashed in hairline fractures through the front of Gatherer's skull when that curled steel blasted right into his nose. Blood spewing out of his nose and eye sockets, Xander was sent rocketing back through the air at mache speed. But Anarchy wasn't done with him yet - he made that clear with the pincer that tore out from his shoulder. The scorpion clamp exploded forward on a stretching shadow arm, rapidly closing in on the concussed Gatherer and crushing its vice shut around his ankle. Gatherer barely had time to cry out in agony before that pincer zipped back, dragging him right back through the air towards Anarchy.

Furiously The Gatherer screamed, those madness poisoned eyes locking on to the Killer he was being dragged back towards. He threw the both of his hands down towards him, not even bothering with the pincer grinding his ankle to dust in its grip and instead firing more twin death rays from his hands at the unflinching Anarchist. The waves of boiling heat exploded right into his chest and engulfed Anarchy in a blast of heat and smoke.

The sight of him disappearing into that brutal flare brought a wicked grin to Gatherer's lips, even though that pincer was still dragging him into the flame. He yanked one knee to his chest and prepared to blast a kick into whatever half melted face awaited him on the other side of the fire, but he never reached it. Another pincer darted out of the crashing flames, shot in like a right hook and blasted itself in a titanium punch against Xander's side.

Crunches vibrated through Gatherer's ribcage as his body bent around that iron chitin. The pincer holding him released his shattered ankle, and from the force of the second pincer's punch he was sent launching to the left. The Balor King was only airborne for a few more seconds before he hit the stony ground he had created, bounced and rolled over it. Dirt was rubbed into his wealthy flesh, scars raked across his skin. Expensive clothes tore, his priceless watch shattered. and finally, his back slammed into an obsidian chunk, and he gasped from the agony it sent shooting through his shattered ribcage.

"... Do you know what power means, Xander?" Anthony's voice barely registered to The Gatherer over the sound of his own pained gasping. After spitting up a mouthful of blood, The Balor King managed to lift his head and look towards the man that had knocked him down. He was on his hands and knees in the dirt, it hurt to breathe. Stupid DETERMINATION wasn't healing him fast enough... Through the blood trickling down his still busted face, Xander glared at Anthony. That did not slow The Bastard Son, however. He marched on, let his shadow stretch over the Fortunate Son while he answered his own question. "No... How could you? You were born with power in your name, your destiny in one fist and a wad of money in the other."

"S-shut up..." Xander grumbled, one hand resting over his aching abdomen. He struggled to keep his head from dropping into the dirt, his brain screamed for his muscles to move but all they did was tremble and shake. So he spat, hawked a red stained loogie at the feet of the Killer looming over him. "You don't know anything..!"

"I was born in a bathtub, Xander. My mother screamed into a night that laughed back at her, unmedicated and in agony. She was frail, she was weak..." Anarchy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but Xander didn't care. He frothed and he glared and he remained defiant even as Anthony planted the sole of his boot on the back of his head and shoved his ugly mug into the cracked obsidian floor. The Bastard Son ground Gatherer's red misting face into the unforgiving earth, spoke over his growls and curse words. "Her reward was a son that looked identical to the man that left her alone in that cruel Darkness."

"Well, maybe if your mother hadn't been a Ghoul loving whore-..!" Anarchy's expression flickered with rage when he heard those words, and he lifted his boot only to crash it back down into the back of The Gatherer's head, shutting him up immediately. That broken face blasted into the obsidian floor so hard cracks spiderwebbed out around the impact, and Anthony didn't bother letting Xander come up for air. He just stood there, grinding his heel into the base of Gatherer's skull and rubbing his face in the ground like so many mean boys had done to him a life time ago.

"I was born into filth and Darkness. But you, Xander. You were born in a delivery room, slid out of a painkilled mother with a father at her side." The mention of his parents was enough to make Gatherer throw up his hand, pointing two smoking and sparking finger tips up in Anarchy's general direction. He could not see with his face grinding into stone, but he still dared fire a blast of violet voltage up at Anarchy's head. Anarchy, unfazed, tilted his head to the right and let that blast sail over his shoulder and into the scorched sky he'd played a heavy hand in creating. Then, he grabbed hold of the hand Gatherer had so carelessly raised to him, bending it back and pointing those electric claws away from himself. "You don't know what it's like to go hungry, never had to learn to avoid eye contact just to go another day without a maiming. You were sleeping in a memory foam mattress while I was beaten into unconsciousness on a concrete floor."

"G-get to the point, windbag..!" Xander snarled, managing to look up at The Anarchist from his eye's corner. With his face torn, bleeding and pressed into the ground, he still didn't listen. Even as Anarchy bent his hand back and threatened his wrist with a fracture, The Gatherer didn't bother considering his words. He was a Bastard, after all. Born as a serf for the kingdom that Xander was meant to rule. What knowledge could he have of power? His might was a fluke! He should have died in that basement at his mother's hand!

"You never had to wish for a hero Xander, and you never to pry power out of fate's hand just to survive!" Anarchy snapped, tired of Xander's stubbornness. DETERMINED to make him learn, he removed his boot from Xander's filthy hair just to yank him into the air by the arm he had ahold of. He swung The Gatherer up through the air like a pillowcase full of oranges, snarled as he pulled him right up over his head just to throw him back down. Xander was whipped right back into the stone floor of his iced over flames; it shattered apart beneath his impact, sent obsidian shards flinging apart around him. He hit the earth so hard he bounced, but Anarchy lifted one boot to catch him.

"You inherited Fortune, I inherited a crowbar and every single one of these scars!" Anarchy crashed his foot down into Xander's chest, stomped him right back into the cracked earth he was trying to rise from. Crunches echoed out of Gatherer's chest when he was planted back in the stone, sending even more splinters crashing through the floor. His jaws snapped apart just so that he could hack red globs up onto his torn and bleeding face, and still Anarchy snarled down at him. "To understand power, you have to learn what it means to be powerless! And don't you worry Xander, I'm gonna teach ya."

Twitching eyes glared up at into the unyielding scarlet of The Ivory Ghoul's glare. Gatherer's face was bruised and scraped, blood poured down from all the lacerations Anthony had carved into him and painted Xander a crimson mask. Those pretty scales were peeled off the serpent's body now, and all that was left was the ugly worm beneath.

"So go on, make a wish." Anarchy punctuated his sentence by spitting down into the carved up face of a false king. He held him in place under his boot, watched him squirm and heard him groan as he pushed down harder on the sternum his stomp had shattered. His lips peeled back to reveal his sharpened fangs, and he asked in a sinister growl... "If you could have a super power, what would it be?"

---

"Eden!" Character called out urgently, ducking their head down some while they ran towards the downed PERSERVERANCE soul. That punch had fractured their skull, busted their jaw and caused undoubtable brain damage, but their fused soul put them back together well enough. That said, their regeneration was slowing down, they were sure of it. They felt exhaustion in their bones, the Deltarune was heavier than usual on their back.

Still, they had found the strength to pull themself out of the ground when they heard Eden scream. Without much thought they had forced themself to start hobbling towards where she lay, and they winced at the red droplets that decorated the trail of cracked obsidian that lead to where her body had been left. For reasons beyond Character's understanding, their shared mind remembered Asriel then, remembered Granny.

And they grit their teeth at those memories, shook their head and pushed those stupid worries away. What did they care if Xander's little brat died, anyway? They should be running for the hills. Let Anarchy turn that petulant rich boy and his dumb followers into red paste, it was what they deserved. Character had the perfect chance to slip away; murder hobo life wasn't great but it was way better than this. And yet here they were, the only Chara and Cter in this timeline who had managed to duck a full force Anarchy ass beating, kneeling at Eden's side instead of using this chance to get the fuck outta the blast radius.

"Eden, are you-? Eeeee..." The fusion grimaced the moment they had a close look at Eden's arms. Skin had bruised purple and black, blood overflowed through skin that had been blasted open by brute force. Laying limp at her sides, Character likened those arms to half empty tubes of toothpaste. They were bent wrong, skin stretched and folded over an ulna and radius that were in pieces. If healing magic didn't exist, Character was certain amputation would have been the only option for her. They would have liked to set the bone, but... Fuckin' A, where were they supposed to start? "Ah, UnderChrist..."

"C... Char... Acter..?" Eden's voice drew Character's eyes to her face, weak as it was. Her dark skin had gone pale, her eyes hadn't even opened to look at them. Ice cold sweat was pouring down her face, her mouth hung open in agonized gasping. And Character wanted to reach out, put a hand on her shoulder and let her know that they were there and that she wasn't alone, but... She looked so fragile, they were afraid they would hurt her.

"Yeah, it's us. We're, we're here." Character hoped that sounded comforting to Eden, because it certainly didn't to them. They continued to look her injuries over, as if they would suddenly spot just the right bone fragment and know exactly how to heal her. Their brows twitched with frustration when their thoughts drifted back to Predator's stupid green soul, and even the halo Angel could form. Maybe if they were more KIND... Shaking their head, they didn't consider their words before saying them. "We're gonna get you out of here, it's going to be okay..!"

"Xan... der..." Eden gasped, and Character's eyes narrowed. They dared to look in the direction of The Anarchist from the corner of their eye, their jaw tightened at the sight of Gatherer laying under his foot. Eden's body twitched with some sort of life, but electric agony rocked her nervous system and reminded her to be still.

"... He's, still alive. But it's up to Anarchy if he stays that way." Character frowned at their own words, they had some idea of how it would sting Eden. Piece of shit or not, Xander was important to her. She had looked up to him, and there was a time when he was good to her. After Cliff died he had been there for her, but... That Xander was gone now, and his husk was at Anarchy's mercy. Character didn't wanna think about what all this meant, though. They just wanted to scoop up Eden and get outta this shithole timeline. "Whatever happens now is out of our hands. We've gotta go."

Eden must not have liked that idea, because she immediately tried to sit up. And Character flinched, watching as she cried out from her own attempt at motion and dropped back onto the cruel obsidian floor. Still she twitched and tried to move in spite of all the pain that it caused her, and the fusion finally reached out and put a hand on her shoulder to try and keep her in place. Confusion and fear twisting Character's expression, they cried out. "Hey, stop! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

Character winced at the sight of tears overflowing from her clenched shut eyes, planting their other hand on her opposite shoulder to try and hold her in place. Still she kicked her legs and shook her head, gasping and grunting with the pain it caused her. And Character didn't understand why seeing her cry and writhe bothered them like it did, didn't know why a knot was tightening in their stomach at the sight of her tears. It was all they could do to push her back onto the ground with a little extra force, "Eden! You have two mutilated limbs! Fuckin' relax before you screw yourself up worse!"

"I-I couldn't, stop him..!" Eden found the strength to cry out, and Character's brows furrowed with confusion. She stopped her struggling to gasp for air, and though she was limp again Character didn't let go of her. They didn't trust that she wouldn't start trying to get up again. But it hurt too much, and Character was too strong, so instead Eden leaned her head back into the scorched floor. And while tears streamed out from her clenched shut eyes, she cried out to no one in particular. "I wasn't, s-strong enough..!"

"What are you talking about?!" Asked a frantic and confused Character. Didn't she get that they were running outta time? Eventually Xander would stop regenerating and Anarchy would finish playing with his corpse, and then they'd be the ones in danger! She should have been focusing on getting the F outta H, not about whatever she was rambling about. What, did she have a concussion or something?

"Cliff..!" Eden's voice suddenly called out, and Character's eyes went wide. Their pupils shrunk, that knot in their stomach tightened. They remembered the floor they'd been staring at, the wall they had hid behind while Eden's brother was murdered. And they tasted bile in the back of their throat as Eden's voice cracked and broke while she spoke through her sobs. "And Mew Mew, And Undyne, a-and Flowey..! They all died r-right in front of me, and there wasn't a thing I could, do about it..!"

"I don't..! I-I don't, understand..! W-why am I so weak..?!" That poor girl continued to scream into the void, choking on sobs along the way. Her teeth grit, her lips quivered and tears mixed with the sweat and dirt that already detailed her face. And Character watched in silent horror as their own misery twisted the beaten and broken Eden. "Now I'm g-gonna lose Xander too, a-and there's nothing I can do!"

"..." No part of Character had any idea what to say to that. They opened their mouth to talk, but nothing came out. They remembered what it was like for Angel, laying on his back in the pouring rain. Down an arm, a few ribs and a Granny because he wasn't strong enough. In Eden's tears they saw the reflection of the red in their eyes, and it made their hands tremble on her shoulders.

"Y-you were wrong..!" Eden cried out in her hysterics. Her eyes remained shut, she didn't see the way Character hung their head low. Didn't see the way they trembled, didn't know that shadows had covered their scarlet eyes. To her, the world was dark. All she knew was the burning pain shooting up and down her arms and the violent explosion of pent up emotion in her chest. "Cliff died to p-protect what he cared about, and all I can do is l-lay here and cry..! He wouldn't be proud of me, Hacker! I-I know he wouldn't be..!"

Those words struck Character like a lightning bolt. They slowly removed their hands from Eden's shoulders, and now they sat there on their knees. Head low, their hands gripped the knees of their torn up pants. Thoughts vibrated in their shared head, rumbled in their brain until they felt dizzy. Why were they even sitting here? Why did they bother listening to her belly aching? Run, stupid legs! Run!

"What we understand is that cowards don't grow wings."

Gravity weighed heavy on Character The Wingless. Slowly, they turned their head. Through the shadows running down their face they peered into the flames and shockwaves in the distance. Their eye was wide, pupil was shrunken. They were trembling, with frustration and indecision. They knew it was hopeless, and they knew they were supposed to run. To survive, to keep existing, to do... To do what? What was there for them beyond this? Beyond The Angel laying defeated, the soul Xander had stolen? Beyond The Anarchist, beyond the girl laying in tears before them?

Character's teeth grit, they ground and grinded. Their body trembled and shook, their soul flickered and flared... Before a growl started in their throat. And it grew, as memories flashed in their eyes and old words taunted them. From a growl to a groan,

"No, no... No Angel... No wings. Ha... No wings..! No wings! Hahahahahaha!"

And then to a snarl.

"You two need to grow up!"

Onward to a shout,

"KINDNESS is conviction! It's the hardest choice and the best result!"

And then a yell.

"The problem isn't me, it isn't Angel, it isn't even any of the screwed up stuff that happened when you were kids! It's! You!"

A scream...

"There's still time for you two. You can still earn a pair of wings."

And finally, to a roar.

With a crash, Character's fist sent cracks exploding through the obsidian floor. Frustration boiled over, and a decision was made whether they liked it or not. Between Anarchy and that stupid ache in their chest, they thought they had a better chance against the albino. Grabbing two handfuls of their head and pulling some of their own hairs out, they continued to made angry caveman noises for another few moments before finally they forced out a few words. "Alright, alright! Turn off the fuckin' water works! We'll handle it!"

"H-huh..?" Finally, Eden managed to open one of her eyes. That weakened purple reflected some in the tears that stained her eyes, and though her vision was still blurry she looked up at Character. She stammered, "W-... What..?"

"We'll save that Napoleon moron for you! Christ!" Character shoved themself to their feet. They were shaking their head; boy did they look pissed. Regardless, as they paced around and threw their hands into the air, they did not double back on their words. They looked back down to Eden, and irritably offered her the help that they had never received. "So stop crying! Everything's gonna be fine!"

W-... Why would you..?" Eden barely managed to ask between her gasps for air. Her eye still peered up at the furious duo, reflected a sort of surprise and relief that Character didn't understand and couldn't relate to. But she was still confused, because she knew how awful those two really were. Or, at least she thought she knew.

"Because we've got a heart of gold." Character answered swiftly and sarcastically, spinning on their heel. They faced death across the obsidian fields, and they hardly looked amused or impressed. A frustrated and jaded expression detailed their face, what power they had flared in their soul. And Eden stared at the tattoo across their shoulder blades, "BAD KARMA"... Hands of ink fired out of their shoulders, and Character looked back down at the first person they'd ever went out of their way to help. "You're still a kid, Eden. What's going on isn't your fault, and it isn't your job to handle it. This is between us Fortune folk."

"..." Eden watched in silence as Character The Wingless began to march onward and away from her. Without another moment's hesitation they grit their teeth, clenched their fists and began a journey into the mouth of The Scorpion. And Eden didn't understand, how could she? Why would these two selfish murderers choose to die on her hill? For her dream, for her conviction and not their own. They had everything to lose and nothing to gain, didn't they understand? With what strength she had, Eden forced herself to call out. "W-wait..! Character..!"

"Whaaat?!" Character borderline snapped at her, their head once more turning to look at her from over their shoulder. Just because they were helping minimize the munchkin's trauma didn't mean they were the least bit happy about it. But, their attitude failed to deter Eden. And though she was unable to smile in these dire straights, she still offered what she could.

"T-... Thank you..." Eden managed to choke out. She felt her throat tightening again. More tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't know why. Certainly she wasn't crying for a pair of murderers, right? Maybe it was just the pain that was making her tear up again...

"Y-yeah, well! You! Uhh!" Character tried to give a sarcastic, irritable, or snarky response. But nothing came; they fumbled over their words as Eden's gratitude settled over them. They, were doing something nice for someone, and they were thanked for it. That was a uh... A unique feeling. They rolled their eyes at their own softness, turned their stare forward again and shook their head. After some light grumbling they responded begrudgingly, "... Yeah, you're welcome."

They didn't say anything else to Eden after that - didn't exactly have time to spare. They began a brisk march forward and left her there where it was safe... Ish. They didn't bother worrying about a plan or what ifs, just kept their eyes forward and their pace brisk. Whatever happened next would happen, whether they liked it or not.

*Between Fortune folk, huh?

"... You don't have to stick with me on this." Hacker answered through their shared mouth, scarlet eyes not having to read the words Demon had wrote in that text box because Character already knew them. Their left fist clenched, and their expression grew more tense. "Everything that's happening now started in Fortune City. You and Eden don't belong in the crossfire."

*Ha! When'd you get all noble?

"Hey, you're walkin' right with me, aren'tcha?" Hacker smirked some at Demon's words, reassured by their teasing. Still their shared eyes stared straight ahead, their feet felt the earth tremble under Anarchy's power.

*Yeah, and that's where I'm staying. You and me against the world, Angel. However this thing plays out, we'll see it through together.

"..." Hacker didn't respond, but Character did crack a smile. Ink hands clenching into fists, they rolled their shoulders and cracked their neck. Then, in their unified voice Character spoke. "Then lets do this."

---

"I WISH FOR YOU TO GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

The Only Thing They Fear Is You (Reborn Mix) by Kaffeekatze began playing again.

With Xander's scream came an explosion of heat. The obsidian floor beneath the two of them blew apart, and more magma fired out in geysers around two of the Fortune City Four. Anarchy growled at this, looked to the molten heat like it was a nuisance and not certain death. But regardless, he did pull his foot out of Gatherer's sternum and jump back a few feet to avoid the lava closing in.

The air shimmered and waved as that molten stone raged around The Balor King. It moved like water, lifting into a whirlpool and curling in a vicious current around him. The walls of of that magma whirlpool reached into the air, just high enough to obscure The Gatherer within. And Anarchy watched, ready to move and beat back whatever attack Xander may have been preparing.

"A super power?! I AM a super power!" With The Gatherer's roar those boiling walls lifted higher. More geysers of cooked stone crashed up from the Lake Of Fire that Anthony's madness had frozen over. His scarlet eyes darted between the few pillars of molten heat now reaching into the air, and his jaw tightened with irritation.

"It's YOU, Anthony! You're the one who is weak!" Those fiery walls lowered around The Gatherer, revealing him to be standing once more. He was slouched forward, mad eyes locked onto The Bastard Son while red mist rose from his body. His face was bloody, his horns were sparking and flaming. His shirt had torn and ripped, it now hung on by one of his shoulders. The tattoos on his arms seethed and writhed, coiling and hissing their fury as The Gatherer dared point his finger at Anthony. "You lack the conviction to do what's right! Your mind is weak, and you are alone! I am the penultimate power in this multiverse, and it's YOU that had better fall in line!"

Anthony didn't answer that, he didn't need to. Instead, he planted one foot forward, and in an instant he was launching across the rumbling obsidian. Gatherer barely had time to lean his head back and widen his eyes before The Anarchist was right in front of him. Eyes igniting scarlet DETERMINATION and right fist vibrating with power, he blasted a punch right between the eyes of The Balor King.

The force'a that punch made Xander go cross eyed just before it sent him firing backwards at sonic speed. He whipped through the air head first, blinking dilating pupils and fighting off brain hemorrhaging with his DETERMINATION. He sailed for as long as Anarchy deemed fit, before finally his shadow ripped open beneath him. Out from it a worm's jagged maw darted, opening wide with its insatiable hunger.

That worm launched right up, crunching its jaws shut around Gatherer's sides and catching him from the air. The agony ripping through his flesh combined with the whiplash of his sudden stop got Xander back to his senses just in time, and he planted his hands and feet in the ground before that wretched thing could drag him back down into the shadow from whence it came. A rabid beast, the moment it tasted Xander's blood it started to shake its head, ripping and tearing its fangs deeper into his flesh and pouring more red over its greedy tongue.

"Die, filth..!" Xander snarled through grinding teeth. The snakes on his arms lashed out, sunk their molten fangs into either side of the wretched maw trying to bite through their master. Their boiling venom killed the worm in an instant, and the scorched and melted head of the beast plummeted back into the shadows. With the portal to Anarchy's Darkness closed beneath him, the blood soaked Gatherer dropped flat on his back and gasped for air.

Hastily he flipped over onto his hands and knees, staring with wide eyes into his own shadow beneath him. His blood soaked shirt barely managed to cling to his skin, his DETERMINATION barely managed to close up the holes and tears that beast had left in his sides. So focused was he on trying to get his head straight, that The Gatherer didn't even notice Anarchy diving into the air in the distance behind him. He just sat there on his hands and knees, staring into the infinite blackness that lurked just beneath him.

Anarchy crashed down from above. He slammed his boot right into the back of Xander's head again, this time with enough force to drive his skull right through that darkness he was struggling to perceive. The Obsidian floor exploded up around Gatherer's impact, his entire head was planted through the stone like some mad seed in a dead garden. So much force had thrown his head straight down that his legs shot straight up, and Anarchy's hand snatched out to grab him by the ankle.

Gatherer might have worried about suffocating in the stone he had been buried in, if Anarchy didn't pull him out by the leg with ligament tearing force. He yanked him right out of the earth by the ankle he'd grabbed, ripping him through the air over his head and smashing him spine first into the ground ahead of him. Shards of obsidian blasted up through the air, a crater indenting the earth around The Balor King's impact. He was thrown down so hard he bounced, before tumbling back into his hole and laying there on his back.

Snarling, Anarchy grabbed a fistful of Xander's shirt and attempted to pull him up by it. And when his shirt tore and was instead ripped from the beaten king's body, Anarchy realized Gatherer's chest was glowing with a burning orange light. By the time he looked up to see Xander's maw snap open, that light had already raced up the king's throat and into the back of his mouth. With a savage roar, Xander The Gatherer breathed a beam of fire right into Anarchy's face at point blank range!

Anarchy recoiled, leaned right back as his head disappeared into the raging flames of Gatherer's wrath. He stumbled right back out of that death beam, grabbing with his free hand at his now smoking face. Black smog and red steam alike lifted from his skull melted skinless, but The Balor King wasn't done. Throwing his hands up from where they had laid at his sides, he pointed all ten of his electricity crackling fingers at The Bastard Son. And with the same hands he'd try to steal the world with, The Fortunate Son blasted ten bolts of lightning right into the chest of Anthony The Anarchist.

And Anthony writhed. His body, illuminated entirely in the violent violet light of The Gatherer's power, tensed and seized. Gatherer grinned from one ear to the other, he could see the wretched Ghoul's skeleton with all the power crackling through him. Lightning blasted Anarchy's organs to pieces, exploded out of his skin in search of any exit. Launching through him to the metal he held, it channeled through his fingers and out of his crowbar until his fingers blew apart and his crowbar was flung off a few feet away.

And Gatherer roared right with Anarchy as he poured more and more of his vile magic into him. Melted his flesh, ruptured his organs, destroyed his eternal body. The Balor King cackled with delight, he was certain he had won all the way until that Scorpion stinger launched out from Anarchy's tail bone. Crackling with the same electricity that rocked the rest of his body, Anarchy's stinger still found the strength to dart forward. Over Anthony's head and - as the king recoiled in disbelief - right into Gatherer's chest.

In an instant the electricity shut off. In the split second he'd had to react, Gatherer knew that stinger connecting with his chest would send all of his own voltage blasting back into his own body, completing the circuit and blasting his heart out his back. So he stopped firing that lightning mere milliseconds before the stinger pierced his chest, but pierce him it did. Tipped with Dark poison, it drove itself right into the sternum of The Balor King with such force that it drove him back through the stone and turned his crater into a trench.

His mouth hanging open in a silent gasp, Xander's wide eyes stared down at the point driven into his body. He could feel a cold spilling through him, Darkness flickered in his vision. On his arms, those snake tattoos stopped their burning. At that wretched point yanked itself right out of The Gatherer's sternum, retracting rapidly back into the tail bone of The Anarchist.

Anarchy did not look to be in the best shape either in that exact moment. Collapsing to one knee, his body was violently tremoring with foreign electricity. Scarlet flames had ignited all across his skin, red smoke billowed out from his mouth and nose. His wide, bloodshot eyes stared with shrunken pupils at the ground before him while he wrangled his central nervous system and struggled to get ahold of his motor functions.

It was right about then that one black hand on an extending ink arm fired out from somewhere in the distance, out of Anarchy's blurry line of vision. And he watched with a trembling rage as that ink hand wrapped tight around Xander's prone body, snatching him from the ground and immediately retracting backwards on its stretched out arm. And Anarchy watched, facial expression twitching with rage as Character, the fusion he was nice enough to let off easy, dragged The Fortunate Son back towards themself with one of those pathetic hands they could sprout from their shoulders.

"C'mere, you dumb asshole!" Character spoke frantically, catching The dazed Gatherer in their arms and immediately turning on their heel. They threw his beaten and bloody body over their shoulder while they jumped forward, launching ahead a few dozen feet before they dropped back to the obsidian scorched earth. The moment they landed they jumped once more, retreating rapidly with their hallucinating leader hanging over their shoulder like the bag'a garbage they thought he was. They shouted to him frantically, "If we get you outta this we better get such a raise!"

Xander didn't respond. Slung over their shoulder, he hung limp, staring with delusional eyes down towards the black charred floor he was being carried over. He did not see obsidian, however. Blinking and wincing his eyes, Gatherer saw a river of black water beneath him. Through the grey, he could see people. Weighed down by concrete blocks, they reached up towards him. Their eyes a glowing red and their hands rotted to bone, they prayed for him to fall through the water. They would drag him to the bottom, be his concrete shoe and drown him in The Dark.

A flash of red in the distance caught Character and Gatherer's attention both, the former looking over their free shoulder to see an explosion of DETERMINATION while the former saw nothing but a massive splash in the river of Darkness. Character shouted something to The Balor King, but Gatherer didn't hear him. He just watched, sweat pouring down his face, as massive red eyes appeared in the inky blackness below. A massive creature, serpentine. It slithered through the depths, just beneath the surface and just above all the dead hands reaching up to drag Xander down. A leviathan, a Wyrm. It's massive body slithered through Anarchy's river of Darkness, and its bloodthirsty eyes rested on the venom stricken Gatherer.

"Earth to Xander!" Character shouted as they descended towards the obsidian floor, earning a few week flinches and flails from The Gatherer. They were able to keep their hold on him though, and they jumped right back up the moment their feet hit the solid ground. Frantically Character glanced to their sides, keeping their eyes peeled for any flanking maneuver from The Anarchist while they shouted to Xander. "Is he chasing us or what?!"

"... Leviathan..." Was all Xander managed to mutter. He stared, dripping iced sweat and feeling a fearful chill strangle his body, down into the infinite Darkness below. And before Character could ask him what on earth he was talking about, the shadow that followed beneath them exploded open. Xander watched the river of Darkness blast up in terrifying tidal waves around the shape of The Wyrm, and Character watched the Wyrm launch out of their own shadow and up towards them with reckless abandon.

It blasted its skull right into the fusion and their carry on, throwing its head back and slamming into the two with enough force to throw them off balance. Sent flinging through the air, Xander's limp body flew right out of Character's hands. He flipped once or twice, didn't even bother flailing his limbs to try and get his balance. With Scorpion venom coursing through his veins, it was all The Gatherer could do to watch the ground race closer and closer. The hands of the dead reached up to him, the frosty Dark waters of the river awaited him below.

CRACK!

Character cringed, expression scrunching and arms drawing near to themself as they watched Xander hit the stone floor face first. It was something like a twenty foot drop, he'd survived worse blunt force trauma. But, seeing him bounce once and then settle into the dirt flat on his face wasn't easy to watch, and his complete lack of motion after the fact was far from reassuring. But, no soul floated out of his body, so Character figured he wasn't dead.

The fusion had better luck with their landing than Xander - they'd flipped in air, straightened themself out and landed on their feet. But, that also meant they were the last one standing. And with one Wyrm looming over them, leaning its head down and locking those vicious eyes on Character, they sorta wished they had just pretended to go down like Xander and played possum.

But, as Character was trying to figure out how they'd regenerate having their skin washed off by one'a those Geysers the Wyrm could spit up, the enormous serpent... Began to shrink. It sunk back into the Dark pool it had exploded out of, all while The Wingless watched it with skeptical scarlet eyes. Gradually, every foot of its massive body dropped back into the endless Darkness lurking beneath Character's feet. And they gulped as its head began to sink under the water, as they made eye contact with the Wyrm's furious crimson orbs.

And Character would have hoped that they'd be relieved to see the beast disappear back into The Dark, but they weren't. Because in its place, standing atop the black waters rapidly returning to a normal shadow, was Anthony The Anarchist. Drenched in blood and viscera from people The Wingless had known for three years, people he had Killed in an instant. His crowbar in hand, The Bastard Son shook his head as his frown dug deeper into his face. "How many Angels and Charas am I gonna have to kill today?"

"We don't wanna fight!" Character was quick to object. They took a step back and threw up their hands, but it did little for Anarchy's exhausted conscious. And they would have loved to have added something on to that statement, given some eloquent speech about right and wrong and justice and revenge and who deserved what... But they had nothing. Speeches about MERCY, they were finding, did not come easy to them. Probably had something to do with all the FIGHTing.

"That line hasn't worked for anybody today. It sure as fuck ain't workin' for the two'a you." Anarchy stated simply and with disinterest. Character was of little significance to him, and they were out of time. Cracks splitting the floor under the power of his legs, Anarchy darted forward in the blink of an eye. With a red flash that reminded Character of the very soul Anthony was trying to save, The Bastard Son was right in front of them with that crowbar cocked back.

WHACK!

Force blasted through the skull of The Wingless when that crowbar collided, their skull fractured, their soul had to fight back the instant death that such brain trauma was sure to cause. Nose and orbital bones concaving, Character was sent flinging back through the air. They launched backwards head first, sailed a few feet above the ground before finally dropping down into it. The moment their head hit stone they tumbled right over it, flipping ass over teakettle for another bunch of yards before finally skidding to a stop flat on their back.

Red misting off their shattered face, Character reached back and planted their hands in the crashed stone beneath them, flipping up and onto their feet. They stood slouched, wincing through eyes still healing at The Anarchist sauntering closer. Though they could just make out his general shape, that was enough. They threw their arms out towards him, sending the twin ink fists rocketing over their shoulders and out towards Anarchy.

Continuing his fearless saunter forward, The Anarchist did not bother flinching in the face of those fists. Instead, he merely tensed his own body, released more of the pressure of his own soul. With a sudden roar, Anarchy was once again releasing a shockwave of brutal DETERMINATION. It blasted out in a bubble around him, crashing right into the knuckles of those fists and blowing them apart with unstoppable vibration.

Ink flinging in droplets through the air, Character recoiled some from the sudden blast of power. But Anarchy was already launching forward through the flash - they didn't have any time to be bewildered. They knew he was strong, there was nothing to be shocked about. As fast as they could they leaned their head to the side, and it was just enough to duck his fist. Their expression twisting with intensity, Anarchy was almost surprised to see such conviction appear on that knockoff's face as they sent their left fist blasting up into his chin.

A bolt of red energy followed Character's uppercut, and when those knuckles struck Anthony's chin the energy fired out from the top of his head. The feel of that DETERMINATION vibrating through his brain was enough to get Anarchy to throw his head back, but as Character yanked back their right hand and summoned their machete, his dome swung right back down and he cracked his forehead into theirs like a hammer against wood. This drove a nail of agony through Character's still healing skull, jarring them and forcing them to stumble back.

Anarchy capitalized by yanking his knee to his chest and blasting a pump kick right into the abdomen of The Wingless, crumpling their body forward and throwing them backwards in a C shape. They launched another bunch of yards, flipped and skidded when they hit the ground but they dug their toes and fingers into the stone to stop their sliding. And without even bothering to look up they once more called upon the power of their Deltarune, sending ink exploding out of it in mass amounts.

In a matter of seconds another massive orb of ink had engulfed The Wingless, a doll trying its hardest to birth itself in time to kill The Anarchist. But Anarchy had seen this trick, and it wasn't worth his time. As that black bubble grew, he bent his knees and blasted forward off the ground in another flash of speed unmatched by anyone still alive. He shot right into that ink orb hand first, blasting in one end empty handed and out the other with Character's face in his grasp. He tore them right out of that bubble, shot through it and sent it popping apart behind him.

Dragging them through the air by the head, Anarchy dropped back to the earth and planted the back of their skull in the obsidian floor, using their body to surf another few feet over the jagged ground. The moment they came to a stop he yanked his hand off their skull, and while Character gasped for air Anarchy just planted his crowbar with brute force across their chest and shoulders. He used it like a bar to hold them down, his knees crunching down on the both of their forearms while he trapped The Wingless beneath him.

Anarchy yanked back his right fist, and Character hawked a loogie right onto his cheek just before he cracked them square in the nose with another vicious punch. Their skull bounced off the cracking floor and Anarchy yanked back his right fist again. His weight held the struggling Character in place, and another hellacious punch to the face was enough to weaken the shuffling of their shoulders and the kicking of their legs.

Their nose spewing blood and their eyes swelling, it was all Character could do to try and spit more healing mist outta their face. But Anarchy's fist cut right through that mist, blasted damage faster than their head could heal. Split their front teeth, they felt splinters blast through the roof of their mouth. Another punch and another, Character's head was bouncing off the stone floor and back into the next punch like a speed bag.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Punch after punch, shockwave after shockwave. Character stopped flinching and flailing. They were so concussed, they had no idea how to get a handle on their magic. Didn't matter, a skewer through the chest or a laser through the head wouldn't have stopped Anthony from throwing another punch. Character couldn't see anymore, everything was black and red. Their hearing wasn't doing too good either, in fact even the pain of the punches didn't feel like getting hit in the face anymore. It didn't feel like they had a body anymore, it felt like they were slipping away into the back of their head. Was this what it was like to die?

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

They stopped thinking about where they were, didn't remember what was killing them. Instead, their thoughts drifted back to Demon's students, to Hacker's fellow scientists. The little jokes, those few and far between moments where one or both of them felt... Content, with the company of someone other than each other. Hacker had told Eden Cliff would be proud of her... Why did he do that? Why did they get themselves into this? What were they fighting for?

That old Angel, that green girl. Hacker and Demon sure had made them suffer, hadn't they? Another punch, maybe two. Why didn't that feel good like it used to? It did, used to feel good, didn't it? They didn't remember. What was that thing Hacker told Angel a few years back? "Granny was wrong about us", yeah... Fuck, did he really say that? Did the two of them really do all that stuff? Another punch. Character thought they deserved it.

If they were gonna die, the two of them decided in that moment, it was probably for the best. They fuckin' sucked, no point in sugar coating it now. Anarchy had killed better people than them, and dying at the hands of the strongest man alive wasn't too humiliating. Somewhere in Hacker and Demon, they'd both known that the story would end something like this. They'd hoped things would change, turn around somewhere, but change was work, and not the kind of work Character specialized in. What a worthless life. At least it was about to be over.

Another punch. Character swallowed a piece of their teeth. As senses faded and the world went dark, their thoughts pondered the other sides of their coins. The Angel and The Ascended Heir, so smart and so mature. Always better than the two of them... Maybe if Character had been a little nicer, they would have the friends that those two had. They would have someone to pry Anarchy off them, someone to shout "no" all dramatically... Nobody came to Granny's funeral. Angel was the only one, he'd carried the burden of mourning a human being all on his own. Now, as Anthony The Anarchist beat their shared face in, Character found themself pondering. Is there gonna be a funeral? Is anyone gonna show up..? Is... Is...

... Is there anyone who's going to miss us?

Anarchy yanked back his fist again, stared down into the broken and bloodied face of some poor excuse for an Angel. No wings, no speech, no comeback, no one to save them... Why did they come here? His fist hung in the balance and he listened to the horrible, wheezing breaths that Character sucked in through their split lips and shattered teeth. And as Anarchy thought and thought, and his fist began to tremble... As his knuckles went white beneath all the blood that covered them, the music faded out.

"... Knock offs. Why. Are you. Here?" Anarchy stared down into an Angel's face, that's for sure. He recognized it, even though it wasn't the Angel he was sworn to protect. No, not The Angel at all... These two were what he said they were, knock offs. And he gave them the chance to run, knocked them out of his way and purposefully out of his business. Because they were supposed to tuck their tail and scurry away, that's what Hackers and Demons did. So what the fuck were they doing here? Not answering Anarchy, that's for sure. They were too busy wheezing through a shattered face, red smoke rising slowly out of the cuts, bruises and breaks in their head. Their DETERMINATION was focused on what it could now. Brain damage, internal bleeding... It would slow the inevitable for as long as it could. That was all these knockoffs knew how to do. Teeth grinding now, Anthony was furious with Character's lack of response. So, with their blood dripping off his raised fist, he shouted at them. "Why did you make me do this?!"

That didn't feel right coming out of Anthony's mouth. Character had opened what little fight they had saying they didn't want to battle, and Anarchy had beaten them to this state anyway. Because he didn't trust them, because Hackers and Demons were a worthless breed. But if that were true, why did they show up? He let them run, and they came back? Anarchy's fist was shaking with rage, and he didn't know if it was because of Character's stupid decision or because of the loathing he felt for his own ruthlessness. He got something of an answer when Character choked, coughed up some blood and flexed the bruised and broken muscles on their face a little. They managed to get out a thoughtless whisper... "B-because... S-somebody... S-somebody, n-needed us..."

"..." Anarchy wanted to berate them. Say something like "Yeah and a lotta good you did". Call them knockoffs, pour salt in their wounds in hopes that they understood... But he was unsure in that moment that they were the ones misunderstanding. Perhaps... It was Anarchy that didn't get something. In that instant he could feel all the blood that covered his skin, and in that instant he knew that enough people had died because of him today. So he lowered his fist, he pulled his crowbar off their chest. And he shook his head as he stood; Disgust pooled in the pit of his stomach at sight of the world around him. This dogshit day had went on too long, and it was time he ended it.

With that in mind, Anthony turned his head. His eyes locked on to Xander The Gatherer, or whatever was left of him. The Balor King was struggling to stay on his hands and knees, choking and gagging with the sickness brought on by The Scorpion's venom. And Anthony stepped over Character, left The Wingless in the dirt they'd been chained to and let them stare up at the sky that had rejected them. Anthony's focus was on Xander now, and whether that false idol liked it or not he started his march towards him.

Every hair on Xander's head was out of place. Blood and sweat caked his pretty face, his maw hung open in desperate gasps. Though most of his body had returned to normal and descended from his Balor King form, the horns on his head remained. Anarchy didn't know what the poisoned emperor was seeing as he knelt there gasping and succumbing to The Dark, but he didn't care. He was going to take a soul back to Angel, one way or another. As he walked into ear shot, he called out. "Xander!"

"Who's there..?!" The Gatherer responded, turning wide violet eyes left and right. The world had gotten so dark around him, a void of infinite blackness after the leviathan had swallowed him whole. That, was what had happened, right? Poison, something wrong... Through The Dark, he watched a tall form come into view. Another slithering, dastardly shadow... From its back six wings spread wide, an indiscernible grey mist keeping them and that figure out of focus in the eyes of The Gatherer. And he snarled at the sight of the beast, "Angel..! You did this to me! I'll kill you!"

"You did this to you, Xander. Not me, not Angel." Of this, Anthony was certain. He loomed over the kneeling king now, stared with the divine red of his eyes down at him as he choked on venom. Those delusional purple eyes blinked up at him, dilated in and out of focus. Anarchy reached back and slipped his crowbar in his back pocket; he didn't need it. Then, as Angel had reached out to him so many times before, he reached down to Xander with his blood soaked hand. "Give me Chara's soul, and this ends. The Dark will release you, and no one else has to die."

"I don't care who else dies as long as you die too, Angel!" Xander snarled up at Anthony, blood dripping down his face and spit flying from his mouth. Some poor, sick, dumb animal. He stared at the shifting, winged shadow in defiance, because defiance was all he knew. His parents were weak, so they died. His grandfather was weak, so he died. Cliff, was... Xander's finger nails chipped and bled as they dug into the stone floor, and tears built in his mad eyes as he screamed. "I was supposed to have everything! It was my destiny, my birthright! And you took EVERYTHING AWAY!"

"Don't make me do this, Xander." Anthony shook his head, his frown dug deeper into his face. Looking at The Gatherer now, he remembered his first weeks in the gang. He'd been laid up, surgeons had to come out to the mansion to fix all the lingering injuries Anthony's mother had left with him. Most of this time was spent fading in and out of consciousness, but... One morning he woke up, and there was a vase full of flowers sitting in the window sill. The bare minimum, a simple KINDNESS Xander had left him that had meant everything when he was alone in that room... Anthony's fists shook. If he had gotten involved sooner, if he hadn't taken three years away, could he have stopped Xander from becoming this?

"You want their soul?" Xander smiled, the lights were on and nobody was home. He reached up, offered both hands out to the winged shadow he could barely see in The Darkness. And ever defiant, ever entitled, he dared the Winged Beast. "Pry it from my cold dead hands."

Snarling, Anarchy didn't hesitate another second. He lurched forward, snapped his hands shut around the both of Xander's wrists and planted his foot right in The Gatherer's collar bone. He pulled those arms until there was no slack, pushing Xander back with his foot and making him snarl with the pain of a slow tearing in the both of his shoulders. Anarchy challenged right back, his grip fracturing the wrists of The Gatherer and his boot sending splinters through his collar bone. "Yeah? How 'bout your arms?!"

"R-release me..! Brute..!" Xander's wide, poisoned eyes blinked and winced as they watched those six wings wrap and coil around his arms. Agony creaked and groaned all through his upper body, a tightening pain that grew stronger and stronger...

"Not until you answer a question!" Anarchy's frown dug deeper into his face. His lips peeled back, revealed his fangs in a snarl. If Xander thought he was Angel, then he would do what he knew Angel would wanna do. He dug his boot more harshly into Xander's snapping collar bone, pulled furiously on those arms and felt the vibrations of muscles snapping beneath The Gatherer's skin. He spoke in a low growl, one that Gatherer heard echo through The Dark. "One a scale'a one to ten, how attached are you to these arms?"

"Augh..! Y-you, you think you can break ME?!" The madman snarled, even as he felt his body unraveling under the unstoppable force of the winged nightmare that tormented him. He dug his knees into the ground, pulled back and played tug of war with his own two limbs. It didn't matter if he didn't win, he did not belong beneath such a wretched creature, and he would never accept such a fate.

"I will not beg you for MERCY, Angel! YOU will respect ME! Bow down!" Xander screamed and frothed, shaking his head from side to side. Electric agony stabbed through his arms with the tearing of another ligament or two, but he did not cry uncle. Xander The Gatherer was born and raised a Fortune Son, after all. He was the last of his kind, and that meant that this reality was for him and him alone. That was why his parents had died, that was why his grandfather was killed, that was why his uncle had to be cut down. They did not deserve this world, but he did. And he lamented that, screamed out into the cracking Darkness with all the resolve left in his body and fought with all his might against the illusion. "I AM THE KING OF THIS MULTIVERSE-! EEAAUUGGHHH!"

Anarchy's arms flung back with Xander's in tow. His shoulders split open, bone was ripped from socket and flesh snapped apart like over stretched rubber. The boot in Xander's collar kicked him forward now that there was nothing holding him against it, and with his blood spraying through the air The Gatherer was sent sliding flat on his back a few feet on the obsidian floor. Anarchy lowered his arms and the arms he had taken, let those severed shoulders drain their buckets of red on the black floor beside him. The Bastard Son stared down at Xander then, watched him writhe like a worm in the dirt. He took a few steps forward, he planted his boot right on the chest of that worm and held him down in the mud of his own viscera. And with a disgusted snarl detailing his face, Anthony stated clearly and powerfully for the entire multiverse to see. "Not anymore."

And with that, it was over. Xander laid defeated in the dirt, the hands he'd used to try and steal the world had been ripped from him. All of his allies laid beaten or dead, his empire had witnessed the true face of its master. Anthony watched the horns slowly sink back into Xander's forehead, watched his face go pale. Watched him writhe... There were no smart remarks now, no screaming ignorance and defiance. Red steam was rising slowly from the gushing stumps where his shoulders used to be, the rapid blood loss was slowing. But judging from his twisted, agonized expression, those arms weren't growing back on their own and Xander would not rise from beneath Anarchy's boot. It was over... And somebody started clapping.

"You really know how to put on a show, Anthony." Frisk's cheery voice drew Anarchy's attention. He lifted his head to see them walking fearlessly closer to him. Another one that Anarchy had given the chance to run away, making an argument for why he should start breaking legs. Anthony narrowed his eyes at the approaching traitor; a gust of wind pulled at his blood soaked hair and Frisk's scarf, and they smiled at him. "Go on, put on the finishing touch. Kill him."

"No." Anarchy answered, clear and easy. Plain and simple. He stood at the pinnacle, after all. Frisk could not order him to do anything, no one could. Fate rested in his hands and his hands alone... And his knowledge of that made Frisk smile even wider. What an ugly expression, Anarchy thought. Too bad it was on such a pretty face. "It's over. I win, so I get to decide who lives and who dies."

Reality flickered then, and Frisk disappeared from Anarchy's line of vision. He furrowed his brows at the sight of this, confusion washed over him briefly... Before he felt arms wrap around him. Frisk now stood behind him, hugging him from behind and pressing their body against his scarred back. Anthony's jaw tightened irritably as his eyes lowered, watching their hands delicately trace the few scars on his front. Their finger tip traced up the cut his mother had left in his chest, and they almost whispered... "Oh, it must have taken so much violence to make you this gentle..."

"You call this gentle?" Anarchy glanced back towards them from his eye's corner, not turning his head just yet. They were skittish, some elusive creature that would disappear the moment he thought he might grab them. It would be that way, until they decided they wanted to be grabbed. So Anarchy would have to wait, play it safe. Their weapons were gone, he knew they would never raise a fist to him in their life. Frisk had made that much quite clear, it was why he'd let them go and why he'd hoped they would just run away.

"You're so interesting, Anthony... Have I ever told you that?" Frisk pondered while they slowly slid their hand along the iron flesh of The Anarchist's right arm. So many scars, so many times he must have thrown his forearms over his head to hide away from a beating he didn't deserve. Their fingers slithered between his, they held his hand from behind and rested their cheek against his shoulder. "All the power in the world and all the restraint to never use it... But, Angel has to die."

"If you try to hurt him, I will kill you." Not a warning, a promise. Anarchy's frown dug deeper into his face, his jaw tightened when Frisk's answer to that promise was a giggle. Why weren't they afraid of him? No one else would dare get this close to him, they would not run their hands over his blood stained body... They remained impervious to his threats, they remained eager for his cruelty, and that made Anthony skeptical to give it to them.

"Anthony, honey! I'm not going to hurt Angel." Time skipped again, just a split second. Suddenly, Frisk was standing on the tips of their toes. Their head on Anarchy's shoulder, they kept him aware of their presence with another quiet giggle. That sound sent a shiver up Anthony's spine, and he didn't know why. He felt coiled in that instant, like some anaconda had slithered around him. Like he was in their grasp. He felt Frisk's tongue on his cheek, it licked the blood off him without hesitation and left a saliva diluted red stain in its wake. "You are."

Anarchy's eye twitched some, and he hesitated... Before suddenly whipping around. He swung his crowbar, tried to split them in half with it and free himself from their grip. But when he spun around, they were gone. In an instant they had disappeared, and Anarchy was left glancing frantically from side to side to try and spot them. Stepping away from Xander's prone body, He wandered a few steps out onto the stone floor. He reached up and wiped the trail their tongue had left off his face, and he tried his best to ignore the pounding in his chest. Why was his heart racing? How did they do this again?

"Now, I know what you're gonna say." Frisk's voice chimed in again, and Anarchy turned his head to spot them. They were crouched down, giddily examining all the damage The Anarchist had inflicted upon Character. The fusion was far from conscious now, just laying there beside Frisk. It looked like the traitor wanted to start poking their swollen face, but decided against it. Instead, they looked up from the specimen of cruelty and back to Anthony. "And I know, you made a promise and you're an honest man. But what Angel has done is unforgiveable, Anthony. And it would break my heart to see you fall for the same lies I fell for."

"This isn't about whether or not Angel is a good person, Frisk." Anthony said their name and they loved it. He walked towards them, inhaled slowly to try and calm the racing of his heart. Whatever influence they had over him would not be enough, he was certain. He just had to get his hands on them, silence them... His jaw tightened, he shook his head partially to deny Frisk's request and partially to get his thoughts straight. "I made Chara a promise, and my word is all that I've got."

Time skipped once again, Anarchy watched Frisk blink from where they'd been crouching. He glanced around confused for a moment, before his eyes darted down and widened with surprise. Frisk was kneeling right at his feet, smiling up at him like they were innocent. But those scarlet eyes were open, and Anthony could see the wretched person inside. Still, he did not kick them away. he let them carelessly rest their hands on his thighs, listened when they corrected him. "You've got me~"

Anarchy snarled, got ahold of himself and cranked back his crowbar. He might have paused, it felt like he did. Disgusted by that thought and pushing away all the ideas Frisk was trying to push into his head, he swung his Inheritance down at their face. But he knew he didn't strike as fast as he could have, and if Frisk hadn't moved he wasn't sure he wouldn't have stopped his swing before striking them. Regardless, they disappeared from sight and his Inheritance slashed through thin air.

"People don't get better, Anthony. Not Angel, not me, not you." Frisk's voice chimed back in, and Anarchy once more felt them against him. They were standing behind him now, their back to his. Smile plain on their face, they turned their head and looked over their shoulder at him as they continued effortlessly. "We get worse, and worse, and worse... So why not give up that honesty stuff?"

"Don't make me kill you, Frisk." Anarchy growled. He looked to them from his eye's corner, but he didn't turn his head. His body was tense, he was on edge... He didn't like this, didn't enjoy the way they made him feel. Some halfway point between excitement and disgust, whatever it was it felt dirty. And he knew he shouldn't listen to their pitch, he knew he should release the full force of his soul and obliterate them. They were evil, and unlike Xander they had always been that way. unlike Character, they would always be that way. So why did he want them to live?

"Just think about it... With your power, all of reality could be your play thing." Play thing... Anarchy shook his head, kept his thoughts focused. But Frisk was leaning so comfortably against him, in spite of the blood he was drenched in. Like somehow they felt safe in his company, even when it was more apparent than ever that he was a Killer. Their hand brushed against his again, they once more began sliding their fingers between his... "This world was meant for you, Anthony. You just have to reach out and take everything you want~"

Anarchy yanked his hand away, and when he spun around to face Frisk they had already disappeared. The pounding in his chest grew louder; why? Push it down, Anthony! Focus! But as Anarchy's eyes once more scanned the world around him for any sign of the worm tongued traitor, he recalled Jevil's words. His prophet had given him simple advice several times: do what he wants. Whatever, whenever, however. Frisk wasn't wrong, Anthony did have the power to make this world what he wanted it to be. An immortal man, was he still trying to walk among mortal men? Anarchy beat a hand into the side of his head like he was trying to shove those thoughts out his other ear, spinning around to spot Frisk standing about ten paces behind him. He snarled, "And what's in it for you? You just want me to kill Angel!"

"What's in it for me? Oh, Anthony... You're so clueless~" Frisk spoke like they were endeared, smiled and shook their head like they thought his anger was cute. They began walking towards him again, no tricks this time. No time skip, no rush. They put one foot in front of the other with agonizing slowness, reaching down all the while and grabbing the Velcro straps that held their bullet proof vest to their body. That Velcro tore as they peeled those straps back, effortlessly loosening the bulky addition to their wardrobe. "I've lived my entire life under the control of a higher power, you know."

"Without my decision, without my consent... I felt myself disappear in favor of someone else." Frisk took careful hold of the front of their now loose vest. They pulled it up, flipped it over their shoulders and let it fall uselessly behind them, pulling their scarf down with it. And they smiled, shaking their head and letting their mid length auburn hair fall into place while they continued their slow march forward. Beneath the vest they wore a sleeveless black turtle neck, fabric tight to their body. Once again Anarchy was reminded of how much bigger than them he was. They were this short, soft thing. They watched him with a beautiful malevolence in their ruby eyes, glad to see him look them up and down so cluelessly. "But now I'm free, and I'm free because of you, Anthony."

"Do you understand what that means? It means I get to choose what power I live under now." Frisk stopped just a foot or two ahead of The Anarchist, stared right up at him and flashed him an honest and adoring smile. They didn't reach out this time, didn't touch him because he didn't ask. They just stood there, hands folded behind their back. If Anarchy did not know how wretched they were, he might have thought they looked innocent in that instant. "And I choose you, Anthony. If I have to be a puppet, I wanna be yours."

There were parts of Anarchy's soul that were disgusted by that statement, and parts of him that were grotesquely intrigued. It was hard to hear their soft voice, his pulse was pounding in his ears. His mouth was going dry... They were such a wretched thing, so why did he want them? And if he really was the penultimate force in this life, then why should he stop himself from doing whatever he wants? Bastard Son of The Killer, immortal blood in his veins and godly plans at his finger tips... He could make the world whatever he wanted, he just had to destroy it first.

"You can kill everyone, and you'll never have to be alone. Because I'll be right there with you, I'll be the home you can return to..." Carefully, Frisk took another step closer. They reached up, and with expert care they rested their hand on The Anarchist's cheek. Over his blood stained beard, over the scar those red tainted white hairs hid away. And with open eyes and a believable smile, they said to Anthony words he'd needed to hear his entire life. "Because I love you, Anthony."

Anarchy's eyes went wide, his pupils shrunk. His brain raced right back to the basement. His Mother, who's hand he'd held to his face. Who cried, who had a moment of realization sixteen years too late and confessed to loving him. That was the first and only time Anthony had ever heard someone say they loved him, and he had killed her for it. No, for everything before that. Delilah's love was not enough to undo what she had done, she would have been better off abandoning it entirely. And if her act of KINDNESS did not undo her sins, then what would saving Angel really do for Anarchy?

"Kill Angel. Kill Xander, kill everyone." Frisk spoke so quietly, barely a whisper. Words for only their master, for only Anthony. They were so close to him now, right hand on his face now stained with the blood that he had drawn. With their left hand they reached out and took his one free hand. They carefully pulled it in, placed it on their own hip where they felt it belonged. And as they stared into his eyes, their smile gained a depraved edge. With their body so close to his, they fearlessly promised. "And when the whole Multiverse is your playground... We can celebrate however you want, Mister Anarchist~"

Anarchy was silent. He stared at them, narrowed his eyes and pondered all that they offered. Dominion over reality, the desire that his father had died pursuing. A life that had been so cruel to him for so long, only to reach out a KIND hand right at the end. Only to say "Of course I love you, Anthony." "You've always been so wonderful to me, Anthony." "I'm sorry Anthony." "You didn't deserve this Anthony." "You're my son, Anthony!" "I LOVE YOU ANTHONY!"

His fingers gripped Frisk's hip with a force that they welcomed. His heart pounded, his soul raged, his brain understood all the power he had and it understood exactly what he wanted. So, suddenly and without anymore hesitation, Anthony The Anarchist stepped forward. He leaned down, so boldly and so suddenly that Frisk nearly recoiled when he kissed them. When he used that grip on them to pull them in, shifted his hand to their ass without even thinking and held them against himself while they locked lips.

The traitor's scarlet eyes went wide, their face tinted a shade that matched their eyes. Admittedly, they hadn't thought he would make such a bold move. Sure, they were certain their plan would work. Anthony was a big strong man who had obviously never been hit on in his life; they knew they could ACT their way to his heart. Manipulate him, wrap him around their finger and get him to love them too... But he was so slow. Of course it was a shock to so suddenly be here, with his tongue wrestling theirs and his hand on their backside. Maybe they were better at this *flirting thing than they thought... Regardless, they shut their eyes. Basked in the glory of their victory. They knew it from the moment they'd met him, Anthony was their destiny. Their best ending, their perfect route. By Anthony's side, they would have everything they ever-

WHAM!

Frisk's eyes snapped open wide, bloodshot with shrunken pupils. A shockwave of agony ripped through their body, and in that shockwave's epicenter was Anthony's Inheritance. The blunt curve of his crowbar had been driven up under their ribs, never breaking skin but crushing into enough important things regardless. If Frisk had known it was coming, they could prepared themself. Dodged or at least steadied themself... But it was too late. Anthony, who was now pulling his head back away from them and letting his long tongue slip back out past the lips it'd eagerly invaded, had waited for exactly the right moment. Waited for them to want to be grabbed.

Vision getting spotty, Frisk's knees wobbled and knocked as they stumbled back out of the arms of their savior before finally giving out. They dropped down to their knees, blinked at the obsidian floor a few times while they tried and failed at gathering their senses. It was all they could do to look up, stare at Anarchy with stunned scarlet eyes. Anarchy's red stained beard had left crimson marks here and there on their face, their arms were wrapped tight around their throbbing abdomen. And they stammered... "Y-you... T-tricked me..?"

"No." Anthony assured as he reached up with the same hand he'd used to grope them, wiping saliva from his bottom lip with the back of his fist. He loomed there, tall and powerful... Immune to bullets, to fire, to death. Frisk's vision flickered in and out, they tried to gasp but it hurt to do so. Anarchy's crowbar was gripped in a trembling fist, his Killer blood vibrated with the high his reckless cruelty had brought him. A showcase to what they'd been begging for, a quick peak to help them understand just how bad a reality with an immoral Anarchist would be. He assured the Traitor, "I did whatever I wanted."

"... H-heh... D-didn't, even..." Frisk's eyes started to close, the image of their master looming over them burned into their brain. A smile curled their lips; his word was more reassurance than he would ever know. And gravity pulled on them, sent their face falling forward while they barely managed to finish their statement. "Didn't even s-say... You love me too..."

Frisk stopped a few inches from the dirt. Anarchy had leaned forward, grabbed a fistful of the back of their shirt to stop such a cruel collision. He liked their face, after all. Didn't want anything bad to happen to it. Regardless, Frisk hung unconscious in his grasp now. Carefully, Anthony set them on the harsh floor. Then, he straightened his back. On the charred black valley, he was the last man standing. Angels and Traitors alike now lay defeated, and The Bastard Son remained. He always remained.

Now, there was only one thing left to do. Anarchy figured now that everyone was beaten, Badster would be safe to show himself. Certainly he'd know how to get Chara's soul out of Xander's inventory. With any luck Anarchy could just stuff the stupid thing back into their corpse. Worst case scenario he just waited for Angel to wake back up then handed it over to him - he'd know what to do with it.

But, when Anarchy turned his head to look back to Xander, his eyes went wide. The Gatherer was gone, all that was left in his wake a hastily closing purple portal. He reached out, sent his shadow exploding apart in the form of twin worms. But, to his dismay, that portal snapped shut, and his worms bashed their heads into nothing but the obsidian floor.

"What the-?!" Anarchy frantically turned his head, watched the unconscious fusion laying a few yards away drop right through another portal that immediately slammed shut after them. With Xander and Character both being hastily removed from the situation, Anarchy drew a conclusion one second too late. He looked down, spotting a portal already snapping shut at his feet. Frisk's body was gone, they'd been teleported away like the other two. And as this realization set in, Anarchy's lips peeled back into a snarl. His eyes went wide, his pupils shrunk. And he shouted as he looked around the field he could have sworn he'd emptied, "Alright! Who has the balls?!"

Didn't take him long to spot her. Yards and yards away, kneeling with two mutilated arms hanging at her sides, Eden had PERSERVERED. Dirt and tears staining her face, she was slouched forward, gasping for air. It appeared to Anarchy that even kneeling took ungodly strength from her, that letting those blood dripping black and blue arms dangle at her sides caused her agony unimaginable. And he remembered in that instant, the headstrong girl who had dared challenge him a few days ago. Who did not flinch with his crowbar on her throat, who he had encouraged everyone else to be more like. In that instant, some of the anger faded away. He did not think he would rip Eden apart, did not think he should curse her name. Instead, as a portal opened on the ground in front of her on the command of her magic, he called out. Gave what brief wisdom he could. "You're on the wrong side of this!"

"You don't know what side I'm on..." Retorted the one living Gang member Anarchy had dared underestimate. Eden stared at him with unyielding eyes, wore the battle torn expression of a woman who knew how to PERSERVER. Then, with what little strength remained in her shattered body, she dropped forward. Fell right through the portal she'd barely managed to create for herself, out of this wretched timeline and away from the battle her master had lost. The battle that everyone had lost.

And Anarchy was left standing there, all alone. His teeth grit, his eye twitched. His fists tightened and tightened, that crowbar yearned for spilled blood... But there was nobody left. Chara, Mew Mew, Felldyne, Flowey. All dead. Character, Xander, Eden. Mutilated. Frisk... Gone. So... As Anarchy's fists relaxed, and he exhaled scarlet steam... As he turned his head, and made eye contact with the Wyrm that coiled protectively in the distance... He pondered: Who's left?

---

When Lexi regained consciousness she wished she hadn't. She'd been dragged back into her ship, her DETERMINATION had healed up whatever wounds threatened her life. Apparently the shields of the ship were all that protected the lot of them from the storm that turned Snowdin into Sandin, but that didn't matter now. The fight was over, had been since she woke up. Apparently Felldyne and Mew Mew had scurried off on Gatherer's order, and The Fun Gang was able to round up her pirates in time.

The first thing Predator did when she woke up was ask about Melanie. Apparently, though her injury was to vital organs, Ralsei's healing magic was able to put together the small and precise holes Frisk had left relatively easily. The KINDNESS soul was out of critical condition now, laid up unconscious in a med bay bed and strapped to a few machines. Another day or two, she'd be fine.

GB!Sans wasn't doing too great, neither was Clover. Susie had found the both of them laid out in different places in the forest, but they'd live. Sans was unconscious in the med bay with Melanie, and Clover was still getting a few vertebrae put back in the right place by doc Ralsei. Grillby had wandered back on his own, later than everybody else. He seemed like he was the best off, apparently lava did wonders for a fire elemental's core.

Future had been the focus of most of the healing, he was in critical condition when Susie found him. But, somehow he'd held on to consciousness. The old man didn't die, didn't slip away and didn't let himself rest. He'd tried to get up a few times after the lightning scorch mark in his chest was partially healed, but Susie made a convincing and painful argument for why he should listen to Ralsei's instruction to rest.

Now, Lexi was sitting side by side with Susie in the open hangar. They hadn't left yet, the storm had kept their ship grounded. And when that faded, the battle was over. There was no one to retreat from. No more big booms, Lexi had slept right through it all. Now, she sat on the slope of the hangar door. Her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, she stared out at all the devastation. Everything she could have stopped from happening, but didn't.

She had worked so hard, she reminded herself while a lump formed in her throat. Muffet had died, so many of her friends had gotten hurt, and Anarchy had still gotten away. Angel was likely dead, Xander was probably more unstoppable than he had ever been. She had failed. She was a failure. Muffet died for nothing, Jade died for nothing, she lived for nothing. Lexi's fingers dug desperately into the torn fabric of her jeans, she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn't wanna cry, hadn't let herself in so long. But her hands were so weak, her thoughts were so loud and so cruel.

She couldn't win the scavenger hunt. She couldn't reach Anthony first. She couldn't beat Frisk. She couldn't stop Anarchy from killing Angel. She couldn't save this world, couldn't save her friends, couldn't save anything! How, she wondered as she took a sharp gasp, would she beat Gatherer now? A failure, she was a failure! And now, it was all she could do to lower her head in shame. Bury her face in her knees, and try her hardest to hide her sobs from the world around her.

Susie frowned, her tired eyes narrowed painfully at the sound of Lexi crying. She looked over to her boss, felt her own heart ache at the sight of her so small. So frustrated, so upset. The Predator was curled into a ball there, hands gripping her head with relentless force to try and stop her own crying. But, when Susie reached over and placed a gentle, comforting hand on her friend's back, something gave way. That crying caused tremors in Lexi's body, and she nearly wailed with indignation.

Susie hardly knew what to say, Kris didn't have any input. She didn't know what to do, that was for sure. Muffet dead, Kris in her body. Sans, Clover, Melanie, Future... All injured. It was obvious to her and clearly it was obvious to Lexi, they lost. The fight was over. Years of blood, sweat and tears washed down the drain by one final, cataclysmic failure. Angel wasn't surviving, Anarchy wasn't coming home, and Gatherer couldn't be stopped. Susie could feel her own eyes starting to sting as despair settled over her. They lost.

*... Who's that?

Susie lifted her head, blinked the forming tears out of her eyes. What was Kris on about? She looked ahead, squinted into the shifting sands of the valley of shadow and death... And realized she could see someone. Marching through the charred snow, each step a trial. And as he came more and more into focus, Susie didn't know whether to feel hope or terror. Mouth hanging open in disbelief, Susie shook her head slowly and began tapping and poking on the back she had been rubbing. "Uhh, boss..? You, might wanna see this."

"Nnh..?" Lexi barely grunted, managing to stifle her crying for the moment. She wasn't happy about it - letting out years of pent up emotion wasn't an easy process. Regardless, she lifted her head with what strength she had left, wiped some of the water out of her eyes and blinked several times to try and peer into the devastation one more time. What was it? Had she not already seen all that there was to see, did she not already understand the situation? Evidently not, because when she realized what Susie was talking about, her lips parted and her eyes went wide, letting another few streams of tears break free.

Because there, marching through the valley of shadow and death, was Anthony The Anarchist. Covered in blood, death soaked into his skin. His clothes were tatters, his body was stained with filth. With haggard eyes he stared straight ahead, MERCY in his every step. Lexi didn't think she had ever seen him look so tired; his eyes were sunken in, his posture was slouched forward. And on his back, with his face resting against The Bastard Son's shoulders and his arms laying limp around his collar... Was Anthony's brother, Angel.

And as more tears started overflowing from Lexi's eyes, and she reached up and rested her hand over her mouth in an attempt at hiding any sobs... Future stumbled through the hangar. He struggled on his own two feet, but damn it he made his way forward anyway. And he stepped out into the light, stood behind Lexi and Susie and watched in the same awe that they displayed as The Killer's Bastard Son carried Angel towards them. Arms curled down and hooked around Angel's legs to keep him on his back, Anthony forced himself forward. The Turtle carried that Scorpion out of the deep water, and on to the shore on the other side of the river.

Lexi was paralyzed. She could hardly comprehend what she was seeing, so she did not move. She sat there, hand clasped over her mouth and eyes blinking over and over to assure this wasn't a hallucination. Future, however, managed to move. Wandering out of the shadow and struggling down the slope of the hangar, his focus did not rest on The Anarchist. Instead, he stared mortified at the bloodied and exhausted face of his student. A thousand memories at once, all the mornings those two brats had bitched and moaned before showing him the greatest power and potential he had ever seen. The breakfasts he'd helped Grillby prepare them, every little moment that he didn't know meant everything to him until he saw Angel beaten unconscious and carried back to him. Without thinking, his hand started to raise, and he slowly reached out towards Angel... But, like a wild animal, Anarchy growled skeptically at him. He clutched that Scorpion tight to his back, he wasn't sure what the difference between river and land was anymore.

"... Please. Let me help him." Future spoke after a pause. He had retracted his hand for fear Anarchy would snap it off with his jaws, but still he stood there. A king of little, right in front of the most powerful man alive. His eyes narrowed painfully, and he stared into scarlet eyes that he could never have forgotten. His eyes drifted back to Angel, and he choked out through his tightening throat. "He's my student. He's... He's precious to me."

"..." Anarchy didn't say anything. He just looked from Future, to the cracked arm that hung over his chest. The arm he had cracked and scarred, the hand Angel had reached out to him anyway... Skeptically, he looked back into the pained eyes of the king, and he slowly started to lower Angel's unconscious form from his back. Future smiled weakly at this, nodded what thanks he could and held out his own arms. Carefully, Anthony settled Angel's body in Future's grasp. His head behind one of Future's hands and his knees supported by the king's other arm, it wasn't until Anarchy was certain he would not fall that Anthony took a step back.

"..." Future, too, remained silent after that. He stared down into Angel's sleeping face, shook his head slowly. His eyes stung at the sight of him, so scarred and so damaged... Bloodied, beaten, burned. His clothes were in tatters, it looked to Future that he had lost everything. And with that in mind, the king gathered his strength and lifted his head. He looked at Anarchy one more time, and he forced himself to ask. "... Where's Chara?"

"... I'm sorry." The first words Future had heard Anarchy say in decades, and they broke his heart. His green eyes went wide, his pupils shrunk as agony gripped his heart. He watched Anthony look away, saw shame twist his expression as he avoided eye contact. Words clawed at his throat on the way up, but The Bastard Son forced them out anyway. "I... I tried to save them, but..."

"... Oh, no. No no no no..." Future could hear his own voice cracking and breaking as he shook his head. He turned his face back down, and with stinging eyes he stared back into the sleeping face of his Angel. He inhaled sharply, watched a few of his tears drop down from his eyes and strike Angel's motionless face. With memories of his own Chara's grave in his mind, Future trembled. And as he remembered every dream he had every night, every cold morning he woke up to alone... He clutched his boy close to his chest, and with tears now streaming down his face Future asked Angel and Angel alone. "Oh god, Angel... What did they do..?"

Anarchy hung his head low while he listened to Future cry. He stared with distant, agonized eyes at his own shoes. How long had it been since he felt like a failure? Hastily, Future turned back to the ship and carried Angel back up into the hangar. He kept him tight to his chest the entire time, ready and willing to protect the last kid he had left with his life. Susie hastily stood up, shot a glance to Lexi and Anthony both. Neither of them looked back at her, and she figured that meant she didn't have any business here. So, she followed after the heartbroken king. The Angel was the last hope left, and she would do whatever she could to revive him.

Everything was silent again. Lexi sat there, still staring bewildered up at Anthony. And when he barely managed to lift his head, and made eye contact with her from beneath his eyebrows, she knew he was real. And he looked ashamed. Slowly, Lexi forced herself to stand. She pushed herself up from the hangar slope, stumbled a few steps onto the sand Anthony's soul had created. She couldn't say a word, it was all she could do to stumble a few steps closer. And, gradually, like she was afraid he would disappear... She reached out. Placed the cool skin of her hand against the warmth of his pale, blood soaked cheek. And when he lifted his head a little more in response to this, and she got a better look at his eyes, she realized he was tearing up.

"... I-I'm sorry, Lexi." Anarchy managed to choke out, slowly shaking his head. He couldn't believe it and neither could she - how long had it been since he said sorry? He knew how hard she had worked, he watched her fight to get to him first and he turned his back on her to destroy Angel. If she was hurt, it was his fault. If anyone had died, it was his fault. She was crying, and he knew that was his fault too. Now it was all Anthony could do to shake his head slowly, feeling the weight of all the blood that covered him. "I'm so sorry..."

But... Lexi didn't frown. And it wasn't until a smile crossed her face that more tears overflowed from her eyes. Anthony recoiled a little at this sight, he didn't understand. Why did she look happy? Why would she ever want to see him after what he had done? She didn't bother answering his questions. Instead, she removed her hand from his blood soaked face and took another step forward. Her arms wrapped tight around him and she pulled him in to her, let him rest his chin on her shoulder and hugged him tight. And Anarchy's eyes went wide, he felt a tear or two overflow while he stood there in awe.

"Why... Why are you hugging me..?" His eyes darted down to her, and he shook his head in spite of his crying. He couldn't bring himself to return her hug, he knew he didn't deserve it. But, he couldn't bring himself to pull her off either. As his throat tightened, all he could do was helplessly object. "Aren't you disappointed in me? You, worked so hard and I... I was so focused on Angel that I..."

"I was never disappointed in you..!" Lexi cried out through her tears, and Anthony's eyes twitched painfully. More tears built and overflowed, his vision was going blurry. He had made a mistake, why was she holding him? This wasn't how he was raised, this wasn't the life he had lived. He... He didn't deserve this... Still, Lexi hugged him tighter, and even though she was starting to sob she continued to explain to her moron of a friend. "I was scared, b-because I thought I had lost you..!"

"You gave up your life to save me, and I never even thanked you..! I believed the same, stupid b-bullshit everyone else believed and thought the good inside you was gone..!" Lexi sniffled while she cried, years of held back emotions were overflowing as she held Anthony tight. Day in and day out, the thought was driven deeper into her head that she would never reach him. Despair crept deeper and deeper, and five minutes ago she'd felt like she needed to jump off Fortune Bridge again. And yet here Anthony was, the same KIND man he'd been in that warehouse, the same sweet boy he'd been in that alleyway, the same friend she'd made on a bench by Fortune River. And it was all she could do to hysterically babble, "Y-you even punched out my, dumb ex boyfriend for me..! W-which was kinda scary at the time but I appreciate it anywayyy!"

"... I-I..." Anthony stammered, his words caught on the lump in his throat. Slowly, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Lexi. He returned her hug, assured her that he was really there and that he was not going anywhere. And as the emotional exhaustion of this horrible day washed over him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks, he shook his head and murmured. "I don't deserve this..."

"W-well you're gettin' it anyway you big dork..!" Lexi assured in her breaking voice, pounding her fist harmlessly against his scarred back. She shut her eyes, buried her face in his shoulder and failed at stopping herself from crying harder when she felt him hug her back. "Y-you've been ducking this friendship moment for t-three years! So now it's happening whether y-you like it or not..!"

"... Whether I like it or not..?" Anarchy repeated quietly, more to himself than to her. He remembered every time he'd heard that phrase, every time he'd used it. It was always such a hopeless, inescapable line. He had to take the beatings, whether he liked them or not. He had to kill Angel, whether he liked it or not. He was The Killer's son, whether he liked it or not. But now, whether he liked it or not, people cared about him. Someone was holding him, relieving the cumbersome weight he carried in his powerful soul whether he liked it or not... He cracked a smile, just a little one as he hugged her a little tighter. He didn't wanna let go, and someone as powerful as him should only do what they want to do. "... Alright, Lexi. You win. We can stand here like this for as long as you want."

"T-that's what I thought..!" Lexi exclaimed, her voice muffled in Anarchy's shoulder. She was kind enough to withhold the wrath of her fake punches from his back, instead just going back to hugging him. Her bravado made him smile a little wider, he thought he might have been pushing down how much he really missed her. She might not have known it, but this time she was holding the umbrella. Anthony was certain of it.

So, he stood there. Being held by a friend he was certain he didn't deserve, on the other side of a river he never thought he'd cross. Anthony exhaled quietly, rubbed Lexi's back as she cried into his shoulder and let his eyes drift to the ceiling overhead. He wished that things could just end here, that everyone would go home happy and that nothing would escalate past this point. In truth, he was tired of FIGHTing. That crowbar was heavier than it looked.

But Xander had escaped, and that was Anthony's fault. He had Chara's soul, and Anthony knew Angel would want that back. He'd promised to protect Angel, and Xander got away on his watch. What The Ascended Angel had told Anthony was true: in his hand he held the power to stop all this. So, he decided as he hugged Lexi close, he would. Whatever Xander prepared and whatever vengeance Angel would be in search of, Anthony would handle it. Whatever it takes.

"I know I'm right about Angel. I just hope Angel is right about you, Anthony."

... Whatever it takes.

DOUBLETALE: SEASON 6 PART 2

ORDER'S MAD GOD

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Next chapter will go up June 28th, in four weeks!

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