Chapter Text
The first time Killer met Dust was... rough, to say the least.
They had just gotten a new guy (whose name was Horror), but Nightmare was unhappy with how his recovery was going. So, the logical fix to that was to get another henchman.
Killer was used to not seeing Nightmare for hours, days, sometimes even weeks at a time. He didn't judge, he just followed orders. But what Killer was not used to was Nightmare returning with a new guy.
This was the second guy in less than two weeks, and not to question his boss, but seriously? What had he been doing wrong that warranted not one, but two new gang members?
Killer didn’t like it.
He worked alone; he was used to working alone. He followed Nightmare's orders, and other people would just slow him down. He was good at his job… So why the replacements?
It was funny, the way an off feeling of dread filled his bones as he went into Nightmare's office. It was as if he knew, at some weird, subconscious level, that there was another replacement for him, another new guy. He had stood in the office, watching as Horror lumbered in after him, waiting for Nightmare to speak.
“This,” He started, a portal forming and spitting out a skeleton of similar bone structure. “Is Dust, he’s your new teammate. Play nice with him.”
And with those few words, Nightmare had shoved Dust closer to the two, quickly disappearing into the shadows. And Killer had just stood there, dumbfounded.
Upon first look, Dust didn’t seem all that great. He was short (a little below average sans height), and he had on an outfit pretty similar to what a classic Sans (and also Horror and Killer) would wear. A blue hoodie, which was covered in ash, dust, and oil(? dirt?) stains. He wore black sweatpants and had on slippers.
Something of note, Killer saw no exposed bones on him. He wore long sleeves under the hoodie. He had on gloves and socks. Hell, there was even an oddly familiar orangey-red scarf around his neck, preventing a look at his neck.
Was he even really a skeleton?
Horror deciding to pick him up by his hood and then dropping him once he struggled, causing the hood to slip off, confirmed that yes, he was indeed made of bones.
He had yelled something that neither of them understood before teleporting away.
So yeah…
Not the best first impression.
And after that first meeting, they honestly didn’t see Dust that often. He would show up for missions, but inside the castle? It was like he wasn’t even there.
On his second day, Killer had found Dust roaming the castle halls. He was muttering something to himself; every word he said sounded strange and foreign, and Killer genuinely had no idea what he was saying. Perhaps it was another language.
Later that day, while looking for him for a mission, Killer found Dust in the library. Killer knew it was Dust for two reasons. The first was that Horror didn’t read, and the second being the slightly unhinged ramblings. Seriously, what was this guy saying?
Killer just followed the sound of a raspy, somewhat annoyed voice to a corner section of the library. Sure enough, Dust was looking at massive science books (ha, what a nerd), brow furrowed and eyes squinting as he read the titles. Killer stood there for all of 30 seconds before getting bored, tugging at Dust's scarf, causing him to let out a startled choking sound.
Killer thought it was funny, but Dust had an angry expression.
“Womp womp, come on, Dusty, ‘s just a joke. Y’know that you’re a Sans, right? You can laugh at jokes.” He teased.
Dust just continued to glare angrily at him.
“Anyways,” Killer continued, “Bossman said that we have a mission comin’ up, so uh… why are you lookin’ at me like that?” Dust’s glare didn’t cease.
Killer spun on his heels, planning to leave. “Whatever, weirdo, have fun, I guess.”
As Killer was walking away, Dust teleported in front of him. The act definitely did not startle Killer.
“Ok, seriously, what is your deal?” Dust didn’t respond; instead, he practically shoved the science book into Killer’s arms.
Killer stared at Dust, very confused, and Dust just stared back.
“Uh… Thanks?” Dust put one hand over Killer's mouth, probably telling him to shut up. He pointed at the book's title, saying something in a questioning tone.
“You do know that I can’t understand whatever you’re saying, right?” Dust looked at him with the same natural expression he always had, repeating the question.
Killer sighed. “I can’t understand you.” He gave the book back to Dust, who promptly put it back in his hands. Dust said something different, and Killer just shrugged. Dust sighed and grumbled something, taking out a notepad and pen. He wrote a message and gave it to Killer.
Initially, Killer thought that Dust's handwriting was so bad it was illegible. But upon closer inspection Killer saw that whatever Dust wrote was not in English. There were sets of lines and circles that Killer assumed made letters and words.
He looked back at Dust, who said something else. His voice lacked the normal boredom and hatred. Killer shrugged and gave the book and notepad back to Dust. “Sorry, man, but I have no clue what you’re trying to tell me. If it's really a big deal, just go to the Boss, I’m sure he’ll help you with whatever.
Dust’s sockets squinted. “Right… if I can’t understand you, then you probably don’t know what I’m saying…” Killer thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to communicate with his teammate. In the end, Killer decided that the best course of action would be to take the book and notepad away from Dust and to then teleport them to the outside of Nightmare’s office.
Dust hadn’t expected the teleport; the action disorienting him. Once he regained his footing, Dust yelled at Killer and pushed him. Killer, not one to back down from a fight, pushed Dust back. The next thing he knew, the two were on the floor beating the shit out of each other.
Their fight had been stopped by Nightmare, who was not happy. Killer, who had gotten more beaten up than he would like to admit, was told to go to the infirmary while Nightmare talked to Dust.
…
Killer sat on one of the beds, holding an ice pack to the forming bruise around his left socket. “Stupid Dust.” He muttered. “Why do I get stuck dealing with the new guy? Why’d Boss even get new henchmen?”
“Killer.”
The aforementioned skeleton jumped. “Boss!” His head whipped around to see Nightmare’s figure looming in the dark shadows of the room. “What uh… What’s up?”
“Killer,” He started, tone cold. “Why is it that you can’t get along with others? Dust has been here for two days, and already you are picking fights. Why?”
He was shocked by Nightmare's words. “Me? I’m the problem? Dust started it!”
“Pushing blame? Gods, what are you, five? Take some responsibility.”
“I didn’t do anything!”