Chapter Text
After the X-Event was quarantined - once more taking away Cross’ universe, everyone he knew and cared for, even Chara this time -, he was given an ultimatum when it was discovered that he held the last dregs of the OVERWRITE ability in his soul: join the core group of the Star Sanses, or be returned to the empty white remnants of his universe. He chose the latter, much to Dream’s dismay, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of working with the skeleton who led to the manipulation of his existence - countless times, all of which he could now remember. It was with great reluctance that Dream let him go, and Ink kept his gaze averted after opening the path to X-Tale.
And there he sat for an indetermined amount of time - suffering in absolute solitude, interrupted by a smattering of visits by Dream and Core, both trying to convince him to change his mind or even return to the Omega Timeline. He stewed in his mounting self-loathing and a cocktail of lingering anger, betrayal, and hurt. An overwhelming sense of deja vu filled him when the eternal silence was breached by a malicious voice behind him.
“I see you’ve been returned to your isolation.”
Cross turned his head enough to glare behind him at the corrupted skeleton, standing with his hands in his pockets before a tear in reality leading into the null space of the Void. At his side was Killer, whose usually stagnant grin was a touch broader.
“what do you want?” Cross growled, meeting Nightmare’s gaze defiantly. He was no longer cowed by those whose disposition was something other than ‘mortal’; gods they might be by all rights, but yielding to their will had recreated the tragedy he’d tried to undo.
“I’m gathering an army,” Nightmare said. “A resistance, if you will, in a bid to maintain balance in the multiverse.”
The multiverse could burn for all Cross cared, and Nightmare’s eyelight narrowed sharply as if he could hear that very thought. Instead of voicing it aloud, though, Cross asked, “why me?”
“You weren’t my first choice,” the prince of darkness admitted, a sour tone entering his voice, “but when my first choice refused to come to heel, Killer suggested that you might be bored, hanging around in your dead space universe while the terminator of your world runs free, continuing his act as ‘Guardian of AUs’.” Nightmare grinned broadly. “Doesn’t that make you angry? Doesn’t it make you want to h u r t h i m ? ”
It did. It made Cross want to track him down - him and his band of self-righteous heroes - and return every ounce of pain that he caused him. Ink had caused him s o m u c h p a i n ! Cross clutched his skull suddenly, the irritating grind of bone against bone clearing his mind. He glowered at Nightmare. “get out of my head,” he hissed, turning his back to the duo once more. “i refuse to submit to you again. leave my universe.”
“You seem to misunderstand.” The soft scuffing of Killer’s sneakers brought magic sparking to Cross’ eyes. “ I w a s n ‘ t a s k i n g . ”
Cross was up and turning on his heel in time to catch Killer’s blade against his own. The attacking skeleton quirked a brow almost playfully, bearing more weight down on his weapon, though Cross didn’t budge.
“I hope you’re more fun than your Chara was.”
The red glow in Cross’ eye light flickered purple as he grit his teeth and jerked his blade up, disconnecting their weapons and leaping out of reach as Killer took another wild swipe at him. He grasped the handle of his knife with both hands as his opponent began laughing, the light of his target-shaped soul brightening ominously.
“See! It’s been months, and his reaction time has barely deteriorated!” Killer crowed.
“I’m not convinced,” Nightmare said, though his expression held a shred of interest now.
“Let’s put on a fun show then, Cross.”
Not that Cross had much of a choice with Killer coming at him with the clear intent to maim or kill. He stayed mostly on the defensive - still reeling from the realization that so much time had passed, since time was indiscernible in his prison, and so, so tired of fighting. Killer, of course, didn’t find much fun in a quarry who wouldn’t fight back properly, so he jabbed at the scars still so fresh in Cross’ soul. There was a lot available as an arsenal, but he found he didn’t have to pick very far to trigger the change he desired. Just a few off-hand comments about the loss of his brother - the usual sore spot of a Sans - and Cross’ left eye light lit up purple; he stopped pulling his punches; and Killer found himself on the defensive.
Killer had his back to a wall and he reveled in the thrill. He was an accomplished mass-murderer, known across the multiverse for his soulless nature, but he picked up his skills from a megalomaniac whose only redeeming feature was their ability to swing a knife and do a lot of damage. He overpowered them and went on to become something more without them, but Cross fought with a finesse that he was used to seeing in Royal Guardsmen, but with the additional strength of a being full of untapped Determination. He’d make a perfect addition to the team, proven more-so when he finally swiped Killer’s feet from beneath him and stabbed his blade through his chest, slotted perfectly through his ribs so as to not injure him, but prevent him from moving lest he wanted to lose a bone or two. Not that he was beyond tempting fate, but he’d seen what that blade could do, and he wasn’t eager to test its direct effects on a monster, especially when it was so close to his exposed soul. Both skeletons had earned solid dents in their HP, Killer bound to be nursing the forming bruise in his sternum for weeks to come and Cross practically crying marrow from the cut cheekily carved beneath his right eye socket; Killer was slightly winded from the fight, but Cross hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was made to fight, after all, while Killer was simply molded into it. Killer tilted his head back to look at Nightmare, who had a hand cupping his chin, looking contemplative.
“What d’ya say, Boss?” he called, keeping his arms outstretched to his sides in defeat, but knife clenched firmly in hand in case he was given a signal to start round two, or simply kill Cross - both of which he was perfectly capable of, despite his current position. “Can we keep ‘im?”
Nightmare appeared to come to a decision, as he took a step forward. Cross’ entire stance changed as he prepared for another fight, but Killer’s blade plunged between his metatarsal bones, stopping him from moving. He scowled down at the equally pinned skeleton, who merely held his usual static grin in the face of his ire. “It might benefit you to listen, Crossy.”
Cross returned his glower to the bigger threat, who stopped just out of swinging distance. He held out a hand, making the ex-Royal Guardsman flinch minutely.
“Join us, Cross,” Nightmare beckoned. “Don’t tell me you believe you should be wasting away in this empty space while the rest of those miserable universes out there get to go on with their lives nonethewiser to what we’ve witnessed take place during the X-Event.”
“... how would joining you benefit me?” Cross asked flatly. “you can’t revive my universe, or provide any means to do so. that’s the only thing i want.”
The prince of darkness smirked. “It’s not the only thing you want. What about revenge? Against Ink, and his precious AUs, living pacifist timelines while your chances at joining them were sullied by the very skeleton meant to protect you. He was supposed to be your friend, wasn’t he?”
Cross was silent, his expression stony, before he met Nightmare’s gaze with a defiant glare. “fine.” He tore his blade from Killer’s torso, chipping off a few more points from his HP, but avoiding scraping his soul on the way past. He propped his blade on his shoulder and, once Killer pulled his own knife free, marched forward to stand before his former (and now current) leader, gripping his offered hand and shaking it firmly. “but i won’t mindlessly kill for you.”
“Unnecessary, if you recall,” Nightmare replied smoothly. “I need those souls alive to benefit from the negativity we’ll spread.”
Killer joined them as they dropped each others’ hands, brushing himself off and pouting as he tugged at the tear in his jacket. “Man, there goes my record for performing unscathed.”
Nightmare dragged a tentacle through the air, opening a rift in space. “You can steal a new one on our next mission.”
“Tch. I don’t want a new one!” Killer protested as he obediently followed the other through the portal.
Cross stepped up to the rift, but stopped before entering to take one last long look at the nothingness of his universe. He knew that once he was gone, nothing would stop Error from tearing it to shreds. It was stupid to be sentimental over nothing, but his soul still ached as he finally crossed over into his new life.