𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 || fandom

Betrayal (pre-Deltarune C2)

TWs: Attempted murder

Take care of him.

When Mike had first heard the order, he automatically assumed that he was going to take Spamton out for a nice dinner, or buy him some new clothes. Anything that didn't mean that he would have to kill him.

But when the Doctor threatened to take away his fame, and everything else that he held dear, it seemed that he had no choice.

Spamton was like him in many ways; they both had started out with almost nothing, until they had met the Doctor through fate and were granted their power. While Spamton had become successful in sales, Mike had steered his career in another direction, and had become the host of the popular TV show, 'Mike Games'. His business, his show, meant everything to him, and he couldn't afford to lose it, no matter the cost.

Mike stood on the edge of the great lake of acid that was just outside of the Queen's mansion in the Cyber City. It had been a while since he had visited this particular Dark world, which he was honestly quite glad for. He disliked the bright neon lights that surrounded him wherever he looked. The Darkners there were strange and unnatural, and the Queen was quite eccentric. Spamton was the only decent thing in this world, and he was about to die by Mike's hands.

"Hey!"

The shout pulled Mike from his thoughts, and he turned around, the screen on his TV head flickering on and forming a grin as he saw his best friend running toward him. He looked like a mess; his hair was disheveled, his pale face was red, and his clothes were rumpled and dirty.

"Woah, there, partner, what happened to you?"

Spamton slowed to a stop in front of Mike, attempting to straighten out his red suit jacket. "What happened to me?!" he exclaimed, sounding thoroughly irate. "I just got kicked out of my fucking home, that's what! The man on the phone still won't call me for whatever goddamn reason, and my sales are going wrong, and-"

Mike put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy there, Spam. How 'bout you just calm down and tell me what happened, eh?"

Spamton looked up at him, trying to slow his breathing. He ran a hand through his dark hair, closing his eyes and groaning in frustration.

"She kicked me out. Queen, I mean. She kicked me out of her goddamn mansion while I was in the middle of a fucking breakdown. Of course Swatch wouldn't help me, that prick..." he grumbled. "I've tried to tell them that my sales were gonna go back up, and they didn't listen! They didn't fucking listen- it's the man on the phone!" His heterochromatic eyes lit up with anger. "He's the one! He's not answering my calls!"

Mike winced a little. "Hey, how 'bout we not talk about the Doctor like that-"

"I can talk about him all I fucking want, Mike!" Spamton snapped. "He made me a big shot, and he thinks he can just tear that away from me?! Who does he think he-"

"Spamton, stop."

Mike's tone was suddenly serious, and his grip tightened on Spamton's shoulder.

"Woah, what the fuck are you-"

"Don't talk about the Doctor like that," Mike said in a low voice, sounding deathly serious. Spamton took a small step back, towards the acid lake.

"Mike, what the hell?!" he snapped. "This is his fault! He-"

"I'm warning you now, Spamton." The grin on Mike's face flickered out, until his screen was filled with static. "Don't say another word about the Doctor."

Spamton took another step back, glancing at the acid behind him warily. "C'mon, man, I'm not in the mood for this shit!" he said angrily. "I'm having one of the worst days of my life here, I'm not-"

"And it's gonna get worse if you don't fucking shut up." Mike's hand reached out, and he grabbed Spamton by his shirt with an iron grip.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Mike took a step forward, shoving Spamton back with him. "I'm sorry for this," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Doctor's orders."

Spamton reached up, trying to loosen Mike's grip, to no avail. His rage started to fade into fear as he realized how close he was to the edge of the acid lake. "W-Wait, Mike, what the fuck are you- did he tell you to kill me?!" he shrieked. "That bastard- Mike, I'm your friend! I thought we were- you said we were best friends!"

"We were," Mike told him, taking another step forward. "But the Doctor told me that you were a liability to him. He can't have you alive any longer. That's why I'm doing this."

"M-Mike, wh- no, please, y-you can't do this!" Spamton stammered, clawing at Mike's hands now, trying desperately to pull away from him, to get away from the edge of the acid lake as he could. "N-No, please, I-I'll do anything, I swear, I'll give up the sales, I'll give up the money, I'll do anything, just-!"

Mike roughly pulled him towards the edge once more, holding him just above the bubbling, green acid, staring emotionlessly at Spamton as he whimpered, clutching at his sleeves in an attempt to keep himself from falling.

"It has been a pleasure knowing you," Mike told him. "But the Doctor must come first. Goodbye, Spamton."

And with that, his grip loosened, and Spamton fell over the edge, into the acid below.

There was a sound like butter being dropped into a frying pan, a deafening sizzle that began the moment Spamton touched the acid. Then an agonized shriek and the sound of splashing added to the cacophony of sounds assaulting Mike's ears. Spamton was thrashing on the surface of the acid, his face contorted with anguish as it attacked his skin.

"IT BURNS!" he screamed, desperately reaching out to Mike. "HELP, IT BURNS- AH- STOP! MIKE, HELP ME, IT BURNS!!"

His screams were occasionally drowned out by the sound of splashing as he attempted to keep himself above the surface. Unfortunately, he did not know how to swim, and his efforts to do so were futile as his energy depleted. He sunk below the surface after a few moments, and his agonized cries couldn't be heard by Mike any more. The acid seeped into his throat as he continued to thrash, and he choked, thoroughly believing that he was going to die. He was drowning, he couldn't breathe, there was nothing he could do to save himself.

Mike watched his friend sink out of sight, feeling completely numb. He had never wanted to kill his best friend. It hurt him to do this, but he knew he had to. It was for the Doctor's cause.

"❍︎ ♓︎♍︎♒︎♋︎♏︎●︎? ❍︎ ♓︎♍︎♒︎♋︎♏︎●︎, ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎? ❍︎ ♓︎🙵♏︎, ♓︎⬧︎ ♏︎❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎⧫︎♒︎♓︎■︎♑︎ □︎🙵♋︎⍓︎?" (Michael? Michael, are you there? Mike, is everything okay?)

The Doctor's voice floated into his head, static lacing his words as if he was speaking through a radio.

"I'm... I'm here," Mike said defeatedly. "Everything's fine."

"⬧︎◻︎♋︎❍︎⧫︎□︎■︎'⬧︎ ♌︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ⧫︎♋︎🙵♏︎■︎ ♍︎♋︎❒︎♏︎ □︎♐︎? ♒︎♏︎'⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♑︎□︎■︎■︎♋︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ♌︎♋︎♍︎🙵 ♋︎♑︎♋︎♓︎■︎?" (Spamton's been taken care of? He's not gonna come back again?)

Mike glanced down at the acid once more, softly sighing once he saw no sign of his friend. "No... he's been taken care of, sir. He won't come back."

"♑︎□︎□︎♎︎. ◻︎❒︎□︎♍︎♏︎♏︎♎︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♐︎□︎◆︎■︎⧫︎♋︎♓︎■︎." (Good. Proceed to the Fountain.)

"Yes, sir."

Mike began to walk off, not once looking back over his shoulder at Spamton. It still hurt, having to get rid of a friend like him. Unfortunately, fame comes at a heavy price, a price Mike was willing to pay.

For the Doctor.