Into the Woods (Dusttale Sans x Frisk)

Chapter 12 - Favorite Weapon

It had been silent for few moments, neither spoke or moved, but instead enjoyed the quiet and the aftermath of their work. They had worked together to bring this massacre, even if Frisk had done most of it. Sans had stood back, watching as his little Mercy went to town on her former classmates and taking joy in seeing his creation at work. The moment that damn bunny had laid a hand on her, he made sure to step in and pull her away. The time and craftsmanship he had put in to what she was now...he wasn't about to let that get destroyed.

He turned to look at the small girl where she stood in the middle of the room, her hands and arms were covered in blood, but she had somehow managed to dodge the blood enough for her torso to remain free of it. Her eyes were alight but they were distant as if she were thinking, darting back and forth almost unnoticeably. Sans started towards her, his hand finding her hip as he dipped his head down to lower than hers so he could look her in the eyes as he asked tauntingly, "Was it everything you wanted it to be?"

"I had a very knife time..." Frisk replied, but she mumbled it, and he almost didn't hear her, but when he did, he threw his head back laughing, patting her on the back. She was forming even more and more, falling more in line to follow in his footsteps, and when she finally lifted her face to look at him, she had a broad smile etched across her face.

"Well, that's good, but we should be leaving," he replied as he leaned back away from her and released her hip. She looked at him in confusion and in slight disappointment, but before she could ask why, the sound of police sirens started to filter in, slicing through the air as they closed in on their location. Someone must have heard the girls' screaming and called 911. It didn't take very long for the flashing lights to come filtering in through the blinds despite the room's overpowering lamp.

Frisk turned to him, the knife still clutched tightly in her hand, possibly too tightly when he noticed that there was more blood flowing down from the handle onto the blade than there was coating it already. Her blood was mixing with that of the others and falling to the floor in perfect little drops. His eyes flickered with thought as he reached for her wrist, his grip so tight that she almost flinched away. He took the knife from her hand so he could examine the wound. It was a rather deep cut in the crook of her fingers where the knife cut her after slipping in her grip from the slickness of the blood.

Sans' grip on her tightened as his mind continued to race, hearing the thrum of footsteps from outside the apartment echo through the hallway and knowing the police were closing in. Frisk tried to pull her wrist free, but she couldn't. He wouldn't let her go. He tipped her chin up with his knife, a smile on his face that was almost...sad, but he wasn't sad for her specifically. He was sad with what he would have to do to his greatest creation.

"Sorry, little Mercy."

Before Frisk could react, Sans had plunged the knife into her left shoulder. She screamed in agony, struggling against his grip as she grabbed at the hand with the knife, tears welling up in her eyes. Blood oozed from the around the knife, but her movements were making it worse, causing it to tear as Sans growled, "Stay still, girl!"

The sound of the door being bashed down reached them as police stormed the apartment at her raised cry. Frisk had stilled at his voice, tears spilling down her face as she lifted her face to look at him. He smiled at her, leaving the knife in her shoulder as he tapped his thumb on her chin and stated, "Can't have my favorite weapon being found out about yet, now can we?"

Her eyes were fluttering as she tried to remain conscious, but she grinned at that, smiling through the pain as she collapsed into his arms right as the police reached them room. Sans laughed and saluted them as they tried to grab him and save the unconscious girl in his arms, but he teleported away in a flash of purple. He left them to look around at the massacre, no longer distracted by the serial killer and the last surviving "victim." Sans chuckled when he saw from a safe distance as a couple officers ran out to throw up while the others stared around horrified. He was almost proud. She had done quick, beautiful work. He looked down at the girl in his arms, unconscious and bleeding. He would need to deal with that, but his plan had worked. The way they had looked at her told him that they saw her as a victim and not as a killer. She could pass under the radar for a little bit longer now.