A gun can be used for an infinite number of things.
Protection.
Destruction.
Vengeance.
Murder.
Always in the instance that tears families apart; wives from husbands, making enemies out of friends- turning leaders into mourners. Not that the mobsters of this mow town care all that much- only we haven't been properly introduced to them yet.
So without further ado, we begin with a gun- the monster that held it— Oh, and how they both ruined your life!
—
"Order up!"
Not even- you squinted up hazily at the plastic clock that hung high above diners heads. Nine- Not even Nine 'o clock and you were already ready to rip the pass bell off it's hinges and parade about with it like a knuckle-dragging gorilla. You were coffee deprived- it was a valid thought. The ring of the shrill bell sounded again from behind you, turning to scamper towards the pass through the sliver of floor space left. Monsters crowded left and right, a mass of colours, fur- their hollers following you, an Everest of demands: Napkins! Refills! Cheque-!! The doorbell rung from somewhere in amongst the armada of sounds.
Grillby's was the only establishment in town that allowed them in, monsters that is- Humanity was having yet another one of its famed racist prick tantrums. You weaved in-between the bulk of two customers before stopping short of a staring Grillby. "....Here." Your pad and pen were shoved towards you. "You see that fella over there?" He raised a blazing finger, aimed behind you. You peered over your shoulder, a hunch looming dark in the corner. "Uh huh...?" You drawled, turning back around. Grillby gazed down at you, hard to tell under the scrutiny of his flaming brow. "I'm... I guess you could say behind the eight ball with him*- could you be a doll and take his order for me?" You raised a brow, about to ask— "Thanks sweetheart!" Was heard from around the corner, Grillby already making his way to cower in the pantry. You turned around.
Your frown set into a determined scowl as you faced the dining room again, ready for war against spilled food, sticky juice— and the true enemy: stray crayons... only to be met with a silent cafe. Swallowing, you began your walk, unaware of the leering violet pupil that peered over the shoulder of the black clump, watching as you approached. Your shoulders tensed, it was as if walking down the aisle to a waiting groom of death. No, no- not thinking of that, not thinking of that.. Your eyes flickered wildly over the horizon of solemn customers as you inched closer— closer—— "Welcome, sir! What can I get'cha today?" You greeted, beaming with your pad at the ready, pen hovering above it. The figure didn't move at first, you dreading having to poke him to test if he was alive before he shifted on the stool like an rusted cog.
"I say....."
A voice started in a manner that would've been robust and suave if it hadn't been for the grated edge of a voice box worn down by the centuries. It straightened, a lean tower of bones draped in a dark coat that stared down ominously. A perplexed smile balanced across a pale skull, large holed hands folded. "Grillby sends for the most amusing people to cater to me- and of all people he sends a girl, a child. How precious..." You dodged the dig with a smile. "Can I get'cha a coffee sir?" He looked taken aback for the briefest of seconds before smiling drearily. "I'll take it black. Extra hot. I suppose Sans can order for himself." He dismissed. "Of course." You mused, jotting it down messily as orders started popping up like moles from behind you. "We'll be right out with that-" you grinned almost apologetically, backtracking into the pass.
Most amusing indeed.
You curiously peered out from behind the pass at the lean monster that had turned again. You weren't exactly sure what he was, though a 'really dinged up skeleton' would be, theoretically, the best guess. His skull was engraved in shallow twin marks one dragging up the top of his right socket, the other dragging under his left. He was a rather crooked thing, jutting and gangly- though not awkward. But enough of that-! 'Work to be done, monsters to feed-!' was usually Grillby's motto, only he was now squeezed unceremoniously between two shelves, biding his time shivering till they left. You sighed, fists resting against your hips. It was up to you now. "Grillby—!!"
—
The figure waited, suspended in motion. Watching, plotting... His keen, calculating mind alight under the surface— "A'right- I'm here—!" A voice beside him announced in a gruff sigh, the metal stool shrieking as it was pulled, the new figure's weight sinking into it with a comforted, relaxed moan. The original figure blinked, then blinked once more. "You're disgusting. Go home and change." He ordered bluntly. The figure on his left began to sputter furiously, trying to arm himself with an insult before he was waved away. "Go-!" The left grumbled a protest. "GO." The left fixed a frown: "Order me some hot cakes- I love the things!" before dissipating in a mushroom of burgundy smoke, leaving the figure to shake its head. The mellow scent of ground Arab beans came from behind him, turning, he watched you struggle with three orders lined across either arm, teetering towards him.
The mug clinked dully against the rim of a bowl before being set down in front of him. "Will that be all sir?" You asked with a wobbly smile, at least attempting to make eye contact during this balancing act. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble- could you bring over a number three while you're at it dear?" He drummed his phalanges atop of the bench as you nodded carefully. "Sure thing!" You tottered off, him watching you retreat. You were an odd little thing. A human with no... resentment- no rage towards monsters. Most odd... A minute passed. Then a minute more. Another minute— you arrived with a fat slab of hot cakes produced by a whimpering Grillby, paralysed in the pantry.
You had tried to coax answers out of him between orders, who was the skeleton? Why was he so afraid? He made answers of course- though they were all indecipherable scared little noises. When you returned, you saw him running his index finger moodily along the tile grout of the kitchen floor. "Grillby-" You began sympathetically, setting the tray aside to kneel at his eye level (?). " I haven't seen them since they gave me that loan to open this place up...!" he despaired to himself, sighing. "Hey, hey- what loan? It's gonna be fine, he- whoever he is- seems civil enough!" He laughed dryly. "You don't know this town very well then, do you sweetheart?" You groaned at his cryptic attitude, he always refused you a hand in the business of the restaurant and it peeved you to no end.
A clatter could be heard from the thin wall behind you, making you jolt. Grillby launched to his feet only to narrowly duck a poorly-aimed plate. It smashed, sending Grillby rocketing out of the way into a neighbouring cupboard with a cry. "I shoulda paid the loan-!! I shoulda paid the loan—!!" Heart in your throat, you crawled over, sliding up the wall to peek out of the pass window. This sorts of stuff never happened- it was... unusually exciting— until you saw the centre of the action. Your heart sunk to the depths of your bowel as you saw two large monsters flank the black hunch, practically breathing down its neck. You clutched the pass ledge, sinking down- this wasn't going to end well. "You've gotta lotta nerve comin' round here W.D. Word's goin' round that you have a fine wad of sugar** on yer head- you and yer boneheaded brother." One spat, chewed tobacco splattering across the bench.
'W.D' only chuckled. "I wouldn't know what you're talking about my fine gentlemen-!" "Come now- we knows you two are droppers***- so cut the—!" In a movement so swift, so fluid that it seemed unnatural- like a magician, he pulled a hooked cane from the hole in his right hand- the butt of it pressed against the chest of the suspended monster. You watched as W.D's grin spread, jagged and wholly terrifying in all terms of the word, phalange wrapped around a small trigger. "If you're quite done with your yapping- perhaps we can get down to business away from here." You almost smiled at his consideration- "Or I can make a graveyard of this place and bump you both off right now." You frowned. A movement- a gunshot. The left roared in pain as dust exploded from his shoulder, W.D staring down the barrel of his gun... cane- thing.
Patrons screamed in place as the right wrestled W.D to the floor only to catch air as he was launched forwards, headfirst through the front window in a shatter of glass, legs flailing helplessly. The left uncovered a pistol hidden, firing blindly as W.D kicked up a table swiftly, ducking as bullets shattered the wooden defence. The rain of bullets continued between the two, kicking up quite the crowd bundled outside, distinctly human. All tiny and pointing, staring in from the streets, gaping at what seemed to be a chair that was flung out the windo— they screamed, ducking under a fresh wave of glass. You stared as this went on- tableware shattering, monsters cluttering the back door in attempts to leave— there was a body flung through the pass doors belonging to a fuming W.D. He was quick to sit up, glaring. "Knife." "Huh?" "KNIFE-!!" He ordered as you squeaked, grabbing the closest one and tossing it towards him in a flimsy throw.
The tip sunk into the grout only to be lifted up invisibly- the surface of the knife growing black as it was pitched out of the doors. There was a yelp from the dining room. W.D dusted himself off before deftly side-stepping another flying plate. "Child, honestly." He sighed. You were yanked by your collar out of the path of thrown china and into W.D's side, Grillby miraculously yanked up into the other side. "Get up." W.D barked, setting him down as he shook. Seeming to understand his position, Grillby was then shoved the cane-like shotgun. W.D waited, Grillby quaked— "Now!" They kicked open the double doors of the pass, charging into the diner full-throttle. You stayed put- there was wounded whining, stray shots till a commanding voice shouted. "Alright- knock it off-!! Yer outta bullets- I oughta bump ya right here!" It spoke from below the pass window.
Slowly, you peeked- curled horns almost tickling your nose- you bit your lip, damage. You wanted to do damage. What to use, what to use—?? this conveniently placed porcelain plate would do just fine! You grinned. You scoped the window again, and sure enough he was ranting on- the whole vaudeville villain monologue-!! "— you cost me some parts Gaster, I'm gonna need to collect the debt!" They dribbled dust, slobbering as the trigger clicked- you raised the plate- and brought it down on his head like a clapping cymbal that shattered. The monster crumpled to the floor underneath the impact of it with an ogreish thud. You looked to the duo, W.D unreadable whilst Grillby looked a touch proud with a dash of fearful shit in his slacks. None spoke a word, everyone stilled as Grillby shuffled his shoes against the glass. "Well-!" He finally said, rocking on his feet.
The summary of a cafe brawl well fought.
He raised a hand outlined in amber light, turning tables upright as glass was swept away by invisible forces. The monster spearing the window was ignored, now a permanent fixture. A conversation starter, as Grillby later labelled it. Your adrenaline settled to a simmer, grin unbroken- you took on a mofo with a plate-!! With few (civil) words exchanged between the cane-wielder and your boss- terms like: "Monday." "Yes." "Or- you're dead." ".......Yes...?" They shook hands before you both swept into the pass again, beaming as a figure appeared in the doorway, two pistols cocked with an eager grin to match.
"A cafe roughin'! Now we're talkin'-!!"
For the utterly confused:
* In a spot of trouble
** Money
*** Hired killers