I Lost My Chance...

4:||Uh oh.

Killer flopped down on his bed again, feeling totally empty. He was exhausted physically from the mission; his first mission had been so much more intense than he ever would have expected, and it was probably mostly because of Error. But that wasn't it at all. When he had come back, thinking he had done all right, Error had falsely reported that Killer had completely failed. This pissed Nightmare off an unbelievable amount, so much so that he curled a tentacle around Killer's body and threw the lackey against a wall, leaving him to crumple to the ground. Not being able to feel so much led Killer to not cry, though somehow, he wanted to.

Nightmare was so hostile towards him. Error absolutely hated his guys for no reason. Cross seemed to think he was too worthless to interact with. Dust didn't want to approach him for some reason, unless Horror was there. The only person who seemed to care was the big oaf that was Horror. He always went around with a kind smile on his face, doing as he was told without question and without a fight.

He was the kind of friend Killer was grateful for over the next few months of working. It became so tiring that Killer wanted to leave. He began to feel again, but all he felt was strong negativity, which he knew would have Nightmare chuckling and smiling deviously. The negative king only cared about people's suffering and how it benefited him. The man couldn't care less about people in general, or so it seemed. There was always a joyful glint in his eyes when he had to punish anybody.

When it had nearly been ten years of Killer's joining the group, Dust came up and talked to him one on one without a hostile glint in his murderous eyes, which surprised Killer so much he was speechless. Dust usually didn't talk to Killer unless it was to give him threats or to tell him to wake up and get his sorry ass downstairs for a meal or a meeting.

"Hey, Killer," Dust began, looking nervously at the ground. "Sorry for being an asshole all this time. It's... Kind of who I am. But I've gotten really used to having you around that I wanted to... Maybe... Be friends...? Because Horror seems to like you, and he's my friend so..."

Killer shook his head, cleared his throat, and finally found the words to speak. "Yeah, Dust, that's all right. Don't need to apologize for anything. I understand. Yeah, I'd be totally okay with a friendship."

Dust awkwardly held his fist out. Killer stared at him before touching it with his own fist, feeling a genuine smile come to his face for the first time in probably years. The two headed outside to sit in the training grove, where nobody would bother them because none of the gang really cared to go outside.

"So... I guess you're slowly becoming less of a bland person, huh," Dust acknowledged with an amused chuckle.

Killer frowned, but he knew what Dust meant by that. Truly, he was becoming less "bland", if you will; his emotions were slowly coming back. All of them. And he was afraid Nightmare would notice and take them away again. Boy, did he hope he was a good enough actor to hide them.

"Mhm," he replied absently, spinning his knife in his hand. When he turned to Dust, he saw the hooded murderer since. This made him look down at his hand, which was now bloody.

He had accidentally cut himself. And on a terribly rusty and probably poisonous blade. What was even worse was that it was a pretty big cut that was bleeding more and more by the minute.

Dust panicked and picked up Killer in his arms, for the knife wielding killer had fainted from his injury. He struggled to run to the castle with Killer unconscious in his arms. But when he did, he kicked open the front door and began to scream at the top of his lungs, alerting the entire castle that something was seriously wrong.