A/N This story contains strong language and violent themes

Nothing makes sense anymore. The world has turned upside down, and Dust can't make any sense of it.

The surface AU that Dust is walking in is is fairly busy for this late in the evening. The light of the setting sun glints off the towering skyscrapers. The first time that he came here, Dust was enthralled with the sight of the thriving city. It's now become mundane and dull after a few months of visits. Dust's destination won't be found among the crowded streets bustling with activity. He turns and ducks into an ally. Less and less people roam the streets as he walks, and the people who are present look rough and unapproachable. These are Dust's kind of people. The slums bring a sense of comfort and familiarity to him.

Home is no longer familiar. It's been nearly a month since Nightmare has organized any sort of raid on an AU. All he seems to want to do is watch his little parasite toddle around. A year and some months ago, Nightmare ended up with a son. The freaky little thing is made entirely out of corrupted magic without anything concrete in his body. Vestige is growing alarmingly fast. He can walk and speak a few coherent words, but his mind still seems to be close to the one-year mark. Nightmare has dropped everything else in order to look after Vestige. Dust doesn't understand it. Why is everything changing?

The change began even before Vestige appeared. It started with Horror proving himself not to be the monster that the Multiverse claimed him to be. Horror chose a new path for himself. Wether he realized in the beginning or not, Horror fell in love. He and Hearts, formerly known as Lust, somehow found each other through their own terrible AUs. Their kid is four months old now.

Cross and Killer both seem to enjoy these new changes. A few Sanses from other AUs are willing to give the bad guys a chance after the stunt Horror pulled. Cross's outgoing personality has served him well in making a few new friends. Killer has even gotten know a strange skeleton named Color. It's incomprehensible.

How can the others just move on? Don't they have just as much blood on their hands as Dust? No one has yet to stop living in the manor, but it's not the same with everyone coming and going. It feels like Dust's little family bonded together through blood is now falling apart. Dust can't talk about this with anyone. Even if it's killing him, the others seem happy. Dust doesn't want to ruin that just because he can't move on like everyone else. At times like these, Dust wishes that he could still hear his brother's ghostly voice.

Without entire AUs to terrorize and slaughter, Dust has found himself becoming twitchy and feeling cooped up. He still needs the adrenaline rush and instinctual conflict that battle brings. He needs an outlet for his energy. While it's not the same as killing off opponents and gaining LOVE at an alarming rate, the slums provide the outlet that Dust desperately needs.

The surface AU happens to be one where monsters were never locked underground. Dust's skeletal features don't make him stand out. It's he himself who is recognized. As Dust wanders closer to his destination, humans and monsters alike either back away, or in a few cases, nod with respect. Dust won't acknowledge either response. The dirty back allies are full of trash, and there's a strange smell in the air that makes Dust want to grimace.

After taking another turn, Dust comes upon an larger space within the maze of allies. Monsters and humans mill about. They're waiting to be let into one of the run down buildings. Dust ignores the line and walks towards a different entrance. The large human standing at the door recognizes Dust.

"Here for the cage match?" they ask.

"Yeah." Dust keeps his conversations short and to the point here. He doesn't care to 'get to know' anyone. He's only here for one thing.

The human allows Dust go right through the door. The other humans and monsters at the other entrance have to pay, but fighters like Dust don't have to. He'll get in free for as long as he keeps beating up the other fighters to a bloody pulp. Dust isn't allowed to kill anyone, but it's still better than playing house with Nightmare. Weapons are disappointingly not prohibited. Monsters also aren't allowed to use their magic. Dust lost a few matches in the beginning since he wasn't used to fighting with his bare fists. He's adapted quickly to the challenge. While it's illegal in the rest of the city, the fighting club that Dust fights at has a schedule that separates human and monster fights during the week. The fights turn into a free-for-all during the weekend. This is when Dust prefers to fight. Monsters have become boring to him, but it's incredibly satisfying to draw blood from a human.

The dim corridor that Dust walks through is cramped. Loud voices echo off the the metal rafters and make it impossible for noise at normal volumes to be heard. Gaps in the wall reveal a large crowd in the other room. Dust glances over to briefly watch. From the noise and brief glimpses he gets, Dust can tell that the warm-up fight has already started. A pair of dogs are fighting within the cage arena. These small fights with animals get the crowed excited before the humans and monsters fight. It's none of Dust's business if some people get their kicks from dog fights. He's got no room to judge. Dust has murdered many, many actual people.

Dust finds himself walking into a locker room of sorts. He carries very little on him and has no need to store anything, but he'd rather not socialize in the lounge that most of the other fighters use. As it is, only a couple other people are in the room. Dust ignores them and leans against a wall. He closes his eyes and simply listens to the din of noise around him.

"Hey! Skeleton man, you're back." An elbow falls beside Dust's shoulder, and he lightly growls in annoyance at the closeness. Dust turns his head and looks over at the annoying human. Dust wouldn't tolerate them if this human wasn't one of the owners of the fight club. They never seem to realize how much danger they're in when Dust is close.

"I've got you booked for two fights tonight. Both humans, just how you like," the owner goes on, used to Dust's silence. "You're really becoming a house favorite! Last weekend was a real payout with the bets."

Dust grunts in acknowledgment, stepping away to stop the owner from leaning close to him. Dust doesn't want to act friendly and give this guy any more motivation to be so chatty.

The owner finally seems to get bored with Dust. "Your first match is in ten minutes, and the second is an hour after that. If you can handle it."

The challenge to his capabilities makes Dust glare a bit at the owner. Dust is used to fighting trained soldiers, bow-wielding guardians, and literal gods. A human without a weapon is laughable at best. The owner just smirks at Dust's menacing expression and takes their leave. Dust turns away, continues to ignore the others in the room, and sinks back into his own strangled mind.