The Bet
The Bet
From: Undertale
Type: AU, UT Mob, Kitten & the Don
Original AU Creators: @junkpilestuff​, @nyublackneko​
Photo Inspiration: Good try, Kitten. How bout I make you a deal?
Commentary: This AU is the whole reason why I decided to start this blog. It’s also the first time I’ve done anything like this, so forgive me if proper credit wasn’t given up to Tumblr standards^^;  Enjoy.
It was a bet that brought them together.
A bet that Frisk had won and yet they felt they had, simultaneously, lost.
“No one's ever made it to the fifteenth floor.”
“No one's ever gone toe to toe with his men and lived to tell the tale.”
“No one's taken a swipe at him and come out alive.”
The dredges of Underveil all had their opinions. Their “words of wisdom” for the new face in their neck of the woods.
And yet Frisk, still very much among the living, lay splayed out on the Don's floor, their “lucky” stick broken in half and only inches from bruised, numb fingers. The tickle of the Persian carpet beneath them was far from comforting, the hearty caress of cigar fumes wafting through the air made them gag. And a mirthful grin propped across the back of a leather-bound couch, belonging to a skeleton of a man, made the fury raging in Frisk's belly bubble.
“Gotta admit. No one's made it quite as far as you.” His voice was deep, smooth. It echoed with a familiarity non-existent between the two.
He carried a medium build and all the confidence in the world. Alongside a few obvious cracks, one skirting the bottom of his left eye and the other winding over his right and into the dent on the top of his cranium, the monster of Underveil looked the part of a fella Frisk could have met walking on down the street. If humankind tended to wander amongst the monstrosities of the Outer Rim, anyway.
But it was Frisk who could barely raise their head from the floor while the Don cast his judgment over their furious, but otherwise unmoving form. He tilted his head to the left and sucked in another gulp of putrid smoke from that cigar. Its fumes carried through his body and spilled out through his clothes.
“But on the other hand, no one's ever been stupid enough to try.”
The brunette's brow sunk in. A scowl cast over their otherwise pleasant features and the Don's grin widened.
“Not to say I don't appreciate someone bold enough to walk their own path in life. Even if that path pits  them against me. I'm just saying, you don't last long up against those kinds of odds, huh?”
Frisk shrugged their head to the right and stared down at their own feet. The door was too far to make a run for. And their pride wouldn't allow them to flee, anyway. The windows nearby were a quick exit to a short-lived freedom. A freedom that involved the hard concrete below.
“If you don't mind my asking, what was your plan? Once you made it all the way up here and beaten me to a pulp?” The skeleton took another puff.
Frisk shifted their glare back onto him.
“Not much for conversation, are you, Kitten?”
That name elicited a twitch from their left eye. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.
“We all got to go by some name and you're not exactly forthcoming with yours, so...”
The Don of Underveil stood up and paced the room. The final rays of the dying day spilled over his ripped shirt as he crossed to the large desk nearby. On it were mounds of paperwork, the multitude of which had been sent flying during their bout no more than five minutes ago.
In fact, Frisk had carved their own legacy in the Don's study that would last far longer than what they assumed they'd live. Blunt trauma from their tree branch had paved into the wall panels. A few bookcases suffered some heavy blows. Even the upholstery across a few poor chaises would have to be cleaned.
Frisk heard a drawer open and shut. Then the telltale click of a lighter and another hearty puff. Did the nitwit ever stop smoking? With his non-existent set of lungs? They stared at the ceiling and watched as the skeleton came back into focus overhead. He stared down at them long and hard. The moment stretched into minutes until, finally.
“What's wrong? Run out of hot air?”
Frisk's first words since their arrival sent a shiver down the bone man's spine. No one who didn't know him intimately spoke to him like that. Not for years. And here a welp of a human was-
He shook his head and laughed, from the grips of his belly and into the smoke laced room.
It felt good.
“You know, you really are different, aren't you?” He leaned forward.
“Everyone said you couldn't be beaten. Everyone around these parts said you were the best.” Feeling shot back through Frisk's arms. They pumped their fists over and again. “They weren't wrong, but you're not nearly as good as what I was expecting.”
“Oh?” The Don raised a brow.
“You're wreckless. Your men aren't trained like they should be. You don't have enough security, especially on this floor. And speaking of floors, it was too easy to make my way up here on this kind of building plan. If I'd brought a few men with me you'd be dead.”
“Those are some mighty heavy claims for someone who still can't move.” The Don leaned his chin into his palm.
“It's true. You know it. And that intrigues you, which is why you haven't killed me yet.”
“Maybe I'm waiting to find out who sent you.”
“Or maybe you've been waiting for someone as wreckless as you to show.”
“And here you are.”
Was that an admission? Frisk stared back up at him.
“So what do you plan to do with me?”
“That depends. What were you planning on doing once you made it up here to me?”
That question again. Frisk sighed.
“I was going to beat you to a pulp. Like you said.”
“And?”
“...And win a bet.”
“A bet.” The Don echoed. Frisk nodded.
“Everyone thinks you can't be beaten. I'm here to prove them wrong. I came here to destroy what you've built. Or, at the very least, knock you down a peg.”
“And who, pray tell, decided to make such a bet?”
The brunette glared.
“Alright, alright, stupid question.” He shrugged. “Just thought I'd ask. I wasn't going to hurt them or anything.”
“They come from all over your 'empire'. Shopkeeps and bartenders, businessmen and even some of your own lackeys.”
The Don raised a brow.
“Don't worry. Once I showed on the premises your boys fought me back as ferociously as anyone. Many of these people made the bet without thinking I'd actually go through with it.”
Frisk kicked their feet back and forth a moment. The beating they'd taken wasn't so bad that they couldn't walk soon. That was worth something.
“So, let me get this straight. You made a bet with anyone cynical enough to care that you could make your way up here and trounce me?”
“More or less.”
“And how do you feel about the outcome?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
The Don stared down from his tower on the couch. The only human in all of the Outter Rim peered back up.
“On what you're going to do with me.”
That grin slipped over his features once more.
“What you did...” He gestured across the busted remains of his study, armchairs knocked over and broken glass littering the floor. “It was a good try.”
His gaze never left them.
“Good try, Kitten. How 'bout I make you a deal?”
