Archive of Our Own

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Everything began from nothing, as so many everythings did.The dark so dark it wasn’t there would never be perfect again. Unpolluted, untouched by hatred. A habitat just right for emptiness.But one by one, white objects came into form. Twisted and malformed, their dark eyes without sight. As time became something to mention, the once perfect void became littered with the newcomers. And they began to talk. They had no way to know what they were saying, but they spoke anyway.Colors struck at last, sending the ethereal anti-blackness into its own hell. This was not wanted. Not fair. But it was the way things were meant to be.And so that is how they were.\\\The heat was smothering. Burying him alive. And the dirt was everywhere. It felt as though the very Earth was working against him.It had to be him. Skeletons were more heat resistant than most monsters. Plus, no one understood the potential more than he did. This would be the most important thing he’ll ever do.So far, life in the underground was, as expected, terrible. The survivors traveled across the stringy caves, lit by fire, as far away from the barrier as possible. There were two large holes at this end, from which sunlight flowed inward from the heavens. The grassy patches that lay beneath them drank it all in. Some saw the holes as a symbol of hope. Others, not so much.As the dying died and the orphans settled into new families, the hundred or so remaining began to settle. They used magic to create a snow farm nearby (which began to grow tree-like mushrooms). It served as a source of food and water, securing them. Something told them they would survive, at least for a little longer.And yet.The anger, the sadness, the fear; it was overwhelming. It left such a mark you could see it. Living here, you could feel everyone’s pain.The smog of shame left by their defeat was thick enough to smother, and it did so without mercy.At least they had leadership. Without it, organization would be impossible. The humans tried to kill the boss monsters first, and they were successful. Now there were only two left: King Asgore and Queen Toriel. They were good monsters, making sure that life could be sustainable again. Their kingdom was close to Mount Ebott, so they were lucky. Most of the survivors were from other continents, and came here by ships, sent by the human victors. Because of this, there were many gaps in language and culture, which were hard to care of.Together, they set up laws and created homes. Without them, they would have struggled. Words could not describe how much they appreciated them. Still, the monsters had a bit of trouble adjusting to their new lifestyle.They had no electricity. This meant they had to rely on fire or monsters who had magic powers akin to electricity. The air quality was already degenerated by smoke. It was getting hard to breathe, and the smoke couldn’t get through the roof-holes fast enough. They reduced fire, as loads of smoke coming out of the holes could anger the humans. So now it was quite dark. This caused accidents.So he was going to fix it. He had mental blueprints on a heat converter, and all the time in the world. There was a cavern, a very hot one, hundreds of degrees on average. There was almost definitely a pool of magma below the surface. The potential here… was exceeding what he thought to be possible. So here he dug.Gaster found himself unable to focus on anything else. Spinning the blaster to scrape away the walls of the cavern. Watching as stalagmites toppled and debris crumbled away into nothing. The cavern was getting bigger, thanks to him, and would serve as a reservoir for the lava. Obelisks of smelted armor lurched overhead, to create the bones of the generator.A wave of dirt cascaded onto him, knocking him to the ground. Frustration flared up in his soul, but he allowed the crumbled dirt to pin him there. He closed his eye sockets, paying attention to the debris that scraped his bones.. He was so tired. A moment of rest couldn’t hurt, could it?…but it was for the best that he kept going.“STOP THAT. I’M SICK OF YOU. DIRT. BEING SO… DIRTY,” he stood as he spoke, limbs shaking as he struggled out from under the dirt. He picks up the blaster from beside him, and gives the pile of dirt a vengeful kick.The blaster was a human-made technology. It consisted of a black frame of twisted metal and pale, frosted glass. Inside, a rainbow gradient of human magic tossed and turned whithin it’s encasement. It was a very destructive tool, but he would use it for the good of monsters. He had stolen it during the war, from humans who had momentarily… captured him.He turned to the other side of the cavern, flipped a couple of the blaster’s switches. A burst of magic light smashed into the wall. There was a loud crackling sound as rivulets of light burst from the beam’s mark.. It lit up the cavern, revealing scars from past places that Gaster had dug at.Once it had opened enough to his liking, he turned it off and watched as the dust settled. He sighs, and begins to wander over to the newly dug-out section of the home.Behind him, someone cleared their throat, to gain his attention. He jolted, nerves already shot by tiring days of work. He spun around to the newcomer, pushing away anxiety.They were a gray, scarred tortoise, leaning on a cane made of twisted wood. He recognized them to be Gerson, a close friend of the king. Shit.Gaster wasn’t sure how he had gotten down the steep walls (he usually took a shortcut), but that wasn’t his main concern. He was more worried about the potential trouble he could be getting into.“Watcha’ up to, buddy?” Gerson seemed kind, but the skeleton didn’t want to assume that there were no problems.“UH, JUST, UH, DIGGING…” he mentally began to cuss himself out. No one came here besides himself. Now his pland had becone ruined. He knew the king and queen would become enraged by the news. Especially him using up valuable land for such a dangerous, reckless project. Angel, he was so stupid.“Hm,” Gerson twisted his long neck around to gaze about the cavern. He appeared amused. “What’s all this metal stuff?”“IT’S A, AH… G-GENERATOR. IT’LL HARNESS HEAT AND TURN IT INTO ELECTRICITY…” he cut himself off with a fake cough. Gerson noticed his action’s shallowness, but did not comment on it.“You’re making’ this all by yourself?”“YEAH.”Gerson hummed in approval, finally returning his gaze to Gaster.“I assume no one else knows about this here… project.”“Y-YEAH…”“Well, be careful then. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt, huh?” And just like that, their interaction was over. Gaster watched as the tortoise turned and left, shambling away. His anxiety left, replaced by the response to getting no misgendered. A sting of disappointment.Their conversation had been… weird to say the least. He knew Gerson would likely tell someone, but when was a different factor.That meant it was time to get to work.\\\The next few days passed in a groggy blur. He dug the canyon farther into the ground, and the dirt at the bottom had begun to turn into melted sludge. The generator (or CORE, as he now called it) was fully fleshed out. Catwalks hung over it’s bones like spiderweb. It was ready. All he had to do now was turn the magma beneath him into lava, and open up the river, which he would use as a coolant.Since their last talk, Gerson had shown up and stayed on the ledges, just to watch Gaster work. Besides him, a couple lone monsters wandering over, but they were just curious. No officials had come to stop him. Perhaps the tortoise hadn’t said anything yet.Gaster wandered through the CORE’s heart, checking off a few last minute items off his list.. Everything was stable, and resistant to melting. This was thanks to a film of heat resistant magic he had covered the canyon with by altering the blaster.His last check proved that everything was perfect, and it was time.Gaster walked to the side of the platform, and tilted the blaster towards the distant ground. He turned it on, and the rainbow beam smashed into the boiling dirt. The metals that coated the artificial canyon glinted in the shimmering light.He turned it off again, and the colorful light ceased. A small, golden orange glow began. Gaster watched as lava slowed oozed out of the tunnel, shedding blackened scales.It took three hours for the lava to get as high as he needed it to. The dizzying height became cut in half by the thick goop. During this time, he hurried around setting everything up. The energy would remain in storage until there was a place for it to go. Whenever he had a moment to think, he planned. They needed a wire system to deliver this electricity throughout the underground. Once the lava was high enough, he returned the the CORE itself.He used the battery-powered terminal to begin the start of the generator. He began typing in passwords and leafing through notes written on pieces of cloth. Guides and helpful information. He had it all memorized, but knew there was no room for mistakes. The monitor attached to the terminal lit up, with a request for the final password. The one that would turn the CORE on and off. Gaster typed it in, a sense of gravity weighing down on his soul.HORIZONWith a mechanical hum, the CORE took it’s first breath. A tiny heartbeat tapping once as lights stationed through the CORE’s chest flickered to life.It worked.So far, at least.He stumbled backwards, picking the blaster up from the ground. Turning it violently to were the river ran, just outside the canyon’s wall. He set it off, only for a second. Water sprayed out, falling downward to the lava. Most of it evaporated immediately, but some of it landed. They turned into little bobbing stones that melted as quickly as they had appeared. He let the blaster drop back onto the ground, and closed his eye sockets. The darkness inside his skull spread throughout his marrow.His legs folded underneath him, and he fell in a pile on the catwalk, bones rattling. Stars spot his vision. He hadn’t slep or eaten in a day or two, so this was not surprising to him. He just let sleep take him.The pain from falling dissipated as he lost consciousness. His soul looped inside his chest hungrily. The distant bubble of lava, roar of dying water, and cheerful hum of the CORE became the only sounds left..Gerson crept onto the entrance to the web of bridges, gazing downward in surprise at the pool of lava. Behind him, Queen Toriel gawked, fur raising.“Huh. She did it. Good for her,” Gerson voiced his surprise with a cheerful nod.“I thought you said this wouldn’t be dangerous! What is this?!” The queen stared around, eyes somehow passing over the crumpled skeleton.“…guess I was wrong,” he stretched his neck over the edge to stare down at the lava. How painful it would be to fall.The queen sighs, a puff of smoky fire escaping her jaws. She is about to speak, before finally spotting Gaster.“Oh dear,” she hurried past Gerson, who scrambled after her. She stares down at him, disappointed. Gerson chuckles, and nudges his skull with his free hand.“Well, she’s irresponsible, to say the least,” the queen mentions. Gerson nods.She leans down and scoops his frail form into her arms. He does not wake up. Gerson picks the blaster up with interest in his eyes. They begin to walk to the medical center.“Do you know her name, at least?”“…never crossed my mind she had one.”\\\He woke up in a dark blue room in a soft bed, one of many. The room itself was somewhat warm, but the blankets were back, to try and keep him cool. Elsewhere, he could hear light chatter from other patients and their visitors.He tried to sit up, but flopped back down, skull spinning. He hissed, lifting a hand to his forehead. He noticed he was wearing different clothes (papery and blue), which he found unnerving. He cursed quietly, closing his eye sockets and covering them with his arm.The medical center was silent for some time after that. That was, until soft hoof steps broke it.They stopped at his right side, prompting him to drop his hands and opening his eyes. It was a reindeer monster, sporting fuzz earth-colored fur and antlers. A tuft of darker fur sat on top of his head. They were wearing similar clothes to him. One of their legs was bandaged up, so Gaster assumed they were a patient too. They seemed older than him by ten or so years.“Hello!” They said cheerfully. They smiled at him with an expressive warmth.“HI,” he flinched. His voice was much louder than theirs, especially in this quiet environment. Plus, it hurt his head.“How are you feeling?”“I-I’VE GOT A HEADACHE… AND I FEEL REALLY WARM, BUT BESIDES THAT I’M FINE.”“That’s good. I’ma check your temperature, alright?” Gaster nodded, and they set their hoof-hand on his forehead. Their fur is frosty, which feels unbelievably nice. But the touch stressed him out, so he tensed up. They noticed this, and moved away, after CHECKing him quickly.“You seem to be alright. Still pretty warm, though.”“OH,” he doesn’t know how else to respond.“…you made some sort of metal thingy. With the lava. I saw it. What’s it do?”“IT’S A GENERATOR. IT TAKES IN HEAT AND TURNS IT INTO ELECTRICITY.”“Oh. That’s pretty nifty! …The queen’s mad at you, though.”The news didn’t surprise him, but he cringed anyway.“YEAH… I FIGURED…”They are both silent for a moment. Gaster grounds himself by listening to the other’s breathing.“…what’s your name?”“HUH? OH, IT’S GASTER. WHAT’S YOURS?”“I’m Rudy. It’s nice to meet you, Gaster,” they brightened again, prompting Gaster to lighten up as well.Rudy awkwardly sits himself onto the bed next to his. Silence settles over the room, familiar and comforting.“UH… WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR LEG?”“Oh, nothing. Just tripped in the dark. It isn’t too bad, just all cut up.”“OH, THAT'S GOOD. I-I MEAN IT’S GOOD THAT IT ISN'T SO BAD…”Rudy smiled again, but didn’t say anything else.“She’s awake?” It was Queen Toriel, here at last, to chew him up into a pile of dust.“They’re awake,” Rudy said, standing up with care. Gaster felt confused at his misgendering, but decided that was a problem for later.“Oh. Good,” she gave Rudy a forced smile,”you may leave now, if you wish.”Rudy nodded and stood, giving Gaster one last smile before limping off. The queen’s smile vanished as she turned to him. He sat up, clutching the sides of his skull to try and combat its complaints.“What’s your name, child?”“GASTER,” he replies, accidental in wing dings. Queen Toriel’s expression turned to one of annoyance, and he stammered a correction. She nods, before tilting her head.“That’s a strange name. Is that your first or last name?”“UH. FIRST,” it wasn’t, but this one was less painful to be called by than the deadname he couldn’t just forget.“That’s… a strange name for a girl…”“W-WELL, THAT MAKES SENSE, CONSIDERING I’M NOT A GIRL?”The Queen stared at him blankly for a little while.“Oh dear. My sincerest apologies,” she seemed confused, but it disappeared in a heartbeat.“Do you realize how reckless you were?” He dropped his gaze again, biting back the stinging ache of shame.“Yes,” he whispered, tugging the blankets up to his chest.“Then why did you do it? Risk everyone’s lives after everything we’ve been through?! What you did was entirely irresponsible, understand?!”He nodded, feeling defeated, “I just wanted to help.”The queen sighed, exhaling a puff of smoke.“…You can help by not doing anything dangerous without support.”He nodded. She seemed tired of talking to him, which was good.“I will be talking about you with Asgore, and we’ll decide what to do about you. In the meantime, please stay here,” she settled her fur, bade him goodbye, and left. Once she was out of earshot, Gaster sighed and flopped downward.His headache remained persistent, unfortunately. He decided it would be a good idea to attempt resting. He closed his eye sockets slowly, relishing in the lulling quiet.Nearby, a gentle chime sang out a pitiful song. A wave of short-lived nausea ran over him. He sat up, suddenly anxious, although he wasn’t sure why.There in the corner of the room, you see it? An ivory star. She speaks to you. Answer.He found himself standing. He didn’t remember getting up, but decided to follow through with the most reasonable option. He cut the distance between him and the glowing object, and paused, before stretching out a hand to touch it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The twinkling white star flickered there, in front of the house. Same place as always. He stared at it, skull tilted. To calm himself, he began rocking back and forth. So slow that others would have trouble noticing the movement.

The SAVE point. Under normal circumstances, this would be nothing to him. He’d SAVE and carry on. But this time, something felt different.

He still had loads from years back, and even some much farther into the future. He could hop around time, which was helpful in his line of work. Including the study of his species' environment.

But with this power came an uncanny realization. If he dies, he gets sent back to his last SAVE. Everything that happened after he had loaded it disappeared. Everyone forgets. Everyone but him.

Gaster had, as a consequence, become plagued with… ideas. Terrible thoughts.
And now he was wondering what humans were like under the skin.
They weren’t made of magic, and they didn’t exhale dust when you bashed their heads in. So what was it?
The most excruciating part of these questions was that he knew once. He knew he had seen humans ripped open, turned inside out for the Earth to see. Yet he couldn’t remember. It had traumatized that already sick child he had been. So it had become buried away, hidden somewhere in the marrow of his skull.

Knowledge on human biology had been abandoned on the surface. So most monsters understood very little on the subject. A few had extensive knowledge, but they wouldn’t tell him (Gerson) or he wouldn’t dare ask them (King Asgore). So he wondered.
He was in charge of the king’s kids for a couple hours. Had he stood outside their door, he would have undoubtedly heard them. Laughing. Innocent. He was anything but.
…Chara was a human.
It would be easy. Get what he needed, kill himself, then write it all down. He could do this as many times as needed. Write a book under a human pseudonym, and claim he found it.

It was perfect. So effortlessly perfect.
Gaster stretched his hand to the glimmering light and SAVED. It was a motion he found to be second nature at this point. He turned to reenter the house, moving slowly down the hallway.

Sure enough, their playfulness rung through the house sweetly. He opened their door, edging his way into the children’s bedroom. They were drawing, giggling at one another’s creations. They didn’t notice him, and were too focused on their drawing. He tilts his skull at the two children, clicking his teeth, deep in thought.

“CHARA.”
The human does not respond at first, but Asriel does. He motions to the doctor, and they turn.

“COME WITH ME,” he reaches out, beckoning them forward. Chara pauses, whispers a farewell to their brother, and stands to follow him.

He leads them to the attic, where Asgore and Toriel allowed him to use as a makeshift laboratory. He waves Chara on to head up first, and they climb, ladder creaking under them threateningly. Gaster pauses, glancing around this part of the house.

The entrance to the attic was through a door in the roof of the hallway. The star glimmered cheerfully from where it floated. The only sound of life was Prince Asriel humming to himself in his room. The King and Queen were busy checking in on those working at the CORE, which should have been his job. They were still mad at his self-sacrificial way of creating it, twenty three years later.
He shrugged unconsciously, and entered the attic. Making sure to close and lock the trapdoor behind him.

The cramped attic appears to be normal in the dark. But when he clicks on the lights hanging overhead, it’s cleanliness is revealed. Unstereotypical for an attic. The lights themselves are a painful white, so bright it hurts to look at them. It bothered the doctor often, but he pretended to not mind, even when no one was around.
A table sits near the end of the attic, and cabinets lined the slanted walls. Among them was a sink. Behind Gaster was a curtain. On the other side of that was a nest of blankets in which he slept.

Chara looks around for a moment, before turning back to the skeleton. Their smile remains plastered onto their otherwise emotionless face. They fidget with the sleeves of their sweater.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A HUMAN DIES?” He cringes at how loud his voice is, but otherwise does not react to his strange question. The child even less so.
They blink. He isn’t sure if they’re actually going to respond or not.
“They leave their body behind in a rush to get to hell,” their voice is quiet, yet cheerful. Basking in their creepiness.

Gaster realizes he forgot that they don’t see themselves as human. It didn’t change anything, but it did seem like something he should keep in mind as he spoke to them.

He nods.

“DO HUMANS NEED TO BREATH?”
“Yes.”
“THEY CAN DROWN.”
“Yes.”
He nods, and walks over to the sink. He shoved the plug into the drain-hole, and turned on the water on full. He (in a moment of habit) ran his fingers under the water and puts it against his teeth. Temperature didn’t affect him anywhere but his teeth. They ached painfully, the water having been near ice. He watched the basin fill, running water the only sound in the room. Neither of them moved.

When it finally filled to a satisfactory amount, he turned it off, and moved the sink’s head aside. He turns back to Chara. They still stare at him.

“COME HERE, CHILD.”
They obey, skipping forward. He leans to pick them up, and allows them to push their face into his collarbone for a moment. Gaster rests his skull on top of their head, their hair rough against his chin.

After an uncomfortable vulnerability, he turns them to the sink, and forces their face under the water. Bubbles rise from their face as they force all the air out of themself. Gaster realizes that this is more of an assisted suicide than a murder, considering their struggles with mental health. Still, his ribs ached, in a quiet manner. Guilt, although he did not like to admit it. As they ran out of air, they started bucking, choking on the inflow of frigid water. He could hear them coughing, jerking as it filled their lungs when they inhaled involuntarily.
This was not for the good of monsterkind. More of a giving in to selfish curiosity. This truth didn’t matter to him, though.

The bubbles stop. He waits a minute longer before pulling them away from the sink. Their eyes are still open, though cloudy, and their grin remains unchanged. Water drips all over their sweater and his coat. Annoying. He walks them to the table, and lays them down, so they are facing upwards.

He steps back to look at them, no, it. It no longer counted as a person, more so as a thing. Yet somehow, it is still a child to him. A dead one. Unmoving. Silent.
He fleetingly reminisces on the war. The day before anyone found him.

He had been alone. Not even sixteen, and surrounded by the dust of hundreds of thousands. Curled up against a stray boulder, watching as fires ravished the ruinous landscape. Their raging, bronze light reached up, far into the unrecognizable sky. The smoke was (thankfully) hiding anything beyond the closest butchered remains and rotting buildings. Thank the Angel he had no sense of smell.

Three figures approached from nowhere. He was finally safe, he assumed, standing shakily. They froze, chattered among themselves, and hurried to meet him. By the time he recognized them as humans, they were upon him.

He turned and scrambled up the boulder, but they reached him. Snatched off the rock like he weighed no more than a handful of dirt
They said things. He didn’t remember what, but he knew they had chastised him for daring to be a monster. And then…
Gaster shuddered, snapping away from his thoughts. He could still feel the human’s hands on him. Scurrying like insects. Pinning him down to the ground by his neck.
He refocused his attention on Chara’s corpse.
He turned and opened a cabinet to reveal shining metal knives and scalpels and the such. Deciding that none were satisfactory, he closed the cabinet’s door. Then he took a shortcut to the Dreemurr’s kitchen. The kitchen knives sat in their holder, restrained. He felt as if they could see him.
They laughed at him. How ironic, they whisper.

He felt stupid for giving them voices. The knives themselves had no power. They were nothing without anyone behind them. Nothing but tiny metal puppets.
He snatched up the entire holder and used the shortcut back. Knowing that this time would be of little importance gave him a sense of impatience. So he knew where to start for future testing. Otherwise it was a waste of time. Time that technically didn’t even exist.
The knife holder was set aside on the cabinet, and he pulled out one that looked to be for stabbing. What was it for? Meat or something. He returned upstairs in a blink of darkness.
He loomed over the dead human again, a feeling of power and control flowing through his marrow. Their soul rose from them, and he nudged it aside with the knife. It did not let him see it again. The sudden onset of LOVE made his skull feel too light, so he took time to rest.

Gaster moved their sweater up, to reveal Chara’s pale stomach. He focused on the knife in his hand, which he gripped with strange resolve. As if it would cost him his life to let go.

He brought it down on the corpse, wincing in disgust at the shlurp it made upon contact. He tugged it out again, eyes widening in his sockets at how bright it was. It didn’t spurt or bubble out, but instead dripped out the puncture and down the human’s sides.

He brought the knife closer to his face, staring at the goop. It appeared to be a liquid, but was thicker than water. The torn skin was hidden behind a veil of the stuff.

A couple of drops of red fell from the knife and landed onto his shirt. He blinked down at them. Those would definitely stain.
Gaster looked back up and stabbed them again, this one higher up, at Chara’s chest. The knife struck something hard inside its body. This caused the knife to slip in horizontally. The skeleton leaned in, pulling the weapon out again, to find more of the red gunk.At last he remembered.Blood. That’s it.He yanked it out, leaning in to examine the newer hole. He discarded the bloodied knife on the table beside it, and he selected a new one. A slicing knife. He poked it into the wound, and pried up skin and flesh. Sinew and tissue tugged at it, trying helplessly to hold tight. He did this until the hardened structure was glistening in the light.

Ribs.
Bones.

Humans… had bones? Gaster always wondered what gave them structure, but bones? Bones like his were not what he had expected.

What did this mean? Evolution-wise? Could this mean a relation between humans and monsters?

His skull spun, and he poked a finger at their chest plate, before realizing he forgot gloves. Honestly, it wouldn’t change anything, but it was so squishy. And wet.

Gaster hesitantly leaned down and rested his face on the human’s skinless chest. Blood squeezed itself through the gaps between his teeth. It had a strange warmth, and a salty, metallic taste. A shiver ran down his spine, and he laid more of his weight on Chara’s body. Pulling his leg over their body, and turning his skull onto its side.

Chara would have hated this had they been alive. But they weren’t. So that made this better?
No.
He jolted off of them, shuddering with disgust, landing on the floor. The blood covered him now, coating most of his head, and stained into his clothes. He looked back and forth, as if someone would catch him here. Even if someone did, it didn’t matter.

He stood, crossing his arms. He didn’t have to restart, but he sure did feel like it.

He turned and slammed his skull into the wall. It cracked the wall and left him reeling. Throbbing pain raced through his face, a burning merciless sting. He did it again and again, gasping as cracks tore through his forehead. He could hear Asriel calling Chara’s name in increasing concern. Tears bubble up from his eye sockets. Pausing to rub them away, he sends his skull into the wall one last time, and falls backwards. His skull hits the ground with a resounding crack as dust flies.

Gaster choked as powder clouded out of his eye sockets. A spasm ran down his spine, his hands beginning to shake.

Time to try again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chara felt… wrong. They woke up and ran to the kitchen, throwing up in the sink. Cold waves of dull pain ran through their chest. They collapsed onto the cold kitchen floor, gasping for breath.

They lay there for an hour, eyes shut tight. Confusion and fear wracked through them, though they weren’t sure why. They struggled to comprehend… something. Something they wanted to know desperately, but they didn’t know what.

Eventually, they stood, and washed their vomit down the drain. Brown and glittery.
Magic throw-up.It was a little funny.

After washing their face, they returned to their bedroom. Their adopted family was still asleep, which they were thankful for. The house was silent, besides their sock-muffled footsteps.

Asriel was still stretched out on the bed, paper colored fur mussed up and feathery. Chara looks at his budding horns. He will undoubtedly claim to have grown longer overnight. Their smile twitches, and they start shaking him awake.
“Ass, Ass,” their secret nickname for the prince had him smiling before he opened his eyes.

“Ass, I frew up.”

“What? Are you okay?” His pleased expression twisted into one of concern.
“Yeah. I was joking,” they lied. Better to not stress him out so early in the morning.
“Oh, okay,” he moved aside so his sibling could sit on the bed next to him, “I had a dream that a unicorn stabbed all the humans.”
That was probably a lie. “Sick.”
“Yeah. Did you have any dreams?”
They thought about it.

“Not that I remember.”
“Oh.”
“…I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” Chara would have smiled if they weren’t already. Of course he was hungry.

“Yes.”

“I think there’s some snow in the fridge,” he slipped off the bed, yawning.

The hour that followed was perhaps the last quiet hour the two would have, together, alive. And they shared it in matching pajamas.
\\\Halfway through the day, long after their parents had left. Asriel and Chara messed around in their room. They were “writing” a book about monster history. But it had spiraled into fighting a horde of evil butterflies.

“I will shoot them with my super crossbow!” Asriel wielded a stuffed animal (a chicken).
He waved it around before tossing it at a drawing of a butterfly with eyebrows taped to the wall. It hit the paper with a loud crinkle.
“What if they set the moon on fire?” Chara was having no trouble enjoying this.
“We’ll have to sacrifice you to them,” he mournfully jokes.

“You first!” Chara shoved him playfully.

“My horns are bigger than yours, so they will have less trouble digesting you!”
Chara touched the horned headband they were wearing. “Only ‘cause my fur’s hiding it!”
“Well maybe you should shave your head then.”
“I’ll shave your head!”
They wrestled a little bit, the world-threatening swarm forgotten.

After a couple minutes of scuffling, Asriel froze and greeted someone who was at the door. Chara turned, only to internally groan. Then wonder why they did.
It was only Dr. Gaster, the strange scientist who lived upstairs. Why were they exasperated to see him? As they pondered this, they simultaneously felt anger and fear burn in their soul.

“PLEASE COME WITH ME, CHARA,” he stayed in the slit of the doorway, staring blankly at the wall. Somewhere in those dark sockets were eyes, blue and wet. Creepy and emotionless.

“Bye, Asriel,” they murmured, a sense of dread coming over them. What was wrong? They felt so off, for seemingly no reason. Just like last week… no, that was only this morning. Right?
They grumbled quietly as they dragged themself out of the room. Up the ladder, into the attic. They had never been here before. But when he switched the lights on, Chara felt as though something about it was eerily familiar.

“SIT ON THE TABLE,” he ordered, giving them a violent nudge towards it. They did so reluctantly, trying to remember if he’d ever touched them before. Or if he’d ever acted this way.

The skeleton hastily retrieved a pair of pliers from one of the drawers at the side of the room, and returned to them. He yanked their chin up, cringing away from the eye contact with their wild eyes. They purposefully stared harder at him.

“OPEN YOUR MOUTH,” he snapped, his teeth clacking against one another.

Chara broke eye contact with a surprised blink, and a glance at the pliers. This guy was smart, right? Did he really think they’d obey?
Dr. Gaster growled, prompting a snicker from the child. He summoned a pair of magic hands to pry their mouth open. It worked, despite their struggles. They claw at his ribs, and he flinched away, before creating another pair of hands to pin their arms at their sides. They try kicking at him, but he pulls them to the edge of the table and moves his pelvis between their legs.

He presses the pliers into their mouth, pushing back and pinching onto one of their back teeth. It crushes part of their gums, stinging painfully. They try to tug their head away, but again fail. The doctor tugged at the tooth, and Chara felt it move in their gums. They try, as a last resort, to push the pliers away with their tongue.

“STOP LICKING ME,” he hissed, releasing the pliers and pushing it down their throat. They gagged, eyes stinging.

Gaining a better idea, he removed the pliers from their mouth and retrieved a scalpel. The pliers resumed their grip on Chara’s tooth, and Gaster used the scalpel to cut away their gums. It scraped against their teeth with loud squeaks that hurt their ears. They closed their eyes, holding back tears. They grabbed onto the edge of the table, knuckles paled. They decided to focus on their raw throat, to ground themselves. They tensed until they couldn’t anymore.

Once he had removed that tooth, he set upon the others. A pool of metallic-tasting liquid pooled in the bottom of their mouth. Chara fails to hold back an anguished squawk.
Asriel pokes his head up through the trapdoor with a squeak of terror. He ducks away, before returning and crawling into the attic.
“Leave them alone!” He charged to headbutt the rogue scientist. Dr. Gaster turned and scooped him up, dropping the pliers to the ground. Chara spat out the fluid.

After the skeleton hissed a few words in the prince’s ear, he threw him to the wall, with a resounding crack. Asriel curled up on the floor, crying quietly before falling unconscious.
The doctor turned back to Chara, and resumed his work. They cry out again, gagging as they not only felt it, but heard it. The sickening schlurps whenever a tooth is stolen from their gums. The scrapes of metal against tooth. Worst of all, the skeleton, that bastard, moves ever closer to them. Rib cage pulsing in excitement. Eyes fixated on every shudder of pain. Shivering just as they did. They glared at him. Freak would probably get off on this.

The magic hands finally disappear, and their hands fly to their mouth. The holes left behind leak blood in tiny, warm rivers. They sputter, aching pain shooting through their head. Tears joining trickles of sweat.
They could deny it no longer; they are human. They hated themself for it, and he probably hated them too. But didn’t he know of the consequences? This torture would not go unpunished.

“A-Asriel…” they spit out a stream of blood onto their sweater. They turn to see their brother, who remains limp. The doctor examined the last tooth, coated in blood. He dropped it to the floor, where the rest of their teeth are.

Chara tries to slide off the table, but he pushes them back up. He moved their hair out of their face, cold bones lightly moving over their forehead. Ghosts touching mirrors. They kick again, connecting with his spine. Gaster hissed, interlaced his fingers with their hair to tug their face up. Fast as light, he sank his teeth around their right eye.

They yowled, struggling from his mouth. Heat flashed out from his teeth, which grip ever tighter. They try to push his skull away, but he resummoned the hands to restrain them. They spit their blood at him. He grunts, scrapes them against their skull, and pulls them out forcefully.
“…How’s… how’s it taste?” They’re lightheaded now, and delirious from pain. Their voice slurred and sticky.
Dr. Gaster tilted his skull back, so the blood trickled to where his soul could ingest it. The thick drops drove his hunger even further.
He re-sank his teeth into their face, and bites down on their eye. It bursts with a loud pop. Chara choked in fear, eye socket growing disturbingly light. The doctor pulled away, ripping off a chunk of their face with loud tearing.
Chara knew they wouldn’t be able to see there, but they were upset upon finding themself right. Half of their vision, gone. The sting of sweat dripping into their fresh wound wasn’t helping. Tears flooded from their remaining eye. They struggled to blink, confused by missing muscles.

They begin kicking at him again. Their desperation reminded Gaster of himself as a child. Drowning in fear and nursing the wounds in his head. Forced to lay there and watch dusty hands scramble over his bones. To stare up into hatefully excited eyes.

He should have been afraid. To hurt the child in this way, he was no better than the aching human soldier from years past. He had no possible way to justify his actions.

He felt nothing. Nothing, besides hunger.
Chara spat up blood, whimpering, but they paused their shaking and froze. The monster has got a knife. The puppet has met its master.

Gaster tugged their sweater up (green and yellow and speckled with horrible wetness) and plunged the knife into their guts. Wasting no time for cliché theatrics, he yanked it out to be returned once more into the flesh. Again and again, his arms crying out with soreness, the child with pained betrayal.

Just before their stomach became a mess of dark scarlet and soupy entrails, he forced himself into them, his soul poking out of his collar, into their ruined stomach. They gag, begging for him to stop.The overwhelming sensual drove him ever further into his lustfully violent spiral. Stinging fluids agitated his eyes, and he blinked, only causing the problem to worsen. It didn’t really matter to him at this point, though. Nor did the fact that eating human flesh made monsters sick. Magic does not react to atoms well.

Gaster accidentally pushed them off the table, and scrambled over it to follow them. Their head cracked against the floor, and they went unconscious, and promptly die.

Once reunited, he began to claw, almost helplessly in nature, at their ribs. Poking through to scratch their lungs and heart. Their soul chooses now to evacuate, and he bats it aside without thought. He managed to rip their heart out, and bit down, hard enough to split the chewy organ in half.
Blood, drunk on oxygen, tumbled from the sinewy organ as it squished between his teeth. It was gross, and tougher than shit. But the symbolism was beautifully disgusting. What wasn’t there to love? A life-giving organ, a precious necessity. Between his teeth, shuddering, nothing left but a paper butterfly.

Gaster’s soul was pressed tight between the pierced guts, shuddering as a cascade of liquids drowned it. It sent a sensation of fuzzy warmth through his bones. He whimpered, pausing to enjoy the feeling.
He continued to root through Chara’s chest cavity (which was becoming more of a cavity with every bite). Swallowing it to digest in a cloud of invisible magic.

Asriel finally began to come to, letting out a tiny gasp as a trickle of dust fell from his tufted forehead. One of his budding horns had been sent back into his head. His paws frantically tried to cup the area of pain, but he cried out hoarsely as it only worsened.

The disturbing noises behind him finally came to his attention. He turned, starting at the unholy workings.
“…Chara. Chara!” He stumbled towards his sibling, not able to comprehend what he was seeing.

Gaster hissed, spraying blood and tissue from his mouth. He attempted to threaten Asriel somehow, but had entangled himself with Chara’s remains to do anything intimidating. It drew something from him, feelings he had abandoned on the battlefield where he had been raped.
He pushed his body further into theirs, giving their shoulder a tender bite. Their blank eye stared unwavering at him. The pressure, the thrilling brightness, it was all too much. He struggled to remember who he was, what he was doing, over and over again. Nothing made sense. He felt nothing and everything. Everything and pleasure, worst of all.
Asriel finally found the strength to leave. He limped to the trapdoor, tears soaking into his fur. He failed to descend the ladder, falling down it with loud thumps and ample bruising. After laying on the ground in a lump, he weakly stumbled off to find an adult. It would take the injured prince a while.

The heat ran through him, zipping around, adrenaline. A hole opened in between the eaves at the bottom of the heart-like soul, blood rushing in and coating its insides. The feeling was mirrored by a shaky, yet definite pressure in his bones. A good pressure. He buried his teeth into their face, to muffle a scream of pleasure.
No one would remember this but him. It would be a secret that would be impossible to uncover. It was for the book, or at least, he pretended it was. He was getting what he needed (plus some).
And he promised to never hurt them again. That’s what mattered.

He finally pulled away, soul dripping and swollen as it fluttered back into his chest. He lay there on the defiled corpse, feeling quite pleased with himself. Asriel should have found someone to help by now, and they were surely on their way. Who was it? Rudy and Gerson were just as likely as either the queen or king, but he hoped it was… no. Shouldn’t go there. Anyone would be fun to mess with.

…Hopefully one of the parents, though.

He snickered, then hissed as his soul choked on the human’s flesh. He had hoped for just a little longer before the pain set in.

He looked around, gently stroking Chara’s face (or at least, whatever remained of it). Only then did he notice how messy blood was. Splattered across the cabinets and on the slanted walls. Not to mention the fact he was drowning in the shit. The crimson fluid wasn’t as enticing as before. He clicked his teeth. The only great part about this was the torture and the gut fucking. Now that that was over, it was… disappointing. Still, he had a bit longer to hold out.
Gaster waited. Asriel was either much more injured than he thought, or was just stupid.

Eventually, someone came careening into the house. He went limp on them, pulling their mauled intestine out a bit more. This was gonna be fun.

“Chara? Gaster? What… what happened?” Asgore. Perfect. The universe was on his side.

Gaster lifted his skull, happy to see him. Asgore had always cared for him. Letting him into his life. Caring for the young skeleton, raising him like his own kin. That’s just who he was.
“HELLO, YOUR MAJESTY.”
“What have you done,” his voice grew dark, yet his equally dark eyes were still wide with confusion. Fur bristling. Asgore would break him as if he were a twig. And it wouldn’t inconvenience anyone. Gaster stood, locking his gaze to Asgore’s chest.
“NOTHING, JUST, WELL, THIS,” he motioned to the carnage beneath him. The king stared blankly. He was the only thing clean of blood in the room. And Gaster wanted to ruin that more than he wanted anything else.

Behind him, his son bleated miserably. The weight of the situation finally weighing on him. Asgore stretched one of his paws, revealing un-goat like claws. The doctor was finally bored of the silence.
“YOU MISSED THE ALL FUN, BUT FOR YOU, I’D DO IT AGAIN. YOU WANT ME TO?”
“…What?”
“DO… DO YOU WANNA SEE ME FUCK IT?”
Asgore finally gave in to his anger. He charged forward, yanked him up by his neck and threw him into the cabinets. He felt only a flash of pain as his spine cracked, before feeling nothing.

“What is wrong with you?!” The king snarled,. A cloud of smoke puffed from his jaws, his teeth growing orange with fire. Gaster noticed how he kept his dead child out of his sight. Asriel started crying louder from wherever he was, panicking at the loud noises. He couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor, stupid little kid.
The king repeated his question, threateningly moving closer. Gaster wasn’t sure. A number of things were wrong with him, especially right now. He opened his eye sockets slowly, unaware at how tight they had been closed. He ignored the stars in his vision, and moved his skull up to stare at the betrayed monster. He put weight on his left arm, to attempt to stand, but found it broken and useless.

The king picked him up again, paws returning their grip on his neck. He yelled at him again, but the skeleton couldn’t hear him. As a consequence of his unresponsiveness, he began to slam him into the wall. The crunching of bone echoed through the attic.

Dr. Gaster vomited up the human’s chewed flesh. Stringy chunks of tendons and skin getting stuck in his teeth. The king groaned in disgust and grief.

His hp finally flickered away to nothing, and he was dead. The feeling of death was a familiar thing, the loosening of a pressure he didn’t know was there. The healing of undetectable pain.

He felt Asgore’s anger slip away to despair, before death took over. It destroyed anything that was meant to be there. The world prepared itself to rebuild.

He was standing there, just as he was forty-some minutes before. The SAVE point glimmered innocently. The twister of his morals.

He returned to the attic, picking up the book. Unfortunate setbacks had been present, although some had been bridged over. He had to force Chara into explaining a lot of their biology, but he mostly got on on his own. However, he could not figure out how their digestive system worked. Their diet had only been magic for a long time, and humans didn’t seem to have the same problems monsters did. But besides that glazed-over subject, it was ready.
Gaster splattered water over it in the sink, and departed to find either of the royal leaders. He decided to check the flowers, as both were gardeners. Sure enough, there was King Asgore, watering them and gazing at their golden petals with pride. Such beautiful things, eventually to witness the death of the children. It was haunting, and only to him.

“SIR? THIS WAS FOUND IN THE DUMP EARLIER TODAY,” his own voice, emotionless and innocent, surprised him.

The king was also surprised, stiffening up tight. He calmed upon only seeing it to be Gaster.

“What is it?” He asked, as the skeleton moved close to pass the book to him. The cover was white, and stained by the water. Still wet. He should have set a more recent time frame. The king didn’t notice, only glancing over the title and flipping through the pages.
“‘Amanda Coolidge, The Characteristics of Human Anatomy’. Huh. Written by a human, I presume?”
“I ASSUME SO.”
“Ah,” he stared at a diagram of the human liver. It was a scratchy sketch, but seemed deliberate enough. “This is a marvelous find,” he continued to read bits and pieces of the book.

The scientist began to speak softly, in wing dings. Guilt. Though it didn’t matter.
“I'M SORRY. I WON’T HURT THEM AGAIN. I PROMISE,” he stared downward at the budding plants, while Asgore lifted his head to look at him. He lifted an ear in confusion, despite this not being the first time he’s heard Gaster speak in this language.
He continued chattering, refusing to look the king in his face. Asgore carefully began to wrap his arms around his body, slowly, in case he needed to pull away. But he didn’t, and the two hugged for a long time, Gaster’s whispering finally ceasing to make way for comfortable silence.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The pain stopped. Abrupt. And there he stood, once again. The star winking at him.

Gaster stood there, ashamed of himself. What the fuck had gotten into him? Never before had he attempted something so disgusting. A line he had tried to never cross.
Yet those lines were starting to blur.
It had to have been driven by trauma from his own exploitation. That didn’t make him feel any better.

He saved again, for the sake of saving. He took a break from self-loathing to recognize how grateful he was that his skull wasn’t sore. His death would leave a mark on him, emotionally, but right now he was numb to it.

Back to work.\\\He had lost count of the amount of times he had dissected Chara. All that mattered was that the book was underway. He had amassed a lot of knowledge, but could not have it entirely consistent. Chara had a diet unnatural to humans, due to their life with the Dreemurr family. They had not had “human food” for years. This meant he could not survey the digestive system in action (he also got a lot of names and such from Chara).
Besides his work, Gaster’s health was, unbeknownst to him, declining. Due to the powers of SAVES, he did not need to rest or eat, since it just reset his internal clock. But it did damage him mentally.
Being around Chara brought back memories of childhood. This meant old scars, such as memories from the war or his transition between genders. He found himself starting to fear Chara, although this was not logical in any way.

Another death (cracks blossomed across his face for barely a second). Another autopsy. Again. And again. Losing count was unavoidable in this loop, but a reasonable estimate at this point would be over one hundred times.

Yet it never ceased to interest him.

His schedule was simple; experiment, die, write what he learned down, SAVE, and repeat. Nothing could go wrong.
Nothing.\\\
The book itself lay before him, constructed of thin scraps of paper and violent red drawings. Diagrams and flow charts and paragraphs upon paragraphs of frantic writing. Writing in English was not his specialty, but translating Wing Dings would only lengthen the process.
The pages appeared to be scattered about in a unorganized manner, but were actually grouped by chapter and subject. In the midst of it the skeleton sat writing, wracking his brain for other tidbits of information.
A knock on the trapdoor startled him. Queen Toriel pokes her head up through the entrance.

“Dr. Gaster? Can I talk to you for a moment?” Her voice is a whisper, and is followed by a forced smile. He could not decode her expression’s meaning, but assumed it wasn’t because she was bored.
He nodded, laying down his pencil and standing, bones creaking from sitting there for so long. He followed her as she retreated from the attic. Gaster descended the ladder with practiced grace. He followed Toriel out of the house.

She slowed momentarily for him, giving him a sideways glance. The Queen seemed on edge, as if she was treading around him lightly.
They walked over to a nearby tree and paused. Toriel fiddled with her paws for a moment.

“Chara’s been acting differently,” she turned back to the house. “I’m worried about them.”
Of course. The human’s instincts had been altered by his own behavior. It made sense. But why was she coming to him? Why not her husband?
“I HAVE NOTICED.”
“Earlier today? While you were watching the kids?”
Gaster nodded, scrambling to come up with a cover story.
She sighed.

“Do you think they’re sick? I remember humans doing that kind of stuff, but… I can’t be sure.”
“YOU WANT ME TO MAKE SURE THEY’RE ALRIGHT?”
“Yes, exactly,” she smiled, relieved. He was too.
She reached out and put a paw on his shoulder. It was hard to not flinch. He felt sick.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Where were they?The save points were gone. How?

Gaster paced back and forth, looking over and over at where the little star had been yesterday. All that remained was a slight afterglow, but it was flickering away.

He cursed, and walked into his own text box. What would he do now? Without them, he felt so vulnerable, a feeling he detested with his entire being. He hadn’t done everything he needed to. Were they gone forever? What had even happened to cause their sudden disappearance?

There was no point worrying about it anyways. He was the only one who would notice their absence. It wasn’t the end of the world. Sure felt like it, though.

He sighed (due to his lack of lungs, it was more like him stretching his jaws) and walked away.

If anything, this was good. He wouldn’t have an excuse to hurt anyone. And his life could continue normally. Would there be consequences for what he had already done? There was a chance. But until then, he had returned to a normal life.
He had missed it dearly.
\\\The CORE was being emptied for the night. Stations deserted until morning. Quiet falling over the web of buildings. Only a few monsters remained behind, one of them being Dr. Alphys.
It was a habit of hers, staying behind later than needed. Allowing her to continue working, getting her ahead of her own game.

Her doctorate was brand new, and she still felt as if it was all a dream. A dream come true.

Although most monsters didn’t think of robotics as a crucial science, she disagreed. There was so much potential in machinery. If they managed to get enough human souls to escape the underground, weapons would be needed. With her combined experience in biology, she had a cavalcade of ideas. All for the betterment of monsterkind.
But it seemed as though it was going to go to waste.
Chara was a human who had fallen from the surface into the catacombs. They had then been adopted by the rulers. From what Alphys had heard, they were creepy, but sweet once you got to know them. But that had changed.
They were killing people. Innocent monsters. And they were unstoppable.

Dr. Alphys wasn’t lying when she said she usually stayed behind late. This time, though, she wasn't working. She was watching the cameras. Alone, in the half dark, illuminated by the blue light of the monitors.

Quite a few hours had already worn on, and she huddled there in the chair, tail curled around her feet. The room was silent besides her shaky breathing. The silence amplified it. She worried her breathing would lead the human there, although this didn’t make sense.

Sweat dripped in her eyes, startling her more than it should have. She shuddered, and curled up tighter. The heat was strong here, but she liked that. The heat soaked into her scales like an invisible blanket. Despite her anxieties, she managed to close her eyes, nearly tumbling off into sleep.

A beep from the monitor complained of motion. She opened her eyes reluctantly, tired and unable to deal with the interruption.
The human was here. The one to free the underground of life.

She stumbled away from the computer screen. Chara had already disappeared from view.

Walking towards where Dr. Gaster was.
“Oh Angel. Oh no,” she thought, repeating it in her head as she tried to call him on her cell phone. Uncharacteristically, he picked up.

“HELLO?” Why was his voice so loud?
“I-y-you- the human- g-get out!” And why was her voice so shaky?
He seemed to get the message anyways, and hung up immediately. But she decided to make sure, and flung herself from her chair.

The halls were dark and empty, and she couldn’t see well. She wasn’t sure why she was going to check, as he could make it out on his own. But there was an advantage point where she could make sure, and it would make her feel better.

The hall opened to a balcony overlooking much of the CORE. The lava lake glowed infernally in the otherwise darkness. Since Gaster’s building of it, he had increased its size exponentially. The CORE was something she looked up to him for.
And there he was, crossing one of the catwalks. She wondered if he had let the Royal Guards know. Although, on second thought, she should have done that already. All that mattered right now was that he was somewhat safe. She relaxed against the railings. As long as he was alive, she had hope that the human could be beat.

But as Alphys thought of the human, she came to a realization. If the human was going towards where Gaster was, they wouldn’t have shown up on the screen they did. They weren’t heading towards him. They were closer to her.

Crushing pain wracked through her body as Chara stamped down on her tail. She screamed, attempting to twist around and bite them. They plunged their knife into her head, preventing her from fighting back. She started blacking out, losing energy. She shuddered uncontrollably, as they pulled the knife out and replanted it in her back. She spat out a cloud of dust, feeling lightheaded.

She sent a tiny ball of electricity at them, but it was pointless. She was crumbling away as she fell to the floor, curling up. Her soul felt crushed, dissipating into nothingness. Chara kicked some of her dust over the edge into the abyss. Their LOVE increased, making them feel lightheaded with power. They adjusted the strap on their shoulder. It held on to the stolen blaster that had carved out the CORE.

Alphy’s screams were swallowed up by the lava, so the royal scientist had no clue she was dead. He continued on his journey, towards the heart of the CORE. It would be hard for the human to get there. It would give him time to prepare for them.

But when he arrived, he found them, already there. Waiting for him around a corner, and reappearing once he passed them. He was cornered.

“Greetings.”
“WHY,” it wasn’t a question, more of an exasperated curiosity.
“You killed me, remember? Quite a few times, actually. Oh, and you’re a pedophile.”
“HOW DO YOU REMEMBER?”
“I didn’t, for a while. Only felt really bad and nursed an ‘unreasonable’ hatred for you. But earlier this week, I found this tiny little star…” they tilted their head as he tensed; “…but you already know what that does. That’s how you were able to do what you wanted. Well. Now I’m free from you.”
A thin trickle of black liquid seeped from their mouth. They ignored it, stepping closer. He averted his gaze.
“I am going to kill you now.”
“I KNOW.”
They slung the blaster off their back, aimed, and fired in only a second. Hitting his legs and sending him to the ground. He hadn’t even been able to think about avoiding the blast of magic. He lifted a hand to turn their soul blue, and sent them flying off into the lava pit. But they managed to hold on to the railings. They prepared to fire again, so he let them go.

Chara, once situated on solid metal again, began to make their way back to him. He shot off a couple bones, which they dodged perfectly. He knew that even if he killed them, they’d be back again.

They stared down at him, poking the blaster into his chest. Gaster tensed, waiting for the final blow. But it never came.
“I am worth less than dirt because of you. Nothing. But when you die, I will be free. I don’t know what I’ll do… but when you’re back, you’ll never touch me again.”

“I WON’T REMEMBER THIS.”
“I’ll remind you,” they grinned with their teeth, revealing that a black liquid partially coated them. They slam the blaster into his face, without warning.
“I know what happened to you during the war,” bam; “my mom wrote about it in her diary,” bam; “makes me look at you differently,” bam; “…I wish they had killed you, though,” bam.

They finally stop, giving him a moment to bury his face in his hands with a whimper. Cracks ran up and down his skull, through both his eye sockets. It stung, and his teeth burned from various chips.

“Soooo, how should I kill you?” They moved close to him, kneeling down beside him. They touch his femurs, checking the damage. There were tears in his clothes that revealed the mess of melted cracks. They examined physically anyways. Just to make him uncomfortable. Gaster flinched as they poked their fingers into one of the larger cracks. They were taking every excuse to be rough.

“You can stand,” they decide; “get up.”
He glared at them. “WHY SHOULD I?”
“‘Cause I said so. Get up.”
He grumbled, and struggled to stand. He leaned against the CORE’s monitor beside him. He tried to grit his teeth, but that only worsened his discomfort.
They reached under his shirt and snapped one of his floating ribs off with ease. All the LOVE they had gained gave them unnatural strength. He yelped in pain, shutting his eye sockets tight. Seconds after the first, they ripped out the one acrossed from it.
Thick drops of red marrow fell from the stolen bones. Chara lifted one up to their mouth and sucked some of it out. They didn’t show it, but it was kinda gross.
“Okay. Alright. Give me your hand,” they reached out towards him.

He complied, trying to stop his hand from shaking. They pushed it against the computer screen. They tested the point of the rib against his metacarpals. They look him in the eyes one last time, plastered expression unwavering.
They stab the rib through his hand into the screen behind him. The cracking of glass distracts him from the boiling running through his fingers.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”
“Language,” they snickered at their own joke.

Gaster tugged his arm, attempting to escape, but the rib held him fast. Shattered glass pricked his knuckles. The screen lit up, as if the machine too was in pain. Dark blue and black spread from the impact area, clashing with the glowing light.
Chara moved to his other side, grabbing his uninjured hand and stabbing it too into the screen. The computer sparked as he screamed in pain. It was all too much.

Chara stepped back to gaze at their handiwork. They nodded, and dropped the blaster to the floor before walking away. They didn't say anything more.
He hung there, crucified on his pride and joy. He began to mumble, incoherent and crying. Textbox carved with symbols only he could read.Why’d they leave the blaster? My kids are dead. Kill me, kill me. Why did he hurt me? Why did I hurt them? Why?

The blaster. Oh. There were no survivors left to find him. He was going to die here, alone. Chara left it so he could kill himself. If he used the blaster to turn his skull into a candle, then through way of causation, they would get LOVE from his death. It wouldn’t make a difference, but he wouldn’t let that happen.
Over the edge and into the lava. That was the easiest way. He could use the blaster to break free. The CORE would explode, though.

Save the survivors from Chara. Of course. They’d be burnt to death in a second, and the pain would be incomprehensible. They’d feel nothing. Much nicer than having your brain pulled out through your eyes.

He took a hold of the blaster with his magic, hoisting it up. He had only a short while before his magic failed.

He fired it in quick succession into both of his palms, howling as he collapsed to the floor. The CORE began to creak and moan, before beginning to rumble. The lava below him began to bubble as he dragged himself across the floor. His metacarpals had melted together, leaving huge holes in his palms. Gaster whimpered, barely able to think at this point.
He finally crested the edge, and maneuvered through the railings. He pushed himself off and began to tumble down towards the glowing pool.
Instead he collapsed on a carpeted floor.
All his pain was gone. He felt normal, though his soul was racked with terror. He lay there, confused and tired. Eyes closed.
Get up, friend. You haven’t got all day.
A voice? Yet something was wrong. It was lodged in his skull, yet he somehow felt he could hear it. Is this what an auditory hallucination was?
It’s okay. I, unlike some people, am real.

He stood, finding it untroubling. The room was lit up with what had to be morning sunlight. Was he on the surface? The walks were made of dark planks of wood, and the carpet below his feet was red, flower red. A white dog bed sat in the corner, and just above it a curtained window. The outside was open sky, nothing else besides light clouds. To his right was a desk topped with a computer. Sitting in the chair beside it, staring at him, was a little dog.

It was as pale as snow, and thick with fluffy fur. Dark eyes stared at him blankly above a tiny nose. It smiled in the meaningless way all canines do.
Gaster was wary, having a mixed history with dogs. Only one had had the restraint not to lick him, and that was the one who found him after the war. She had been the only one he told about what happened to him, so she must have told Toriel. That’s the only way Chara could have found out.Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Trying to make things more… realistic, y’know?
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Gaster’s voice echoed mutely in the bare room.…buddy. You’re looking at me.

The dog began panting, ears swiveling in the slightest. Its tongue was just as dark as its eyes.
“YOU’RE A DOG?”You’re a skeleton.
Gaster blinked, before looking around. There was a door behind him, but that was it. He could try and go.
“No, I have no reason to go,” the thought was sudden, and felt out of place, but he couldn’t argue.

“AM I DEAD?”Not right now, no.

“…NOT RIGHT NOW?”I brought you here before you died to talk to you. I want you to know about what’s happening. Before you’re gone.
Gaster didn’t say anything. The dog lifted its snout in a quick motion, beckoning him closer. He complied.
Sit.The dog paused to wait for him before continuing.You have failed.“…HUH?”You were meant to be a father figure to the kids. A little plot device, from time to time. But, unfortunately, you haven’t been making this easy on me. You’re harder to control than everyone else. Plus, you’re boring. So I am destroying you.The dog reached out and put a paw on his skull.You’re not real.He felt nothing.
Sorry. You’re the first of your kind to find out. Hopefully, you’ll be the last.
“I’M… NOT REAL?”Nope. I’ve been in control of you this whole time. Still am. Need proof?The dog turned to the computer, and tapped at the keyboard with its front paws. He noticed that it was bigger than a normal keyboard, to compensate for clumsy paws.You didn’t use the blaster to tunnel out of the underground and help the monsters escape. You never even thought of it. Neither did anyone else. Why? …Me.He blinked again. He’d never even considered it.When you were in charge of the timeline- something I deeply regret letting you do- you didn’t try and figure out how to escape, free from failure. I prevented it from ever entering your skull. Why did you think it was okay to kill and screw that poor kid? I let you. I am behind everything that ever was. How poetic it was that Chara pinned you to the very first good thing you created. They didn’t know the importance of that computer. I did. Do you even know where your kids came from? Try all you might, you cannot remember.It turns back to him. He can’t feel anything. He can still think, but knows those thoughts aren’t his. He’d been shoved to the side.
Alright. That’s it. Goodbye now.Again he was tumbling downward. The lava flew up to him, and he landed leg first.
The molten rock shattered his legs even further, and fire shot up his clothes. All the pains from before chose this moment to represent themselves. Lava splashed upward to his ribs. Melting him. Exploding his bones. His screaming was drowned out by the deafening death rattle of the CORE.
Darkness.

Plain darkness.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was a dying torch in their chest. Driving them forward, through darkness and doors. An intruder. A parasite.
The player had lodged themself into this world, as if it was a right they had. They had found fun in the senseless violence. An entertainment they couldn’t find in “real” life.

But somehow, the excitement was dying. Growing boring. Unfortunate.
For now, it ignored the staleness. Instead, it tried to figure out if it was hallucinating or not.
Right besides their pixelated puppet, there was a shadowy smear. They rubbed the screen, finding that it wasn’t a weird stain. It couldn’t remove it, and decided to instead ignore it.

It continued through the cold landscape of Snowden’s outskirts, not paying attention to how the figure seemed to follow Frisk.
That was not what they wanted.
Chara did not like the heaving, rotten breath of genocide upon their neck. Despite their own crimes, they just couldn’t sit there and watch. But that’s all they could do. They regretted their past, their unrelenting murder spree. They didn’t even have a good reason for it.

They hoped to find some way to stop the plague of dust, but no one could see them, or so they thought. They now tried to make themselves present to the intruder, but so far there were no signs of their recognition.
They did anything they could think of. But so were others. This gave them hope. From time to time, someone would remember something. Alphys definitely knew something was up. Whether or not she made a full connection was indiscernible. And Sans was reacting to the situation (though negatively). There was one person besides those two that they knew of, but that was…
Flowey.

He spoke to the player. Lovely comments on the runs.
“You were slow this time,” “Imagine dying to Gyftrot. Idiot," "Wearing the ribbon like that makes you look stupid,” and other lovely remarks. Speaking to the player. Somehow knowing the full extent of their power.

Seeing their brother like this broke them down ever further. They didn’t even think it was possible to feel this bad. He was suffering something worse than death, and it was all their fault. They were so selfish. Why’d they have to kill themself? Why’d they have to ruin everything?
Meanwhile, the player had different views of the venomous little motherfucker.

Teaming up with him would be interesting. He was strong, and swift to kill. But he had something the player couldn’t; the ability to manipulate. Imagine the terror they could wrought upon the monsters if they set their rivalry aside and combined their common interests. But for now, it seems unlikely.

Every once in a while Flowey would hold up the evacuations. This was always annoying, since it made it harder to kill anyone. The frantic monsters would all gang up on it. And possessing him was out of the question, as he would become a goat again. A weak little kid. Worthless.

It began to cross the bridge, ignoring Chara’s murmurs. Halfway across, it could finally see the other side. And was reunited with the skeletons.
It came to a stop as Papyrus began to yap on about the Gauntlet thingy or whatever. The player zoned out, skimming over his dialogue. Chara began swaying. They elected to not react to the shadow’s movement.
Papyrus chickened out, and slunk off into Snowdin to await your second arrival. Again, Angel knows where Sans went off too. After seeing his brother one last time, he had no reason to stay.

He did this most of the time. Just disappeared and didn’t give one thought to anyone else, no matter their pain. Other times he’d try to help, but often he’d only make stuff worse. He still fought the player in the Judgement Hall, but besides that, it never really saw him, besides in the snow. He was a strange specimen, it had to admit.

Occasionally it would try to find out how he remembered the runs. The answer never failed to elude it. But that did not matter right now.

After a quick SAVE, it started to walk through town, marveling at the glittering snow. The town was silent, and completely empty. This added to the beauty tremendously. As snowflakes drifted downward, soft as a whisper.
The player came to the skeleton’s house. Chara suddenly noticed that it had not gone through the snow tunnels.
“I’ll never understand you,” they shook their head, staring at Frisk’s back.

The player stopped moving.

Had it heard them, at last? Frisk was turned around, their face frozen and uncanny. The player moves them around Chara, and attempts to interact with them.

They do not respond, not even as their inquisitive hums turn into violent shoves. The player gives up, and moves to the porch. They reach up and grab the hidden key, and unlock the door.
They enter, pause, and stand there, remaining frozen for so long that it was painful. Chara raises an eyebrow. Not even the decency to close the door.

“…What?”
It does not respond.

A stretch of time longer than forever endured. Chara spent it pacing. What was it doing?
Someone crossed the porch, and peeked in. The front door had been left open for a reason.

“AH, HELLO, HUMAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”The player responds by turning around to face him. It walks straight up to him. Looking up into his eye sockets. He blinked. Was Chara imagining things, or did he look at them?
“WELL, IT’S MY JOB TO CAPTURE YOU! WE’LL SHARE A VALIANT BATTLE, AND I PROMISE YOU I’LL WIN!”
It suddenly bolted past him. He whirls to face the player’s retreating form, which curves violently back towards the bridge. Chara groans in annoyance, and follows, as Papyrus launches himself off the porch after it.
“HUMAN! WAIT! I DIDN’T MEAN TO SCARE YOU!”

“I’d run if I was scared too!” Chara shouts at the player, in an attempt into anger them into stopping. They don’t.
The bridge begins to swing violently as it pounds across. Papyrus has enough sense to slow, struggling to maintain his balance.

The player breached the end of the bridge and veered into the forest. Dodging trees and rocks. Towards the jagged cliff.

Chara loses Frisk in the flying snow, keeping their eyes on Papyrus’s bright armor. Finally the cliff appears between the trees. The player has stopped somewhat near the ledge, overlooking the blue darkness. The skeleton stops a few feet behind them.
Papyrus stops, and stares at Frisk’s icy form. Worried for them, which was sweet.

“…HUMAN? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? I’M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU, OKAY?” They turn to face him, edging closer. He doesn’t move.

The player reached up and shoved his shoulders. Caught off guard, he stumbled backward and fell onto the pile of rocks directly behind him.
There is a loud crackling as his skulls hits the ground. His teeth clatter, painfully loud. His eyes bulge out of his sockets, before receding as he clenched them shut.
Papyrus lay there, tense and confused. Processing the sudden pain. The player moved closer to him, leaning down beside his ribs. The skeleton lifted his skull, now indented and cracked.

They pull the knife out of their pocket, as he hissed in pain.
“OH. OW, UH… THAT HURTS,” he mumbled, before correcting; “I’M OKAY! IT’S OKAY HUMAN. I KNOW YOU DIDN’T MEAN IT.”
It readied to push the knife into his neck, which he regarded passively. Chara stumbled closer.
“Don’t kill him. Please,” Chara knew it wouldn’t listen, but felt he at least deserved someone standing up for him. Even if he couldn’t hear them.

It paused, twisting the knife on Frisk’s hand. They reached under his armor with their free hand.
Papyrus flinched, before tensing up as it closed its fingers around his soul. Chara inhaled sharply, feeling like they were going to throw up. He stammered, blushing profusely. He tried to shove their hand away, while struggling to explain why it shouldn’t touch him like that.

“Stop. Stop it,” Chara spoke up, moving to their side. They couldn’t touch Frisk, but they tried anyways.
The player watched him squirm as they pushed Frisk’s thumb into the valley at the bottom of it. Their hand warmed considerably as magic soaked through the skin. Their warmed blood trailed through the veins, tickling their wrist.

It pierced his soul with the knife in a fluid, unsparing motion. Neither Papyrus nor Chara were able to predict the movement.
The skeleton yelped, before beginning to scream as retreating magic boiled his marrow. His cries echoed through the canyons, while the ghost could do nothing but stare. Stunned.

It moves the knife up and down, slicing it in half, bit by bit. Papyrus struggled to summon a bone, which promptly broke over Frisk’s head.

The screen darkened, as if a fight was beginning, but lightens as he lost any strength left to defend himself.

Grinning maliciously in a way that scared even them. This scene was… unfamiliar. It had never heard of this before. How interesting.
The sobbing mess began to quiet, and soft dust came down to rest on the distressed snow.

Chara stood there for some time, not noticing as the player casually wandered away. It took a while, but they too began to disperse, feeling empty. Lucid, but missing a piece.
It had to be expunged. Destroyed. It did not belong here.

And neither did they.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It hurts to care so much.

Every word said to him was either a dagger or a rose. He wanted everyone to like him, which he knew was impossible. He was just too sensitive.
Alone in the shadows, Jevil gazed up at the dark sky. Did it stretch onto eternity, or was there a roof high above them, ever beyond reach? He knew there was no answer, yet he pondered there anyways, blinking away tears.

He curled up, trying to hold in heat his patchwork clothes couldn’t. It was so unnecessarily cold here. He had lived here nearly his entire life (although he knew for a fact his first breaths were taken elsewhere), but he still wasn’t used to it.

He tucked his tail around his feet, realizing he had never felt this pathetic before.

Jevil began calming his breath and rubbed his eyes. He looked towards the scarlet forest, powerful reds bleeding into the charcoal world. The soft whispers of the rasping leaves carried over to him, soft and gentle. Before he knew it, he was slipping off of the boulder he had been sitting on and began to walk between the trees.

The leaves shivered as Jevil passed, cowering away yet not afraid. Even his thoughts felt silenced as he passed through the unending sea of crimson. Black ferns poked out of nooks in the roots of the trees, waving in personified greeting. Dark green mosses hide in patches of the silvery-red grass.
Tiny orange vines with tinier gold buds grow in clumps on every boulder tucked away between the plant life. Jevil’s purple scales stand out against the crimson backdrop, making him feel important. The near silence was perfect.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, so he only went in one direction. The jester didn’t know what he’d do if he got lost, but at the same time didn’t care. All he wanted was to be alone.

Jevil tapped on a tree with a single claw, before slumping into its base, curling up between the roots and grass. Laying there, he let the tears come once more and cried himself to sleep.

\\\When he woke up, it took him a moment to remember where he was, and why. A (in hindsight) small argument with his best friend Seam, combined with stress from work.
Jevil sat up, aching. The warm colors of the forest welcomed him back to the waking world. He rubbed his eyes, yawning. After a couple seconds of stretching, he noticed a new color among the soft fire.

There is a thinner, smaller tree, and unlike the thicker ones, its limbs are laden with pink blossoms. It’s frozen, branches not moving in the slight breeze. Like the other trees, it has dark colored bark, but this one’s twisted.

One of its flowers rested on one of the larger of the tree’s protruding roots. He picked it up, gentle and slow. It wafted a sugary scent, and was delicate as glass.

As it rested in his hand, the light scent twisted into the smell of rotten eggs. Sulfur. He dropped it, surprised. He looks back up at the tree, which looks different. The branches seem to be rearranged. Was it just his imagination?

As he stares at it, someone peeks out at him, from around the trunk.

He froze, staring wide-eyed at the stranger. He wasn’t sure what kind of Darkner they were. Pale white, their face striped with black. Was that their eye?

“…Who are you?” His voice was raspy, which thankfully hid his nervousness. There was no response.
They slipped back behind the tree. Jevil realized that there was ok way someone could hide behind it. There would at least be a sliver of something sticking out.
He wandered over to the tree, peeking around it. Nobody was there. He circles it, looking frantically. The stench of sulfur was growing stronger. He circled the tree a couple times, without success. Had they just been a figment of his tired imagination?

He sighed, kicking at a clump of grass. His foot doesn’t land on the ground, and he nearly goes tumbling down into a hole.
Jevil’s heart pounds as he leans over it, to find steep steps constructed of dirt sinking into it. He stared, deep in thought. Had his stranger slipped down there? It made sense. But it would be reckless to wander down there, and the same went for assuming the mysterious figure was harmless. But would anyone miss them?No. If I went down there, nobody would find me. They wouldn’t even notice me being missing, I bet.
He decided he had nothing to lose, and started down the stairs.

The packed dirt transitioned into greened metal. Despite the Dark World already being pitch dark, the tunnel grows darker and darker yet. This should be impossible, but he doesn’t give it much thought.

At last the stairs end, and Jevil reaches out to try and find a wall. There are none. The stairs have led them to a huge, empty area. He summoned a little glowing spade, and moved it forward, hoping to illuminate the area. The floor is plain black, but other than that, no other features appear.

The bitter silence is getting to him, so he turns to ascend the stairs.

There are none.
He waved the spade around, but couldn't find them. He didn’t remember having moved very far, so how had they disappeared? Jevil walked towards where the stairs should have been, wielding his magic in front of him. Nothing appears. He flung it through the air, now starting to panic.

Someone is behind him.

He tries to ignore the feeling, continuing his search, as whoever it is gets closer. Was it imagination? Fear? He isn’t sure, nor does he want to know. There is a tap on the ground behind him that, despite being light, echoes through wherever this place is.

Jevil stops, gathers his courage, and whirls to whoever is behind them. He spins the glowing spade with them, just in case.

The light illuminates a pale-gray figure, somehow built up of cubes. Darker patches on its “head” made a basic smiley face, which made it even creepier. They didn’t move, and Jevil could not make out if it was breathing or not, despite it being close to them. In fact, they were close enough to worry him.
“Uh… hello. Again?”
It moves, slow and unnatural, head warping in an action he could only assume to be nodding.

“Okay. Well, I’m here now.” He spreads his arms, in a shrug of submission.

The figure responds by bending their arm, square by square, up to touch the spade. Jevil moves it out of its reach. He moves closer to them, insides twisting in dread. It shoots their arms out and grabs the spade, but does not react to the damage.
“Hey, wait, that’ll hurt-“
It begins to stab the spade into itself in stuttering yet powerful movements. Each time it makes contact, there is a cracking of glass, somewhere in the back of Jevil’s mind. He froze, stunned, before realizing he could make the weapon disappear and did so. Left with nothing to continue injuring itself, the stranger returns to standing still.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY WOULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT?!” He hop-ran over to them, and reaches out and touches the uninjured parts of their stomach.
Their skin somehow shifts between high and low temperatures, fluxing. The wounds bubble with a thick, black semi-liquid, run through with red swirls. They look up to their face. Their grin is still plastered on, staring forward without a hint of emotion. Jevil looks back down, and lays his hands on the bubbling wounds, careful to avoid further injury.

He began to send healing magic into them, but stops when he feels movement in their (blood?). There is a chunk that seems to be wiggling. They pull it out, tapping away at the goop with their sleeve.

It’s a butterfly, milky white scales stained with black and red. Its wings flap over and over, trying to escape. He dropped it in surprise, noticing more and more falling from their injuries. There are also caterpillars as well, some of which are starting to burrow out of the stranger’s pale skin. He can hear them crunching, disturbed from their homes.

Jevil steps back and clamps their hand over their mouth, trying not to throw up. The stranger was serving as a goopy cocoon for bugs. He looked up to their face yet again, expecting pain but getting nothing.
“Oh my Angel… are you… are you okay?”

Their response is not verbal. Instead their skin pales, fast, and they melt, bending over backwards. The new, glowing white mass bends and contorts, starting to glow a painful white. From their wounds, Thin tendrils reach out from this new form, waving through the air. The body they inhabited before swelled up, into a significantly larger beast. Dark equine eyes burst from the chaos, wet and blinking. There are two larger ones, and an indefinite amount of tinier ones gathered around them. Hundreds of teeth rip out of nowhere, pulled up into a grin. They gnash, revealing more layers of them. A hand rips out of the ground behind them. Jevil turns to find that each finger tapers off into thin spikes, which branch into more claws. He returns his gaze to the face, otherwise frozen in incomprehension.

After the transformation was over, the two stayed there. The stranger wasn’t quite still (tendrils lashed and eyes darted around), but was close enough. Jevil was terrified at first, but soon the silence became awkward.

“W… well, uh… I still have no idea what is happening. Or where I am… uh… or anything, actually,” he muttered, glancing at the stranger’s presumably powerful teeth.

One of its claw-spikes pokes their back, sharp yet soft, and he turns his attention to the hand. It twists back, as if startled. He tilts his head back at the stranger. It bobs a little, clicking its teeth, before opening its mouth wide. Past the tunnel of teeth, is a hole. Through that hole is… the forest? He looks up from the mouth to its face. All the eyes on its left side blink, in a ripple effect from up to down. Was it supposed to be a wink?
“I go in?”
It bobs again.

“…Alright. Don’t eat me, please. That would be a little weird, if ya’ get my drift,” they snickered dryly.

He moved closer to its mouth, wary. It somehow opens even wider, which he found foreboding. He was desperate to get out, and theirs seems to be the only way. Otherwise, there was no way he would have gone in.
He swallowed his nerves again and step onto the tongue. The Scarlet Forest wafts the smell of leaves, but he still doubts its existence. But the lack of any other choices leads Jevil forward. He tripped on a canine, and yelped as the teeth dug into him. Sharp. Thankfully, they weren’t wet, nor smell bad. Or at least, to them. The scent of sulfur had disappeared, as he had gotten used to it. He got up, worrying about bruises, and make it into the forest.

As soon as he exited the mouth, it disappears, a blink and then gone. He paused, and looked around the immediate forest. It takes him a moment to realize he is exactly where he started, by the pink tree. Except the aforementioned plant was missing. The same was true of the staircase-hole. He stood in place, lacking an inkling of what to do next.

Sudden, frantic movement on his right shoulder snapped him out of his reverie. The butterfly. It had not fallen to the ground. He winced in disgust, easing it onto his hand, holding its tiny body in his palm. Most of the goo has fallen off, but a few stains still stick to it. After a couple seconds, it flies off. He watched it disappear above the trees. A feeling of closure wells over him.

Then the world starts to melt.

The leaves stretch into needles of green, and the grass melts into white. Taller strands turn into sharpened ice, stained and dotted with a foreign gray powder and blood. Chunks of statue litter the area, seemingly pulling themselves up from the ground. The temperature drops, and keeps going, getting colder and colder.
A trap…? Of course. What an idiot!

Jevil starts, before returning to his senses. He turned around and ran, hoping that was where he came from. The landscape changes until it is unrecognizable. Snowy, less trees. Cliffs. Blue stars. Houses? Where is this? He cursed as he tripped on a mound of sky-blue feathers and fell to the ground.
Before he can see what the lump was, everything starts to change again. The trees stretched, smearing into the dark sky. The stars flare, burning way too bright. The snow starts to bubble, as if boiling. The world folds into itself, and the air is too thick. Everything is too much. Distorted music plays somewhere, ebbing in dynamics.

Jevil gasps for air, beginning to choke on something. A lump crawling up his throat. He lifted his hand to their mouth, as something fights its way out of his mouth.

A butterfly. Again.

It flutters away, fading from white to a glowing, powerful red, rounding in shape. Everything smells like fire. Ash. Holes start to rip out of the distorted landscape, pitch black and sucking in the light. He stumbled backwards and falls again, coughing, overtaken and overwhelmed.

Falling straight into someone’s arms.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Everything is quiet now. Dark. The ringing in his ears dies away as he buries his face into whoever had caught him. He whimpered, starting to cry again. Every part of him seemed to hurt in one way or another.

A hand lightly pets Jevil’s back, carefully avoiding his spines. Usually contact like this coming from strangers made him uncomfortable, but he was too weak to react to any part of this situation.

Whoever it was started murmuring into his ear. He couldn’t understand what they were saying. Strange words pierced with vowels. Strange and dark, a low growl. Somehow, it comforted him.
He sniffled, and ceased crying.

“He-hello?”
They lift him up a little, and Jevil turns to see their face. He recognized them immediately.
“It’s you, isn’t it? From the tree?”
Their head was stark white. Close proximity revealed that the dark “stripes” were black cracks running through their face. What he assumed to be their eyes were shut, but they turned away (from eye contact?). Still it hugged him tight, refusing to let go. To prevent escape? He was not sure he wanted to know.
“…YES,” it was said with some difficulty, as if they struggled to speak in a tongue Jevil could understand.

He replied with a simple confirmation, before turning to stare back into the inky abyss surrounding them. He assumed this was the “room” he had entered earlier. Had he even left?

“THIS IS OUR THIRD MEETING.”

Jevil hummed noncommittally, before the full meaning of their words sunk in.
“You ate me!”
He stared at them, shocked. They nodded gently. He didn’t want to respond to that.
“...What was all that?”
“EVERYTHING.”
That did not help. He tilted his head, signaling his confusion, but they didn’t elaborate.
“Not to be, ah, rude, or anything, but… that just seemed like a glibglob of random bullshit.”
“A WHAT?”
“...A mishmash?”
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.”
“Y’know… a random gelatinous mix of, uh, stuff?”
“...OKAY.”
This was now more awkward than anything. Jevil rubbed his eyes. Too many emotions in such a short time. How long had he slept at the tree, anyways? What day was it? Time? He had not an inkling of an idea.
“I MUST TELL YOU SOMETHING.”
“Okay.”

“...BUT FIRST, I MUST ASK A FEW QUESTIONS.”
He nodded, waiting for them to continue. They were silent, and as he opened his mouth to ask why, they began to talk.
“WHAT IS OUR WORLD TO YOU? HOW DO YOU READ IT?”
“Huh? …Well, uh, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“THE UNIVERSE DOES NOT TREAT YOU WELL. DO YOU KNOW WHY?”
“Uh… no?”
“YOU HAVE PURPOSE, BEYOND THE OTHERS. YOU ARE… DIFFERENT.”

“Oh. Cool?”
“YOU DO NOT BELIEVE ME. I WILL CHANGE THAT. WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE TRUE OF YOUR WORLD?”

“…Trick question?” Jevil tries to look at them again, only for them to pull him tighter to their dark chest.
“YOU LIVE ON AN ISLAND.”
“Okay…?”
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
He looked to the same darkness surrounding them, unchanged.
“No idea,” he shrugged.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”
“I-I don’t know, give me a second…”
“WHY DON’T YOU KNOW?”

“I’ve never been here before…”
“YES YOU HAVE,” Their counter is quick, and they twitch as it is delivered.
“Uh… n-no?” He is nervous again. Their repeated question was asked and upheld once more, “I don’t know! Please stop asking!”

Jevil tried to struggle away, but they tightened their hold on him.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Jevil tenses up. That’s his voice, but he isn’t speaking.

“Oh, did I scARE YOU?” Their voice melted (that word came to him specifically) into their voice. An echo with a mind of its own.
“…Yeah.”
“YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT I MEAN?”
“Uh, I doubt it, yeah.”
They lay their head on him. Together they shared a content silence, before the dark stranger spoke once more.
“YOU HAVE MUCH TO LEARN, LITTLE EGG.”
They tugged him into their chest. The cloth they wore melted into a sticky mess that enveloped him. They turned, and dipped into the floor, which had also partially melted. Swimming through the oily darkness. They poked through to the other side, and Jevil stared into the darkness.
Despite it being just as dark as everything else in this hellhole, he could tell it was a hole. An abyss. If he fell into it, would he ever hit a surface?

They stopped, and allowed him to stare into the hole.
“IT IS ENDLESSLY EMPTY.”
“Y-yeah…” he gripped tighter to their thin arms, as the floor above them began to part.
“I TRUST YOU,” and with that, they flung him up into the air.

As he reached the pinnacle and began to descend, he marveled at how strong they were.

He sent forth a little spade, which he grabbed onto. The glow it brought about sting his eyes, and cut into his hands. The cuts became so deep that he had no choice but to slip away with a shriek.
Jevil allowed all his magic to escape, and it flew around him, undetectable and formless. It flew about as he fell, before an innate instinct allowed it to bond to his descending form.
He stopped. He was floating. He let himself hang there, hands and feet up above him. His breaths echoed in his own head.
The stranger began chirping excitedly, in that strange language again. Despite his better judgment, he twisted mid-air, and flicked his tail, returning to their arms.

“Why…why’d you… I was floating?”
They nodded; “I KNEW YOU COULD.”
He tremored, hands throbbing. They took them up in their own hands, which he noticed were bone-like. Besides their palms, which were solid with a burnt hole in the middle. They began to heal him with a strange green light. It felt strange, sending icy warmth up his arms. He didn’t recognize this type of magic. He’d have to ask Seam, if he ever saw him again.
Once the wounds were healed, and all the shed blood disappeared (something Darkner healing magic didn’t do), they ran their thumbs over the periwinkle scars. Jevil blinked, again debating whether or not he should trust them.

“TURN AROUND,” they spoke at last, surprising him. Abandoning his thoughts, he looked.
All he could come up with to describe it was “eerie.”
It was made of a pale green rock of some sort, carved with various unusual decorations. Six columns, a hybrid of Doric and Ionic, holds up a slanted roof over stairs of various widths and heights. A couple zig-zagging ramps also led up to the entrance; a dark door, guarded with gargoyles made of melting faces. Besides the entrance were pyramid-shaped gazebos (or perhaps pavilions). Behind were crooked towers, spiky spheres that hung from arches, a dome speckled with holes of various sizes, and other unnatural architectural elements. There was also a scattering of jagged debris, almost like a garden. A garden of dead things, he thought with a shudder.
“What… is all this?”
“HELL.”
“Oh,” their answer did not make them feel any better.
They slid forward, and up one of the ramps, where their speed decreased exponentially.

“YOU CAN WALK HERE, IF YOU WISH.”
Jevil didn’t know how to say he liked being carried, so he nodded and they let him down. The stone was fireside warm, despite (“What is this darkness called?” “THE VOID”) the Void’s otherwise temperature-less climate.
They walked, side-by-side, into the building. Behind the door was a long hallway of dirty purple glass. The floor was curved, like a ceiling. And ip above, the top was flat and tiled. Like it was built upside down. There was a drop from the doorway that furthered this trend. Everything was cracked beyond reasonable repair, and the twinge of sulfur returned here. Alongside a metallic scent. Like blood, but less bitter. It set him on edge.
“Are you…alone, here?” He asked, waiting at the entrance for them.
“I USED TO BE. BUT NOW I HAVE MY COLLECTION OF FAILURES.”
“Am I-“
“YES.”
They slithered down the ledge and started down the hallway. Jevil floated down, and hopped after them.
“IT IS NOT A BAD THING, NOR IS IT YOUR FAULT.”
“Oh,” he didn’t feel any better; “How’d you get here?”
“I DIED,” they responded, without tone. They followed this with an affirmation that no, Jevil wasn’t dead too.

A thick black liquid pooled at the middle of the hallway, which they glided over. Jevil noticed small tendrils reach after them. He stopped and looked up, to see a ruined hole from where it dripped. All the cracks seemed to originate from it, spreading like a spider’s web. Looking at it made his heart ache. He hurried after them, noticing they had stopped for him.
“Um, do you have a name?”
They didn’t say anything at first,

“…I AM GASTER. YOU ARE JEVIL,” of course they knew his name.
The end of the hallway had come, and Gaster somehow walked up it. He levitated it, bouncing against the side. He was having trouble not finding his newfound powers fun.
“EARLIER I SAID I HAD TO TELL YOU SOMETHING.”
Jevil nodded. That felt like so long ago. Has it even been an hour?

They tilted their head at him, smile twitching.\\\Seam paced nervously, trying to distract themself by dusting things with their tail. Jevil had been missing for a week now. They knew he disappeared for an hour or so occasionally, but he was usually back by now.

They had told the local guard patrol, and they said simply that they would look into it. Seam hasn’t heard anything since.
They sighed for the thousandth time, eyeing a clock sitting on a shelf between jars of needles and a box of dark red paper. They whisked their tail, and padded off to another corner of the shop. The scent of mud and sweet smoke mixed through the air, which was usually calming. Yet today it refused to work its magic.

They flopped onto a pile of rags on the floor, curling up into a ball of thin fur. The sticks they had for bones poked them from the inside, but they couldn’t bother to readjust. Seam started to drift away into sleep, shallow breaths slowing.

They had been asleep for an hour or two when Jevil returned. He gently lay himself onto his friend, to avoid startling them. It didn’t work. Seam shot up, with a chirp of surprise. This was followed by pulling Jevil into a powerful hug.
“WHERE WERE YOU?! I… I was worried sick!”

“I’m okay,” his muffled reply was punctuated by his flicking tail. Seam purred, happy to be reunited.

“Where were you?”

“I met someone. We talked. I guess our conversation went on a bit too long.”

“…Only a bit?”

“It couldn’t have been that long.”
“It’s been a week!”
“Oh, uh, that’s not that bad…” they heard surprise in his voice, which was concerning.
“For me it is. I missed you,” they stood, carrying Jevil with him. He clambered onto their shoulders and perched there, balancing on their back; “Here. I’ll make tea and you can tell me about them.”

“He was pretty strange. He lived in a really dark hole, but knew everything. Also, hehave butterflies inside them, which was kinda creepy. Especially when they stabbed themself.”
Seam paused, whilst filling the teapot with water.
“They… stabbed themself?”
“Yup.”

“Are they okay?”
“Oh, yeah. The holes disappeared pretty quick, oh and they can shapeshift and bend reality and stuff.”
“That’s… interesting. What did you guys talk about?”
Jevil was silent, forming a response.

The screen bathed the room in blue light. He’d never seen such a thing so terrible yet so beautiful before. At first he didn’t understand. How could he?
“THIS IS YOUR TRUTH. OUR TRUTH.”

“What?” He couldn’t pry his eyes away from it.
“GOD.”
Seam could nearly hear him smile before he spoke.
“You’ll see.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was a scent of blood mingling with the smells of drying leaves and candle-smoke.
It startled them up from their sleep. A shame, considering how tired they had been recently.

Their patchwork fur standing on end, Seam stood, taking deep sniffs of the air. They could tell it came from nearby, and was very heavy, too strong for comfort. Just outside their shop. Someone was hurt.
They opened the front door, peeking out into the chilled air. Their whiskers twitched and their ears swiveled. But everything was silent. Still as ice.
They exited all the way, once sure there was no danger. Their own tail kept making them jump, swishing leaves away. They called out a worried greeting, opening and closing their paws.

After a moment, there was a soft whisper, coming from the bushes behind the house. They hurriedly pawed over.
Slowing once they came to the plants, they sniffed quietly. Just in case it was a trap. They wrinkled their noise. Was that sulfur?
There was a slight whimpering, and they threw caution to the wind, pushing through the red leaves of the bushes.
As they did, something launched itself out of the bushes, tearing off into the tree line. It left behind a Rudinn. Seam recognized them as one of the ones he had asked to find Jevil when he had gone missing last month.

“Are you okay?” They kept their voice soft as they moved closer. The smell of blood became stronger, while the one of sulfur disappeared. The guard didn’t answer.
They tried to roll them over, but stopped as they began crying. Their arms were wrapped around their stomach, and dark green blood seeped from a hidden injury. They looked up at Seam, tears streaming from their wide eyes, as hiccups shook through them.
They took a deep breath and moved them onto their back. There are scratches on their face, deep and glistening. They also noticed that the guard’s left eye was bleeding. There was a stab wound on the side of it.

“I’m going to help you. Move your arms, okay? I’ll help your eye next,” they purred soothingly.
They shudder as they loosen their grip, blood flowing out in a river. They sucked in a hollow breath and drop their arms to their sides. Seam flinched before immediately beginning to heal them; they had been torn open, their intestines ripped out and chewed on. Mossy-colored innards were rearranged and sliced. Multiple organs had disappeared altogether.

The Rudinn coughed up blood. Seeing it, they began to panic.
“Am… a-am I gonna die?” their voice shook.
“No, no, no you’re alright. I won’t let you,” they smiled at them; “you’ll be okay.”
They smile back, teeth wet with blood. Their eyes are sad.
Seam gently nudged their intestines back in, paws soon slick with blood. A stick snaps in the forest, and they hissed, fur standing up. They knew it could be whoever had harmed them in the first place, back to finish the job.

They looked back down at the Rudinn, as they put a hand on their paw. They were staring at something behind them blankly. Seam knew nothing was there. Seam tried to comfort them with gentle whispers. They began to heal them, bitemarks refilling and stomach reknitting itself. As they did that, a familiar voice came from above.
“SEAM. THERE IS NO POINT, POINT! QUIT YOUR WORTHLESS WORK AND LEAVE THEM TO ME!” Jevil? Something was wrong.
“Jevil? Are you okay?”
He looked up, and there he was. Jevil was staring downward at him, grinning madly. He was perched on an outstretching branch, on his feet and holding on with one hand. He wore his costume, the one for performances. Deep lavender and lime. His tail thrashed faster as Seam looked up at him.
“WELL?”
“What?”
“LEAVE, FRIEND. OR STAY AND WATCH. IT’LL BE FUN,” then he spoke to the Rudinn; “IS THAT RIGHT, NOW?” They whimpered.

“Jevil, stop. This isn’t funny.”

He shrugged, “SUIT YOURSELF.”
He launched himself out of the tree, landing on Seam’s head. Seam jumped backwards, entangling in the bushes. He twisted around, and pounced on the Rudinn, who shrieked as he tore into their face. Their cries cut off as he ripped their throat to shreds. The tear of flesh struck the cat with horror. Blood spurted out as they tried futilely to push him off.
They yowled, sickening guilt rising up inside them. The launched a volley of ebony needles at him, but he leapt away after only one sliced his back. The guard was dead before the weapons hit the ground.

Jevil, hidden in the bushes again, sent out a weapon they didn’t recognize. Some sort of scythe, fancifully decorated and definitely lethal.

They ducked away, as it flew across the clearing in front of the shop; “Jevil! What’s going on?!”
His response came from behind them.
“I’VE BEEN LIBERATED. I UNDERSTAND THE TRUTH.”
Seam spun to face him, only to see the scythe flying at them once again. They leapt away, distracted from a second one that tore open their leg.

They hissed in pain, falling to the ground. They warily eyed where the scythe landed. As they watched, it began to melt and fold. The silver blade rounding and softening and tearing into Jevil’s gleeful face. That must have been how he got behind them so fast. The other scythe returns to his hands. He snickered, a blood-soaked piece of fur stuck in his teeth. They glared at him, puffing up even bigger than before. He hopped side to side.
“DO YOU REMEMBER THE FRIEND I TOLD YOU ABOUT?”
“He did this to you?”
“HE DID NOTHING BUT SHOW ME THE TRUTH. THE TRUTH OF OUR WORLD.”
“…I don’t know what he told you, but there is no way it gives you the right to kill someone.”

He shrugged; “IT DOESN’T MATTER IF I KILL OR NOT. SO I DON’T CARE.”
Seam launched themself at him, putting all their weight in their uninjured leg. They swiped at his head, which connected with a loud smack. Jevil stumbled away as they rolled into the bushes. Branches clawed at their ragged clothes, snatching at their fur and pulling at their stitches.
Behind them, Jevil groaned in pain. They turned to see a trickle of dark blood coming from his head. Seam crept closer, ready to make amends. Silently begging him to ask for forgiveness.

Instead, Jevil hissed gleefully and jumped at them. They summoned a needle into their paws, and sliced at him. It tore through his soft scales, spraying flecks of his purple blood through the air. But it was a mistake.
If Seam had gone back and fought him again, they would have ducked away before slashing at him. Because as he launched himself at them, he sent forth a little glowing spade attack. Distracted, they didn’t see it until it was plummeting into their eye.
They yowled, backing away. It went in so horribly deep, he wondered if it had hit his skull. Blood, cotton, and a strange fluid poured from the spade’s mark. Jevil began laughing, rubbing salt into the wound. Out of habit, they mumbled; “I’m so glad you find this funny.” He didn’t hear them, pausing his laughter to speak.
“YOU POOR THING,” he lifted a hand, and the spade twisted around in their socket. They screeched in pain as it scraped loudly against bone. Pawing at it helplessly, despite cutting their paws on it. Pain raged through their head, ripping through cottony down and thin threads.
“YOU’VE BEEN MY FRIEND FOR SOME TIME. I WON’T KILL YOU. BUT I SUGGEST YOU KEEP OUT OF MY WAY, WAY. THINK YOU CAN DO THAT, HM?”
His song-song tone only made them feel worse. They hissed, but it was a weak and submissive gesture. They followed it by curling up, miserable, on the dirt.

After a while, something made its way over to them. They don’t react, until it sniffs their ear. Lifting their head, weapon still lodged in their face, they stare blearily at whatever it was.
A little white dog. Once it knew they were seeing him, it began to pant, expression emotionless and shallow, despite a tiny smile.
Seam fur stood up on its own, nerves already at their end. Though it was a little dog, the cat would still find problems dealing with it. Yet despite everything, they remain calm.
“Hello. Are you alright?”
Are you alright?
The new voice in their head has a point. They sighed; “I guess not.”
Jevil. Your friend; the dog sat down. What happened?

Seam began to speak, before gasping at something behind the dog.
Jevil.
He was mid-jump, launching himself at them. The scythe outstretched. They could see their reflection in it from here. Yet somehow, he was completely unmoving.
“W… what?”
I froze him. What did the stranger tell him?
Seam stared at the dog, pondering if the voice in their head was the dog speaking, and if it had really frozen him. It was a great feat of magic if true, and they would feel a great respect for them. If it weren’t for the situation.
“…I suppose, in ideology, it was something alongside nihilism. Jevil said it, ‘doesn’t matter’ if he killed anyone. Perhaps that is, though diluted, what Gaster told him.”
At the mention of the name, the dog froze. It recovered quickly, though.
You must be right. Could it have also been something else, combined? We want a thorough examination of possible summaries.
“…He’s killing people. He wouldn’t have done that before, even if someone proved the world wasn’t real. I don’t believe he’s just abandoned his morals like this.”
The dog nodded, left eye twitching. Set on edge? It set them on edge as well.

“I think this ‘Gaster’ person isn’t who they claim to be,” they continued; “if they claim to be anyone at all. They must have some sort of powerful magic that allowed them to change Jevil.”
…Sure. That works.
“…Are you Gaster?”
…No. I am the one who killed him, though.
With that, it lunged forward, and yanked the spade out of their eye. They hissed, but the pain subsided quickly. In fact, they found that all of their injuries had been miraculously healed. Except his eye socket, which remained empty (though it didn’t hurt anymore).
Kill him.

They looked back, and the dog was gone.

Jevil resumed his attack, but Seam managed to leap into him without getting hurt and slammed him into the ground. He stared up at them, snickering and continuing to struggle.
The dog’s words fresh in their mind, they began to slam his head into the ground. Jevil fought back, in a normal fashion at first, but suddenly began to scream. In an enraged howl. More in anger than in pain or fear.

Seam picked him up and threw him against the trunk of a nearby tree. With that, his screams stopped.
They took a moment to breathe, before making their way over to where he lay. He wasn’t dead.
Perhaps they shouldn’t kill him. He needed help. That much was clear. They shuddered to wonder what kind of abuse he had potentially suffered.

Seam leaned over, to pick him up. They curled him up in their arms, feeling bad as blood dripped from his head. Then they looked over to the splattered remains of the Rudinn.
They tried to shut off their emotions, dispelling the word revenge. They had to get him to the capital. Maybe someone there could help him out.\\\There was fire. So much fire.
They stood there, in shock. Jevil still bleeding in their arms (they couldn’t bring themself to heal him).
Various members of the guard scurried about, hurriedly putting out the flames and gathering up the injured. Nobody had noticed them and their friend.

They decided to try and find a medical center, where all the casualties were being gathered. It wouldn’t be hard to just ask someone and hope for the best. So when a bedraggled checker-on-legs went scampering by, they swallowed their shock and spoke up. They stopped, turning to face them.
“Is there a place where I can deal with… this?” They motioned their head to Jevil.
They finally noticed him, and froze immediately. They began to howl, in a crazed, high-pitch squeak. Seam frantically attempted to calm them down, but they went careening off, cries echoing off the buildings.

Some other Darkners noticed Jevil, and began to hurriedly converse with one another. There was a sinking feeling in Seam’s stomach.
“Did you do this?” They asked their unconscious friend.

The checker came back, towing alongside it the Duke Kaard, holding one of his arms in their mouth. Seam has interacted with the strange man a variety of times, but still felt nervous seeing him.
Once the two had made it over, the Duke yanked his arm away, saying something Seam couldn’t understand. He spotted Jevil, and he went silent. Staring coldly, then lifting his gaze up to Seam. There was a permanent grin plastered in his face.
“Thou hath captured it,” he looked around their face with a cautious air.
“He… he did this?” Seam looked about the chaos unfolding around them. The Duke nodded.
Jevil stirred, groaning. He jumped, staring down at their friend with disgust and terror. Seam noticed his neck was bruised and bleeding.
“I shall taketh it from here,” he carefully snatched Jevil away.
“Can I at least heal him first?” Seam asked as Kaard began to leave. He muttered something, and didn’t stop walking.
Seam was left alone in the maze of smoke.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kings weren’t meant to be soft. Especially the dangerous creature who currently held the title before them, a ball of thick black fur and muscle.

That weak excuse for a Duke was supposed to stop Gaster’s pet. He didn’t. He failed you. Don’t you understand?
The Dog’s words did not enter the Spade King’s mind. Even if they had, he wouldn’t have noticed. Too enthralled by the paperworks announcing a countless amount of death and destruction (a hyperbole. Jevil had caused multiple casualties, but wasn't as powerful as he appeared).

Duke? They remembered something, with a tiny snort. More like Duchess.

They didn’t really consider themself as transphobic, though it didn’t come up often. But using this against the Duke? More on a whim, stemming from their frustration against him, Jevil, and the dead man.…Does he know? Even if he did, would he care? …No, I don’t think so.

As they remembered, it gave them an idea.

With a jerk of their snout, a phantom computer pulled up out of nowhere. It had been tough to code, but had proven worth the time. With a couple minutes of tapping, they could change anything ever. History twisted with the click of a paw. Personalities rendered into half-molten glass. Morals, even.
As soon as they finished, the king sat up, tiny ears flicking. Full of an unpredictable rage he had never known before. From where they were hidden in the digital fabric making up the walls, they realized it would be a good idea to test him.
The giant, hamster-like Darkner stood, presumably to find the Duke Kaard, and they darted out of hiding, phasing through reality. Panting dutifully. Little white puppy-dog, fresh from the darkened corner of simmering grief.
He stared at them, completely unreadable. They yap at him, wagging their tail. He leaned down and picked them up, large paws wrapping around their thin body. They stretched out and sniffed his face, beginning to brace themself as he bared his steel-colored teeth.

They went sailing into the wall behind him, multiple bones breaking as they thudded against it with a yelp. Dropping to the ground with a bounce. The king carried on, as blood soaked into their white fur. Two of their ribs poked through their gray skin, pink in the absent light.
Once he disappeared down the darkened hall, the Dog’s body began to resemble itself, their blood soaking back into them. They stood, itching an ear with their foot. The pain had been frigid, sending shudders through their canine body. But the problem of wound had too had been fixed with a moment of thoughtful working. Nothing could hurt them in a way that mattered.

The pride they took from their work distracted them from what had just been proven; it worked. The King became an entirely new person. The Duke would never fail the king again, after this. Perfect timing.

The Lightners would fail. Them and the shadowy freak. Perhaps if the Dog found luck, they’d find out how Gaster had avoided death.

It couldn’t come any sooner.///His breath has been scratchy and shuddering as long as he had been within Seam’s care. The weak rise and fall of his chest only made them worry for it to shiver and stop.
Since Jevil’s falling out with the world, they had sown a button into their empty eye socket and attached new mats of fur onto their scars (they could no longer remember how they had healed so fast). Besides their decline in mental health, they were doing just fine.
Kaard, on the other hand, remained on death’s lips. The man he had served so loyally (when the two had first met, he had spouted out how caring and selfless the Spade King ruled) had almost killed him.

He had mostly been unconscious after the attack. Seam had kept him in the castle’s infirmary for two days, before moving him to his shop once they could risk it. Since then, he had blipped in and out of lucidity. Once he had been wide eyed and staring for a good ten minutes. Unable to talk, unwilling to move, he had laid there until he fell under again. Grinning all the way.

His unfaltering smile reminded Seam of their captive friend. In the prison’s basement. Down a set of dark violet stairs. They had gone, but couldn’t bring themself to actually see him. They could hear him laughing, speaking to something, from there.
Kaard had five minutes before they would wake him up.
Seam hadn’t been the only witness. There were a few others who saw through windows, dragging others over to witness the betrayal. One such person who had seen was the queen. She promised to come visit him, sending a message to them through mail. Since it had happened, her relationship with the king came under strain. If she left, her followers would return to their home world. This wouldn’t be optimal, and would have negative effects on politics and the economy and such. The other kings also started to argue with him, more and more. Seam and their shop would certainly be affected, but it wasn’t what they were worried about.

Jevil had a friend from the queen’s world. An eccentric little guy. Spam. An “Addison”, a species known for a tight-knit, unrelenting culture. They lived in groups, but he had come to this Dark World alone. A reject? Sure, he was albinistic and a little strange (little, too), but had that been bad enough to deserve to be outcast? Anyways, he had momentarily returned to his Dark World for work, but had promised to return. Did he even know?
Jevil and Spam were dating, weren’t they?

Seam reached out and softly shook Roulxs awake. It took a bit, but he came to, confused and nervous. They smiled at him.

“Do you think you can sit up?”
He made it onto his elbows, with a wince he failed to hide. Otherwise he seemed fine.

“I know it isn’t the best for you at the moment, but… the queen wishes to see you. She’ll be here soon, I believe,” Kaard blinked at them, clearly confused. He still couldn’t talk.

They calmed him with an explanation; how he doesn’t have to say anything, and could write down things if needed. As they did so, they checked over him carefully. Due to the intensity of his injuries, healing magic hadn’t been enough to fix him up. The blood was completely cleansed away, which had taken a couple hours of effort. What remained were dark bruises and pale scars following where the king’s claws had sliced through him. A couple swollen lumps gathered on his stomach remained a concern. Thankfully, his arm was alright. Whether or not he had suffered brain damage could not be diagnosed yet, but it seems like his skull had absorbed most of the shock.

Seam let the gray shirt they had used to temporarily cloth him down, and mentioned he should probably lay back down. “I’ll make tea.”
“…”
The queen arrived later that hour, alone and on edge. Her robotic being out of touch with herself, strangely setting whatever made up her mind to the side. It was hard to tell where she looked, as they sat on a couple chairs Seam had pulled up beside the bed. Kaard fidgeted with the blankets.

“You Are Okay?”
He nodded, though Seam wouldn’t have answered so bluntly. A red light flickered across the dark screen of her face.
“You Did Not Deserve That. What He Did Was…” she thought for a moment. “Problematic.”

Kaard mumbled, though no sounds came out.

She stood. It had hardly been ten minutes. Most of it silent.
“I Am Not Helpful Here. Sry. I Will Stop Him,” and she showed herself out, with nothing more left than a thank-you for the tea and a sad wave to Kaard.

Seam watched out the window as she wandered down the path listlessly. Kicking at stray pebbles. Behind them, Kaard hummed to himself happily.

Things would be alright. How much worse could it get, anyways?

Seam closed their eyes, deciding then the Darkner who had been their friend had died.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: humans, and monsters. One day, war broke out between…
Wait.

I remember you. You know this story already, don’t you?

How about a new one?

A very, very long time ago, there were two worlds. One world where monsters lived underground, and one where they had always lived under the sun. In the first world, someone new came along and ruined everything. You. You killed everyone, over and over, which was incredibly unnecessary, not to mention violent.

This living-dying hell went on until you got bored and reset and pretended to be nice. No one died, and the monsters returned to the surface. You abandoned the little puppet you had enslaved, and traveled to the other world. Now, you are ready to poison it, restarting the cycle you had created and written down in dust and blood.
In other words, you deserve nothing better than I; eternal life in the palms of the devil.
Since you’ve become so entranced in your little game, you’ve lost true touch on this reality. Self defense doesn’t matter to you anymore. Though to be fair, you were never the one who needed to use it.
Yet, despite all this, you still care about them. About us. But even as you kill us over and over, you love them. Which is a very stupid way to care about people.
…There is something happening. Our world is evolving. Changing, to survive your tyrannous rule.
I am not sure of the others, but I know how I feel about it. Great things are happening. All for a game of chess.”\\\It was that kind of afternoon you forgot about once you laid down to sleep. Uneventful and bleary. A fuzzy sun beating down upon the Earth, sinking behind purple mountains. People everywhere carry out their destined routines. Cicadas sang until their organs burst. Humidity drowning its prisoners with the drum of its fingertips all the while.
And he sat at the table alone. In the darkening corners of the dusty house, staring blankly at the wal Even so, it didn’t feel to bad. A good quiet, meaning he could focus on other things.
Papyrus was, as others would have seen, a freak. Working unpaid overtime, so much so he had to be forced to take a day off? Why? It was creep behavior, especially for a monster. At least, according to his human coworkers.
But he didn’t really care, and pretended not to notice. He had nothing better to do. Working as a busboy for an “Italian” restaurant was the best thing he had for himself here. It was all he could care about. All he allowed himself to care about.

He didn’t fit in very well here. But did it matter? Perhaps not to him. Though, he had to admit something had been changing. A cold strangeness leaked from somewhere deep in his skull, a meanness, a foreign feeling. Papyrus couldn’t stand himself. Things that once comforted him now annoyed him.
Had it soaked in from judging humans? Their souls leaked powerful auras, which could be affecting him. Was that it? He wasn’t sure if the fact it wasn’t inherently him was better or worse. Either way, the fact remained; he was losing his love for himself.
He stared out the window blankly, past the threadbare lawn, into the sun-baked street. The other houses were nicer than the one he worked so hard to take care of. Then what was the point? But when had he ever believed that before?

Papyrus was here. A day off work, and his brother had left hours ago. Nor was he returning anytime soon.

He stood. Dragging himself a step out of time to the front door. He found the keys to the soft gray pickup truck he and his brother shared (Sans bikes to work, or walked if the mood struck him) and began down the road towards the grocery store.
Basil and onions and probably tomatoes. Paper towels? Oh, and a new door handle. Did they even have those at grocery stores?
They had a pharmacy. Probably had dangerous stuff. Swallow a whole bottle of pills and overdose and then die. He found it cool that humans could trust themselves to have such things around. Of course, he’d never do something so rash.

…Even though the feeling of deep guilt began to rack him through, filling up his bones until there wasn’t room for anything else. He wasn’t sure where it came from, and couldn’t think of any other solution besides…
No. He was in a rough spot, sure, but once Sans came home, they’d talk about it. He just needed a break or something. Get it together, dude!
He hummed all the way there, curiously peeking out the window at surrounding life at every red light. Driving was hard, and he got distracted easily, but he kept it together long enough to get to where he was going.
The quick trip through the grocery store was mainly uneventful. Sure, some old weirdo glared at him as he passed by, but it didn’t bother him (it did, actually, but he told himself that he felt fine). He found himself at the pharmacy. He hadn’t really meant to go here. It couldn’t hurt to look around now, though.

Papyrus glanced up and down the glowing white aisles. He found some minor, non-prescription painkillers, and some nearly overpowered sleeping pills. They seemed interesting, so he decided it couldn’t hurt to study them. On the return journey, he made a detour to find some tomatoes, basil and the paper towels. No door handles, though.

The cashier looked at Papyrus distrustfully as he squirmed, carefully trying to not act suspicious (and failing).
“I didn’t know these kinds of pills worked on monsters.”
They glanced at his scarf as they added the tomatoes to a bag. It must have seemed strange, he had to admit, to wear a scarf in the middle of summer, but he had his reasons.

“I HAVE NO IDEA!” he faltered. Why was his voice so goddamn loud?
“…I’m surprised you're cold. A monster thing?” They take the money he has in his extended hand, brushing against his fingers roughly. They do not release him from their icy gaze.

“YEAH.”
It isn’t, but he can’t exactly say no. He stares at his shoes, tipping his head enough so his hat half blocks his eyes from the human. This was not going so well.

The cashier finally finished their work, and wished him a nice day. He does the same, and leaves, nerves settling. Humans could be pretty intense. Thank the Angel that was over.

Comfort settled back down on him, as if it had been waiting in the car for him. The drive back passed casually, as normal, only more careless. Nothing good was on the radio, so he hummed his little made-up comfort song in the otherwise near-silence. Despite how little Papyrus was paying attention to the drive, he made it home, and quiet sadness rightfully buried itself in his spine, welcoming him home.
The house had a mountain starting a few feet from the fence in the backyard, and at this time of day (dying afternoon), it covered the house with its shadow. The lawn was not trying to hold on to life, and was pale with dead grass despite his care.
He felt like he had failed. Or maybe he was just being dramatic.
He grabbed the plastic bag, which crinkled loudly, and went inside. He was very careful to lock the car, and the door which was now shut behind him. He walked into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter. He decided to start on dinner, already filling the pot with water. The stove was turned on, and he watched the water ripple, waiting.

The house was silent. The only things he heard were the stove heating up, and the annoyingly loud clicks of his blinking. As a skeleton, temperature didn't affect him much, if at all, but he swore he could feel a cold air breathing down his neck.
The water finally started to bubble and steam. Papyrus moved his face away from directly above it. He looked over the pill bottles, beginning to piece together words on the label. The words wiggled around, morphing into strange symbols. Why did they always do this to him? He shrugged, resolving his curiosity by deciding to ask his brother about it.

And from behind him, a gentle whispering. It was here. What?
The bubbling nearly overpowered it, but the sound could still be heard. The whispers were crackles of static, the whining of doors, and the cracking of glass, all at the same time. He knew it wanted him to turn and face it. But he couldn’t.What wanted him to turn and face what? Where were these thoughts coming from? They weren’t his, he knew it.

He felt it move closer to him, and its whisper slowed down. Perhaps it could be friendly? Or just his imagination, though it had never down this before. He turned, slowly, to look at them.
A human?

Well, it had the appearance of a human child, but it was evidently not one. After all, humans don’t rot while they're alive, and this… thing… was clearly decomposing.

They were dripping with a black gunk from the features on its face; a mouth where the flesh was torn away to reveal their teeth, a single visible eye (a huge, bulging one), and gnawed-on nose. Not much more of their face was visible, though, thanks to the liquid, and the dark choppy hair that either covered it or casted a thick shadow onto their face. The sweater they wore (which appeared to have once been in shades of green and yellow) was so faded and stained that it was now an ugly ebony-brown. The stench of rot wafted off of them, which Papyrus knew would have easily overpowered him had he had an actual sense of smell.

“OH. GREETINGS!.” he said, barely managing to push the words past his teeth. “I’M TH- I’M PAPYRUS, AND THIS IS WHERE I LIVE! ARE YOU LOST?”
The ghost responded by tilting its head to the right, eye somehow popping out even more.
“CAN YOU TALK? S’OKAY IF NOT.”

It stared at him.

There was a sickeningly wet noise from below his feet, the only warning he received or the immediate danger.

A huge, dripping black mass ripped through the tile floor (as though it were paper) and yanked him to the ground, wrapping around his torso and pinning his arms to his sides. The right side of his skull hit the ground with a loud crack, which was followed by a ringing sound that bounced through his head. Papyrus lay there, stunned, as the mass soaked into his clothes, dripping onto his bones. It wrapped around him, constricting, becoming incredibly tight in a scarily quick manner. He thought, in a pained haze, that he was like a little rat, and this was the titanic python that was to serve him his doom.

The fake human walked past him, passing by his face. He assessed his own damages, which consisted of a couple hairline cracks and a few chips out of his back teeth. He may have even been missing one, but wasn’t sure. This moment of examination distracted him from the ghost’s activities; they opened the pill bottles and moved back to him, sitting nearby him.

“UH… WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO USE MAGIC HERE, YEAH?”
Unresponsive, of course.

The tar-esque form suddenly brought down crushing force on Papyrus’ ribcage, breaking at least three ribs with a loud crack. Heat flashed out suddenly from his ribs, twisting through his spine, and making itself known throughout his entirety. Stars glittered in his vision, and he yelped, wincing heavily. His teeth started to chatter, banging against his jaw’s wounds, but the pain from them was weaker now. Almost instantly, shudders began to wrack up and down his spine, and he could feel marrow dropping from the places where the now-severed bone had been attached. He wasn’t sure exactly how many had been snapped, he just knew it hurt like hell.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was… a mushroom circle?
“OH! THAT’S… COOL! HOW’D YOU FIND THIS?”

Flowey bobbed in the dirt slightly.

“ Oh, y’know… just by wandering around and stuff. It’s not like I have anything to do…”

He sighed, but kept watching the skeleton. Papyrus kneeled down glancing again at the brown mushrooms. They surrounded a patchy-grassed little area. It was deep enough in the thickening woods to achieve silence, away from the castles and skyscrapers of the city. But the birds that nested in the trees had a good view of some of the tallest spired towers and scrapers. Their chicks would see them as they opened their eyes for the first time, fresh from their eggs.

The leaves rustled slightly as Flowey moved closer to Papyrus, hoping that tonight was the night it all came together.
The forest was clearly lonely, no one else sat in the shadows and moss and shrubs. The boulders gathered like mourning ghosts, and were coated in pelts of gold, white, and green mosses. The whispering wind through the trees and light insect song were the only thing to keep one company. It was untouched by anyone, and had been for awhile. The skeleton turned to his friend.
Papyrus sat down next to him. He stared at the mushrooms, and silence unsued. They stared silently, seemingly both lost in thought. Flowey planned terrible things, like death and murder and betrayal. But the skeleton had some different things to worry about.

“FLOWEY…” Papyrus turned to the flower. He had a strange look in his eyes. Flowery starred up into them. It was an emotion he’s never seen from Papyrus before.

“Yeah, friend?”

“CAN I… ASK YOU SOMETHING?”

“Of course! I am here for you, always!” He grinned at his pet project.
“ARE YOU…” he shifted, hoping for more comfort on the damp grass. He started again.

“ARE YOU LONELY?”

Flowey looked away. His eyes caught a mushroom outside of the circle. It was at the edge of the clearing, and only sported one dapple of moonlight. How conveniently symbolic.

“..Oh, don’t worry about me, friend. I’m fine out here. I’m not lonely!” He looked at the skeleton, and pretended to panic.

“I-I mean, I like being around you…” he looked away again, highly animated. “I’m just saying I’m fine! I didn’t mean offense. I’m really really so-“
Papyrus shushed him gently.
“IT'S OKAY, I KNOW WHAT YOU MEANT. BUT YOU ARE LONELY, I CAN HIDE YOU.”
The flower had told Papyrus that he did not trust Papyrus’ older brother to any extent. It was all a part of his plan, to break the skeleton brothers apart with distrust. It was working quite well, so far.

Flowey turned back to the mushroom circle. He smiled, and looked back at him.

“Really? You’d do that for me? I know how much your brother means to you…” He was much smaller compared to Papyrus, yet hiding him would be pretty tricky, unless…
“YOU CAN HIDE IN MY SKULL!”

“…What? Really?”

“YOU’RE ALWAYS SAYING YOU COULD PROBABLY FIT! IT WOULD WORK! …IF YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT, OF COURSE…”
Papyrus gave him a strange, sideways glance. Flowey… had no idea what it could mean, which was slightly worrying. Although, in all honesty, Papyrus shouldn’t be able to worry him at all.

“ You’d really do that for lil’ ol’ me?”

“ OF COURSE! YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND, AND FRIENDS TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER!”
Perfect.
“You wanna practice?” He tilted lightly, slightly pulling himself out of the ground a bit more. He stayed the same height, and relished the feeling of the moist dirt freeing from his below ground stem.

“ OF COURSE! WE CAN GO BACK AND GET SPAGHETTI!”

Yuck.
“Okay! Lemme just..”
He pulled out a bit farther, and Papyrus put his hands close to him. Flowey shrunk the roots that he had stretched around them (underground), and pulled himself up and into his gloves. He held on carefully as the skeleton gently pulled his hands to his face.
“I DON’T KNOW HOW WE’RE GONNA DO THIS, BUT…”
Flowey answered by sticking his head up through the gap in the bottom of his jaw. It was darker in here, but starlight poked through his eye sockets and keratin space. He waited a moment, feeling Papyrus tense upon his sudden intrusion. He then, slowly, moved the rest of the way in.

It was a bit cramped, and it was hard for him to not just fully possess him yet, but he could make it work. He curved his roots around the inside of his skull, and turned towards the inside of his face. He peered out his right eye socket at the shaded forest outside. He brushed his head affectionately against the right side of his skull, noticing he was tense.

“It’s okay, you can move.” He whispered, careful to not speak too loud.
“WOW! YOU’RE NO LOUDER THAN MY THOUGHTS! THAT’S COOL!”“Really? Woah.”

He knew this already. It had been long tested.

“How bout we go now?”
All that was left now was to wait.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I’m so sorry. I know that the contents of this fic are horrid at best. And I know I blame it on someone else, but really, it was me. Sure, they introduced me to some dark topics, but did I really have to write all this? Looking back now, the original story had potential. But I’ve ruined myself with this. I’ll never live this down in my head. And I’ll be better now. Stay safe out there, everyone.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The sun was already sinking out of sight behind the eastern wall. Day’s shatter against pressing stars was always a welcoming sight to behold. To many, it meant they could finally return home. From school or work. Frisk was no different from these people, and was glad to finally head home.

Band practice had worn them out, yet again, and the entrance to New New Home poking out of the wall was as welcoming as ever. , a snail on a boulder. Before they could say anything, the guard opened the tiny gate. The evening guard knew them well enough. Frisk continued down the dirt path. The sun’s last blinding rays were hidden by the gigantic wall.

It was soon to be almost two years since the monsters returned to the surface. Yet it had felt like a lifetime ago when the sun first set on the returners to life above ground. A large percentage of them had never seen the sun before, and for a while afterwards, the doctors were flooded by those who stared into the sun too long. It was kinda funny, Frisk had thought, in all honesty.

But what wasn’t funny was the humans overall reaction. Peace talks were incredibly tricky, as neither species understood one another’s social cues. Oh, and some humans kept trying to kill the monsters. Even now, not everything was settled. The monsters themselves were quite chill, but the humans did not take so kindly to the “new comers.” It didn’t help that none of the humans truly believed in monsters (other than a few children who stared, entranced, at every monster they saw. Gyftrot had found a new reason to hate children after one kid ran at him with a stick, poor guy). But, now, there were less attacks against the vulnerable race, and it appeared as though all of Frisk’s work had paid off.

Peace talks with a ten-year-old were not something humans quite… preferred. Frisk’s orphanage caretakers were, for one, pissed, and raised quite a stink about them. Asgore’s methods to escape the Underground were quite controversial, but Undyne (luckily) managed to keep things together with reminders how the humans hunted the monsters, despite them never doing anything to them. The war was the only time when monsters killing humans was allowed, so the monsters were nearly sinless beside the humans. They might as well have been saints next to the devil’s children, Frisk had realized, bitterly, in social studies that morning. Humans did not have a highly promising history.

“Hey, Frisk!”

The door of a house they were passing opened, and out it appeared a yellow reptile, pale spikes slightly reflecting the dying sun’s last words. Ah, yes, MK! MK was an incredibly close friend of Frisk’s (although they could say that about a lot of people), and seeing him always cheered them up. Goodness knew this now twelve-year-old ambassador needed that.
“Hey, MK! How’ve you been?”

MK hurries over from a door that swiftly closed behind him.

“Good! ‘Bout you?”

“Band was hard. But good.”
MK nodded, and they walked in silence for a bit. They usually talked a lot a school and at dinner. So this sudden silence was not unusual. Frisk watched the dandelions sway in the slight breeze. Not gold, but yellow. Little tiny puffs of kind yellow against thin grasses and spiny leaves. Like rainbows in a storm. Well, maybe not, but the expression works somewhat.
“Hey. I have a question.”

The sudden seriousness in his voice threw Frisk off.

“Yeah, what is it?”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“I-is…” he took in a deep breath. “…do you know if Noelle is… okay?”

Noelle entered the bathroom silently. Only her hooves made light noise, gently tapping the linoleum floor like fingers at a dark window. There was no one in the place, which she was grateful for. It was after school, anyways, so that was expected. She walked up to the mirror and took off her jacket. Her reflection stared at her blankly. Eyes green and sparkly and coldly emotionless.

“Uh… I think so? Why?”

Frisk glances to their friend with concern. Noelle and Frisk were friends, but not really close. The reindeer and the human only shared Spanish and science, and she wasn’t in band. She was probably long home by now, doing homework. They had met a few months after they returned to the surface, but Frisk knew enough about her to know that for sure. They also knew she was incredibly kind, and innocent even more so. But Frisk couldn’t know for sure…
Noelle pulled back her sleeves. She clenched her teeth, cloth nearly sandpaper against her arms. Peeking through her fur (which was thickening for the oncoming winter) were deep, thin lines the color of a poinsettia’s petals. Her wrists stung, a deep, flesh-rooted pain. The wounds looked up at her with shameful sadness. Most had black beads of scabs already, and some still glistened. The bits of fur around them were dark red with clumps.
“She wasn’t looking too well. Overly anxious. Do you think it was…” he shut his jaw with a clink of sharp fangs, and looked at the sidewalk.

“Maybe she was upset about her dad?”

MK stiffened. He was meticulously careful to never bring up Frisk’s life before falling, or mentioning Noelle’s father in front of Noelle and December both. He was kind that way. Rudy had died during the war, but what happened was still a mystery. Noelle had only knew her father for a month, but she still missed him with all her wrapping-paper heart. It was sad, but no one knew how to truly comfort her.

There had almost been a fluke today. Noelle’s left sleeve had gotten rolled up, and…

As they walked in uncomfortable silence under the shifting sky, Noelle came out of nowhere. She seemed cheerful as always, hopping over to them.

“Hey guys!”

Her voice was silver jingle bells and new bird’s song. Happy. Unbothered.

… Ms. Alphys had almost seen. She shuddered, and turned on the uncomfortably warm water, running it over her stinging arms. Elsewhere, Susie and Kris left the Dark World for the first time ever.

The sun finally sank below the horizon. The stars came out.
\\\
The two dimensions cracked gently. The noise echoed slightly in the deep, sinful hell of the void. Pure blue, saturated in hue and pained, begging sobs.
A worthless, meaningless apology. The distant hum of technology slowly drove its few inhabitants mad, or would, if only they weren’t already. Chara turned to their older sibling.

“Hear that?”
They get no response. He is either glaring at them silently or lost in thought. They decide to assume the first is true.

Chara snickered, a laugh of broken mirrors and rotting flowers. Of hopes and dreams shattered against the walls of their eternal prison.

“Just checking. Never can really be sure.”
Time did not pass. The skeleton’s prey whimpers underneath their clawed, scarred hands. The gator’s scales were once brightly colored, but had degenerated into grayscale during whilst in the void, which may be forever. She lays limp at his knees, bleeding black liquid monsters don’t usually have inside of them. She has failed him.

Dr. Gaster leans down closer to his Ex assistant, and begins to whisper meaningless noises to her, in a comforting tone. The words, whatever they were, were definitely not kind, but she goes quiet nonetheless. Chara ignores them, and tries to remember what chocolate tastes like. They’ve forgotten again. Sad. They remember liking it.

Around them, the stone labyrinth of the shrine blocks out most of the saturated blue, with black-stained walls encarved with symbols and pictures. The little carvings were clawed out with night-bleeding fingertips, and are therefore messy and encrusted with liquid hate. One shape, however, a clean spiral shape with crosses and thorns embedded in it, is surprisingly nice. It was made on the floor near the entrance of the particular room, and is practically clean. Having never noticed it before, Chara decides to go over and inspect it.

The crosses stick out in odd angles, while the thorns are all pointing towards the doorway. The symbol is therefore slightly cluttered and confusing, but they lean down and inspect it closer. It is clearly one of the carvings that MK made. He was pretty good at carving, and loved it. An avid learner when it came to demonic worship and cultism.

MK was a raptor who made quick friends with Dr. Gaster while they were alive. The story MK told was wild and distracted, but from what Chara could tell, MK broke into the lab and started playing a game of hide-and-seek with those who worked there.

It wasn’t that surprising, actually.
He had tripped into the core only a week after the scientist leapt into it, but he was allowed to be a spy on the living world, a job he was very proud of. He was quite helpful, and was quite an actor. Besides that, he was still just a kid. A very nice kid. MK was quite an interesting member of the cult, but he was important, and nice to have around. Chara smiled, proud of him and his handiwork, which was created despite his lack of hands.

There was a sudden scream of pain, and Chara turned from the carving. The scientist had sunk his teeth into her neck, piercing scales with sharpened teeth. They tug on her flesh as she claws at him, hissing and whimpering. More of the black liquid bubbles up and leaks onto his face and begins to quickly pool on the floor. A sharp smell of rot begins to plague the air. Her flesh squelches and tears wetly, bubbling and dripping heavily, scales stripped away easily. More of the “blood” leaks out her nose and mouth, thick and smothering. Her claws and thrashing tail glance harmlessly off of their chest and skull.

“Uhm. Are you hungry or something?”
They sign at Chara, still gnawing at his victim.
PUNK CREATURE
“Oh, uh... okay?”He finally tears a large chunk away, and she bubbles, a scream that died before it was even born. They snap up and run away, disappearing past his sibling. The assistant wriggles, hugging the wound and crying, curling up into a soaked ball of pain. Movements weak and whimpering weaker, she curls up. A sickening squishing noise begins, and grows louder. The black goop swiftly gets to work repairing the damages. Her sobs continue, however. Chara sniffs, disgusted, and turns to follow the runaway skeleton.
They decide to try and find him something better to do. Continuing to steal hunks of people’s flesh was not a hobby that would benefit the void-bound cult, especially if the perpetrator was their leader.
That would quickly get annoying.\\\
The night was loud with crickets and cicadas, composing symphonic tunes to tune out the silence. Stars (real, pale, twinkling stars!) betrayed the true color of the night sky; a deep, dark blue. Distantly, the silhouette of the western wall could be made out over the houses, as the stars were cut out there, like a scar upon an aged warrior. Slight light came from over that wall. However, in New New Home (which the humans, perfectly safe on the other side of the wall, called The Western Outskirt), the lanterns had gone out nearly an hour ago. It was silent (besides the aforementioned insects) among the swiftly-made houses. This was strange, as, here, the houses closest to the outside edge of Shadow’s Den (another comely, man-made nickname, gifted by the forever untrusting creatures) was where most of the Ex residents of Snowdin lived. This meant that the dogs were here, in their slightly scrappier, strange homes. The mutts were usually quite loud, but weren’t, at least for tonight. They were not the reason he was here, though.
Flowey made a mental note to try and get Papyrus away from this garbage dump. It sucked a whole lot here. Anyone who lived back here was immediate trash in his cruel little mind. Sans would not leave. But Papyrus could, with enough push. But that was not on the top of his list of priorities, at least, not yet. In the meantime, he waited for his “friend” to buck up and actually freaking leave.
“Come on! We’re losing precious starlight!” He whispered with a worried tone, glaring at the unlucky fool’s turnt back.
“I’M COMING! IT’LL BE ALRIGHT, NO ONE WILL DARE HURT YOU WHILE I AM HERE.” The skeleton’s attempt to calm Flowey pissed him off, and, had he not given his little “friendly-friend-buddy-you-can-trust-I-won’t-hurt-you-no-sir” persona no wiggle room for cruelty, he would have given him a piece of his mind. Besides, it was too early for red flags just yet (haha). So all he could do was put on a mask of nerves and bite his tongue.

Papyrus finally finished what he was doing (feeding the dog, which his idiot brother forgot to do, surprise surprise), and joined him near one of the needle trees that had grown behind the house. The spores must’ve caught onto one of the mangy wretches.
“ALRIGHT, FRIEND! WHERE ARE WE GOING?”

Papyrus was clearly curious, and his face brightly betrayed his excitement. Timeline after timeline spent with him gave Flowey a touch of talent when it came to reading a skeleton’s emotions, or, Papyrus’s, at least.

“I found something crazy over by the mountain! It’s really cool, and I bet you’d like it. C’mon!”

Flowey turnt quickly and bobbed over towards the small fence that enveloped Shadow’s Den.

Sure, his explanation was short and dubious, but acting energetic usually gave Papyrus no room to talk. Doing that was found quite helpful, because he could easily talk forever, despite his limited selection of topics. It never fails to annoy Flowey, as he has to do his best to listen to every word he says. Whether or not it is worth it in the end depends on a couple factors. However, this time, Flowey believes with every fabric of his soulless being that this time, it will be well worth the trouble.
Papyrus follows his worst foe to-be into the darkness underneath the creaking pines and aspens, without calling out. He was used to the flower’s easily excited nature. He enjoyed it. Under the trees, however, lay a bit-so distant future. A future that did not have much interest in his well being.

The stars peeked at them through the dark cloth of the sky. An early fall moon rose, huge and gold and glittering, taking its rightful
place over the tiring landscape. The nighttime was its empire, and the bats chased their prey, as guardians of the sleeping denizens below. A cloudless night of a misty coolness, as the ancient summer’s leaking blood mixed with the baby fall’s new breath. It would soon snow nearly everyday a week, and by December’s teething, November’s winds will have blown over a tree or two. By then the windows will be nearly permanently frosted, courtesy of Jack Frost and his gang of timber wolves. To those who miss Snowdin, it will finally feel like home once again, if only for a few months.

A beautiful night. A night to be forgotten.
\\\
Kris started into their empty locker, mind blank. Nothing. Nothing but the dark green and the pale dust. Anything but anything at all. Everything was wrong and nothing would be right again. Kris was not okay. You find this nothingness boring, and you leave. It is time. It begins today. The hallway towards class felt like forever. You enter, Kris’ tired bones popping underneath your unearthly command. Only Ms. Alphys and Noelle are there. Perfect.

The pull of the second dark portal whined, begging for its destined attention. It would not wait much longer. You smiled, ignoring your face's reflection on the screen. You are numb in reality, and always have been. But now you had a new one, and were now becoming even more powerful. DELTARUNE was your new home. And now nobody could stop you.

You slip Noelle a note as you walk by and she offers a soft “hello.” When the teacher isn’t looking, once class has started, she reads it swiftly.
I’ll do it. You can borrow my backyard. I can bring my own bat. When?
She smiles a bit. It would be done.

Her father would have revenge at last.
You thought of what was happening. Noelle’s justice would be brought to the imaginary one-man court. Ironic.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Nobody cared that there was snow underground. Nobody asked why, nobody wondered how. Not even the humans, who barely believed the monsters existed, even now. Nobody seemed to care that, somehow, “trees” and “grass” survived without sunlight. They were just unsolved mysteries with no one on their case. No one cared enough to question it. So nobody had answers, nor would anyone ever find them,even though they existed.

Unless you were a skeleton.

Asgore’s first appointed royal scientist had been renowned for their stubbornness. He’d find a subject, and stick to it until practically everything was known about it. Their sleepless weeks of creating the CORE with only scrap metal and nearly impossible amounts of magic (and the sheer luck of not dying of exhaustion) were supposed to be well known. Dr. Gaster had figured out that the underground was primarily composed of limestone and mycelium, which led to the discovery that most of the “plant” life was actually fungi. The snow in Snowdin was due to the incredible machinery on the high ceiling of the mountain they were under, built to create a place where cold-loving monsters could live. He had been incredibly important to monsterkind, and everyone owed their lives to them.

But they were forgotten.

The only people who remembered them were his children. Not like they could tell anyone of his existence.

He was gone, but not dead. Yet it was highly unlikely they could return to the earth. But the skeleton brother still tried.

A puff of smoke suddenly wheezed from a vent located on the machine’s “head.” The little chugging noises it was making started to slur together, and it turned into a painful grating. Another failure.

Papyrus stamped his foot and cursed loudly. His older brother sighed, and scribbled another note onto the clipboard held tight in his hand, clutching to it as though his life depended on it.

“welp. that didn’t help in the slightest.”

Sans moved to the machine and turned it off, the keyboard clicking loudly. Papyrus slumped to the ground, and leaned against the counter at the side of the lab.

“WHY IS THIS SO HARD? DAD FINISHED IT, DIDN’T THEY? HOW DID IT EVEN GET UNFINISHED?”

He crossed his arms and half-curled into a ball. Sans sighed, and went and sat next to him. They sat in silence for a while.

“you’re dead, by the way.”

“HUH?”

“other you, i mean.” He shifted, successfully hiding how upset he was. “yeah. i have no idea why… er, how. i just came home and… yeah. yeah.”

He blinked, and turned his head. Papyrus stared at him silently, then hugged him.

“I’M SORRY.”

“s’not your fault…” He turned into the hug, holding his eye sockets tightly shut.

“I’M SORRY ANYWAY. I CAN’T IMAGINE HOW HARD THIS IS FOR YOU.”

“it’s fine, just… hard to get used to, i guess.”

Papyrus sat back again, and gave him a look of pity. It didn’t sit very well with him that he had no real way to help other than being a shoulder to cry on. Plus, he knew his brother had lied about not knowing. It was probably to protect him, so he didn’t mention it.

“SANS, YOU DIED OVER A THOUSAND TIMES. YOU RISKED EVERYTHING OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO PREVENT IT FROM HAPPENING, AND NOW IT’S STARTING AGAIN. I DON’T MEAN TO BE RUDE, BUT I THINK THERE IS NO POSSIBLE WAY ANYONE COULD GET USED TO THIS SORT OF THING.”

There is no response. Papyrus let's go for a moment, to turn and open a drawer next to his head. There is a crayon drawing inside, edges old and gently torn. He pulls it out and stares at it. Three messy figures under two scrawled words.

“WE CAN’T GIVE UP. NOT NOW, NOT EVER.” He turns to him. His eyes, buried deep in his sockets, are blazing with crimson-orange pride. Lit with determination.

“stop that. you’ll melt.”

Sans didn’t sound serious, but luckily, Papyrus toned down a bit before continuing his call-to-arms.

“WE’LL SAVE HIM, BROTHER. I JUST KNOW IT. THERE IS NO WAY WE WILL FAIL, AND I’M SERIOUS ABOUT THAT.”

“…okay. yeah, we can do it.”

The silence this time is less painfully desperate. Sure, shit had happened. But they’d be fine. They could get through it, and this time, they’d do it together.

“WELL. DO YOU WANT TO GO NOW? GET SOME SLEEP AND RETURN WITH NEW IDEAS?”

“yeah. but can we go to the old house first? i kinda miss snowdin, and i might have left some stuff around that could help.”

“GREAT IDEA! I MISS THE HOUSE TOO.”

As soon as his affirmation ended, there was a flash of saturated blue light, and they were there.

“WOAH! WOULD IT KILL YA’ TO WARN ME?” But he laughed, holding his skull as dizziness quickly set in. He wasn’t used to shortcuts yet. The sudden transition from sitting in a warm room to standing in frigid snow was a

“yes. it would mean instant death. hard to believe anything could kill me, huh?”

Sans realized too late that that last little jab would ruin the mood, but they both decided wordlessly to ignore it. Papyrus, after recovering, moved to the porch. He reached up and grabbed the key from the beam above the door (the placement would be very annoying if he actually needed the key to get in), and unlocked the door.

It was just as they had left it. Dark wood walls blank and floors bare and rooms dark. The bookshelf stood empty, and looked as skeletal as the ex-residents of the house. The glowing green stars that had been painted on the ceiling still casted their lights faintly, sending down the tiniest bit of soft illumination to the house. There was a quiet, nostalgic silence. Papyrus had grown up here, and seeing it abandoned made him sad. A quiet, pained sadness that wore a gentle smile on its face.

“look. there it is.”

Oh yeah. The sock was still there.

“HEY! MAYBE YOU SHOULD ACTUALLY PICK IT UP THIS TIME!”
“naw”

They stood for a moment longer, still in the doorway.

“i hope you’re right.”

He expected a ‘OF COURSE I’M RIGHT!’ But he didn’t get one.

“I HOPE SO TOO.”

Sans went further into the house, looking around. Papyrus swept up the stairs and into his old bedroom. The door closed quietly, then he began to whisper.

“YOU OKAY?”

There was a tiny, amused whisper in reply.

\\\

The underground was long abandoned. Even His Majesty’s flowers had escaped, overflowing into Mount Ebott’s forested sides. As far as Noelle knew, no one was ever in there. So it would suit her purposes perfectly.

The path up the mountain was not maintained, so grass and rocks nearly hid it from view, but she did her best. It twisted through the trees, while branches cut through it constantly. Huge boulders decorated with moss and pretty wildflowers poked from the shade. Spiderwebs glowing with dappled evening sunlight hung over her antlers. She waved at a large spider, and it wiggled a foot back. The gentle whispers of the wind through the pine combined with the crackles of her hoof steps were the only noises that ripped gently through the once-silence.

It was tiring, but she made it to the hallway that was once the Barrier that trapped her and her kind underground for over a thousand years. She turned toward Castle City.

The sunset was glowing with pink and orange, and it lit the city up with pastel and fire. The silhouetted towers were ash against the glowing landscape, the walls barricades against the light. It cast a shadow over New New Home, which had the new appearance of tiny river stones scattered in the wake of a wildfire. Beyond the city, her view stretched to the distant mountains, grazing over every painted blade of grass in the fields, over every blazing tree. A twisting river glittered in the near distance, reflecting the salmon-meat clouds above. The golden flowers at her hooves waved slightly in the breeze born from the height of the mountain, brushing her softly, whispering lovely little secrets. She didn’t even notice the feeling of peace that took her in its soft wings.

The wonderful sight suddenly turned bitter, as she remembered how she was never meant to see the world from the mountain top, instead to be locked below it forever. She wallowed in the realization for a moment, before turning her attention to the doorway carved in the stone. She entered, and despite it being dark, she could feel the passage widen slowly around her as she walked. Noelle summoned a little ice cube in her hoof, and began to toy with it, keeping her gaze forwards. It did not melt, instead staying frozen in her grasp.

She had only gone through this passage once before, as a child leaving the underground. The dark had been home, and the sudden brilliance of early morning had startled them. The shadows were now only old friends, not yet degenerating into strangers, but not quite familiar anymore.

A billion beams of dying light cascaded from the throne room ceiling. She paused in awe, mixed emotions settling in as she noticed that the flowers were gone. Disappeared into the rocky soil, offspring cascading down the mountain. Noelle stood in silence for a while, before continuing her journey.

6:32 Pm

Kris finally arrived, bringing their knife as promised. Noelle greeted them warmly at the door, and they went into her room. Before she could say anything else, they held out a note to her, which she took and skimmed quickly.

“Closed?! Already?”

They nodded. The paper was slightly dirty, but still legible. In all lowercase, it casually proclaimed a

closed early for stuff. sorry for the inconvenience

… and now they have failed.

“Great. Just great.”

Noelle sat on her bed with an angry sigh. She put her head in her hooves, and Kris came and sat next to her.

The CORE was deathly quiet. The lights were among the ancient dead, so she had to make her way through the lab by the gentle orange glow of the magma and a hoof along the walls. The elevators were also down, so she took the stairs, panting in the heat. The Hotlands were not her favorite part of the underground.

7:15 Pm

“We’ll just break in! We don’t need to pick-lock anything!”

Kris shrugged.

“Think about it.”

Noelle sat up from where she lay on the floor, and turned to look at Kris, who still lay next to her on the soft gray carpet beneath them.

“If we do it late tonight, we can just break in, get him, get out, and run! The house has windows in the back, doesn’t it? If we can find him fast enough, it could work!”

She stands up, once again energized. Kris sits up, and points at the fire alarm on the ceiling.

“Fire… oh! You mean alarm?”

They nod.

“…I seriously doubt they have alarms already, since they just moved in. But even so, if they have, we can go fast and get it done before anyone can intervene.”

She nods confidently, not a speck of doubt in her mind. Thanks to Kris, she had found out a bit more about her victim, and knew enough for it to be much easier than murder would usually be (she assumed).

“This is gonna work”

And Kris says nothing.

Her heartbeat increased in excitement as she saw it. The snow. Sure, Waterfall was pretty, but Snowdin was her favorite part of the Underground by a long shot. Besides the climate, it was the atmosphere and the memories. The jagged cliffs and creepy forest paired with the cheerful little town made it a beautiful place that she was glad to have lived in for a time. Her childhood was spent throwing snowballs and telling scary stories and wanting to be a part of the Royal Guard. She and Berdly (her best friend) had spent countless hours exploring the accessible parts of Snowdin, and they sometimes wandered for hours in the needled forests, talking about everything in the Underground. For most that wasn’t much, but they could always think of something to say.

She started to tear up a little, nostalgia becoming overwhelming as she walked into the town.

They had done everything a kid could do in the small town. Study for school, wander off into the snow, made a thousand snow angels. They counted the “stars” and wondered what the sun was like. They thought their lives would be spent there. Sure, six souls made everyone hope, but deep down, hope did not feel like an option anymore.

Everything had happened here, in this little Underground village, now abandoned. Every Gyftmas, every birthday. Most of her life lay here, and so did so many children’s. She could feel the haunting melodies of lost childhoods, left to rot below the mountain. It was sad. And now the town scared her, an innate, beautiful fear she’d never get from any violent tale on Earth. She dropped to the soft snow, swinging her backpack off gently. She opened it, and retrieved her camera; black and clean. Already prepared for a long trip of photography. Noelle lifted it to her face, peeking through the screen at the filtered reality of Snowdin, and there was a flash.

11:58 Pm

They left Noelle’s house, disappearing into the restless night. Leaves crackled gently below them, as they took the long way through the trees. Far above, cloud cover blocked any nighttime light that speckled the sky. A lighter spot, high above them, denoted the location of the moon, which was no longer drunk on honey-gold.

A stick snapped, and Noelle jumped slightly. Luckily, it was overlooked in the dark. Shadows loomed, but it was hard to say that either of them were actually scared.

Their targeted house loomed over them as they stopped to linger at the edge of the tree cover. In the night, it seemed to have stretched and warped, growing into the now-omnipresent shadows. The air suddenly felt threateningly thick, growing poisonous in their lungs. Ahead of them stood their sins, waiting to be born.

“Ready?”

Noelle’s excited whisper floated through the air gently. The momentous pause was then broken by Kris’ gentle nod. They began to sneak up to the house.

The twin windows were inky, glass barely glistening in the light-starved midnight. Kris softly tested each, finding them both locked. Noelle readied the bat, choosing the pane on her left. She pulled it back, and it reminded her of the final summer with December.

She knew Dess would not approve, and neither would her father, but Toriel would pay. She knew that Toriel had gotten in the way of Asgore and Rudy’s “friendship.” She knew everything of that drama. By the way Kris was helping her along here (they stepped back, preparing to jump inside once she had cleared the glass), they knew about it too. But what they were doing was illegal.

…what happened to me?

The glass shattered, ringing soundlessly in her ears.

Click

The house that was once dressed in lights and a whipping flag now stood alone in the cold. Empty. She lowered her camera, gazing at it with longing. Abandoned things made her sad, and this trip had been a whirlwind of emotions. But she had to go to her old home (Dess had agreed to not tell mom if she swore on her heart’s innocence that she would sleep at the house. Therefore she would.

There was a ringing. A noise, inside the newly photographed house.

Safe to say she wouldn’t be home just yet.

She scampered to the door, knees clicking furiously, and lifted her ear to the door. It was definitely coming from inside. She stood back, and instinctively checked the door.

Unlocked.

She opened the door, and followed the noise into the half darkness, barely registering the light green glow above her antlers. Instead she stared at it.

The lone end table cast no wires from its legs. While upon it sat the phone, a black one, glimmering slightly, unearthly and quiet, even though it rang loudly. Beckoning her closer. She obeyed, and proceeded to move towards it.

12:03 Pm

The night whirled by, branches twisting and snapping and cutting through her fur. She fought to keep her eyes open, as they watered against the pain of how bright her nose was, glowing only centimeters from her eyes. Behind her came a sound of struggling and panting. She could not slow.

After a while, the forest became wilder. Noelle was forced to push through sharp branches and brambles. Nearly there. Kris managed to catch up, their victim now weak in their arms. The two continue on, the sounds of night starting to mix with the panting.

The sounds of the creek came up before they saw it, glittering in unknown light. Noelle finally stopped, and turned to Kris.

Sans was curled into a ball, pale face hidden away in his arms. Noelle noticed that Kris had a few nasty cuts on their arm, but didn’t mention it as they lowered the poor skeleton to the ground. He seemed too tired to retaliate, which was good. Kris pulled his arms to cross his chest in an “x,” and wrapped an arm around him. That left them a free arm to give her the knife from their pocket. He noticed the knife and tensed, puffing out his rib cage. Noelle tossed the knife gently between her hooves as she kneeled down. He kicked at her, but Kris managed to cut the movement out with their (no longer) free arm.

The forest around them is still, and the creek’s babbling is that of an insane man. Or an insane reindeer.

“Look at me.”

He obeyed, lifting his face to her. His sockets were just as dark as his windows had been; inky and deep.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

The phone stopped ringing when she answered it. In its place was a new sound.

“Hello?”

Her greeting was answered with a chaotic, wild noise. Its pitch was fluid and changing; a robotic voice lacking emotion. Garbage noise. She’d never heard it before, but she somehow recognized it anyway. She didn’t know how.

It was returned to the hook. She looked around the house, into the soft darkness.

There was a loud thump on the roof.

12:09 Pm

Noelle moved the knife to point in between his eyes. He shook his skull again, as if denying her threats.

“I feel bad for you.”

She paused to gently poke the blade’s point closer to his eyes. He went still, still tense, and maybe slightly shaking. She still had no idea what he was looking at, but that didn’t matter to her now.

“This honestly isn’t your fault. You had nothing to do with this. For that I apologize.”

She turned to the creek, lowering the weapon.

“Toriel did something. I’ll leave it at that.”

“toriel has nothing to do with me. we’ve only talked twice.”

His voice is surprisingly steady and confident. It was hard to tell he was in distress at all, just from his voice.

“You seem to lack faith in emotions, don’t you?”

“i have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I know,” she said, in a sing-song voice, “buuut you were in the right place at the wrong time. Honestly? Not your fault at all.”

The cheerfulness swiftly twisted into hatred as she said it. It surprised her how terrifying she was, but she pushed it away.

“Toriel likes you. She’d be really upset if she found your bashed-in skull in her garden, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t anyone?”

”i don’t know what toriel did to you, but don’t do this. you’ll regret this. our police are sharp, they could sniff you out in a second.”

His warnings went on deaf ears as Noelle stood up and nodded, signaling Kris to move their head away from his.

“if you let me go, i won’t tell anyone. promise.”

“Sorry, convenience store guy, but it’s a bit too late to back out now.“

She put the knife on a boulder near the creek, and picked up a well-sized rock.

“Oh, and by the way, we’re too far out for anyone to hear your screams. It’s been tested, and I can scream much louder than you can.”

She grinned.

“the perks of having vocal chords, huh?”

She froze, and listened. It happened again.

She raced out into the snow, and turned her head upward to the roof. She couldn’t see anything. But she heard it occur yet again.

Someone (or something) was banging on the roof.

“Hello?!”

Her voice was loud in the chilled air, and echoed slightly in the distance.

And yet there was no response.

The thump continued for a third time.

“I know you can hear me!”

Still nothing intelligible. The noises did not continue, however, and she waited. For either the noise to occur again, or something else…

12:10 Pm

“Very funny.”

She stepped towards him slowly, brandishing the rock ahead of her. Kris suddenly re-wrapped their arms around his neck, and he began to struggle, to fight back; fingers clawing at Kris’ arms, attempting to dig into the glass wounds; kicking at her legs. But the defense was in vain.

“It won’t hurt after you’re dead, so if you stop struggling, this’ll be easier for you.”

He rattled angrily at her, one eye lighting up violent blue and yellow. Kris leaned into where his ear would have been, and hissed into him.

“I know you can’t use magic here.” The voice paused before finishing. “Bitch.”

Noelle couldn’t hear what you were saying, but she didn’t care, as the skeleton immediately gave up, and went limp and quiet, light fading away. She smiled and prepared to bring the rock down on him.

There were footsteps in the brush.

She walked around the house, circling it, eyes still upturned to the roof. She had not yet caught a glimpse of whatever had made the sound, and, as it hadn’t occurred a fourth time, wondered if it was just the house creaking. But she knew better than that.

She re-entered the house as she came around to the front.

The first thing she noticed was that the little table was gone.

She ran over to where it used to be.

“Excuse me?” She snapped at the once-taken space. She whirled to the door.

“Berdly! You aren’t slick! Come here, and bring that stupid cool phone!”

There was no response. No bird cackling, no stupid cool phone. No noises on the roof either. She sighed angrily. She knew it was him. Berdly did these sorts of things, and it only made sense. He knew she was here, and after she came back to the surface, she had planned to go to his house for a couple hours before they had to go to a band competition. So it was obviously him, right? But usually he appeared after being called out. So where was he?

A terrifying thought began whispering to her.

“It can’t be Berdly. He falls asleep as soon as the sun goes down. Bird nature.”

She stood there longer. Waiting. She knew she looked terrified, but didn’t try to hide it anymore.

“Alright. Are you still there?”

Her call was again unanswered.

12:12 Pm

“Shit!”

She jumped, and Kris turned violently towards the oncoming noise. The skeleton took his chance to escape.

He banged his skull into the side of Kris’ head, and they turned back to him. He did it again, straight into their nose. They jolted back violently, and the skeleton got up and disappeared, running back into the forest.

“Is everything alright out here?”

“Yes! Yeah, everything’s fine!”

It was the chief of the gadamn police. What the fuck?!

Officer Undyne looked at them both, leaking skepticism. Her single yellow eye stared at the would-be crime scene with a thin slit of a pupil. Any confidence that they had before slipped away under her gaze.

“Oh. It’s you two. You’re good kids.”

As she points that out, she looks between the rock in Noelle’s hooves and Kris’ blood.

“Not gonna kill them, right?”

She said it with a rough laugh, but her tone was dangerous.

“What? Oh, no, they’re fine. They just tripped.”

“Do they have a concussion?”

“They didn’t hit their head, it’s just allergies.”

Kris nods, and Noelle notices they had started tipping their head back as soon as Undyne appeared. Clever.

“Oh. Well, do you guys need me to get you back to society?”

“We’re heading back soon. There’s a path right there that leads to Kris’s house.”

She points to the path that allowed them to find this spot in the first place.

Undyne still stares at them silently. Still untrusting. But she gives up.

“Alright, I’ll go now. But please call the station when you get home. The non-emergency number should be by the phone, if I remember correctly.”

“We will, ma’am.”

“Don’t you dare get murdered!” She snarled, making them jump. Then her tone became kind again.

“Have a nice night!”

“Y-you too…”

The officer left, returning into the shadows. The two of them stayed for a while longer, until they could no longer hear her. Then Noelle dropped the rock and they ran into the forest.

It was dead silent. She stood in fear, nervous. Her ears twitched and twisted, straining to catch the slightest noise. She stood as still as stone. She felt like a cornered wildcat, ready to puff up and claw at anything that came too close.

A door opened upstairs, and something fell to the ground. She turned to peek over the stairwell, where a lump lay. The open door behind it was full of… what looked like a piece of space. With stars and glittering dust. She turned and walked silently towards and up the stairs.

She recognized who it was.

“Uh…Mr. Sans?”

She blinked and he was gone.

“…oh! I’m sorry for coming in here!”

Her call echoed loudly in the house.

“There was just… the phone… y’know? I’ll go now, sorry!”

12:27 Pm

Noelle hopped through the window, racing into the house, up the stairs, and into the run they had originally found him about to enter. She slammed open the door and found… a hallway? It looked as though it was torn from the universe itself. But she continued quickly down it to a door that looked exactly the same as the one she had just entered, but opened to another dark area…

Before she could do what she promised, there was a slam and stomping through the spacey-looking room. She moved forward to the door, and someone immediately slammed into her.

“Hey!” She squawked, but she hadn’t said anything…

Then there was a burst of white, and pain and pain and pain and everything split open to reveal everything ever and the stars fell and everything ebbed and pulsed and everything was too bright and it was so hot and fiery and cold at the same time and the world spun and spun and spun and everything and she was rotting from the inside out and she was dead but alive and her heart burst but became birthed anew at the same second and everything was dark and blue and shadow and ink and she was alone but they watched.

They all watched and watched without blinking.

Watching but they had no eyes. But she did and she saw them watching her but saw nothing at the same time and her soul was an animal tearing her apart. What is a soul? What is magic? I must kill him. I must, I must, I must. Who am I? Who are you?

Who are we?

What are we?

Why do we burn forever in the breath of the sky, in the paws of the dark and the damned?

They are watching us.

We are one, we are one December help. I'm lost.

December is dead.

No. She is coming to help us.

What is this pain? What is this world, this mind, this is not my own, not our own?

What is happening?

Am I dead?

I can’t be dead!

I promised I’d be back, I promised, I promised I promised I-

Elsewhere, you decided to go home. You were tired, and Noelle would be fine. You didn’t really care about her. Kris did, so you had to drag their body off. The night was still innocent and beautiful.

12:32 Pm

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Anyone know where Noelle is?”

Frisk looks up from their valve oiling. It’s one of the human clarinets. Robin or something.

“Try Berdly.” They suggested.

“He won’t talk to me. I honestly have no idea why.”

Robin (?) passes their case back and forth between their hands nervously.

“I’ll go see if he’s okay in a moment.”

Frisk replaces their valves, and then goes off to find Berdly.

They check the locker room first, but he isn’t there? The other sousaphone said that he wasn’t talking to anyone, which was worrying. They are returning to the main room, when a stroke of inspiration reminds them that the choir room is usually empty. Sure enough, there he is.

“Hey. You okay, Berds?”

He struggles with his shako, before looking up at them.

“Well… not really, I guess.”

“Oh. Anything I could do to help?”

“Honestly? Probably not.”

He shuffles over to grab his instrument, heaving it up and onto his shoulders. Frisk stands for a moment, thinking, before they respond again.

“Noelle didn’t show up, huh?”

“Yeah. Bingo.”

He chirps a little laugh, but it melds into a sigh.

“Did she tell you why?”

“No. She’s just gone. I tried to ask her sister, but I couldn’t get a hold of her.”

He paused.

“Oh no. What if she’s sick? Or worse?!”

He turns, already starting to panic.

“Woah, what? If she did, wouldn’t she tell you?”

He sighed.

“I promised not to tell, but… she went into the underground. To take pictures and stuff. Alone. She said she’d be fine, but…”

He falters off.

“If she didn’t come back, that means she’s still down there, right?” Frisk asked.

Berdly nodded.

“Then Dess must be searching, probably why you couldn’t get to her. Hopefully Noelle’s fine, but… well, there’s probably nothing we can do now…”

They stood in silence for a moment.

“There’s nothing we can really do now… we leave in six minutes.”

“Yeah.”

“…let’s go back to the band room.”

Berdly nods, and they leave the choir room.

“I’ll go tell Robin.”

“…who?”

“….uhm, never mind.”

The rest of the marching band seemed impatiently excited. After all, the semi finals wasn’t an everyday occurance. The human who wasn’t Robin saw them and seemed to relax a bit, before turning back to their friends. Berdly sighed again.

“Poor Noelle.”

Frisk couldn’t argue with that.

\\\

She felt as though her soul writhed with maggots.

Her fur reeked with blazing pain.

There were new extensions, new limbs she had not had before, that stretched from her back and lay limp and tangled.

Noelle tried to push herself up, but her hooves and flesh felt unnatural within her control. The movement brought new pains, and she gave up, flopping back onto the floor. Only then did she notice that the ground was metal, a neon green foreign from the house she had been in. She lay for a while with her eyes closed, listening.

The air felt strong and cool in her lungs, acidic yet pleasing. There were distant noises, grumbling and perhaps a touch of wind howling. The metallic taste of the air Mingled with the one in her mouth. She felt as though she had sucked on a coin until it had melted, permanently stinging her mouth with the taste of copper.

She sat up again, this time ignoring the pain, and looked down at herself. Her sweater and skirt had been replaced by a snow-white dress that she had never seen in her life. It disturbed her greatly, as she wondered how on Earth this had appeared on her. But she became aware of the weight on her back again, and pushed that disturbing train of thought aside.

She turned, peeking over her shoulder. She had been expecting a blanket, heavy enough to stimulate her control over it, but somehow still light. But she was wrong.

There were wings sticking out of her.

White feathers, tinged with ice-blue and marred with blood. Not just two, but four, huge contraptions of flight. They hurt, aching from being cooped up for so long, yet felt natural. She stared at them for a moment. Then she reached out and let one gently. She could feel her touch through the feathers. They were not natural, but they sure felt like they were. Comfortably light.

Then she looked at her arm.

And her arm looked back at her.

She jolted back, still maintaining eye contact with the eyes that were plastered across her arm, up and down. Green like the ones on her face, but they were crying gently, slightly red at the edges. She realized they adorned her other arm as well. She vomited.

She fell to her side, pushing her arms as far away from her as she could, and soon was crying herself.

“…h-help… s-someone help…”

Her cries were answered by only the wind. She curled up into a ball (minus her weeping arms) and sobbed quietly.

It took only half an hour for her to calm. She sat up tiredly, still moving her new wings as little as possible.

“Hello.”

Her hoarse voice was directed to her arms, which she now held up. Noelle had power over the limbs, but not the eyes. She saw nothing out of them, and had no control over where they looked. Their green-ringed pupils darted to and fro, catching on her face for moments of time. Still they cried, leaking soft tears that glittered in foreign light.

“I’m sorry. You just… startled me. I’m really tired. Perhaps you can understand that?”

They had no way to respond. No way to hear her. They were just eyes, after all. She enlisted that they couldn’t even blink.

“Oh, well… I’m sorry. I’ll calm down now.”

She sat, staring at them. They had some connection to pain and sadness and a pencil sharpener, but it was hard for her to figure out what. She tried to think of some connection to “before,” before realizing she had no idea what she was doing before she got here.

She had been in the old underground house, and was about to leave when something… attacked her?

But she also remembered trying to find someone. She was going to hurt that someone.

But she was Noelle, right? Noelle never hurt anyone, nor wanted to do so.

Didn’t she?

She forced herself to stop fighting herself mentally, and chose to instead look around. looked around. As she did, she noticed a few things.

One; the neon metal underneath her was a catwalk of around fifteen feet in width. Two; the sky was dark, and cut with thin green lines that stretched out forever, eventually cutting out a dome shape. Three; there was a huge city, a metropolis, right behind where she had been originally facing. Bright lights and lasers spun up from its glowing mass, which was a weaving mix of neon blues, sea green, violets, and deep crimson purples. Huge skyscrapers, bigger than Castle City’s (part of her didn’t recognize that name) rose from the inky black of ground (if there was one). From there came the gentle rumbling of huge mechanical engines. A city with an engine like a car.

It was a huge thing for her to take in. The catwalk went straight off into the city, yet it was still far from her location, signifying a long walk from where she was. Other catwalks (which she realized were floating) appeared in her distant peripheral vision, but seemed miles away. The rest of her vision was filled with deep blue darkness.

She was lost and anyone in the dark, huge world. A world she knew nothing about.

She reached up and covered her ears for a moment. She needed to focus.

No matter what had happened, she was here now. Where here was, she needed to figure out. But was it normal to go around looking like this? What if she was a freak compared to the people here (if there were any)?

She sighed and dropped her hooves to the ground. She realized, again, that she was incredibly tired, and any investigation was unrealistic at the time. So she began to drag herself to the edge of the walk, before flopping back onto the cold ground. It was uncomfortable, her arms held up so the eyes wouldn’t be injured by the ground (in case they could be), and wings twisted into awkward positions, but she fell asleep quickly anyways. Before she did, she took note of more catwalks twisting below the one she was on. Then sleep came swiftly.

The reindeer (if she could be called one anymore) lay twisted and sleeping on the floor. Poor thing.

Ralsei pitied her, but could not bring himself to intervene with her fate. She could bring everything crashing down on him if he let her close to destiny’s plans. So he clambered out from underneath the bridge, onto its top, joining her on the side people were meant to be on. He sighed, and moved closer to her. One of her lower wings still stretched out, and could easily be run over if a vehicle came through.

The Darkner moved forward quietly, and pushed Noelle’s wing in closer to her. She didn’t wake. Ralsei moves back, giving her one last look-over, and turns and lakes away. His town needed him. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Roulxs had started a coup while he was gone, but Shakesphere’s Smurfsona was pretty easy to deal with once you got used to him. But the dark prince hurried anyway.

Ralsei needed everything in order before Kris and Susie returned, of course.

\\\

The pocket was warm and dark. Nice and enclosed, yet felt open at the same time. Soft and safe.

The jester, though technically dead, was happy in his new life here. He was alone with his thoughts, and found that quite pleasing.

Even though the pocket was protective, Jevil still had the occasional… visitor.

The Man could not reach him here, which was a relief and a disappointment at the same time. But they could send in the puppet. Somehow. It didn’t happen often, but it was mighty annoying. So when someone poked him awake, he was not in a good mood.

“Oh, has the puppet come to play, play? Hm?”

Spamton made a noise like strangled static.

“Well. You’re talkative today, puppet boy.”

Chapter seven: The Feathers

Noelle was awaken by a distant clank resounding through the dark around her. She sat up and rubbed her eyes (the ones on her face) and leaned to peer over the edge of the bridge.

Below twisted even more bridges, which curved and bent in strange patterns. The labyrinthine green below her only helped her realize that this “world” was inherently bigger than she thought it was. The layers were so thick with catwalks it was tricky to see even a single speck of the dark abyss far below them.

As she examined the distant paths, she saw movement traveling down one of the paths. A trio of traveling shadows, walking in a line. She watched them for a moment, before she suddenly called out, not sure what to expect.

“HELLO?!”

Her voice echoed lightly, but the figures did not seem to react.

(*“Hey, Kris, did you hear that?”

*”…Haha, me neither.”

*”Hear what, Susie?”

*”…I actually have no idea…”

*”…Ignore me, I guess.”)

She sat back, and sighed, the strange wind poking at her playfully. She looked back towards the travelers, and noticed a fourth shadow this time. This one towered over the others in front, and seemed to be leaning incredibly close to the shadow closest to it as she watched.

She blinked. Hadn’t there only been three before?

But the fourth member was gone after she blinked a second time.

She stared for a bit longer, and stood up. She turned to the city.

She knew it would be very hard for her to get back to a place she considered normal, if possible at all. But there had to be someone in the city who knew something about what was happening to her. So she walked.

Thirty minutes passed, and she could see where the bridge morphed into the sidewalk. Her hooves ached, but at least her wings didn’t drag on the ground anymore. She was still incredibly tired, but she could not bear to give up now. The city, now closer,loomed over her even more threateningly. The skyscrapers seemed to constantly start to crash down on her, but they never even moved.

Finally, after a time period of nearly an hour, she had reached the city.

The city was devoid of crowds she thought would be streaming through the city. There were car-like vehicles (they were just red cars that had bird's legs instead of wheels) but no pedestrians. Noelle was alone in the streets.

Her walk had become even slower than before, and it was incredibly hard not to fall to the ground and sleep. She had to fight hard to not slip down an alleyway and sleep by the dumpsters. She had to find someone. Noelle told herself that there was no way the city was empty of life, but she wasn’t truly sure. She had no real way of knowing what this place was like, and therefore could be incredibly wrong. She could get lost in the neon maze and die. Anything could happen here. There was nothing predictable about this world. Nothing.

She didn’t hear the voices around the corner. Instead she wandered forward in her feverish tiredness.

“Hello?”

Noelle didn’t hear, instead stopping to wait to cross the street, the empty yet crowded street.

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

Noelle turned to the voice, and nearly jumped out of her fur.

“Woah, it’s alright. Are you lost? Do you need help?”

The speaker was a cat-like creature, with blinding white and cyan fur. She was very different, however, from the only other cats she had met; similar to Catti, yet worlds different at the same time. Behind her was a tall… something. She could not get a good look at it from where she stood, but it didn’t honestly matter to her now.

“D… Where’d the sun go?”

“Excuse me? Are you sick?”

Noelle nodded, and then slumped over tiredly.

“Woah, hey! It’s okay,I got you.”

Sure enough, the nice cat lady scooped her up.

“Let’s get them to the castle.”

“Of course.” Replied the other stranger.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Tasque Manager. My friend here- well, they just flew off, but they’re Swatch.” She started to run down the street at break-neck speed. “What’s your name?”

She yawned, snuggling a bit closer to Tasque’s velvety fur.

“Noelle.”

“Well, Noelle, we’re going to take care of you, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

Noelle smiled. They were strangers, but it felt so easy to trust them already. She closed her eyes and fell into a deserved sleep.
\\\

While Noelle slept in the Dark World, nearly everyone else in the duoverse stressed over her disappearance.

In Hometown, the Mayor covered up her daughter’s disappearance causally, not alerting the police, but the young reindeer’s classmates were not so easily calmed. Toriel remarked to a new friend her concerns about Noelle’s mysterious disappearance.

“If this turns out anything like what happened to December… goodness knows what we’ll do. Poor Noelle. She was so kind. What would we do without her? Christmas is so soon, too! It’s her favorite day of the year!”

She sighed sadly, shaking her head.

Sans could only nod. Discomfort had a way of taking his words and dragging them to hell. So he could say nothing. Sure, she tried to murder him, but he truly believed that it wasn’t the real Noelle that held that rock.

Officer Undyne tried and failed over and over again to get any information from anyone. She wasn’t allowed to interrogate the students while school was in session, so she paced around town and knocked over a tree or two in rage, waiting.

Rudy had no idea anything was wrong. No one wanted to tell him that his daughter was missing. His only remaining child. So he waited patiently for her daily visit like it was any other Thursday.

Berdly was plain oblivious. As he explored the bits of Cyber City he had fallen into, he could not even guess that she was somewhere in the mess of dark and light.

Kris couldn’t either. Neither could you.

Ralsei shut her out of his memory with a huge metal door and three padlocks (metaphorically, although he had an astute mental image of the door).

The police were searching the underground for her, per Dess’ request, but were not doing that well of a job. They honestly didn’t care about finding Noelle. She was just another lost girl. A lost monster girl.

Afternoon set in gently. Castle City entered its rush hour, ancient castles and ruins alien in between the car-crowded streets. The more modern buildings glitter in the powerful sun.

The moon was visible from behind its veil of sunlight that day. Silver and pale in the prime of the day. Unwavering in its own right.
\\\

Berdly was calling Frisk. He didn’t do that very often, instead preferring to send letters (“the only classy way to communicate!”). So they answered their phone, confused.

“Berdly?”

“Frisk have you seen Mysterious Occurrences?”

His tone was a mix of excited and terrified at the same time.

“Uh… what?”

“You haven’t? Well that is inconvenient.”

“…Why? What is it?”

“I’ll explain it to you real quick… no spoilers though! So anyways they’re trying to find something or whatever but the compass is broken. But it’s actually not it's just being attracted to some portal thing! Got it?”

“Uh… maybe?”

“Well, anyways, I don’t have a compass, but anyways you know that one gas station? With the sushi?”

Frisk snickered.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well I’m there, and… that one guy, y’know? He’s like, your dad or whatever? The skeleton guy? Well, he’s here too!”

“… What? Sans is… not my father?!”

“Potato, tomato. The point is, he works here now.”

“Berdly. I am not following you right now. I’m sorry.”

“…Frisk, I know you know how powerful he is.”

“Magic wise?”

“Yeah.”

They begin to pace around the room.

“Okay, fine, but what makes Sans working at a gas station so radically exciting?”

“Noelle is missing.”

“…I know?”

The phone is silent for a moment, neither of them quite understanding what they were talking about.

“… I’m really sorry, Berdly, but I don’t understand. Can you try to explain from the beginning?”

“… Well. It is sort of a medium-ish long story.”

“Okay.”

“…Well, anyways, Papyrus was bragging about how powerful Sans’ magic was to Undyne. I know because I follow Undyne around sometimes for information, ya’know? So at first I found it merely intriguing. Not too interesting, but nonetheless good to know. Until I met the guy. He has a single health point. But apparently he can still use incredibly powerful magic. He’s not even half boss monster. That should be impossible. But anyways, he is powerful, and can therefore sense powerful magic too, right?”

“Okay, I get it, sort of. But he kinda needed a job, right? It could mean nothing…”

“…Frisk, the gas station hasn’t been hiring since BP. How could he get a job here? Why would he get a job here? This is the worst place in the entire city! Not only that, he’s the janitor. He can stay here all night if he wants.”

“… Berdly, what are you on?”

“I, friend, am into the truth. He knows what happened to Noelle, I can feel it. There is… more I have not told you, but I need to know you can trust me first. If Noelle is in danger, someone has to save her, and I can’t do this alone, Frisk. You’re a real hero; I am but Snowdrifts’ humble guardian.”

“Huh?”

“…what I’m trying to say is, I need help. If you won’t, I have no idea who else would.”

“…maybe an adult?”

“I… did think of that. But who’d believe me? Honestly, Frisk. You don’t even believe me now. I can tell.”

Frisk shuffles uncomfortably. He has a point.

“… I’m across the street from the gas station now. If I disappear too, tell someone what I said, okay?”

“I can’t do that Berdly.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I’m coming with you, silly. It’s dangerous to go alone, ya’know. I’ll be there soon.”

“See ya!”

Frisk turns and runs to their nightstand. Laying across it is a stick. They grab it and leave their room.

They pass through the kitchen, grab a couple apples, and put them in their pocket. They head to the door, but wave goodbye to their mom before they leave. Toriel had been reading, but looked up and waved, smiling. She trusted Frisk to stay safe, after everything.

They run to the gas station, weaving through New New Home and through the gate. They pass through the city efficiently, pass school and through bright allys. They finally reach Berdly, huffing and puffing.

“Give me… a sec…”

Berdly does so quietly, bouncing slightly in excitement. Finally, they straighten back up.

“Anything else to explain?”

“Yeah. Noelle disappeared from the underground, right? But they found evidence of her in the skeleton's old house. Then, the day after the police leave the underground, the house is destroyed.”

“…What?!”

“That house is gone. And now, here he is. Working here. Why?”

Frisk stares at him in silence. Finally, something clicks.

“The magazine rack!”

Someone had been stealing the gas station’s magazine rack over and over again. Every time it disappeared, someone would find it abandoned in a random spot. Random spots in the school mostly, but occasionally in the public library or the hardware store. It was always undamaged and nothing was taken from it. No one was ever caught with it. It would be there one second, and be gone the next. Poof. Magic.

Berdly tilted his head up in a smug grin.

“Elementary, my dear Watson. The “compass” has found its North.”

“… so you’re serious about the portal thing?”

He shrugs.

“Or it could be an accidental allegory for kidnap. Either way, he probably knows something.”

They pause, staring across at the station.

The red and white dilapidated building does not lighten the mood at all.

“Well, ladies first.” Frisk said, smiling at Berdly.

“Why, thank you!”

They cross the road together.

Chapter eight:

The station was empty, shelves bare and dirty. The only people there appeared to
be them (and Burgerpants, who was flopped over asleep at the counter). Quiet, low quality music emanated from a tiny speaker in the corner, directly right from the entrance. It was nearly overtaken by humming, from the coolers and half-dilapidated air conditioning. Dusty brown overtook every other speck of color in the station, and the flickering lights revealed chunks of dust floating haphazardly through the air.

“…looks no different from last time. Are you sure he’s a janitor here?”

Frisk’s whisper seemed to barely reach Berdly, who was already sneaking into the closest aisle, careful to not wake the slumbering cashier. Frisk quickly followed, waiting for a response.

“He was in this aisle when I was here earlier. I think,” yet the area he pointed out didn’t seem any less clean than the rest of the gas station.

“Well, where is he now?”

Berdly shrugged, then his face brightened. He casually scaled the shelves next to him, peeking over the aisles.

“…are you crazy?!” He did not heed their frantic whisper, instead looking around a bit longer. After what felt like forever, he nodded his head and descended back to Earth.

“Found him.”

Then off he went, without another word.

“Berdly, wait! We can’t just walk up to him and accuse him of interdimensional… well, whatever you said.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” He stopped, thankfully. “We may not have time to wait! If Noelle is in danger, he may know about it and be able to help! She’s my best friend, Frisk, so you’ll have to excuse my overexcitement to save her!”

The stood for a moment, the humming becoming the only sound they can hear.

“…sorry. I’m just. Y’know, scared…”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for not being helpful.”

“Oh, n-no, it’s really just me. Here, I promise I’ll try to be more chill, okay?”

“No, it’s understandable. If someone’s in danger, of course it’s okay! I just have to get it into my head a bit.”

“Okay, thanks! Now, where is-“
“uhm. hi. you guys okay over here?” Speak of the devil.

The skeleton seemed more tired than usual, and the old gas station uniform didn’t do him any favors. He was armed with a mop that appeared even dirtier than the floor he attempted to clean it with. Frisk hadn’t seen him since Sunday (it was still Thursday), and it appeared as though he had gone through a lot in the last three days.

“Oh, hi Sans. Uh, surprised to see you here-“

Berdly immediately ran smack into the side of the shelf. As he made contact, he chirped, VERY loudly, and fell to the floor. Following this sudden action, nobody moved for a good ten seconds.

“…Uh, Berdly?”

“Yeah, Frisk?”

“…why’d you do that?”

He shrugged.

“…uh. is this, eh, normal?”

They both responded at the same time, with a “No” from Frisk and a “Yeah” from Berdly.

“okay. i’ll… i’ll give you guys a moment. or something.”

“No, wait, come back!”

Berdly shot back up again, immediately springing back into action. His glasses still, askew, he launched into a strangely worded speech.

“Assuming you know Noelle and her sudden disappearance, do you think her absence is in any way connected to the space-time continuum?”

“uh. what?”

“Perhaps something related to powerful magic? She did disappear in your old, now-eradicated house. That’s certainly an area of suspicion.”

“…uh, yeah, we did burn the house, because it uh, well, started to crumble-“ he shifted his stance, passing the mops handle between his hands-“but… that’s the reindeer kid, yeah? haven’t met her. i haven’t heard that she went to the house, though.”

“Hm. Alright. Say you did know, however, and could give us a hint, what would that be? Or, in less complicated terms, do you have a theory of where she went?”

Frisk realized that he had probably been planning it mentally this entire time. That would definitely explain its strange complexity and word choice, at least. But it explained nothing else.

The skeleton paused for a moment, still staring at him.

“FUCK! They took the fucking rack again!”

Burgerpants’s sudden yowl made them all jump. The “rack” had to have been the disappearing magazine rack. Gone, perhaps as soon as no one had been looking upon it. Perhaps whisked away only seconds before that moment.

Sans leaned in over the mop, and answered Berdly’s question casually. Despite his informal tone, there was something about it that sounded final, suggesting that there was no turning back now.

“try your school’s computer lab.”

\\\

The dark room Noelle woke up in was strange, yet somehow comforting in atmosphere. It had taken her a moment to remember where she was, and the overly soft blankets had distracted her quite a bit. It was hard to wake up, but she finally sat up (the clothes she was wearing earlier were still there, thankfully) and slipped out of the bed.

A huge frosted window greeted her with icy light. Outside, snow fell lightly. The flowery patterns that decorated the corners of the window were like none she had seen before; lacy little hearts and Christmas lights were etched in the pale covering. The rest of the room was colored to match (icy shades of blue and white, as well as a few touches of cranberry red).

“Hello?” She asked, for seemingly the millionth time.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Floating in the great abyss of darkness lies the largest city ever known by shadow. Under a huge metal dome (constructed by the magic of spirits long forgotten), bright lights rein over an exotic world of sleepless metal. A city of dreams in a world of nightmares, as blue light rules over the living figures of technology.

Cyber City; the domain of exhaustion everlasting.

A city of hallucination, of endless shadow, of humming ghosts, bright neon lights, and headaches that will never end. A city of eternal sickness and permanently damp bones. A city of waking, walking nightmares. But you’d never know from a glance. Cities have eyes, but this one’s are hidden behind a facade of rose glass.

As the city lay awake, it knew that, thankfully, being alone in the sleepless night was not a plausible notion. An impossible feat, even. And among all of these restless souls was someone who lay awake in the seamless night for a darker reason unique.

A blindingly cyan tower flew up into the deep shadow of the metal sky. In it, on the thirty-third floor, lay a small, lonely room. A room chock-full of shadow and silence. There, Spam felt more alone than he ever had been. But he wasn’t, in reality. Unluckily enough, the feeling was only true in the emotional sense.

The room appeared dulled and smudged under the influence of sleep deprivation in the dreary hours of the morning (not to mention the fact that his glasses were not present at that moment). Lights managed to find their way in between the curtains, dressed in sea greens and defiant golds and gentle cream. Pink and sky and a thousand purples. Those who lived in this Dark World became used to the colors, and could fall asleep to them easily. But the brightness had lost its comfort that night, so instead it pounded at the window, vexed at its sudden loss of power.

The cold temperature surrounding him, omnipresent, was incredibly annoying. His already scattered thoughts had trouble focusing on anything else, the mixed temperatures distracted them effortlessly. He lay as still as possible, barely blinking or breathing, as to not wake Mike up. He was so tired. Where were his glasses? What time was it? He sniffed quietly.

“
This couldn’t have happened. I know better than this. If this was bad, I wouldn’t have done it, right? All for the future. Making good time.
”

Spam’s meeting with Mike had gone unexpectedly well, and Mike decided a celebration was in order. They had gone to some random alley-hugging bar. One thing led to another, and they had retreated (Spam unwillingly) to the hotel. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and he had been too on edge to sleep. So he stared into the dark, thinking.

Wooden skin pressed against his back and wrapped his neck and waist. An unearthly cold emanated from Mike, which he found creepy, considering that most Darkeners had body heat. His knees chest was pushed against Mike’s knees, Spam wrapped up in his boss like a bug in a spider’s legs. The pale beige hotel sheets, though draped generously, refused to give any warmth to the young salesman, who was finding trouble in stifling his shivers (of cold, yes, but of fear and anxiety as well).

Mike suddenly shifted in his sleep, and his frigid glass face pressed further into the back of his head. Spamton’s jaw clenched involuntarily, bracing himself for more movement. After a moment had passed, his boss had not moved any more, so he relaxed a bit more.

Down below in the streets, the noise of a crash could be heard. Honking swiftly became a distant symphony upon the ground, but high up in the tower, the cacophony was softer. He closed his eyes, attempting to relax, hoping (yet again) to fall asleep. The white noise of the anger and fear (perhaps even pain) was lulling, in a strange, foreign way.

But the phone rang, and any descending peace was washed away in a violent tsunami of metaphorical blades.

They both jumped, and Mike sat up violently, arms quickly unwrapping from their now-past positions. Spamton tried to calm his sudden hyperventilation as Mike jolted towards the phone, which was located on the nightstand closest to him. He yanked it off its hook in a flash of motion, and pulled it to the side of the tv box he had for a head. Spam had been yanked along, hips still trapped between Mike’s thighs. The light from his screen made the little black phone shimmer blue, making it seem almost as if it was made of glass.

It was answered just as soon as it had been picked up, with a casual greeting, as if he hadn’t just nearly leapt out of his “skin,” nor been fast asleep.

It took Spamton a minute or two to calm himself as much as was possible, before he buried his face in the bed, pulling the covers up and over him. He hoped it wasn’t for him, and for the first time in a while, he was lucky.

The conversation, hard to understand with only one side audible, seemed normal and untroubling, so he decided to make the most of this time by finding his clothes. Unsurprisingly, it was all scattered about.

Carefully, he pulled away from his boss, sneaking away. Mike ran a finger down his retreating back, following his spine, but otherwise did not react. Iit took him a moment to gather and don his clothes. Meanwhile, the conversation carried on.

“Yeah. H-
it’s
here. No resistance,“ Mike paused for a moment. He tilted his head towards his apprentice slightly, then continued.

“No, I didn’t ask. Yet. Where is he?”

There is a long moment of tense silence. Spamton has still not found his glasses. He thinks to leave the room and check, but curiosity overcomes him. Instead he pretends to shuffle around and look for them, whilst taking the time to button up his jacket (he was still cold).

“…Yes. Yes.” Mike’s voice had quickly gone from short to awed and respectful. His static seemed to crackle more quietly than it had before, and Spamton found this change of tone very strange.

“…I will. I will. Thank you… yes, it will be done. Good as done. Alright, thank you. Soon.”

And like that, the call ended.

Mike turned to him. Spamton blinked, and involuntarily pulled himself a bit closer to the wall behind him. He decided to focus on the phone, deep red against the smoky shadows, and he took in a light breath.

“Why’d you put your clothes back on?”

“I’m cold. It’s… kinda chilly.”

“Aw. I could fix that for you, kiddo,” the tone of his voice told Spam he wouldn’t be changing the room’s temperature.

“… Any idea where my glasses are?”

He received no response. The room was still silent, besides the gentle whispers of static. An eerie quiet, different from the silence that had been before.

“Um... Are you okay?” He still wouldn’t look at Mike, and neither had moved in the slightest.

“They’re here.”

“…What?”

Mike motioned to the nightstand. They lay, casually tossed aside, next to the phone.

”Oh. Thanks.” He slowly moved towards them.

As he crept up, Mike grabbed him and pulled him up on top, tight against his bare form. Spam inhaled shallowly, propping himself up.

“You’re gonna be a big man, Spammy. Gotta practice for the hoes,” he bucked his hips, bumping Spam forward into his face. Mike’s tongue poked against his lips as he grabbed hard onto his rump.

He blinked heavily against the violent light emanating from the static, flinching as his tongue pressed deeper into his mouth.

Kissing was nicer than whatever else Mike wanted from him, so he leaned into it. He ran his tongue against the ridges on the top of Mike’s mouth, one hand stroking the side of his boxy head. Mike hummed approvingly, pulling his hips closer to grind against him.

As Spam pressed against the soft flesh of Mike’s mouth, he remembered something. Back at his apartment with his flock, there was a ring. For Jevil. He had promised himself to propose once he returned from the meeting.

But how could he bring himself to go through with it now? Mike had made it clear that he was his bitch.

He gagged on Mike’s saliva, tugging away and coughing heavily. Mike laughed as he tumbled off the bed, falling to the disgusting mess of the carpet. He gasped for breath, the bitter sweetness pooling in the back of his throat.

Once he had caught his own breath, Mike followed him, trapping him in a hug. Spam wanted to cry.

“My dark prince,” he whispered softly, rubbing a hand over his ribs. Something told Spam the name was not his.

Was he pretending he was someone else?

“You were really getting
into
that, huh?”

Spam nodded blearily.

“…I’ll make coffee. No use heading back to bed, huh?” He casually pat Spam’s ass and left to the room’s tiny kitchen.

He stretched up and snagged his glasses off the nightstand, unable to find the strength to stand. His vision cleared up, but the room still
felt
fuzzy.
Mike’s screen had lit up the room with a light blue-gray, but everything still appeared dark. He noted how much his eyes hurt, and a swell of regret and guilt leaked out from whatever hidden corner it had momentarily been hidden in.

He disposed himself to call Jevil in the morning. Perhaps returning so early wasn’t such a good idea. But he didn’t need to know about this…
incident…
yet.

“Dammit, Spam,” he thought, angrily digging his fingers into his palms. “What are you going to do
now
?”

There was a mirror on the wall he faced, and he couldn’t help but look at his pathetic pale form reflected in it. Pink bite marks speckled his shoulders and neck, as well as a couple on the insides of his thighs. There was a trickle of blood running down his collarbone underneath his shirt. He remembered that one specifically. Mike biting down on his shoulder with a groan as he roughly forced himself up inside him. Scrapes of pain, running up inside of him.

He could still feel what remained. Would it crumble out, or just soak into him? The thought made him shudder. He and Jevil had tried it out, but never finished.

2

He knocked on the door, snatching his hand away as if it would bite. A beam of light poked through the peephole, before Mike snapped it open and dragged Spam in.

Mike tilted his head, holding his arms against his sides, rumpling the blood red cloth.

“Look at youuuu!” His voice was slurred. He grabbed on much too tight.

And the reflection in the mirror was not him. Merely an image of something wearing someone else’s skin. Spam stared into his own eyes, past the slight crack in his glasses, and saw nobody. And he smiled. It felt
good
. It really did. He had finally done it. The Queen’s mansion. Spam Addison.

Mike straightened up, and nibbled on his ear, whispering now, telling him to take it off. Releasing his arms. Who was he to argue?

Wooden hands ran over his skin, pressing deep to feel the ridges of his pelvis. He couldn’t breathe. But he wasn’t scared.

Dragged from the whiter-than-teeth bathroom. Shoved onto the bed. He didn’t care. Not when it hurt. Because the good parts made up for it.

“
You make me sooo jealous, kid. Just a boy in a man’s world. …So soft. I could hurt you so easily.
”

He kept his eyes shut tight, and grit his teeth, still smiling. The light of Mike’s screen was burning holes through him.

“
Who’s your boy, again? The jerboa-looking thing? Well, tell him you’re under
new
management. And I, for one, ain’t soft.
”

He bit down on Spam’s shoulder, with a grunt. Pressing up further inside of him. He couldn’t even cry out. It was worth it. It
was
worth it.