Undertale Mafia AU :: Falling Down

Chara reigns as kingpin of the biggest mafia branch in the underground. Twin sister Frisk stumbles into the corrupted world, torn between the dangerous life of a mobster or working undercover for the FBI. Under the watchful eyes of vigilante Sans, rookie Papyrus, special agent Undyne, and many other colourful characters, Frisk will either fight for justice… or fight for survival.

Rated T for mild violence and language.

Chapter One :: Of All The People

...

The rain poured down hard on Frisk's shoulders. She battled through the storm, stamped through puddles over the sidewalk, and struggled to see through the misty night air. She followed the halo of the street lights, desperately clutching on to her bag containing everything she owned. Life on the streets was rough for a girl in her early twenties. That morning, she'd been kicked out of the last shelter in the city on the day of the biggest hurricane in recent history. She exhaled deeply with exhaustion.

It's never easy...

It was getting hard to see. The rain came down like bullets, cloaking the streets in bleak grey colours as if she had stepped into a film noir scene. Every moment was getting worse and worse. Waves of rain drenched her entire form. And just as she felt like she was practically wading through water, she desperately flew towards the nearest safe haven she could find.

The neon lights above her head tinged the sodden sidewalk with sharp crimson colours. It made the pavement beneath her feet look as if it ran red with blood. The entire area screamed danger. Up and down the streets, shutters covered the doors of abandoned buildings, glass lay beneath broken windows scattered all along the sidewalk, but Frisk paid it all no mind… even to the empty bullet shells rolling down the drains. All she cared about was the nearest shelter she could find. At the end of the day, her primary concern was her fight for survival.

However, she had no idea that she had accidentally stumbled into the worst area of the entire city. What she failed to notice was the neon sign overhead, flashing in warning, advertising the entrance into the underworld… and it simply read 'Underground'.

It was known as the darkest part of the city. Drifters, mercenaries, mobsters, and hitmen were rumored to gather there and discuss their trade, consult with their partners in shady businesses, and everything above and beyond the law. It was a safe haven, but not for Frisk. It was a safe spot for the worst known criminals across the city.

Frisk burst through the double doors of the club named Underground. It situated below the train tracks of an aboveground system, on the corner of a cluttered city street, where the air smelled of oil and sewage. But inside, Frisk was almost stunted by the thick smog of cigarettes attacking her senses. She squinted her eyes through the dark room, and froze on the spot as she finally realised where she was. Suddenly, Frisk found herself amongst a lively crowd of drunkards and gangsters.

Her eyes grew wide as she'd unwittingly fallen into dangerous territory. A den of wolves. She shook the rainwater from her coat and frantically brushed her fingers through her chestnut hair. The messy strands clung to her face like a second coat of skin, and her breath was heavy with exhaustion. With a hard gulp, her mind raced with one impulsive thought:

God… I could use a drink…

She exhaled as she regained her composure. She knew it would be a horrible idea to freak out in the midst of the most terrifying crowd in the world. Carefully, Frisk walked in a confident stride in her worn-out boots towards the bar on her left. The crowd was loud and buzzed with excitement, stimulated by the entertainment on stage. A woman with a breathy voice sang a slow ballad in fishnet stockings whilst the men at her feet howled like hungry wolves, waving money in their hands. Just another crowd of suckers looking for cheap laughs and thrills, fuelled by drugs and alcohol to cloud their better judgement. Frisk kept her distance as the atmosphere made her dizzy. She hid her face beneath the collar of her coat as she pulled up a stool at the bar.

It seemed like a slow night. The only barman at their post was a man with fiery red hair with rectangle glasses hanging at the end of his nose. He was dressed in a slick grayscale bartender suit of the finest quality. Frisk curiously read the nametag attached to his chest – 'Grillby'. Frisk's eyebrows rose as she internally praised his good looks, and her inviting half-smile caught his attention quickly. When he leant across the counter, their gazes locked, and Frisk didn't waste time to give her demands.

"One Bacardi and coke, please."

He scanned her appearance, and took note of the dirt clinging to her clothes and her hair. Grillby silently scrutinised her as he waited for some proof of identity… or at the very least, some proof of payment. Frisk frowned, insulted by his judgemental gaze, and dug her hands deep into her tattered pockets to fish out crumbled notes. The barman noticed the grime clinging to Frisk's fingertips as she slid the money towards him, and promptly prepared the drink for her. 'She must be living in poor conditions, that is to say if she's living anywhere at all,' he thought. Grillby slid the money away in refusal as he passed her the drink. Frisk's head tilted in confusion.

"What's the idea, huh? I got the money to pay for this, why won't you take it?"

The barman stretched his hand over the counter, and affectionately held her dirty hands for a moment before a small smile pulled on his lips. He rested a finger against his chest, and silently let her know that he'd bought it for her. And Frisk breathed out a grateful sigh.

"Thank you. Really. Thanks for this."

In no time at all, she tightly gripped the glass and downed a swig as if it's the only drink she's had in days. She gulped loudly and crudely, emphasizing her lack of feminine tact. Grillby continued to watch her, intrigued, until she sat the drink aside to lean over the counter, and shouted over the music, "Hey, you got any vacancies here? I'm looking for a job, and this place seems nice enough…"

Grillby stifled a snort at that remark. As Frisk raised a suspicious eyebrow, Grillby held out his hand as he gestured her to wait at the bar. He disappeared from her sight as he suddenly became lost in the crowd. Frisk took this time to scan her surroundings - she noted the poor lighting, as faint tinges of gold glossed over the interior from small wall-embedded lights. There were groups of men in business suits in shadier areas of the room, and waitresses gathering crowds around them as drunk men clamber desperately for their attention. And through her perceptive eyes, Frisk can make out the gleam of every weapon hidden on each guy.

There's a knife hidden in that man's pocket... his friend is hiding a revolver in a holster underneath his suit… but he doesn't know that the man sitting behind him has a small pistol tucked away in his sock…

There was no doubt about it. Frisk had fallen into the heart of the underworld, and she was right in the central vein of it all. Every man was on the edge with their fingers lingering towards their triggers, and they acted as if any moment anyone could open fire. If anyone so wished it, the rest of the evening would become a desperate battle for survival. Frisk could feel it in the air – the tension was agonisingly thick. It was only a matter of time and circumstance until the scene turned into an all-out war. And Frisk had to wonder…

…what's keeping them from doing it? From the way they're acting, it's as if something is keeping them all under strict surveillance. Maybe something is… or maybe someone is…

All of a sudden, Frisk was brought out of her deep thoughts as Grillby suddenly laid a heavy hand over her shoulder. Frisk almost jumped out of her skin as she turned over her shoulder with wide eyes, only to be greeted with an approving nod of his head. She didn't have time to question his silence as the mute barman beckoned her to follow him. She was constantly kept in sight as Grillby led her across the floor of drunken patrons. Frisk looked totally out of place in her scruffy coat and unkempt hair, even as she clumsily weaved through the crowds.

The area grew darker and quieter as Grillby led her further into the interior towards a hidden part of the room. There were lines of booths situated against the walls, decorated by elegant curtains for privacy purposes. And Grillby guided Frisk past every single one until she reached the booth at the very end. The wall-mounted light flashed on and off, as the bulb inside was barely able to blink to life. It sparked up every now and again, but the shadows had almost completely taken siege of that corner of the room.

And suddenly, a singular fiery glow burning one end of a cigarette flared into existence. It hung out of the mouth of a stranger sat within the booth, and almost immediately, Frisk felt nervous in his presence.

The stranger was encased in darkness. The faint glow of his burning cigarette barely revealed any of his features. Frisk could just about make out the pale skin over his scarred hands, as his fingers clutched on to his lighter with a glaring image of a skull decorated on the side. Vague hints of a scruffy stubble strewn along his strong jawline. But nothing else stuck out more in her mind than the terrifying wide smile on his lips. She swallowed before dropping on to the seat across from him. After Grillby left her with the mysterious stranger, Frisk felt helpless and stranded.

"Relax, kid. I don't bite. Sometimes." His wheezy laugh sounded unnatural, almost as if this stranger had lost his mind years ago. But Frisk refused to be intimidated. She laid her hands flat against the table between them as she leant forward, determined to appear unafraid of him, and sternly asked the question.

"Are you able to get me a job in this place?"

"Sure I can. What do you think we're doing now?" He skilfully sprinkled tobacco along flimsy paper in his hand, then he brought it to his lips to quickly lick along the edges. And as he rolled the paper into a neat tube, his own cigarette bounced between his gritted teeth as he offered to her, "You want one?"

"If it's alright with you, I'd love one."

"Heh. So polite. You don't need to be so formal with me, kid. Where do you think you are right now?" He told her with a manic smile and held the newly-rolled cigarette to her. Almost immediately, Frisk grabbed it out of his hands and wrapped her pouted lips around the filter. She leant across the table, squinted her eyes through the darkness, and her eyes widened as the stranger leant forward to tap the end of his cigarette against hers.

As the flames burnt between them, the blazing glow of the cigarettes lit up the strangers face and revealed the piercing icy blue irises in his eyes. Frisk inhaled the smoke, and inhaled in shock, as she was completely caught off-guard by the handsome features of this stranger. His head was shaved, with an incredibly faint shade over his skull where it was closely cut to the grain, and his eyes were clear with intrigue. His large smile accentuated his high cheekbones, and deepened the terrifying shadows beneath his calculating gaze. And from the shape of his silhouette in the darkness, Frisk was thrown completely by his robust build. He looked tough, and his demeanour looked intimidating, but attractive.

"Are you a bodyguard?" Frisk asked without thinking.

"You could say that. I work for the boss here. She's a real hard-ass, I'll tell you that much. And if you really wanna work here too, you're gonna have your work cut out for you. It can get a little… too much for some people, if you catch my drift." He leant back against his seat as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke above their heads. But even as he was swallowed up by the darkness once again, Frisk caught on to the gleam in his clear eyes as his smile curled into a sinister grin, "Personally, I don't think you'll have too much of a hard time here. It seems to me that you might know the boss fairly well…"

Frisk raised an eyebrow at him, and pouted her lips in confusion.

"I don't think so. I've never been to this part of the city before."

"Is that right? Well, that just makes this a hell of a lot more interesting." He laughed from the depths of his throat, almost as if he was personally amused by this. Before Frisk could query him any further, the stranger suddenly shuffled forward on his seat until he practically ensnared her with his threatening gaze, conflicting with his cheery tone of voice, "Anyway, I'd say that the ice is broken by now. Let's get introductions out of the way. I'm Sans. People 'round here know me as 'the skeleton'. I don't know exactly why, but that nickname just kinda stuck one day…"

"Maybe it's because of that lighter you have there." Frisk chimed in as she pointed to the skull-faced decoration on his lighter. Sans let out another wheezy laugh, and his fingers impatiently flickered over the zip as the flame sparked to life. The way he played with the fire was almost terrifying.

"Maybe so. Maybe not. It all depends on what you hear. See, kid, around here… your reputation spawns a name for you, whether you want it to or not. If you stick around long enough, I'm sure you'll get one too. Just give it time, you'll see what I mean."

"I think I got it." Frisk nodded slowly in understanding, and she kept her voice from wavering as she then dared to ask, "So, skeleton, you must have some idea how you got that nickname. What did you do to earn it?"

Sans remained silent. He took a long drag of his cigarette as he kept his heavy gaze on her, and never once faltered away from her. His sleazy grin never once moved the entire time. Frisk knew then that he was purposely withdrawing this information from her, and she became hesitant to ask more about it. Her time on the streets taught her to never ask too many questions, as she learnt quickly that nobody likes a snoop, and so she simply accepted Sans' silence.

Maybe it's better if didn't know too much about Sans' past anyway.

Frisk had been so caught up in the sight of his eyes locked on to hers that she hadn't paid much attention to the cigarette hanging idly between her fingertips. The ashes held on by a thread as the light went out, and she glanced back to Sans with a slight hint of a blush flourishing over her features.

"You need that lighting up again, buddy?" He asked her with an amused smile, and Frisk nodded silently.

Again, he leant over the table with his cigarette burning brightly, anticipating to meet the end of Frisk's cigarette once again. Bashfully, Frisk inched forward with a face coloured beetroot without mercy. The closer she got, the more prominent she could smell the musky scent of him. And as their cigarettes finally met in the middle, Frisk's eyes flickered up to his as she slowly inhaled, and concentrated on his features highlighted by the heated colours of the flame. His ocean-stained eyes were so clear, she could make out the blazing embers in his gaze as he met up with her intense stare. Their faces were so close, the cigarettes measured the gap between them, until Frisk slowly pulled away to lift her chin to the air, and exhaled the smoke without breaking her gaze from him.

Sans pulled back eventually, and his smile finally fell away. His eyes squinted as he continued to study her. He'd never seen someone carry themselves the way Frisk did, and it was fascinating. It was in the way she moved, in the way her hardened stare kept someone in place as if she was desperately asserting dominance and exuding confidence. Sans couldn't mistake that specific demeanour – her tough exterior told him that this girl has been through absolute hell and back. There's only one other person I know who has this kind of presence… and that's…

"Y'know, I don't think I'm the one best suited to interview you for this job."

"You haven't even asked me any questions yet."

"I know, I know." Sans wheezed another laugh, "But trust me, I'm not the one who should decide to take you on. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty damn good at judging a person's character, but you… I think there's someone else that will a better job than me in this case."

Frisk looked surprised as Sans suddenly lifted from his seat, and shuffled out of the booth as he buried his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. And almost by command, Frisk followed suit by promptly shoving her cigarette in the same ashtray, despite the fact that it still had plenty of tobacco left in it. Sans' eyebrows rose as he watched her, and smirked with approval.

You're already the perfect candidate for this position, kid. Just follow the instructions and don't ask too many questions. But I'm definitely not the one to make that call just yet...

Once again, Frisk crossed the room and weaved inelegantly through the crowds of stumbling drunkards. Unfortunately for her, inebriated men had started to recognise Frisk as another pretty woman amongst the other waitresses. One business-suited man had even grabbed a hold of Frisk's shoulders, shoved a beer bottle next to her face, and asked with a slurred drawl,

"Hey baby… damn, you are gorgeous! You're new here, am I right? I know, otherwise I'd have remembered a pretty face like yours…"

Frisk took a deep breath, closed her eyes as she cleared her mind, before she heavily shoved him away and stamped her sharp heel into the base of his foot. As the man howled in pain and fell back to clutch on to his throbbing toes, Frisk shot him an intimidating scowl from over her shoulder. Without an ounce of emotion in her voice, she warned him only once,

"Touch me again, asshole, and we're going to have a problem."

Friends of the man scrambled to scoop him up from the ground, and perched him on to a nearby chair as they all stared back in shock and horror. Their faces were white with fear, their mouths were hung open as they were completely lost for words. At first, Frisk was confused to see how they were suddenly so petrified of her. At the very least, she figured that the drunkard would be pretty pissed off after being assaulted so violently. Her feet were already squared apart in a defensive stance, and her fists were aching for a fight... but her confusion promptly ended when she overheard one of the frantic men shout above the panicked chatter,

"Don't you know who that woman is? You fucking idiot! Why don't you think next time you decide to hit on the boss…"

The boss?

Frisk squinted in confusion, until she figured that this might be the person that Sans was about to introduce her too. Then, as Sans turned over his shoulder to throw a knowing smile her way, Frisk confirmed it then. The boss was exactly who she was going to meet. Quickly, she patted down the remnants of the dirty rainwater clinging to her coat, and nervously combed her fingers through her unkempt hair to untangle the knots.

Sans led her back through an archway, covered only by a tattered curtain. She peered over Sans' shoulders to catch a glimpse of the path ahead. The wide corridor was lined by wall-mounted lamps, faintly lighting the way towards the backstage. Interesting looking characters scattered and lingered around, and the further Sans walked with Frisk in tow, the shadier the characters seemed to become. Frisk quickened her paces and kept close to Sans as she passed a large group of scary looking men, openly carrying an assortment of creative weapons. Frisk wished she hadn't seen one of the goons holding a broken baseball bat, with a jagged rusted nail pierced through it. She gulped as she had to step out of the way of a paranoid looking woman with blotchy white skin, and her claw-like hands clutched over a paper bag filled with pills and needles.

And as this woman had momentarily caught Frisk's attention, she accidentally turned too sharp and bumped straight into a small-framed woman hidden beneath a large trench coat.

"Oh… oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see where I was going." Frisk sincerely apologised, and helped the woman regain balance on her unsteady feet. As she did, Frisk caught sight of the nervous-looking woman in large coke-bottle glasses. She hid short blonde hair beneath a panama hat, and frantically clasped the collar of her trench coat over her face as she quickly stepped out of Frisk's grasp.

"It's… it's a-alright… I w-wasn't looking where I w-was going e-either… sorry!"

The mysterious blonde-haired woman wriggled away, and suddenly began running down the corridor with her hat pulled desperately over her white-flushed face. Frisk watched curiously after her, until Sans suddenly laid a hand over Frisk's shoulder. He beared a distant smile strewn over his vacant expression.

"It's best that you forget that one's face, kid. She's none of our concern."

Frisk picked up the serious undertones beneath his friendly demeanour, and she knew that this wasn't a request. This was an order. Immediately, she left it alone.

Eventually, they finally reached the darkened corridor of their journey where an isolated doorway was situated at the very end. Sans made sure that Frisk was safely standing right beside him as he quickly glanced at her. His scrutinising eyes studied Frisk for a moment, and noticed how at ease she appeared to be despite the circumstances. That's when Frisk noticed a strain in his smile. He's anxious. And as he straightened his black leather jacket over his shoulders, despite it being one size too big, he cleared his throat as he knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock.

"Come back later. We're doing business in here." An agitated voice called out from the other side.

"You're supposed to answer with 'who's there', but I guess you're not in the mood for bad jokes right now, huh?" He laughed as he slightly nudged Frisk with a roll of his eyes, "Anyway it's Sans. I got someone here that the boss might like to meet."

"Can't this wait?"

"I was thinkin' that it might be a good idea to let this kid see just how we do business around here. C'mon, it'll be good education."

A pair of muffled voices sounded from beneath the door, and suddenly the nerves began to pick up within Frisk. She tried not to let it show, and she hid her hands behind her back so she could fidget with her fingers. An oddly comforting habit. And after a few moments of silent discussion, a chain suddenly scratched and fell away on the other side of the door. Sans stepped back with a supportive hand laid over Frisk's shoulder, and she took a step back as well. Immediately, Frisk clutched her chest as she felt her heartbeat running a mile a minute.

As the door creaked open, they're greeted by a dirty-blonde haired man with his arm leant against the doorframe. His long scruffy bangs fell attractively over his hardened green eyes as he heavily examined Sans with an impatient grimace, which looked almost unnatural for his boyish features. His shoulder-length hair, faint facial hair upon his chin and upper lip, and worn-out plaid shirt made his appearance amusedly resemble the popular alternative style of men from the 90's. This thought went through Sans' head every time he saw him.

"Alright, where's the newbie?"

"Look a little to your left, Asriel. You can't miss her." Sans joked with a large unfaltering grin.

Immediately after the first glance, Asriel's mouth drops open. Frisk blinked in surprise as she certainly didn't expect this kind of reaction. His eyes shot open at the sight of her as his hand fell away from the doorway. For a moment, he was completely speechless, and he moved his hands dramatically around like a mime as he searched for any kind of coherent thought, to no avail. And without thinking, Frisk held up her hand and simply waved.

"Um, hello. Nice to meet-"

Suddenly, Asriel dared to lean forward as he studied her face up close. He looked her up and down, as he was not afraid to look over every inch of her, and Frisk felt her entire figure heat up in response. She stepped back and covered her arms over her chest, almost as if he was able to look through her tattered coat. Sans laughed boisterously once again.

"Back up, Asriel, you're making the poor girl uncomfortable. Man, you'd think he's never heard of personal boundaries, huh?"

He appeared as if he was in a trance just by looking at her, and acted as if he'd never witnessed another human being in existence before. Then, Asriel returned to the doorway to lean against it with a quizzical look plastered over his boyish features. Even as he leant his head against the doorframe, his gaze never broke away from hers. Then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he let his thoughts slip,

"You look just like her…"

Frisk was starting to become frustrated with this, as she began to feel as if she was out of the loop. It felt as if everyone was in on some kind of joke, and Frisk was the punchline. So, with an annoyed huff, she crossed her arms and finally stood her ground against the two boys.

"Look, I'm just trying to get a job here, that's all. If this is part of some cruel prank, then I'll just take my leave already…"

"No, no, um… wait here for a second!" Asriel suddenly sounded desperate as reached out to grab a hold of Frisk's shoulders. She was about to shrug him off, but Asriel looked as if he was practically begging. He was visibly sweating under her gaze, and he tried once more to convince her to stay, "Just… wow, you look even more like her when you're angry like that… oh man, sorry… okay, just... just stay here for a little while longer and it'll all make sense, I promise. The boss will be done any moment now, but… you should stay here and watch. Okay?"

With an exasperated sigh, Frisk passed a quick glance to Sans at her side. His ever-present smile baited her to look inside the room. As Asriel stepped aside and lazily leant back against the doorframe, Frisk curiously looked on ahead. She quickly scanned the room and noted the classy wooden furniture laid across the room, the striped blinds over the windows that barely let in the moonlight, before she finally rested her eyes on the group of people standing in the centre of it all. There were two burly man staring down at the ground, where another smaller man had been laying on his back against the carpet, tied up and blind-folded against his will.

And suddenly, Frisk's world came immediately crashing down the moment she spotted the final figure in the room. The one that Asriel watched with affection, the one that Sans intensely scrutinized… the one person in the whole entire world that Frisk had not expected to see.

"It's you… after all these years… it's you…" Frisk whispered under her breath, and clutched even tighter on to her chest.

On top of an expensive-looking office desk, a woman sat with her long legs crossed and her claws clasped on to the surface as she nudged herself to the very edge of it. Her nails were as sharp as her crimson heels. Her black stockings laced over her shapely legs. A military jacket hung loosely over her shoulders. There wasn't a hair out of place as her chestnut-coloured bob cut framed her face, and her cheekbones were accentuated by the blended cherry-coloured blush over her snow tinged skin. Her heavy-lidded eyes were as blood-red as the lipstick painted on her lips. With her head rested against her palm, she looked almost bored out of her mind, even as she idly swung a pistol in her other hand, with her finger hooked delicately around the trigger.

"I don't like being disrespected." She suddenly started. The room grew silent, her sharp voice echoed, and her overwhelming presence filled the air with a thick terrifying tension. "When you start a business like I have, you keep certain core principles in mind, and you religiously stick by them no matter what. Mine are plain and simple: never get disrespected by anybody. Ever. Am I making myself clear? Are you even listening to me right now?"

The blind-folded man wriggled around the floor in terror, frantically nodding his head in compliance. He grunted as one of the burly goons pressed his foot down against the man's chest. He choked from the heavy impact, and his breathing hitched in his throat. All he could hear was the wooden desk creaking as her heels clicked to the ground.

"Tonight, you made me go back on my most imperative principle in my business. You disrespected me… by stealing from me. How much was it? One thousand? Two thousand? Yeah, that was it. You took out two grand of petty cash every month after every pick up. Didn't you think I'd notice when the money came up short? Don't you think I keep track of my own income? Do you think I'm stupid?" Slowly, she stepped across the floorboards. As she hovered over the helpless man, she bent down as her eyes squared against his, covered by the blindfold, "That's what you think I am, right? You think I'm stupid. You're disrespecting my business and my intelligence. You're real scum of the Earth, you know that?"

Without another word, she pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead. Before he could even attempt to scream, the silencer bucked in her hand as she pulled the trigger. Frisk wordlessly gasped. She felt her racing heart rise up to her throat in seconds. It was almost like a scene from a movie. Blood splattered across the floorboards, scattering the remains of the man's head in a gruesome trail against the walls, and sprinkled over the burly goon's shoes.

Then, the woman took a fistful of the dead man's clothing, and lifted his body from the ground. She stared down at the hole in his head as he lolled lifelessly to the side, and a sharp shiver ran down Frisk's spine as a maniacal grin lit up the woman's face. The red lipstick framed the sinister grin, and her widened eyes shimmered with the gleam of deadly pleasure she took out of a fresh kill. As she dug her nails into his cheeks, taking his chin between her unnaturally elongated fingers, she cheerfully spoke as if he could still hear her.

"No one disrespects the mafia. No one. I won't ever allow that. Anyone who dares to try will answer to the end of my pistol. The steam from a freshly used gun barrel speaks more than I could possibly say in a lifetime…"

Before she could continue any further, Asriel interrupted her monologue as he cleared his throat. Frisk was completely slack-jawed by Sans and Asriel's calm demeanour, and her frantic gaze switched between the two in disbelief. She couldn't understand how they were so unfazed by the sight of the scene. She couldn't understand how Sans and Asriel were completely composed in the presence of this psychotic killer. And she couldn't understand… why it had to be her…

Finally, the grinning girl turned around, and caught sight of Frisk standing in the doorway. And her eyes widened as far as they could go.

"…Frisk…"

Her voice was unusually distant, almost as if the simple sight of Frisk had forced her to confront her past. She stumbled to her feet as she dropped the corpse and the gun to the ground, almost as if she had completely forgotten its existence. Frisk hesitantly walked inside the room. She straightened her back and evened out her breathing. Frisk couldn't afford to lose her mind, especially in front of that woman. Even if they stood over a whole stack of bodies, Frisk refused to urge to scream in terror.

The two women stood in silence for a moment, silently taking in the sight of each other, and the onlookers could definitely see the resemblance between them. Although one was dressed in rags and the other was beautifully painted from head to toe, the way they kept each other in their hardened gaze was eerily similar. They had both lived through a broken past, and they both understood their pain. It was a difficult moment to fully take in. But Frisk dared to break the silence first,

"It's been a long time." She said with a strained smile, and desperately pushed the events of moments ago to the very back of her mind for the sake of her own sanity. And with a sigh, she officially greeted her, "Hello… Chara."

Suddenly, without any warning, Chara pounced and wrapped her arms around Frisk's shoulders. She tightly clasped a hold of Frisk as she buried her head into her sister's neck, desperate to hold her. Frisk stifled a shriek as she reluctantly took hold of her sister, and tried her best to avoid her eyes drifting towards the blood circling on the ground. She felt almost intimidated by the strong grip of her shoulders. She finally realised Chara's strength didn't only rely on the power of a gun. She had muscles, and the scars on her knuckles told Frisk that she used them often.

"Look at how big you've become, Frisk! You're no longer my little sister, that's for damn sure!"

As Frisk wriggled away from the embrace, Chara kept a firm lock of her shoulders in her claw-like grasp, almost as if she wasn't willing to let go just yet. Frisk forced a laugh.

"I'm only nine minutes later than you, Chara. But then again, you've never let me forget that, have you?"

"And I never will. Oh Frisk, it's good to see your face again. Even though you're dressed like you've just been picked off the streets." After a few moments, Chara finally put two and two together, and stared wide-eyed in the shock of it all, "My god, you have been on the streets all this time, haven't you? For so long, I was under the impression that you were shacked up in some cosy house in some far-off corner of the world, when you've actually been living right under my nose! Well, I'm just glad to see you're still alive. I've had sleepless nights wondering how you suddenly dropped off the face of the earth!"

"Well, I have been living off the grid." Frisk admitted, and shakily opened up about her troubled past, "Since we were separated all those years ago, I was... sold to a warehouse for some corporate owned cartel. They forced me to make shoes all day, like a prisoner of some slave labour camp. But once the police raided and busted the entire operation, I was freed. But with no money, no family, no home... I had nothing to fall back on. I have no job, no experience outside of shoe repair… I've been drifting from shelter to shelter, begging for food on the streets… I just want a job and a place I can rest…"

Chara squeezed her shoulders with a supportive smile. Her sharp eyebrows furrowed as she genuinely appeared too upset to hear more of her sister's past. Then, as she glanced back up to Sans and Asriel waiting in anticipation, Chara grinned all the more widely as she nodded with a tear in her eye.

"You don't need to worry about that anymore, Frisk. From now on, I'll be the one to take care of you. Consider this place your new home from now on. I'll set you up with an apartment, give you everything you could ever want, and of course… I'll let you work here!"

Immediately as she ended her proposal with that, Frisk's heart dropped down to her stomach. She felt nauseous as the harsh reality finally began to sink in. Her face turned as white as the bloodless face of the corpse at her feet.

"You'll… let me work here? Are… are you saying…?"

With a quick glance at the two men at the doorway, their expressions were hidden in the sinister shadows of the evening darkness. Frisk felt the exact same feeling she had when she was first sold through human trafficking. And immediately, Frisk felt trapped. She had no idea what she had stumbled into. Until the moment Chara had spoke it out loud, with a maniacal grin upon her blood-soaked lips,

"That's right, Frisk. Looks like I'll be your boss from now on."

Frisk looked on in horror.

…why does it feel like I've just handed over my soul?

…

…

…

Chapter One End. Chapter Two soon…

Thanks everyone for reading!

I'll be updating this story alongside my other Undertale work, and you can keep updated on the status of my work by checking my profile every now and again. I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! I've been obsessed with crime dramas and mafia storylines for so long, so this fic has been a long time coming! Please let me know what you thought in a review! Andd a favourite and a follow is always appreciated if you liked it! I can't wait to get my feet dug into this new story! Cheers again, and I'll see you all very soon~!