It wasn't often that Monster Intelligence in Doma called a meeting for all available agents. Something important must had come up, and there was an air of tension, but also camaraderie. Many of the monsters present knew each other, or, more amusingly, had passed each other in the street without knowing each other. It was often better that they did not all know each other, but it was pleasant at times to forget this for an evening.
It was a small room packed with benches, facing the front, where the Director, a yellow lizard-monster who went by Miu, stood, shuffling her paws one over the other. Beside her was a tall, bright-eyed young skeleton in well-worn clothes; street lookout and newsboy Roland, whose real name was Papyrus. His skill in getting surly people to talk to him was nearly supernatural, and he also possessed the enviable skill of being able to mask a keen intellect with a naïve and dense front. Often the people he talked to walked away convinced that he had absorbed nothing of importance from the conversation when he had in fact picked up on everything they had said and deduced the rest. He was, as usual, at full energy, skipping back and forth from one foot to another. It seemed he had news.
The room was nearly full when there was a "brooooo!" from the doorway, and a much smaller skeleton in a hideous, rain-spattered hooded overcoat squeezed through, holding steaming coffee mug aloft. Papyrus went down on his knees and held out his arms.
"BROTHER!"
"Shout it louder bro, why don't you tell everyone in the street too?"
"I DON'T DO QUIET BROTHER, YOU KNOW THIS FULL WELL!" They hugged tightly. Sans' partner, a similarly rain-drenched but less disheveled fire monster in a long raincoat, waved at Papyrus but did not interrupt their moment, instead heading to the back to claim a seat.
"So you're the one who started this powwow? What's the meeting?"
"MISSION! YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT AND HEAR THE DETAILS WITH EVERYONE ELSE! AWAY WITH YOU!" Papyrus steered Sans towards the back with an affectionate shove and shot his partner a salute, which he returned with a half-smile.
Grillbz lifted his coat, which he'd been using to reserve a seat for Sans, and laid it in his lap. Sans flung himself down on the bench next to him and swung his feet up onto the back of the bench in front of them. Catty, another street lookout, turned around to glare at him. Sans greeted her cheerfully and sipped his coffee.
The Director gave the room another nervous scan, poked her head outside to verify that the guards were standing where she'd asked them to, and cleared her throat. The quiet talking which had started died down.
"H-hello. Good to see you all… well."
"Not currently being waterboarded in someone's basement," hissed Sans sideways to Grillbz, who lifted one corner of his mouth.
"Lookout Roland—" Papyrus waved proudly. "—brought an interesting situation to my attention, ah… I'll just review everything so you all understand what's going on."
She gathered herself, clearing her throat. When she resumed speaking it was in a slightly louder, clearer voice; her speech-giving voice, utterly unlike the wavering tone she used in ordinary conversation.
"When the humans took over St. Michaelston last year, most of the monsters got out in time and fell back to Doma. Dr. Gaster, one of our best scientists, was supposed to be with them, be he remained behind and defected to the humans. He's still there."
"Everyone knows this," muttered Sans. Grillbz shrugged. Evidently something had changed.
"H-he's been moved to another house in the old quarter and is, we think, kept under house arrest. It's been impossible to get to him. No one is allowed to speak with him but his butler, and he rarely leaves; he's closely watched when he does. The house is very secure." She paused.
"Dr. Gaster, before he defected, was working on very advanced research on the natures of SOULs. He thought perhaps there was a way to turn a human's powerful soul against them, make it, uhh, overload itself, but I haven't studied his theories much—anyway, h-he also did research on monster SOULs and knew more than anyone what their weaknesses were—are. H-he also knew a bit about where the army was stationed, and though they moved as soon as they realized he'd defected, there would have been time for a human strike if he'd told them our position immediately, then. So it seems clear he didn't, at least at first. The humans haven't used his knowledge of SOULs against us, either. A-and we were expecting to see some of his weapons be used against us… he had several he was working on which were, ah, quite terrifying. I know for a fact that at least one of them could be used by humans, the rest could probably be altered to do so. None of them have appeared."
"Huh.." said Sans, tapping his fingers against the coffee mug. The bone made sharp sounds on the stoneware. Bratty gave him a disgusted look.
"S-so, as far as we can tell, he hasn't actually told them anything, or at least anything important. They appear to treat him as though he's helping them, though, as I mentioned, he's not allowed to leave much. So it's imperative that we get someone close enough to him to watch and understand what's going on. It's possible, though extremely unlikely, that we misunderstood his intentions and he needs help. Or perhaps they know he's holding something back and have been trying to wear him down. Perhaps he is in full cooperation with them, even, and they prefer to keep it classified for reasons of their own, or they just haven't figured out how to implement magic-based technology yet. There's no way to know what they're up to, or what his mental state is."
She paused and adjusted her glasses, catching her breath.
"Well that last part was new," whispered Sans to Grillbz. "Never heard anyone try to defend the doc before."
The Director interlaced her scaly fingers and took a moment to breathe. Her official voice had slipped a little.
"Raise your hands if you've heard of Snowflower."
Most of the hands went up.
"R-right. It's the human division devoted to finding trustworthy companions for high-ranking officials. U-uh, high-class prostitutes usually, but they've also recruited singers, students, military… anyone who seems likely, as long as they're human. Only. They've started sweeping for monsters. Only on a very small scale, but Roland here noticed at once and dug up all the information he could."
"Dear God," groaned Sans as Papyrus beamed. "I haven't even given him the Talk yet."
"I did," said Grillbz without turning his head. Sans' head whipped around.
"Excuse you, when?!"
"Shh."
"Snowflower's Consorts or Companions, as they call them, are personal servants, or more accurately slaves, to their masters until released by request of the master or death. It's also possible for Snowflower to override and remove a Companion, though this almost never happens. Companions are, as the name may suggest, intended for personal company, but they're also given basic training as bodyguards, entertainers and spies, reporting back to human intelligence on their surroundings. This last part is technically a secret." She paused to adjust her glasses. She'd recovered her voice.
"Which brings us here. They've had a request for a monster companion, from an official who is a monster, in the old quarter. After fact-checking we're certain that it's Gaster. This is the first real chance we've had to get someone close to him. Anyone who volunteers would have to be accepted by Snowflower and go through several months of training with them, and if I'm right about Gaster, they may specifically be looking for a spy to earn his trust and learn what they could not. You'll have to tread carefully. Those are the basics, and I'm asking for volunteers, or at least one. If you get in, you'll be alone and without support. You'll have to act on your own discretion. If Gaster is a friend, try to get him to safety. If he's a risk, take him out." She paused and took a deep breath.
"Roland, did I miss anything?"
"NO THAT WAS PERFECT! ANYWAY, WHAT THE DIRECTOR IS ASKING IS, WHO WANTS TO BE A SEX SLAVE DOUBLE AGENT? SHOW OF HANDS! YOU'LL GET FOOD!"
"Girls?" grinned Sans, poking Catty with his foot. "Let's see some spirit."
Catty half-turned, showed her teeth, and then ignored him.
"Thank you, Roland, you may sit down now. And please do not volunteer."
Papyrus had a tendency to volunteer for everything, regardless of whether he was suited to the mission or not. IT'S A MATTER OF PRINCIPLES, he'd said once to Sans. Sans tried to explain to him that principles were nice but sticking with what you were good at was also important.
"THANK YOU DIRECTOR WAIT NO, I DID FORGET SOMETHING! HE DIDN'T SPECIFY A GENDER PREFERENCE SO THIS IS OPEN TO THE GUYS TOO! ALTHOUGH, THEY'RE GENERALLY PICKING UP GIRLS, SO YOU'LL NEED TO TRY EXTRA HARD TO GET THEIR ATTENTION PROBABLY! BUT YES, THEY ARE ALSO TAKING GUYS!"
Catty and Bratty, moving in sync, turned to look at Sans.
"Boys?" purred Catty.
"Show some spirit," hissed Bratty. Sans raised his hands in surrender.
"Yes, I forgot to mention that. Thank you, Roland."
Papyrus looked around for an empty seat, shrugged, and leapt across the room on the backs of benches, landing next to Sans with a thud. Nobody commented. There was, in fact, a rather stifling silence for several moments. Sans took another slurp of coffee. Then, Grillbz spoke up.
"I volunteer."
Sans choked violently on his coffee, spat some over the back of the bench—"gross!" hissed Catty, swatting at him—and dropped out of sight to his knees, still choking. Papyrus pounded him on the back. The Director blinked up at them.
"Agent Weiss."
Grillbz stood at attention. Sans attempted to say something to him and went into another spasm of choking.
"STRETCH YOUR ARMS UP! UP TO THE CEILING! IT HELPS!" Papyrus told him. Sans waved him away.
"Are you sure?" asked the Director. Grillbz nodded.
"Then, from now on, if any of the rest of you see Weiss, pretend you don't recognize him," she said, "Would anyone else like to volunteer?" There was dead silence, except for the sound of Sans struggling to breathe normally. "Then you're our only shot at this. Give it your best."
"Thank you, Director."
Sans punched his ankle. He didn't react.
It was still raining. Grillbz, or Weiss, was sitting on the edge of his bed, memorizing the contents of a sheet of paper laid across his knees, one hand limp on the coverlet and one fingering the corner of the paper. Sans, also known as Clicker, was pacing the room and shouting at him.
"I don't get you. There's not enough danger for you here? Why'd you volunteer? You could have left it for anyone else. This is stupid, stupid. You knew about Audrey, right? Audrey's the last one who tried to get through Snowflower, she died there."
"I'm well aware."
"Alright, great, so what got into you?"
"Someone needed to volunteer."
"Don't go all Papyrus on me. This is stupid and reckless and—! What am I supposed to do, anyway? Do you care?"
Grillbz looked up at him.
"I'm not your father, Sans."
"I know that. I'm allowed to care about you, right? I—OK, yeah, you know what? I was hoping, once this is all over, we could be like a family."
"Once this is over? What do you think is going to be left… Once this is over?"
"Something. Hopefully, you and me and Papyrus, alive. Even if we lose."
"If." He smiled gently. "We've already lost. The remainder is just damage control. And once this is over—once my king has no further use for my services—I'll probably put a bullet in my head."
He methodically folded the paper and ate it. Sans' eye sockets had gone dark.
"Pehh. Tastes like glue." Grillbz was a paper connoisseur, perhaps something to do with his being made of fire. Magic fire, it was true, but fire nonetheless. He always ate paper-wrapped candies with the papers still on, and had strong opinions on the palatability of different brands of writing-paper.
"I'm going to tell the Director you're unfit for this mission," said Sans.
"That's not true and you know it, I'm the perfect fit for this mission. I have nothing to lose."
"You have Papyrus and me."
Grillbz looked at Sans, then offered his hand.
"I wish you'd found someone else to hang your hopes on."
Sans walked past the hand and flung his arms around his neck.
"Damn you, Weiss."
Grillbz folded him in his arms and rested his chin on his head with a faint sigh.
"Kip."
"Kip? That's your name now?"
"Mh."
"It's dumb."
"You said Weiss was a bad name."
"It is. All your names are dumb."
"You named yourself onomatopoetically."
"Yeah. Least I don't sound like a fool."
"Are you certain?"
"…Stay alive, OK? I won't be able to help you."
Kip nodded.
"Don't let me catch you trying."
A/N
Larger version of cover: trefoil-underscore. deviantart. c*o*m /art/Snowflower-Cover-705668037 (without spaces and asterisks)
