Frisk ran.
They ran and ran as fast as they could, but they weren't fast enough.
The creatures were faster, they always had been.
There was no winning, no beating, no hiding outside of home base. They were almost at the hot pit, 17 feet away to be exact, when they were grabbed. The instant it touched them it dug it's fingers in, dragging down their arm from elbow to wrist before Frisk ripped out of it's grasp and dashed into the pit. Looking at the wound, it didn't seem that bad, just four thin claw marks, but blood was springing up quick and with their luck, infection would too. They watched the Scratcher pace outside, silent except for the sound of Frisk's blood dripping from it's bony fingertips.
The pit was protected, and the creatures knew that. They got as close as they could, testing the boundaries, eventually getting snatched up by the vines and broken apart. There were skulls and bones and bits of clothing in the plant walls of the hot pit, but they were comforting to Frisk. A reminder that they were protected; a warning for the creatures to leave them alone. Mettaton told them once that the hot pit had once been called Hotland, and was a glamorous city full of life. That's why it was called the hot pit, even though it wasn't very hot. All there was were plants and dirt, the occasional breeze from somewhere very high above. Home sweet home.
"Meta! Help me!" They croaked, managed to limp into the center of the pit. Pit was the wrong name for it; it was more of a crater. There were a couple houses, crudely built by a child, a rusty robot, a flower, and a dinosaur. Mettaton moved out of one of the houses stiffly, face painted with worry.
"Frisk, honey?" He beeped. "Tell me you didn't get hurt."
Frisk turned, hand clasped firmly over the biggest area of the cuts in an attempt to stop the bleeding but it wasn't working. Hot red liquid was pouring out, on the ground and Frisk's shoes. They frowned. "I'm sorry, I thought I was faster than them by now. I have to work on that." Mettaton's lights lit up red angrily. "It's not about needing to be faster! It's about not being reckless in the first place!" He said, frustration radiating off of him. "Please, just help me." Frisk said, not making eye contact. He helped them inside one of the shelters, Sitting them down and demanding they wash the wounds out well before he bandaged it.
They obeyed, checking to make sure they weren't too deep. They'd escaped by the skin of their teeth this time. Meta wrapped it up, hinges squealing as he moved. Frisk smiled mischievously, reaching into their satchel and producing a can of oil and a rust removing kit. Mettaton gasped, clutching his heart dramatically. "For me? Honey, you shouldn't have!"
"It's no problem." Frisk swallowed and shrugged nonchalantly. Mettaton stopped cooing and stared them down with beady eyes. "...You're reprogramming me, aren't you?" He asked softly, the betrayal in his voice increasingly noticeable.
"It's not you, I just wasn't thorough last time. Minor changes, I promise." Frisk assured, reaching out to place a stained hand on Mettaton's shoulder. He shrugged it off. "Save it, you wouldn't be buttering me up if you weren't doing something drastic. What is it this time, memory wipe? Personality recoding? Function inhibitor?" He hissed.
Frisk looked away. All of those, actually, but they couldn't tell him that. "I'm done with you." He snapped, turning to leave. "Wait! You can't make it out there, your battery will die and you'll waste away!" They pleaded.
"Let me." He kept walking, not nearly as fast as he'd once been. He hadn't made it far before Frisk shot him, the specialized taser hitting him square in the back and powering him down. "I'm sorry, Meta, we gotta fix you up." They apologized, dragging the humanoid hunk of metal into a different house, the one where Frisk kept all their equipment. There were swords, and old computer, a weed whacker- which Asriel highly disapproved of Frisk keeping- and a pile of scraps for tinkering and improving Mettaton.
They left him propped against the wall, waiting to get his upgrade, and headed back to the main shelter. They stole a glance at the entrance, smiling to themself as they saw the creature that had caught them get ripped to bits by the plant wall. They stopped to watch, for just a second, seeing a pretty considerable hoard headed their direction. Frisk knew Asriel would take care of them, but what worried them was the two skeletons that were clearly not like the others. Their clothes were mostly intact, colors brighter, and they were running for their lives. Before they could think it through, their gut said "Yell to get their attention. Let them shelter here." and they listened to it.
"HEY!" Frisk screamed, waving their arms. The skeletons saw her and started running even faster, determined to make it.
"Frisk... What are you doing?" Asriel murmured in his broken, almost disembodied voice.
"I... I don't know." They replied, but by then the skeletons had dived through the entrance, gasping for air. They were wild opposites, one was tall and lanky, missing a couple teeth. He had a strand of red fabric wrapped around his neck and laced in between his bones, making him appear like a great Roman warrior. He was wearing tall boots that were clearly to big for him and a ripped pair of jeans. The other was more squat, most of his body hidden in a blue parka. His large eyes glowed in the shadow of his hood, looking Frisk up and down.
Frisk drew their sword. "Alright, Skeles, tell me one reason I shouldn't end your miserable lives right now." They demanded, pointing the tip of their blade right at the taller of the two's chest. He made them more nervous than the short one, who stepped forward aggressively but was held back by the other. "L-listen, human, we don't want trouble. We're not Scratchers, we pose no threat I promise. I'm Papyrus, this is my brother Serif. We won't stay here, I swear, we just need temporary asylum." He looked at them nervously. "Please." Serif added, looking at them hopefully.
The innocence in Papyrus's voice was what made Frisk agree. "Fine. One step out of place, though, and-" They jerked their thumb to the entrance, where the plant wall had made short work of the Scratcher pack. Within seconds they were all in pieces, the spare bones dragged into the barrier for added protection. The skeletons nodded quickly. "We just need a place to rest for two days, max." Serif said, sounding sincere.
"That's the sleep shelter. There should be a spare bed or two, due to recent vacancies." Frisk said, pointing at the house furthest to the right and thinking of Mettaton and Kid with guilt. The brothers kept looking at them, unsure of whether to move or not. "What are you waiting for? Go on." They said, before turning to march into the house they'd left Meta in. He was still laying there, once brightly colored and shiny metal rusted and faded. His face was blank and the paint on it chipped. What a sad sight, they thought, but I'll fix him up.
Papyrus and Serif entered the sleep hut cautiously, not sure of what to expect. There were a bunch of pallets on the floor, covered in the most comfortable materials to be found. The whole thing was covered in vines, floor to ceiling, winding around the beds and up the walls. There was one pallet completely covered in leaves, and what appeared to by a fish monster was lying on it with her back turned to them. When they got closer they heard her singing softly, a tune that couldn't be described as anything more than tragically beautiful. "Excuse me?" Papyrus asked, nudging her gently with the toe of his boot.
She gasped, sat up, and whirled around, splashing them with a spray of cold water. "Who?!" She shrieked, pupils shrinking in fear. "I'm sorry! We're friends, I swear. We just wanted to know which beds are free." Papyrus said quickly, caught off guard by her reaction. She gestured towards the two in the back of the room, spines flattening against her back as she relaxed a little. "Please don't do that again." She said very quietly, before lowering her head to her leafy pillow again.
Serif and Paps exchanged a glance of confusion, wondering what made her so jumpy. Then again, being in this situation could make anybody a little scared. They chose beds, Serif insisting his younger brother take the fluffier of the two, secluded by a strange looking battery of some sort and a stack of books. Serif took the smaller one, that looked more like a dog bed and had candy wrappers stuffed in the creases. "We'll be okay." He mumbled, assuring himself more than Papyrus. "We'll be okay." Someone echoed, and Serif shut his eyes tighter and pretended like he was at home.