The night.

I hate the night. It obscured the vision, covered what should be seen, and never seemed to bring anything good.

I didn't used to, I used to not mind it at all. But that changed a long time ago.

I guess I could see how some people could see the evening as calming, nice, and even peaceful. But for me, I made my living working in the night. And there was nothing nice, calming, or peaceful about what I did.

I shook my head, snapping myself from such grim thoughts. I heard the scraping of heavy boots march across the tarmac. Black uniforms trudging methodically forward, heading inside of the large military transport aircraft. Designed specifically for special forces.

'Overkill.' I thought. We aren't invading a country, this is a search and rescue operation. There was no way in hell that kind of firepower was going to be needed or warranted. Not while I'm was in charge.

But of course, there's a reason I'm in charge.

I knew perfectly well why.

Per the norm, the commanding officer was in charge of everything the soldiers brought into the field with them. Everything from rations to the packing list for the aircraft, it was all up to them.

That meant that it was the higher-ups who ordered this kind of fire power. Not the 'real' higher-ups, the oblivious politicians that pay them. Which meant only one thing I can think of.

I sighed, 'One big, huge, clusterfuck.'

I closed my eyes and sighed.

It's just as well. I've been expecting this for a while now. Ever since I was told of his missions in fact. Just something about the whole thing just rubs me the wrong way. The way everything just seems ready and rearing to go. No hiccups, no setbacks, just perfect, measured order that damn near makes me sick to my stomach.

The speed things just, came to us. Surplus materials, a plethora of soldiers ready to sign on, no problems, no worries, nothing to slow him down. Nothing wrong at all.

There was something wrong with that right off the bat. I'm wasn't well liked at the base I'm was stationed at.

Too many 'old friends' that remember the past war.

This was why the number of soldiers that would sign on to mission that had his name on it was minimal. Even though his casualty rate was extremely low, and his success rate was almost always the highest on base. The rest had to told or forced depending on the importance of the mission.

I clenched his fists, crushing the smoldering cigarette in his gloved palms. I felt the heat through the gloves, but ignored it. Thinking more about how fucked he really was.

This was just wrong.

I'd seen this happen a handful of times, huge elaborate missions that just so happened to fail in such a way, that somehow, it would benefit a certain someone, or their cause.

I growled, "Those bastards…"

They wanted this mission to fail. The last of the monsters. Wiped out by a group of incompetent soldiers. If the higher-ups had their way, this would end up being a massacre.

Fuck that.

I smiled coldly. This would be the smoothest damn mission, any of those fucking politicians had ever seen. I could play the diplomat for the time being.

Clark stopped, noticing the tightness of his fists.

I breathed out slowly, "Calm down Clark, just remember what mom always said...'Whomever angers you, conquers you.'"

I felt someone bump into me. Looking behind me, I saw the very irritated 1st Lieutenant Matthews. One of the officers in charge of his mission.

Matthews wore an annoyed expression, probably upset at being a little later to his hot coffee and a cot.

"Come on Clark, no daydreaming."

I smiled ferally, my teeth standing out from the dark of the early morning. Frightening the lieutenant a bit, "Don't worry sir not daydreaming. Just thinking.

I turned to the transport once again, "After all…"

"The mission is about to start."

I strapped myself into the drop chair, as the translucent door on the floor shined some of the morning sun into the dark room.

This was it. Now or never. It was now my job to ensure this mission was successful without any bloodshed.

I gripped the radio hanging from my chest rig. My hot breath blowing steam from my lips into the cold air as my rough voice echoed in the dark corridor.

"Two minutes."

I looked back to confirm that my soldiers had heard me. They nodded and returned to making sure they were prepared for the mission ahead.

I frowned, these were all fresh privates. Just graduated from the special forces course. Unfortunate, but I could make it work.

I grinned, my less professional side coming out, 'Plus, they're fun to fuck with.'

"Private Flynn."

The young woman in uniform jerked upward in surprise, then straightened her posture in response.

A couple of chuckles rang into the air, dismissing the heavy air of nervous tension in the room.

I waved it off, "It's okay private. What's the issue? Sudden jitters?"

The private gripped her weapon tightly, her index finger hovering over the trigger well carefully. Her training preventing her from clutching the weapon any tighter.

The rookie soldier spoke softly, "Its nothing sergeant. Just adapting to the fact that we're fighting an enemy we haven't fought in over a century. A millennium of your really think about it…"

I frowned, "Well hopefully there will be no enemy when we arrive. We're here for the child, and to establish dominance."

The private nodded quickly, "Yes sergeant, of course. It's just, the last time we dealt with Monsters, it didn't go over so well. What if they're not as… receptive as we hope?"

I frowned grimly, "Last time, our race was young, and us as a species made a lot of mistakes. But now I'm confident that we won't make those same mistakes. And if they choose not to listen, we'll just eliminate them."

The soldier known as Flynn shook her head, "But sergeant, how can you just say that? How can you talk about genocide so calmly?"

I smiled ferally, "Because we serve the World Government. And our obligation is to that little girl. I've never owed a monster a damn thing."

XxX

Crunch…

In a tactical situation where sound is the difference between success and failure, it must always be a factor that all those involved must consider. This came from both training, and experience, and separated the victors, and the dead.

Clark eyed his soldiers with severity, eyeing the private closest to him, and his heavy boot that lay on the forest floor. He brought his finger to his lips and motioned a hand forward. Gesturing for his men to follow him.

Their uniforms were dark but maintained just enough color to let their bodies blend into the background of the trees and bushes that peppered the mountainside. They moved fluidly towards a small campsite. Converging at the base, their weapons pointed towards the epicenter.

The sergeant's eyes expertly browsed the camp, identifying targets as if they were brightly colored targets. He identified more than he was briefed on, but some he recognized from ancient texts he had read up on.

Several animal-human hybrids only seen in storybooks, along with several skeletons, and dog-men.

Click…

He could tell his men had seen them too…

He swiftly swung his arm back. Silently ordering them to stop.

One of the hostiles raised its head.

The Pale white of what looked like a human skull raised came into view from behind a bush. As well as what appeared to be a goat, human hybrid. Both positioned in such a way, that if he ordered his men to fire, they would not see him from his low standpoint.

The skeleton wore a suspicious… Expression? As much as he could anyway. While the goat seemed… Afraid?

Sergeant Clark decided enough was enough.

He looked beyond the bushes and saw his lethal weapon team leader. Distinguished by the red flag he wore on his armored plate carrier.

He gestured him to stand fast, and he obeyed. Demonstrated by lowering his weapon.

Clark was going to try this the easy way first.

Clark gestured for his squad to follow him but started at a slow pace. He just needed to get a line of sight with all organic organisms first.

They bent down low to the forest floor, nearly dragging his tranquilizer rifle against his boots.

He ordered them to stop, then gave a unique signal he had already practiced with the riflemen in his squad.

They raised their weapons, each aiming at a particular target.

The sergeant eyed the short skeleton in particular.

He narrowed his eyes, 'He knows something's up. But he's waiting for a reason…'

Determined not to give him one, he sighed, and took off his mask. Walking down the hill, and into the camp.

'Time to play politician…'

Immediately, the entire camp was aware of his presence. They all shied away from him as he approached slowly to the middle of the camp.

The skeleton stepped in front of him, "Who the hell are you?"

The sergeant raised his hands in surrender, flashing a friendly smile at the monster, "Sergeant Clark of the World Government Army. I'd like to talk to whomever is in charge please."

He saw the skeleton's…eyes, flicker to the silent child in the sleeping bag, before stepping forward, forcing the sergeant to walk backwards.

"Not today buddy, maybe another time."

"We know she's sick."

The skeleton stiffened for a moment but continued to walk forward.

"She'll be fine, we don't need your help."

"That's not for you to decide. She'll die if-"

"I'm deciding. We don't need you."

Clark frowned, this wasn't supposed to happen. Based on the intel he was given; these monsters care a great deal for the girl. They stayed here with her after all.

'No, this is different. Something personal.' He thought.

He looked around and saw all that all the monsters were looking at him now.

As well as the shadows in the trees.

Clark hardened his voice.

"Listen. I need to speak to whoever's in charge here. Not only does the girl need help, but there's an important message from our leader to yours I need to relay. Let us help her, then let me speak. Then I'll be out of your hair."

The skeleton took a second to chuckle, "Good one. But no dice. 'Sides, I'm the leader and I say no."

In his peripheral vision, he saw the faces of the monster's change from concerned to confused.

Clark scoffed as he narrowed his eyes, "No you're not."

Sans took on a more serious tone, "What makes you say that bud?

"If you're the leader of these guys, then I'm Ronald McDonald."

Sans wore an even more confused expression, "Who?"

Clark mentally slapped himself for the stupid comment, "Never mind. My point is, that if you're not the leader of these guys. You continually place your own wants and needs in front of the girl's. It's not that you don't need us, you don't want us. And her current condition doesn't give you that option..."

Sans said nothing, but he could almost feel the intensity of his stare. His glowing eyes shining in the near darkness.

Clark sighed, "Look. Frisk needs th-"

The Skeleton launched himself forward, grabbing the hem of his shirt.

"I said, get lost..."

Clark heard several loud clicks come from deeper in the forest.

Clark turned to move, "Shit."

Clark dove for cover as the sound of short bursts of pressurized air filled the camp, as the darts of WG special ops soldiers hit their targets with expert precision.

Clark quickly swiped the skeleton's hands away and fled to a position that would allow his lethal weapons team to see him.

He ran to the top of a small boulder and shot a harsh glare at the lethal team leader who had his weapon trained on the monster populace.

The team leader flinched.

He got the message.

The sound of monsters falling into unconsciousness filled the camp afterwards. But now there was a new problem.

Non-organics. The ones that

The skeleton was up first. The rest of his men handled some of them via deployable cages and other gadgets. While it was up to him to handle the skeleton.

The short one approached him with a surprising amount of ferocity. He turned and pointed his weapon at the skeleton. Switching to full auto he fired endlessly into the camp at his undead adversary.

The skeleton dodged quickly, jumping out of reach of the darts every time.

The skeleton's eye changed color from white to blue.

Then Clark stopped in his tracks. He felt immense pressure on his chest.

He looked down, and saw a red, glowing insignia of a heart float out of his chest, and in front of him.

Suddenly, it turned blue and Clark felt his body slam into a tree.

Clark's mind reeled, his endless supply of training in his mind coming short for all the courses that included, 'Crazy fucking monster with telekinetic powers' in them.

He strained to look down as he saw the bright red heart hover over his chest. 'W-What the h-hell is that? Is that my soul?'

Clark cried out in pain as he attempted to move but was unsuccessful. He willed his body into motion. His arms felt numb as he was lifted off of the ground by his soul once again.

His heart was pumping as he tried to will his arms to move for the pistol at his side.

He felt the wind against his face as he was launched across the campsite.

"Stop it!"

A little girl's voice rang out, and all movement ceased, as a young girl, with a purple stripped shirt was made visible.

Jason opened his eyes to see that he was stopped just shy of the boulder from before.

He knew for certain that it would've killed him had he have reached his target. He craned his neck to see the girl that saved him.

Clark's eyes widened in recognition, but he could tell just by looking at her that she was sick. Her skin was paler than it looked just a week ago, and her eyes had bags under them.

Clark attempted to speak, but he just couldn't manage it. He felt as if there was a pressure on his entire body, especially his chest was intensifying. He eventually managed to speak.

"F-Frisk!"

He stuttered her name out, and she responded. The little girl turned to the skeleton, her face contorted in fear.

"Sans stop it, you're hurting him!" She pleaded.

The skeleton's eyes narrowed into dots in his skull. He spoke in a cold, monotone voice.

"He would've done the same to us kid. They just want to hurt us."

Clark looked up, and his heart beat a little faster.

His red team leader, looked down the barrel of his machine gun. His hand in the trigger well.

Clark shook his head mechanically, but couldn't think of another way out,

Clark mentally cursed their predicament, he thought frantically on how to salvage this operation without casualties.

Clark desperately tried to move his hand and ended up pointing in Frisk's direction.

"S-S-Sick… M-M-Med.. M-Medicine"

Frisk got the message and looked to Sans. A conflicted look in her eye.

Sans saw her face, then looked to the soldier he was holding hostage with a scrutinizing look, before letting go of the man. Dropping him unceremoniously to the ground.

Clark grunted as he hit the ground with force, landing awkwardly on his back.

He lifted himself to a standing position, but not before hearing from the skeleton once again.

"Explain." He ordered.

The sergeant nodded, still catching his breath in an attempt to relieve the strange pulsing in his chest.

Remembering his orders, clark put on a defiant expression, "Are…Are you in charge here?" He spoke. His chest heaving as he tried to force the breath into his lungs.

The skeleton flexed his jaw to speak but was silenced by the furry hand of a large goat man. A blue, fish woman followed closely behind him standing next to him as he walked.

She was dressed in thick, black armor that covered her skinny figure from head to toe. She almost looked like something out of king Arthur, but more sleek and streamlined.

The other was another story. He was almost Impossibly large and walked with the regal grace of royalty. His long blue-purple cape, almost overlooked when compared with his thick ceremonial armor that covered his enormous body. He bowed his head,

"Asgore Dreemurr. At your service. Now what was this about young Frisk here?"

The sergeant recognized the king, and quickly bowed before relaying his message he was sent there with.

"T-Thank you sir. My name is Sergeant Jason Clark of the World Government. And we request a meeting on behalf of our leader and discuss the terms of an alliance between our two races. And a method from which we can acquisition some medical care for Frisk."

The king now known as Asgore narrowed his eyes, "Although I appreciate the offer sergeant, I have to wonder, why isn't he here with you?"

The sergeant felt the eyes of the camp upon him and replied quickly.

"The World President felt it best he remains in a secure location, in the event of any skirmish should break out."

Clark glared at the shorter skeleton but only got a shrug in response.

Asgore nodded, smiling as he did, "Yes, I apologize for any problems we may have caused. We simply want to get frisk some proper help."

Clark nodded in turn, "In that case, I'm going to have to ask that you all come calmly with us to our base of operations. I give my word as a soldier of the government that no harm will come to you."

The fish woman scoffed at that, "Never. You humans would sooner kill us than deal with us. You seem to forget, there are those who remember the war. We are all too aware of what you humans think of us."

There was some murmuring in the crowd around them, as the monsters pondered this information for themselves.

Clark smiled sardonically, he pretty much knew it would go this way. A group of individuals trapped in a mountain for centuries would be almost certain to refuse help from their oppressors.

The fish woman didn't seem to think the situation was very funny.

"What the hell are you smiling about over there!?"

Jason chuckled for a minute, further enraging the king's bodyguard.

"Sorry. It's not funny. It's actually pretty sad. Sorry for laughing, but I just find it ironic. You all had to suffer with a decision that has affected you for centuries. While us as humans have almost no memory of the war between monsters and humans. Now, you're all free at last, and what do we do? We wish once again to impose our will on you. It's sad. You'd think we'd learned our lesson."

The king looked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Jason looked into the eyes of the king, "If I had my way, we wouldn't be doing this. But that's not my job. I'm a soldier, and have to obey orders, as well as do what's best for my own people."

Asgore nodded, then lowered his head in deep thought.

A goat woman approached him, wearing a long purple cloak with strange markings on it.

She spoke softly, her face twisted in worry, "Asgore…"

She gestured to the young girl, now held in the arms of a much taller skeleton wearing strange armor and a red scarf. He looked greived, almost like he was in pain. That was when he noticed frisk, now held in his arms.

She was paler now, with sickly crust formed around her eyes and lips.

Asgore frowned deeply at the sight of her and turned to the sergeant.

His bodyguard seemed to know what he was thinking and turned to him.

"No! Asgore you ca-"

He cut her off by sweeping his arm in front of her.

The monster king spoke concisely with all the authority he could muster.

"Lead the way Sergeant."

Clark nodded, then turned to the soldiers placed under him. He flashed some quick hand signals, and they all moved at once. Surrounding the group of monsters, forcing them towards the opening if the camp.

One excited soldier seemed unnerved by the Froggit at his feet and kicked it along.

Jason shot him a glare and jogged over to the injured monster.

The little frog seemed more upset and frightened than hurt but was now too scared to move. Jason knelt down, "Sorry little buddy. He's just a little scared. Now do me a favor and follow your king for now okay?"

The Frog thing didn't seem to understand seemed comforted anyway.

As the rest of the monsters followed Asgore throughout the forest, Jason caught sight of the goat-woman once more. He saw something in her eyes that gave him pause.

Curiosity?

Confusion?

It was really hard to tell.

Jason cleared his head of these thoughts as he flashed more signs to let them know to carry on without him. After they had progressed a ways, he pressed the button on his radio.

"Project: Reclaim is now in progress. It's up to you now Matthews."

A moment of static rang in his ears, until he heard the 1st Lieutenant's whiny voice once again.

"Umm… Sorry sergeant, but Sergeant Major Flynn transferred me to the ammunition depot. He said he's taking care of the operation involving the monsters. Just transfer them to the rally point and-"

Clark slammed his radio on the ground, startling the soldiers and monsters around him.

He wasn't able to listen to anymore. Knowing full well that an officer could only transfer a mission to a non-commissioned officer if they did it him/herself.

"That crusty old fuck!"

Jason seethed to himself, only allowing himself a moment of rage. Knowing now that he had the rest of his mission to complete.

Jason stomped over to catch up to his company of soldiers, grumbling to himself all the way.

"I knew that there was a reason I didn't like that guy."

Jason heard a noise, and flashed signs to his platoon that told them to put on ehir headgear. They complied, and his weapons squad leader handed him his just as the helicopters crested the hill.

He could see the sign for channel 8 news on the side. Jason cursed, earning a searing hot glare from the female goat, but he shrugged it off. More interested in the cameras he could see peering out the side of the helicopters.

'Yeah, I really hate that guy...'

Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell.

Many years later…

Mt. Ebott

201x.

A girl climbed the mountain and fell down a crevice.

Legends say that those who climb the mountain never return.

They were wrong.

Mt. Ebott

202x.

The spell was undone.

And the world watched, as MONSTERS walked the earth once more.

For better or worse…