Gaster paces the room.
On one side of the room there are neat stacks of papers and on the other are video tapes organized by date. Every so often Gaster stops his pacing to straighten one of the stacks, or flip through his notes, or review a video, then he returns to his mindless walk.
It's well past the time he said he would be here, so what's the hold up? Just because he's king doesn't mean he gets to keep people waiting. Gaster has waited long enough. The experiments escaped nearly a month and a half ago and the only reason Gaster knew they were still alive is that there are a few scattered sightings of them in Snowdin. If it wasn't for all his other projects Gaster would be down there looking for them himself.
Gaster sighs and leans back into his chair. All that work, years of research and development, gone, just like that. He was so close, too. A few more months with P2 and he would have been ready for his next trial run. What had gone so wrong?
It is S1's fault. It has to be. That failure must have been the one to run away with P2; S1 was always coddling the smaller experiment. He should have terminated the little brat ages ago. Gaster traces circles around the holes in his palms. It's too late for regrets, now he just has to find the experiments before they die or get corrupted.
"Howdy, Gaster!"
The familiar voice rings through the room. If Gaster was anyone else, he would have jumped, but Gaster simply turns and greets the King of the Monsters with a curt nod.
"You're late," He says.
"My apologies, Dr.," Asgore says, slowly moving into the room. His large stature is more noticeable now that he is standing in the room. Gaster is a tall monster, but Asgore is a giant . Still, the king does not intimidate Gaster because Gaster knows Asgore. He is strong and determined, however he lacks the… coldness of other monsters. If one was to be brave enough they may even call him sentimental, though they would have to fight him for it after, and that is a fight no one wants to have.
"No matter, it's not as if time is of the essence," Gaster says, leaning back on his work table. "The experiments may never be found at this rate, but who cares, really? No one wants the barrier open, right?"
Asgore glares at Gaster, but otherwise does not comment. Gaster pushes himself off the desk and paces over to the King, hands behind his back.
"Now that you have graced me with your time and presence," Gaster says. "I have a few requests to make."
"Go on," The king says.
"You have seen the progress I have been making with P2, correct," Gaster asks.
The king grimaces, "Yes… I have… watched the videos you sent me."
Gaster rolls his eyes. The king has always had a problem with the experiments looking like children. Sentiment, nothing more.
"Then you can see the improvements from the previous model," Gaster says. "More HP, more ATTACK, more aggression ." Gaster closes his fists with excitement. "If it is returned to me - with your help, of course - I would be able to break the barrier in less than a year, guaranteed. All I would need is a small search party. No more than thirdy or forty of your Guard. Then the surface is ours."
"Gaster…"
"Then there would be the matter of fighting the humans…" He continues.
"Gaster."
"It wouldn't be much of a problem," Gaster waves a hand dismissively. "P2 doubles as a killing machine. He's killed dozens of monsters by now - humans should be no problem. It's only a matter of-"
"Gaster!"
Gaster finally stops and looks at the agitated king. Asgore takes a deep breath and sighs. "I appreciate your efforts, Dr., but you see, you've made promises like this before."
Gaster looks taken aback. "This is different."
Asgore shakes his head. "I am sorry, but I cannot fill your request." Gaster is enraged, but the king continues. "I have already informed the guard to look for the children-"
"-experiments," Gaster corrects.
"-and I have even sponsored the search myself. However, diverting any more resources to give you a search party of your own would put the entire underground at risk."
"But for the good of all monsters-" Gaster is cut off by a raised hand.
"I understand how much this project means to you - to all monsters," Asgore says calmly, "but I can simply do no more to help you. Now we must be patient and let the guard do their job. I suggest you get back to work on your other projects in the meantime; the core can always use improvement, after all."
There is a long silence. Gaster glares at Asgore until finally he sighs, "Is that all you've come here to tell me?"
"I am afraid so," Asgore says. "I must apologise once more."
Gaster composes himself, straightening his back and folding his arms professionally. "Then I must return to my duties. Good day."
Asgore looks at the obsessed monster sadly, but simply nods and takes his leave.
Gaster glares once more at the spot where the king once stood, then huffs.
To hell with his other projects! he has spent too much time on those brats to let them get away.
Gaster throws off his lab coat and exchanges it for something warmer.
He'll need it where he's going.
Grillby throws the skeletons into the closet and locks the door, not that it'll do much if the kids come to judging by the damage to his ceiling. He'll have to get something to patch that up later. Or not.
He's still a little giddy - part from the adrenaline rush and part from the capture of the little vermin that are gonna make him rich. Now he just has to get them to the royal guard before they wake up and his life was set.
Grillby sits back down at his seat where he had been drinking before all of the commotion. One more drink, just to celebrate. Next time he has booze it won't be this cheap shit.
He'll have a small fortune at his disposal. What will he even do with that? Other than buy protection and a new house. Somewhere in Hotland, or maybe the Capital. Yeah, the Capital sounds nice. Somewhere with a good view of the palace, maybe one of those old, abandoned casinos. Maybe he'll even open one of them up as a new Grillby's. Then again, the Capital has always been bad about crime. Anyone he hires there would be liable to try to kill him and take the money for themselves.
Actually, come to think of it, that is a problem almost anywhere he goes. There aren't many rich people in the underground who aren't also very powerful, and it is for a reason. Those who obtain money and lack the power to defend it can only really buy their own graves.
Grillby swallows his drink. He can't forget the original reason he wanted the money. If having that much meant putting his life in danger then what's the point? He needs protection. Powerful protection. Say, like someone who can blast a hole through the ceiling without much effort? Someone who is almost practically a blank slate, who can be manipulated into protecting him?
Grillby puts a hand on his head. He's had too much to drink again. This is a question that is better left for when he's sober. Grillby pours the rest of his glass down the sink and stumbles back into his room. After checking on the pair one last time, he lays down. He doesn't plan to sleep the whole night, just long enough to clear his head, though when he next opens his eyes he finds that five hours have already passed and it is time to start the day.
Swearing loudly, Grillby quickly throws open the closet door to make sure that his prisoners haven't escaped or worse - that it was all just a dream. Thankfully in his closet was a sleeping skeleton dog and his brother. Grillby closes the door back, resolved to buy a muzzle before he goes to work.
One trip to the store later and Grillby has not only a pair of muzzles, but collars and several yards of high quality rope. He hopes that it is enough to hold the beasts until he can figure out what to do with them. When he looks back into the small closet, he is relieved to find that both the brothers are still in same place that he had left them. He fixes the muzzles over the elder's face and locks it, then does the same to the smaller, who has thankfully shifted into his canine form in his sleep. He fastens the collars around their necks and ties the rope to the coat hooks in the wall. Their magic is strong, but Grillby is willing to bet that physically, they would be like any other children; and if the beam was the only magic they could do then they wouldn't risk it with the muzzle in the way.
Grillby claps his hands and looks over his handy work. The larger of the two is beginning to stir, and upon realizing that his mouth is bound, panics. He squirms, trying to find his footing and nearly choking himself on the collar in the process.
"Easy, easy!" Grillby says, wrapping a hand around the rope holding him to the wall and yanking up. The pup makes a small strangled yip and settles down. "Good. Now," Grillby bends down to eye level with the pup. "You two are going to stay here while I get some things figured out. Be good and I'll come back with breakfast."
The pup gives him a defiant - but definitely scared - glare, then lays down on his stomach. Grillby bites back a sigh of relief. His gamble has paid off. The kids are powerless now. The pup seems to have fallen asleep in the short amount of time it took for him to stand, and Grillby chuckles. They're almost cute when they're asleep. He shuts the door and makes his way back to the bar.
There isn't much to do to get ready, other than sign off on the shipments from the Capital and bring in the liquor. It's about time, too. Grillby had been worried that he'd run out of everything, and then what would people come to his place for. The food? Ha! His is some of the greasiest crap in the Underground - only someone who is desperate or stupid would put that shit in their body.
Grillby stretches as he puts down the last box of alcohol, and after one last check up on his "guests", he opens up the bar.
Today is just as busy as the last; people are still hunting down the kids. There seem to be even more today than there were yesterday, with some coming from as far away as the capital. Shady criminals are mixed in with the general public, all of them with the common goal of capturing the two that he has in his closet.
Grillby returns to his train of thought from the previous night. Having the kids is almost as bad as having the money. With all these people hunting them, if word gets out that he has them there'll be trouble, no doubt. And with his current status as a weakling he shudders to think what might happen if they all gang up on him.
But if the kids were to protect him…
Grillby smiles behind his counter. The kids have the strength necessary to take out everyone in this bar and then some. They would be the perfect protection. No one, not even the royal guard or the king himself would want to fight against the power that he saw that one display with that single blast. He wouldn't have to worry about his customers turning on him - they would have to be worried about him turning on them .
Yes, the kids are powerful; the only problem is that they are unpredictable. This can be easily fixed, though, with the proper training. Kids or not, they're still dogs, and dogs that love their masters will fight tooth and nail, even to the death to protect them. Grillby just has to become that master. It would taken some time, but the payoff would be worth the risk.
The only question is how to go about doing that.
"Wacha smilin' about, Grillbz?" Jannette slurs.
"Got a new shipment of goods," Grillby says, putting his thoughts away for the moment. It would be too early to let anyone know he has the upper hand.
"That mean you got Whiskey?" She asks, hopeful.
"Only if you actually have money," Grillby sneers. Jannette sifts through her pockets and comes up with some gold.
"You're short," Grillby tells her after counting her money.
"Aww, you know I'm good for it, Grillbz," She says, leaning seductively across the counter.
"I'm not above kicking you out of my bar," He tells her.
Jannette huffs, crossing her arms angrily. "Well then, I guess I won't tell you the big news."
"News?" Grillby raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Jannette says, leaning in close. "Someone's got it out for ya, Grillbz."
"Who?" Grillby asks, feeling somewhat concerned. Jannette simply wiggles her glass, jingling the lonely ice inside, and Grillby sighs. After pouring the Whiskey and waiting for her to take a long drink, she continues.
"Got any old friends, Grillby? Anyone by the name of Fuku? Used to live in Hotland?"
"Hmm, not any that I can recall," And that was the truth. Grillby has an average memory; if Fuku was a part of his life, she must not have been a big one.
"Well, apparently she's been asking around about you," Jannette says after another drink. "And not in the friendly way."
"What kind of monster is she?" Grillby asks. There are many kinds of monster, and Grillby can hold his own in a fight against most of them, provided they don't have any prior advantages, but if it is a water or ice based monster then…
"Flame, like you," Jannette replies and Grillby feels a little relieved. He's had enough ice fights for a while. "Though she's a bit younger. Still in high school I think."
What?
Grillby looks at her, searching for any hint of a joke, then laughs. "Really? You think I'm scared of some pissed off teen?"
"Well you didn't exactly do so well last time," Jannette replies snarkily.
"Okay, out of my bar." Grillby takes the glass from Jannette's hand, much to her protest, and ushers her out into the cold. Most of the patrons get a kick out of watching the spectacle - Grillby doesn't see why, since it happens almost every other day. He guesses it's just a part of the show at Grillby's now.
Grillby shuts the door and the crowd goes back to their business. From then on the day is normal. Grillby says hello to the royal guard as they come in, enjoys the fight as they go out, and before he knows it, it's half past noon. The kids are probably hungry.
He still hasn't decided whether he wants to keep them or not, but if he does decide to, starving them won't get them on his good side.
Grillby decides that it's time for his "lunch break."
Sans tugs at the leash tethering him to the wall to no avail. Papyrus has yet to regain consciousness, and Sans is beginning to worry for him. After nearly choking himself for the thousandth time, Sans lays down and curls in on himself.
They've finally been captured. He can't break the restraints, the metal hook the ropes are tied to being firmly attached to the wood, and he can't shift to use his other magical attacks with the muzzle in the way. There's nothing Sans can do but resign himself to wait for The Monster to come back and… do whatever it is he has planed to do with them. The Monster had said something about a "breakfast" but Sans doesn't know what that is, and he has a feeling he doesn't want to find out.
He wonders what the monster wants with them? Is he going to resume what The Doctor had started, or maybe he'll just give them back to The Doctor himself. Does he want to use Papyrus, and if that's the case, will he terminate Sans as planned? Will he dissect him first? Or maybe he doesn't want them as experiment, but rather as toys for his amusement. Or maybe it's something else entirely.
Sans doesn't know and doesn't want to know. He wants to be back on the outside, even if it was cold, and they were hungry and tired - anything but being at the mercy of an unknown monster.
Though, despite drugging them and tieing them up, The Monster hasn't done anything that bad to them yet… it's odd and scary and confusing, leaving Sans at a loss for what is coming next.
It would be a little better if he had some idea of where they were, or some light to see his surroundings. Sans can hear noises through the wall. Loud clanking and laughter unlike anything he's heard before; it scares him. Wherever he is, there are a lot of monsters nearby - and whenever there are monsters nearby, there's trouble.
Papyrus begins to stir and Sans immediately sits up, the leash putting pressure on the front his neck once more. Papyrus notices the restraints as quickly as Sans had, and begin fighting. Sans nudges his brother reassuringly, unable to talk with the muzzle in the way. Unfortunately, Papyrus is upset, and Sans knows that when Papyrus is upset, he will not be calmed down.
Papyrus pulls hard against the rope, only pulling back when he realizes he can't breathe. Papyrus tries to yip and bark, biting his tongue in the process, and eventually he crouches down and growls at the door. Sans continues to try to calm his little brother, but mostly he incites him further.
Suddenly, there is a sliver of brightness in front of them, and the door is opened. Sans has to shut his eyes against the sudden stream of light, trying and failing to put himself in between The Monster and Papyrus. Papyrus resumes pulling on the leash, now coupled with his attempts to bark at the strange monster. The Monster sneers.
"Quit that," he commands, crouching lower. "You'll hurt yourself."
Sans isn't sure why he cares, unless he needs Papyrus in full health. The thought makes Sans shiver and he draws away from The Monster, who rolls his eyes at him.
"Coward," The Monster says. He reaches for something behind him and Sans starts again, magic flowing through him instinctively. The Monster notices this as he turns and scoffs again. "Knock it off. I'm not doing anything to hurt you."
Sans doesn't believe him.
The Monster sighs and produces two bowls. They are filled with small white things, topped some kind of meat and with an oblong metal object sticking out of it. Is it food? It is far more than what the scientist would give them in the form of little gray pellets. It is probably poisoned again, Sans decides.
"Now, I'm going to take the muzzles off," The Monster tells them softly. "And you two are going eat. And if you try anything funny…" The blue flames that make up his hand suddenly shoot up in a display of power. Sans shrinks back at the heat. "Got it?"
Sans stays still for a moment, but decides it would be best not to anger The Monster further and slowly nods his head.
"Good," The Monster takes a key from his pocket reaches for the contraption covering his mouth and slowly unlocks the straps. Sans tests his mouth before slowly shifting into his bipedal form. The Monster keeps his eyes on Sans as he undoes Papyrus' mouthpiece.
That was a mistake.
As soon as his mouth is uncovered, Papyrus lunges to bite The Monster. Sans silently holds his breath as he watches on. The Monster recoils from his brother's jaws just in time, then quickly recovers to clamp the restraints back over Papyrus' mouth.
"Fine. Don't eat then," The Monster spits at him.
Sans looks at the substance in the bowl. It looks like food, and The Monster did say he wants them to eat. He pokes it with a finger and sniffs it. It smells clean, but after last time he definitely doesn't want to chance it.
"Not gonna eat?" The Monster questions.
Sans shakes his head, then quietly vocalizes a small, "N-no."
The Monster sighs and takes a piece of the meat off and pops it into his mouth. Sans watches carefully as the monster chews the food.
Sans blinks.
Well, The Monster didn't die…
And Sans is hungary.
He sighs. The Monster has them completely trapped; he can make the brothers do anything he wants them to. If Sans doesn't eat, The Monster can very well force him to. Sans has lost his freedom, and now his will to fight.
What else does he have to lose?
Sans takes a handful of the squishy white bits and shovels them into his mouth. As he is going in for a second scoop, his hand is slapped.
"Use the spoon, idiot," The Monster snaps at him.
Sans looks at The Monster confused. What did he do wrong? Was it a trick - test? Did he fail? Will he be punished? Sans tries and fails to steady his breathing. Oh no oh no oh no…
The Monster gives a frustrated sigh and picks up the metal object sticking out from the food. He briskly shoves it into Sans' hand and Sans stares at it. What is he supposed to do with this?
The Monster growls and Sans shrinks back. "That's a spoon. You use it to eat." The Monster snaps "How dumb are you?"
Sans doesn't think The Monster wants an actual answer so he keeps his mouth shut. He puts the fat end of the 'spoon' into the white food and scoops it into his mouth clumsily. The Monster scoffs and Sans avoids eye contact.
"I'm not leaving 'till you're done," The Monster says.
Sans had expected as much. While Sans eats, Papyrus whines, obviously wanting to try the food placed before him, but unable with the muzzle blocking his mouth. After two or three more bits, Sans gets up the courage to speak. "S-s-sir," He starts quietly. "Pa- P-Two… n-needs t-t-to eat."
The Monster gives him a confused look. "The other one?" He gestures to Papyrus. Sans nods affirmatively. "Tell him to play nice and I'll consider it."
Sans moves a little closer to his little brother. "D-do as he says, bro," he whispers, still loud enough for The Monster to hear. Papyrus gives a miserable whine but nods head; Sans takes it as a yes. The Monster produces the key and undoes the bindings over Papyrus' mouth. To Sans' relief, Papyrus merely looks on at The Monster with distrust, but makes no move to attack. Sans isn't sure how powerful The Monster is, but they certainly aren't at any advantage right now.
Papyrus soon loses interest in The Monster and goes for the food, not even bothering to shift out of his canine form. Papyrus scarfs it down quickly, nearly choking several times; The Monster doesn't seem to like this, and quickly reaches a hand for Papyrus, who jumps back and growls at the first sign of the invading digits.
"I was just going to tell you to slow down," The Monster snaps. "You'll make yourself sick."
Sans has noticed that if they eat too much or too quickly after not eating for a while, it tended not to stay down. Papyrus either doesn't care or doesn't understand, because he goes right back to his previous pace. Sans is too nervous to stop him, so he simply goes back to his food.
It is a while before The Monster speaks again.
"So, you two got names?" The Monster asks after a while.
"I am W-D-S-One," Sans says meekly.
"That ain't a name, kid," The Monster glares and Sans feels the same creeping fear go up his spine. That was the name that he was always called by before. What does the monster want?
Sans tries again.
"D-Doctor sometimes c-called m-me S-Sans," Sans says, feeling meak. The Doctor had given him the pet name once years ago; Sans had liked it so he took it as his own. The Doctor later got mad when Sans used it, and he was often punished for it. Sans wonders how The Monster will react to hearing the name. To his relief, The Monster simply nods.
"And the other one?" The Monster asks.
"W-D-" Sans starts.
"His name, genius!" He snaps.
"P-p-papyrus, sir," Sans curls in on himself. Sans looks down at his food. He is barely a third of the way finished with it, and yet he is already full. The food didn't have much of a flavor, which, after all that Sans and Papyrus have had to eat to survive, isn't necessarily a bad thing. The meat had been good, though. It was unlike anything he had had before, and he liked it.
"You done?" The Monster asks. Sans nods, worried that The Monster will get mad he didn't finish, but too scared to lie. Thankfully, The Monster doesn't seem to mind as he takes the bowl back. Papyrus is still eating, and The Monster waits patiently for him to be done. Eventually, Papyrus' bowl is empty and The Monster takes it away.
"Go back to your dog body, kid," The Monster orders. Sans obeys without question and the muzzle is fastened back over his face, much to Sans' dismay. Papyrus' mouth is also covered, though he doesn't put up as much of a fuss as before - mostly due to being incapacitated by a stomach ache brought on by the gratuitous amounts of food they just ate.
"I'll be back soon," The Monster tells the pair, closing the door and leaving the brothers once again in the dark.
Grillby is fascinated by the children he is keeping in the closet. They are definitely not from around here. In Snowdin - and most of the Underground, actually - children are kind of protected, despite the general hostility. A boy is a man at age thirteen, but before that, if they keep their noses clean and they're parents aren't in any kind of trouble, the kid is generally treated well by most.
These kids were obviously not. Beaten and bruised is to be expected from a pair of wanted kids, sure, but the scarring told a different story.
Maybe they were abandoned?
No, that's not right. They're bodies show signs of years of neglect, the kind that comes from constant abuse over years . Plus, it doesn't explain why The King wants them so bad. Sure, they're dangerous, but danger isn't exactly a new element in the underground.
They're bodies are a sore sight, though. They are still quite young, and yet their bodies hold injuries that most adults would shudder to think of. The elder - Sans, as he's called - has multiple cracks on his skull and ribs and missing his left canine. The younger is less damaged, or, rather, the damage seems to be concentrated on his neck where he has several scars, as if someone had tried to slit his throat several time and failed. There are also branching scars across both of their sternums, as if someone had cut that part of them off and then glued it back on.
And then there is those odd, pseudo names that the kid game him. W-D-something-or-another? What is up with that? And they were obedient to commands, despite feeling he was a threat. Under normal circumstances Grillby would chalk that up to the fear factor, but this… this is a different kind of obedience. This is a learned behavior. One that they have done before multiple times in the past.
Grillby runs a fiery hand through his blue head flames. This is going to be difficult - maybe he is better off just handing them over to the guard.
No. No he's going to try to make this work. To hell with the money, he's got what he needs in the closet right there. Grillby likes working the bar, anyways, he doesn't need to retire early.
These kids are valuable, a part of him knows it, and he wants to hold on to them for as long as they remain that way to him.
First, though, he needs to gain their loyalty. He'll start by calling a doctor to take a look at them. One that he can trust; his own person physician and 'friend' of sorts. Can't have the kids falling down on him, can he?
Grillby straightens his bowtie and pushes up his glasses, then struts back out into the bar. He has a plan, a wonderful, amazing plan; and soon, there won't be a thing in the world that can take him down.