Flashback Nightmare time. Hold onto your heads.
Also trying a new Format for stories. all chapters changed, but no story changes.
-Jarhead
He woke up floating. His eyes opened, and immediately squinted at the sudden brightness. After a few seconds of adjustment, he was able to see he was in some kind of tank, filled with a tinted liquid. Somehow he was breathing, which he thought was impossible. He reached out at beat on the glass, trying to get someone's attention. but as he did this, a chill went up his spine.
"What if no one comes," he mouthed, a stream of bubbles replacing his words.
He was about to try drowning himself when he heard a tapping from his right. A skeleton was floating in a tank just like him. he looked at his own hands. He tried to remember what his hand looked like before but couldn't remember anything but a hazy gray fog. the sight of his own skeletal digits didn't concern him in the slightest.
"Who are you?" he tried to get the other skeleton understand. Then he felt something radiating in his eyes. His neighbor's eyes had started glowing as well, a bright orange. Like fire. They looked into each other's eyes, and both began to feel soothed, less afraid, more secure, Neither of them noticed the third skeleton walk in, a clipboard under his arm as he lit a cigarette. He paused at the sight of his experiment's awake and interacting.
"Hmmm…" He muttered, writing a note before walking to a console, pressing a few switches, and standing back as the healing solution was drained out of the tanks. Their occupants looked surprised, suddenly noticing the newcomer. They were roughly dragged from the tanks by the doctor and placed in cells.
"Dr. Gaster," a speaker ejected, breaking into his focus. "The experiments from floor 3 are concluded."
Pressing a button on his desk he replied, "Thank you, Stella, you may go home now."
A short goodbye passed before Gaster returned to the cells to check on the boys. No, Not boys, subjects, He berated himself. He couldn't decide which to check on, when an earsplitting scream ran through the compound. He raced to the cell holding the taller one, who had somehow removed his left arm. Gaster angrily picked it up and tried to reattach it, but the skeleton backed away.
"HOLD STILL!" Gaster yelled, sending the monster against the wall, a blue heart appearing on his chest.
He reattached the arm, lecturing the subject like a naughty child. Then, in some form of apology, the little creature made to hug him. He shoved it off, disturbed by the gesture. They were so much like…
"No," he said as he hurried to the other cell, "Don't even think of her name."
The other subject was instantly suspicious at the sight of Gaster. They stared at each other for a few minutes. Gaster noticed that magic was gathering around the skeleton, but he didn't know how to make it manifest into an attack. Gaster walked back to his lab. sat down at the console and pondered his options.
"I'm not a psychologist, and I need analyze more than their physical health," He recorded, lighting his fifth cigarette since they had woken. "Computer, create a virtual assistant. Download all of Alphys' files on mental health to his memory banks."
"What would like this digital assistant to be identified as, Sir?" the computer queried.
"Phil," Gaster said, thinking of the font his youngest assistant wrote all her reports to him in.
He began gathering supplies for the all-nighter he was about to pull. Coffee, a fresh pack of cigarettes, some gum.
"The taller one is needy. I need to find ways to avoid attachment."
The skeletons had learned to speak faster than Gaster expected, and he has decided that Phil, who now spent most of his virtual life watching the two them, needed something to call them besides their subject ID's. He was thinking of possible names when the letter called to him. It had been pleading him for years. it had appeared on his desk the same day he had found the subjects. This time however he couldn't resist. He finally broke the wax seal, imprinted with an "A" and read the letter. it was short and to the point.
Dear Gaster,
As I am writing this letter to you, I am close to death. I loved you with all my heart, and I have given you some final gifts. I decided on the names already.
With eternal Love,
Arial
Gaster saw a small note near the bottom. written in haste. he could barely make it out.
"Sans and Papyrus?" He said aloud, wondering what they meant. Phil looked over from his silent vigil.
"Are those the names you decided on for the skeletons, Sir?"
"Yes."
Sans looked at Papyrus, working on the color cube. Instead of trying to make all the sides the same, he was making up his own out-of-the-box, goofball solutions to the cube. Sans was never able to pay attention for long periods of time, especially in the "Puzzle Room." He always felt like someone other than the Doctor was watching them.
"Hey Sans," Papyrus called, "What do you think the Doctor is trying to test with all these Puzzles?" His hands were constantly shifting, moving the colors around like a whirlwind before stopping.
"I dunno, maybe he's seeing how long we can last without eating." Sans joked, even though he was very hungry. A strange sliding sound came from the door, and a tray holding a bowl of fruit was pushed through the flap in the bottom. Grabbing the bowl, Sans gave Pap a banana before biting into a red apple. He glanced at Pap's solution. Every side had an H on it in a different color. "What's the H stand for Papyrus?"
Papyrus looked at his brother quizzically for a few seconds. "It stands for hope." Sans nearly choked. Papyrus was looking at the camera, which they knew was being watched by Gaster. Sans could swear he heard crying from down the hallway, but he ignored it.
"Papyrus." His brother turned to him, curious. "Promise me, Pap, that you'll never give up hope."
"... I Promise."
HEY EVERYBODY!
Tell me what you guys think of the chapter and the new format. I'm going to space these out a bit more, sadly, because I just don't have enough time. Anyway, next chapter will be a bit lighter (I'm sick of all this angst) so yeah. Live Life Like A Cabbage and all that.
-Jarhead
