Holy cow, I can't believe how much support you guys are showing for this story! 10 favorites, 20 follows . . . I never expected so many people to like this! I just started writing this because I couldn't find any Artemis Fowl/Undertale crossovers! Thank you! Seriously, thank you so much!
Oh, and also:
Warning: This chapter contains instances of child abuse and some strong language. Nothing too graphic, but some people might still find this offensive or triggering.
"How could you?! How could you even consider following that crowd? You little –"
As their biological mother stormed back and forth, ranting with an almost rabid fury and calling them all manner of foul names, Frisk tried their best to look as small as possible and not like a target.
"Why?! Why support those creatures?! You should know better than that by now! They're monsters, abominations, they belong under that mountain, and you – !"
Somewhere behind them, Chara was seething in rage, itching to ACT, to do something to the screaming woman, and it took every scrap of willpower Frisk had to keep them there.
"Don't you have anything to say, you traitor?! Well?!"
Frisk shook their head – they knew from experience that actually answering would earn them a harsh smack – and the woman calmed down from a boil to a faint simmer.
"Go upstairs." She spat. "Room. Now. No dinner, no breakfast."
*God-damn it Frisk, say something! Put her in her place!
But the child only obediently trudged up the stairs and to their room, and sat waiting on their uncomfortable bed until they heard the door lock with a sickeningly familiar click.
It had been going so well, too.
Usually, their "family" never found out about their involvement with the monsters unless they told them personally. They could continue their silent support with little parental interference, at least until the next reset.
But after going to seven protests, four of which had local news coverage and one of which – a record-breaking 800 people turning up at Lincoln Park – having footage broadcasted worldwide, they'd known it was only a matter of time before the beans were spilled. After all, the news was the only thing on TV for now, other channels having been disbanded years ago, and protests were always paid attention to.
*You should've fought back! There's knives in the kitchen, you could've gotten her good -
No, they wouldn't do that. No matter how much they screamed or tore apart their room, these were the people responsible for them existing. They couldn't kill them, couldn't even hurt them, it wouldn't be right. Not when everything was going so well.
Besides, in comparison to some people, they were fortunate. They had known people who were beaten by their own family – even Chara had had worse familial issues than they did, when the other child had still lived on the surface.
*It doesn't matter! No one should call people like them family!
They ignored Chara's ranting – another constant between timelines – and got up off their bed. They opened the sparsely populated drawer next to their bed, rooting through their clothes and finding all the hidden energy bars and drinks that they squirreled away for times like these. Then they knelt down and felt around under their bed for the loose floorboard.
They'd hidden all kinds of things there, and for the next few days, it would hide not only their cell phone and photograph of the monsters, but also their food and water as well.
Even after two days without food – their father had extended their punishment when he got home from missing two meals to missing four – Frisk's determination wouldn't let them rest. After a false apology and a couple days of good behavior, Frisk was back on their blog, updating the schedules for the rallies and replying to the numerous comments on their page.
Their blog had exploded. Two weeks had earned them over 200 new followers from all over the world, and more were pouring in daily, along with all kinds of ideas for organized events to help spread awareness of the monsters' plight.
Keeping one ear out for their parents, (they had only fallen asleep maybe an hour ago, but they weren't about to wait any longer), they started flicking through the ideas they'd typed up. Fundraisers, petitions, lectures in parks and restaurants – some important businessman had organized a group of people to paint a mural in Dublin, depicting mount Ebott and the monsters that Frisk had described in one blog entry.
They were about to read a news feed someone had linked them, when Chara suddenly broadcasted a sense of alarm.
*Frisk! Turn off the laptop, hurry!
Before they could comply, a hand grabbed their shoulder and whipped them around.
"What are you doing?" Their father said. It was almost a snarl.
They sat frozen, the laptop still open in their hands, and he took the opportunity to snatch it from them and look at the screen. Even as they watched, his face grew livid as he read every blog post, every message – it turned full-on beat red when he read the name of the blog.
"You – you –" He was so beside himself in rage that he couldn't speak for a few moments.
Frisk took the opportunity to snatch the laptop back and run.
"Get back here!"
*Hurry, make sure he can't delete the account!
Quick as a flash, Frisk logged out of their account and erased their internet history, just before their father tripped them with a well-placed foot and grabbed the machine back. His face went from red to purple as he realized exactly what Frisk had done.
"You little bitch!" He yelled. He brought the laptop down hard on Frisk's head, making them wince. "You're the one who's been organizing this shit?! Have you no loyalty?! We gave you a chance, took you back in after you ran away, forgave you for going to those rallies, and you repay us like this?!"
He grabbed them by the hair as they began to get up, and dragged them upstairs to their room.
"What else have you been hiding from us?! How long have you been doing this?" He whirled on them.
Frisk looked down, shuffling their feet.
"Well?! Answer me!"
"Four months," they mumbled. He stopped and gawped at them, speechless.
"Fff – four months? Four months?!" If he got any angrier, steam would start coming out of his ears. "You've been going behind our backs for four months?!"
He whirled back around and began tearing through their belongings. He dumped all their clothes onto the floor, upturned the entire dresser, searched their meager books and toys for hidden pockets – he unearthed one energy bar as he did, but in his anger he overlooked it. Frisk held their breath, struggling to keep themselves from jumping in his path – maybe he'd overlook the loose floorboard, it was very hard to spot if you didn't know what you were looking for.
Then his fingers found the floorboard, and he began to pull on it.
"No!" They yelped. They lunged forward, grappling with his arms and trying to yank him away, but he knocked them off their feet easily and pulled up the board. He pulled out the dozen energy bars, the energy drinks. He paused when he found the cell phone.
"Where did you steal this from?!" He snapped. Frisk shook their head wildly.
"I didn't steal it! I – I found it! It was in the lost-in-found at school!"
He growled and stuffed it into his pocket, before straining to reach further into the gap, feeling around for anything else -
He pulled out the photograph.
There was silence for a moment, as his jaws dropped and his eyes bugged out. In that moment of silence, Frisk heard their "mother" step into the room behind them.
Then, slowly, dangerously calm, he turned to face Frisk.
"What." he said flatly, holding out the photograph for them to see. "Is. This?"
*Lie!
But Frisk didn't get the chance to lie, because their father shoved the photo into their face.
"What is this?! How did you get a photograph of yourself with those abominations?! When did you visit the mountain?!"
Behind them, their mother gasped.
"I didn't –"
"Don't lie to me, you little whelp! When did you visit the mountain?! How did you get past the guards?!"
Silence. Then, Frisk raised their head from the floor, took in a deep breath.
"I didn't get past the guards." They said, with as much false confidence as they could muster. "There weren't any guards there when I went."
"There have been guards there for the entire time!"
"Not before the monsters got out of the Underground!"
"Before - "
"That's where I was for the month that I was missing." They said. "I fell into the mountain. I lived there with them for a month. And they're not abominations! They have hopes, dreams, feelings, just like humans do!"
"How did you escape?" Their mother breathed. "The Barrier - "
Frisk lifted their chin defiantly, radiating Determination.
"I was the one who helped them break the Barrier!"
Silence. Frisk held their breath, bracing themselves for the oncoming storm.
Three. Two. One.
"You what?!"
Frisk had stopped updating their blog.
Artemis frowned, tapping his fingers on the desk.
That was strange. They had seemed remarkably dedicated to the rallies, once they'd proved successful.
Most people would have dismissed it. After all, all manner of things could happen – their computer could malfunction, their household could have been fined and the presumed laptop temporarily appropriated by the local government, or even stolen.
But he'd been keeping careful track of the McNamara household. Their finances were in order, remarkably so, and their registered technology had not been appropriated, nor stolen, judging by their network usage.
Had something happened?
He switched from secure databases to the more public Internet, quickly navigating to one of the sites he had discovered that was run by Frisk's parents – their father, he believed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary – his schedules had not changed, the same political messages still tastefully placed and designed. He even checked the on-site biography, and the same information was in place, his name, age, wife, occupation -
Then something clicked, and he scanned the information again.
There were no signs of Frisk in the bio.
Surely a parent would at least mention their child . . . ?
A sneaking suspicion rose, fueled by evidence he had previously found coincidental – Frisk's brief mentions of parental disapproval of the monsters, their apparently frequent family problems, their parents leaving them alone in the house for days at a time (after all, with both parents gone, who else could have the network password, or be so active?). The wardrobe that consisted of old worn clothes that never had short sleeves or shorts, only skin-covering articles, the apparent frailty of the child's health -
It might be a coincidence, but . . .
He opened his contact list, selecting the name of one of Butler's previous acquaintances – a former bodyguard from lesser-known circles, now a police investigator for the Ebott Police force.
It might be mere suspicion, but it had been many, many years since one of his suspicions had been wrong.
