A/N: This episode is massive, and contains the main climactic sequence of Season 1. It took a lot of work and I'm sure there are cracks to be found, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. There are still two or maybe even three more episodes left in Season 1; however, I will be taking a break next week from posting.

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Arcadian Rhythms
(by Desma 'Destiny-Smasher' Fettig)

Episode 12

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'frisk'

/frisk/

verb:

1.) to search for something by running the hands rapidly over someone

2.) to leap, skip, or dance in a lively or playful way; frolic

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Lena had been stuck in the facility a lot longer than she would've preferred. Something serious had happened, for sure. There'd been a brownout during her checkup with Winston, little bit of tremor, too, but it sure seemed like whatever had happened was causing problems for Winston's workplace. Of course, no one was going to be explaining it to her. After her appointment with Winston, she'd been held in a break room with a few other strangers for an hour or so – fellow 'patients' and study subjects. Not a peep from security on what was up, and flashing her badge got her nowhere. Couldn't use her phone since she wasn't allowed to enter the place without it, so she'd wasted some time reading a tech magazine, only to start feeling self-conscious and weird. So she'd swapped, read some much older cooking mag, instead. Gave her a couple ideas, actually. Still made her feel a bit daft, though. Couldn't even cook a proper meal without some help...

Anyway, Lena knew she was gonna get it from Aloy, running late with no warning, no head's up. She'd tried banging her head around thinking up some kind of excuse. She had ultimately settled on 'bad traffic' since, well, the timing lined up enough. Sort of. Ehhh. Maybe she'd be better off leaning more toward honesty with something like 'friend emergency.' That was...technically true, right?

By the time Lena had been given her phone back and escorted out of the facility, she had a lot of missed calls. And texts. Oof. She didn't even know where to start – Aloy didn't seem too upset, but whoa, so many missed calls from the same number, and one she didn't know. Some voicemails, too, but Lena had to get going back to the station ASAP.

On her way to her bike, though, Lena's phone went off again – that number she didn't recognize.

Bugger, what was going on? She decided to take the call.

"Hiya. Lena Oxton speaking."

[ "Hello?" ]

"...Yea?" Lena was a bit put off. She had things to do, come on, now.

[ "Miss Oxton?" ]

"That's me, yea. Oi, who is this?" Only they sounded real familiar...

[ "Toriel." ]

Ah, yea! Miss Toriel! Aloy left her a card with our numbers. What's she want, then?

"Oh! Toriel." Lena settled herself onto her bike, hoping to wrap this chat up quickly. "Right, I remember you, Luv." Too informal! "Urh-...W-Wow, eh, wasn't expecting to hear from you, though, Ma'am. You, uh, you doin' all right, Miss?"

[ "Not-...No. Mm-mm. Not exactly." ]

Uh-oh.

"You sound a bit off. Something the matter?"

[ "A-Actually, yes, I, um-..." ] She cleared her throat. [ "It's about Frisk. My child." ]

Lena felt her chest seize up a little. She could tell something proper awful had happened. You didn't call a cop and open with that sort of line if it wasn't serious.

"Someone take your kid, Luv?"

[ "Ha, I-...I actually wonder if-...N-No, it-...Frisk ran away. Violently. They, um...pulled a knife on their doctor, and...-" ]

"They what?"

[ "Knife. Took out a knife, ran off. Um, it's-..." ] Blimey, she sounds real out of sorts. [ "Frisk is a special child, they have...challenges they cope with, and I'm just-...I'm scared, Miss Oxton." ]

Lena was right stupefied for a tick. Had to take a sec to process this.

"No, I-...Completely understandable, Miss, we can, erh...file a missing person report. We'll have you come in, get someone on this right away, and-"
[ "We don't have time for that." ]
"...Um-?"
[ "I think I know where they are." ]

"Beg pardon?"

[ "I think they might hurt someone. Please. Please, Miss Oxton, if I give you the address, can you just-...Can you please see if they're there?" ]

"I-...Are they still armed?"

[ "The knife. Probably? Not sure. Miss, please, you have to go, I'm scared of what could happen to them – or to someone else. They're not well. They're not feeling like themselves. They...-" ]

"'S all right, Luv," Lena assured, plugging her key into the ignition. "Sounds proper urgent. Have ya called Aloy yet?"

[ "I tried, she, um-...She said she was already predisposed, said I should call the station." ]

Aloy, turning down a plea for help from a mum in distress? Blimey, what was Aloy up to, then?

[ "I tried contacting your department, but they just-...They told me to come in, file a report, but-...I don't know what to do, this is urgent, but I don't think anyone would believe me if I tried to explain, and...-" ]

This sounded too time-sensitive for all of that paperwork bullocks.

"Understood. Say no more, Ma'am. Shoot me the address n' I'll get right on it, straight away."

[ "Thank you, Miss. Y-Yes, I'll-...City Hall. I think they went to City Hall." ]

"You what? City Hall?"

[ "Yes. I...have reason to believe they're there." ]

"Ain't some kinda posh do going on down there?"

[ "I-...I'm not sure? I don't-...I don't know, just-...Please...-" ]

"Right-right. I'm on it."

[ "Thank you, I don't...-" ]

"No worries, Luv." Lena started her engine. "I have this under control."

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[ From: P.F. ]
[ We can't get inside. RSVP only. Security's tight. ]

Aloy was fresh from trying to delicately explain her situation to Amari regarding the missing tape and the questionable activities she saw both in-store and on-video. With a pin having been put into the matter for the day, Aloy had been surprised to get texts from her P.I. regarding news about this 'Rachel' character attending some kind of...ball, or something? A charity concert...kind of thing? It was apparently to raise funds for victims of the recent bombings downtown. Aloy had heard about it in passing from Erend, but didn't know much, so wrapped up she was in her bubble as of late.

Max had expressed that she found this very odd, though – that Rachel would be attending such an event – and she was suspecting something fishy was going on. Having followed the mystery woman to the event, being held at City Hall, Max had been denied entry, apparently.

What really made Aloy's stomach do a loop, though, was that Lena, running late from her doctor's appointment, had just called her to explain that Miss Toriel had pestered her, too, about a missing child, and the tip she'd been given put the child at the exact same location that Max had followed her own lead to. Aloy suddenly felt stupid for having not heard the woman out. She was getting tunnel vision, here – but that's what partners were there for.

Regardless, Aloy wasn't sure what this all meant – Rachel and the child in the same place – but she knew in her gut that the two were connected, and the reason why was decidedly not good.

From her cramped desk, smooshed next to Lena's in one corner of the first floor, Aloy glanced around to make sure no one was paying her any heed. She decided to duck out of her paperwork for a second – this 'Falcon Ron' character was much less of a priority than whatever was going on with Toriel's kid and this 'Rachel' person. She swooped out the front door, pulled out her phone, and called up Maxine.

It took a few rings, but Max picked up, answering with an strangely loud tone.

[ "...Nora?" ]

"Yea. Hey." Aloy paused, hearing a lot of noise on the other end. Wind? "Where are you?"

[ "Uh-...Shhh! I know!" ] She was...grumbling at someone else? What the...-? [ "We, uh-...I'm keeping an eye on the place from a, um, a vantage point? And-...Chloe! Get the...-! What's wrong with you?!" ]

"Is this a bad time?" Aloy dryly asked, off-put by this. Max seemed to take her job seriously, so what the hell was going on? Chloe was Max's wife. What was she doing there?

[ "N-No, no, I've-...Erh, Chloe's helping me out – more eyes on the place." ]

"...Oooookay. Sure." Aloy was, in fact, not sure if this was a good idea. But then a spike of self-checking guilt struck her through the skull. She literally worked with her partner all the time. She couldn't really begrudge Max for doing the same, but she did question if Chloe had the proper kind of experience for investigatory work.

[ "What's going on?" ] Max asked through the windy noise. Aloy surmised that they must've been perched up on a roof. Kind of a tricky prospect in downtown Arcadia, so Aloy couldn't help but wonder how Max had managed it. But given the circumstances, she wasn't going to ask.

"Oh, I just-...Lena called. Remember that kid? The one we were tracking a couple weeks back?"

[ "Toriel's, right? Uhhhh-" ] Finger snapping. [ "...Frisk! That's the name. Yea." ]

"Right. Well...Apparently, they went missing this afternoon. And Toriel got a tip that they'd be showing up – guess where?"

[ "City Hall," ] Max deduced.

"Exactly. And I can't help but suspect that the kid is connected to this Rachel person."

[ "Wait...What? Connected to Rachel? That child?" ]
[ "Huh? Whoa-whoa, hold up, who's connected to Rachel? What child?" ] - Max's wife was babbling the background.

Max, evidently ignoring her wife, wondered, [ "You think this is connected to the missing people you're after?" ]

"I mean, I'm not ruling anything out. You have Lena's number?"

[ "I, uh-...I should, I think I do. Haven't used it yet, but...-" ]

"I'll text it to you, just in case. Listen, I-...I couldn't convince Amari to divert anyone else to the gala, she says they've already got a squad on site for security, but Lena's on her way. I'm planning on sneaking off there, myself. I've just got-..." Aloy trailed off.

[ "A bad feeling," ] Max sighed. [ "Yea. Yea, me, too, Nora." ]

"If anything comes up, let us both know," advised Aloy. "I'll keep you posted when I arrive on scene."

[ "Understood," ] said Max.

Aloy concluded, [ "Keep your eyes peeled in the meantime." ]

"I'm on it."

Max ended the call, tucking her phone back to its proper place inside the inner lining chest pocket of her coat. It was flapping around a bit in all this wind, but she had to admit it made her feel kind of like...-

"Bad-ass, Max. You're so fuckin' bad-ass," Chloe was chuckling, just gawking with an awed grin at her wife. Max had on her fedora and trench-coat, the jacket's tails flapping a bit in the wind. Slapping one fist into the opposing palm, Chloe seethed pridefully, "Helpin' the cops, just like old times, enh? We're gonna put that bitch in her place."

"We don't know what she's up to," Max reminded. "Or why. Believe me, I have my suspicions, but-"
"Act on evidence, not on assumptions, blabla," Chloe sighed, shaking her head as Max took the binoculars back from her.

Max knew it was difficult for her wife to look at this objectively, especially given the history Chloe and Rachel had shared, but Max herself couldn't afford to be anything but objective with all of this – not anymore.

The duo were perched upon the roof of City Hall, which housed a large, reinforced glass dome that radiated a golden glow from the marble-laden, well-lit hall within. Cautiously hovering around the exterior of the dome with binoculars gave them a nice view of the party, and Rachel Amber was indeed within their sights, though there was no sign of this strange child.

Watching Chloe excitedly survey the hall with the binoculars, Max wondered, "Isn't Brigitte wondering where you are by now?"

Without averting her gaze, Chloe dismissed, "Nahhh, told her something serious came up with you and it couldn't wait, so I got the night off."

Max knew that having Chloe nearby was...perhaps crucial to her intentions with this stakeout – they wouldn't have been able to reach the roof in the first place without coordinated efforts getting past the guards, after all. And if things went south, the way Max feared they might, then Chloe's presence might better secure mutual safety, even if the short term would seem otherwise.

Still. Max couldn't help having doubts.

Studying the hall's column-endowed staircase entrance as a new guest entered (nope, just some old suit), Max posed, "And she's...just, what, OK with that? With you bailing on work?"

"Thought you said this was important."

"It is, I-...Sorry, Chloe, I'm just a little nervous."

"About what? This is Rachel-fucking-Amber. She's-...She doesn't get her hands dirty, what's the worse she could do? Besides, we're all the way the hell up here."

Max's stomach was churning, and her fingers were beginning to shake a little. Something bad was going to happen. She had too much experience with this shit by now, it was like her body had developed a sixth sense. She'd thought putting distance between them by hiding out on the roof would make her feel safer, but every instinct in her body was telling her otherwise.

"I don't know," she sighed, trying to convey recent sightings to Chloe. "It's been a while since you've seen Rachel. She's probably pretty different than you remember – and I'm sure that goes both ways." She could hear Chloe humming and hawing dubiously as she surveyed what Rachel was up to – hors d'oeuvres, from the look of it. Their view into the hall was rather extensive, but they still couldn't see much beyond the expansive main lobby. There were all kinds of nooks and crannies down the halls, however, which made Max nervous, but they seemed all but covered by the security detail the APD had sent.

"You said she broke a beer bottle at some restaurant?" Chloe recalled, to which Max nodded, still gazing through binoculars. Huffing a little, Chloe followed up, "Yea, that doesn't surprise me. She's got anger issues, dude, like I told you. Sounds like that hasn't changed. But it's not like she plans things out, Max. She never has, and trust me, she's not the type where she ever will."

Shifting her position to get a little more comfortable, Max noted, "Chloe, that's the exact kind of person who's more dangerous, if you ask me..."

"Fair enough," Chloe conceded a tired grunt. "But you can't expect me to not take this personally when...-"

Chloe's phone had gone off.

"Ahhhh, gimme a sec," Chloe grumbled, passing off the binoculars to Max as she pulled out her phone.

"Chloe." Max did not approve. They needed to take this seriously.

"Nah, if I don't take it, they'll just keep botherin' me all night. Hold up." Chloe lifted a finger with one hand, taking the call with another. "Yea, Borowski? Hey...Y-Yea, no, sorry, I forgot. Got caught up in something with Max, she needs my help on an assignment...I know, right? We're onnnn the case, dude, whole stake-out n' everything...What? No, I didn't bring-...It's a stake-out, not-...OK, fair, but the too-long-didn't-read is...I can't make it."

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"Aw, dag, furreal?" Mae sounded bummed with whatever what going on in their phone call. Sounded like Chloe must've shot down the invite for hanging out. That meant they were gonna be rolling up on Mae's dealer directly, which...was actually kinda scary when Alex thought about it. She barely knew this guy, and he sounded pretty dangerous. Apparently he'd killed someone at some point? Chloe had said she'd been there, but...Alex wasn't sure if Chloe was the 'reliable narrator' type...

Regardless. Their dealer sounded like a dangerous guy.

Angus was busy with some sudden overtime shift they'd sprung on him, and Gregg had offered a favor to their friend Beatrice – whom Alex also barely knew. So. Here Alex was, walking down from the subway station to some shady looking trailer on the edge of the waterfront, alone with Mae.

Welp. Alex had insisted to herself to start taking her friends up on their offers to socialize. At least this wasn't as shady as that stupid 'party' she'd tried going to to break ice with Jonas back when the two had first met. Not only had they broken the law that night, it...hadn't even been fun. Just a boring, miserable night out in the cold, stranded on a stupid island with the only friend from her childhood who still put up with her, a complete stranger, fucking Clarissa, her brother's ex, and her new step-brother, Jonas.

Suffice it to say that Alex hadn't enjoyed herself much that night.

At least here, she got along well enough with Mae, and, like...could still go back home to her bed when all was said and done.

"Uh-uh...Uh-huh." Mae stuffed their hand in their hoodie pocket as they nodded and sighed, walking beside Alex down the worn, dirt road. "Well, shit, Chlo-Bo, I even hauled Alex's ass out here, and you know how difficult that is. I mean, will Frank even let us hang outif you're not...-?" Alex tuned out Mae's call for a moment, called by the ground rumbling gently from the impact of so many vehicles whizzing in and out of the city behind them, up on the highway ramps. The air smelled...weird. Maybe it was the scent of the bay water at sundown, but Alex's stomach felt uneasy.

This smell brought her right to that horrifying moment – collection of moments, bombardment of terrible moments – when she'd watched Michael drown, in those very waters out beyond the edge of land. It felt so fresh in her brain somehow, like she'd just been there in a dream she couldn't remember, just the other day.

And then everything felt...green?

Her spine shivered up, then down, the hairs on her arms prickling upward.

She hated this illogical, spontaneous sensation, and yet part of her savored it just for being something different.

She was relieved to give her overactive mind something else to do when Mae hung up their call.

"Welp," said Mae with a flat expression, tight-lipped. "Chloe's apparently...busy?" They shrugged with disbelief, exchanging a confused look with Alex. "The hell does that ever happen? I mean, like, outside of work, but Chloe's not at work right now. Apparently she's helping Max with something, I dunno."

"Couldn't convince them to drop that and come over, huh?" Alex tossed out a (useless) retroactive recommendation.

"Nahhh," Mae dribbled before sighing through fluttered lips. "Even told 'em you were comin', but Chloe was all like, 'mehhh this is super important n' shit,' or whatever. So." Shrugging again, Mae let the subject rest. Not surprising that knowing Alex was there wouldn't sway any outcome either way. Alex wasn't capable of such a thing.

The pair walked in silence under moonlight – man, it was barely even six o' clock, fucking winter...At least the trailer they sought was barely visible in the distance.

Partway there, however, Alex's phone went off.

[ Call from... ]
[ Jonas ]

"Urgh." Alex frowned at her phone, sending the incoming call straight to voicemail. She didn't have the patience for her step-brother right then. The entire point of this evening was to relax. Jonas probably didn't even know the meaning of the word.

"You OK?" Mae prodded.

"Yea," Alex huffed, shaking her head, scrolling aimlessly through notifications. "Just Jonas, probably wanting to give me the same old shit."

"Blah, ignore the idiot."

"Oh, I will."

"Tonight is a night of pleasure and joy," Mae insisted.

"But not...'Joy' joy," said Alex, referring to the drug.

"Fff, no-no, nah, just some weed, maybe we'll hit a bar or two if you're feelin' up to it..." Mae gave Alex an encouraging but somewhat awkward pat on the back. The two of them didn't engage in much physical contact, and Alex wasn't...really sure if it was something she preferred or not. But clearly Mae was weirdly reading the room well – literally, in that they shared a room, and Mae was reading how lonely Alex had been feeling. It was why they'd invited her in the first place, sort of a spontaneous thing.

Even if this wasn't her preferred pass-time, even if this wasn't someone she felt the most compatible connection with, Mae was what Alex currently had, so...she was going to appreciate it.

"Y-Yea, I mean, urh...-" Alex shrugged, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. "Whuh-...Whatever you're up for, I'm down for. Er-...? Also...up. for. I mean."

Mae shot Alex a smirk with a tilted brow in acknowledgment, then administered a knuckle to Alex's arm.

As the duo drew closer to the appointed spot Mae's dealer Frank hung out at, they could hear an eerie strumming of guitar radiating from Frank's spot, drowned out a bit by the ocean and the highway beyond, like a campfire in the rain. Melancholic strums echoed, unaccompanied by melody or lyric. It set a certain tone, for sure, as Alex and Mae approached. Not exactly the way to start a night of partying, though...

It turned out, the guitar was being played not by Frank, as Alex had assumed, but instead it was...-?

Whoa, whoa, who was this butch as fuck guitarist in the hunter's outfit over here? Just sitting in a lawn chair, plucking away at her guitar by the campfire, while Frank petted his dog. When the guitarist noticed them, they got all flustered, but continued playing. Then their eyes met Alex's. Intense. Alex wasn't sure if she was turned on or weirded out. This must've been 'Ellie,' then. A real tough chick, from the sound of it, and oof, did Alex believe it just after one look. She'd heard bits and pieces about Ellie from Mae, Gregg, and Chloe, but had never met the lady. She had a scar through her eyebrow, and her eyes felt like dirty knives with the way she glared. Supposedly, she was about Max and Chloe's age, but oof, in that single look she'd given Alex, it was like she was older in a way. Lived through some shit.

Ellie concluded her music with a light, high note, trailing the music off with some errant string plucks before setting the instrument down at her side.

"Y-You can keep playing," Alex blurted out, trying to stop herself from staring. Ffffuck, what was her problem lately? She needed to get laid, maybe? People like Sandra and Liv weren't helping with this matter, either, come to think...

"-RARRF!- RRARRF-RARF-!"

"The fuck're you two doin' 'ere?" barked Frank over his dog's literal barking. "Calm down, boy," Frank mumbled, brusquely rubbing the old dog's head to quell its lazily expressed caution. Guzzling a slurp of his tall can of beer, Frank popped up his chin at them. "Whurr the hell's Chloe? Thought she was s'ppos'd to be...babysittin' yoo two."

"Frank," said Ellie testily, gesturing out her wrist and lowering it toward him. "They're fine, man, Mae's cool."

"You c'mere for a freebie?" Frank groaned, running a palm down his face. "'Cuz if Chloe offered you somethin' n' she ain't here, swear to fuggin' hylia...-" He was waggling a threatening if intoxicated finger around, shaking his head.

"We came to buy some shiz," Mae said, pulling out a stack of bills they probably shouldn't have been waving around. "Payday, son."

"Son? I'm old'nuff to be yer dad," Frank groaned, his palm still over his face, as if he'd gotten to sleepy to remove it after the previous gesture.

"Sell me some weed, Uncle Frankie," Mae jeered, slapping their cash against their opposing hand and sticking out their tongue.

"Rrrrrgh," was all Frank had to say. His musty pupper licked at Frank's face-covering hand and nudged it off with its nose before resting his chin against Frank's stomach. Aw. What a good old boy.

"Ffsss," Ellie hissed out an amused sound as she pushed herself up out of her chair. "Don't mind that asshole, he's just had a rough week. His ex is back in town, been kicking up a hornet's nest."

"Sounds fun," Alex said stupidly, trying to make herself get noticed at all like literally any way notice her please aaaaaand hating her selfish idiocy all the while. She couldn't get some relaxant substance in her system fast enough. The Joy she'd been taking had been helping, but the weird part was that Joy, despite its name, was supposed to make you feel nothing. Make you feel numb. Strangely, it did not do that for Alex. It didn't exactly make her feel joyful, but it made her feel more than she did otherwise? Is how she'd describe it?

A-Anyway, she had to stop thinking about that, she was here to unwind, have fun, ignore everything else in her life for a single night.

Gently setting her guitar down on the gravel beneath her, Ellie walked up to them, gave Mae a fist bump, and paused at Alex, nodding simply.

"You this 'Alex' chick Mae rooms with?" Ellie asked.

"Ah, y-yea, I...-" Alex nodded, sniffed, and rocked on her toes a little, arms crossed over her chest. "You're Ellie, right?"

"Thaaaat's me," Ellie slowly and tiredly confirmed. "If you're here for a chill time, you've picked a good night. We've got no business goin' on, but...-" She nodded her head off toward Frank's rusty RV. "I mean, you look ready to have a good time," Ellie pointed out, bobbing her chin up as she glanced at the cash in Mae's hand. Mae nodded in confirmation. "Well, not gonna turn down a sale on a week like this," Ellie sighed, scratching at her greasy head. Rubbing at her nose, she sniffed and offered, "I can set ya up, since he's-...Well." She shrugged a shoulder at Frank, who was cradling his can of beer at his side as he drifted off to sleep. His dog circled at his feet, then curling up on the ground to start dozing off, as well.

As Mae and Ellie worked out financing by the RV's entrance, Alex stood and stared at the bearded man in his lawn chair. So much for 'dangerous,' huh? Hard to believe this grumpy coot could hurt anybody.

The ocean wasn't far behind old Frank. It was actually a beautiful sight. But off in the distance, was that...-? Was there someone...-?

Michael?

Sitting on a dock down a stretch, why did that look like Mike?

Nope. Nope. Nope.
That was impossible.

Alex rubbed at her tired eyes. No one there. Yea. Just seeing things. Yup. Dark, far away, tired, eyes playing tricks.

It was...a nice view, though. Celeste Mountain, cradling the city against the ocean, was reflecting the moonlight nicely. Alex could see the opposite side of Arcadia's night life across the bay, its visage mirrored in the water in the distance. Something about the sight gave her déjà vu, sending a strange tingle up her thighs as she thought about...Sandra. For some reason.

Oh. Well, of

course she thought of Sandra. This was the kind of moment to take a picture. She was inspired.

Alex took a photo with her phone – of the ocean, that was, with the campfire embers in the foreground. Her phone's small camera couldn't quite do the lighting justice, but it was better than nothing. She picked a filter she found eerie, surprised she even got reception out here – barely – and came up with a caption.

[ Like dark glass moving ]
[ Sliced in half by fractal white ]
[ Below as above ]

[ #haiku #ParadoxicalPix ]

She uploaded it to her social media, secretly hoping Sandra would notice it and comment on her attempt at poetry. She knew Sandra followed her 'Paradoxical Pix' account, and had left a comment on every single post thus far – even the ones prior to them meeting. Surely, adding a poem to one would pique Sandra's interest, right? The prospect made Alex a little giddy in an irrational way.

Ellie had grabbed a couple of grody-looking plastic chairs – the kinds you usually put out by swimming pools – and set them on the opposite side of the fire she and Frank were sitting around.

"Oh, thanks, I'll...-" Alex was not sitting in one of those things. "Ya know, I'm...actually good?" She got cozy, cross-legged in the cold gravel. Next to the fire, she'd warm up quick enough. She preferred sitting like this, anyway.

Ellie shrugged, "Each their own," and got back to her own camping chair – with a cup holder built into the arm, currently holding a bottle of Cinderbrick Stout. So Ellie was a Cinderbrick kinda gal, huh? OK, OK...Noted.

Mae sat down in the chair Alex had almost sat in, a bong in hand.

"Each their own," Mae parroted, lighting up the bong and letting smoke fill the chamber. She took a hit, coughing with delight, and passed it on to Alex.

"Each their own," Alex concluded, watching the round, glass container slowly fill with smoke, swirling around on itself, taking up more and more space, cramming its form into an increasingly insufficient container. Just as she felt impatient eyes on her, Alex held the tube up to her lips and took in a nice, strong inhalation.

Lungs burning.
Coughing. Choking.
Too much inside. Too much.
Couldn't hold it.
Couldn't breathe...-!

- green -

-...until she could again.

Wheezing, Alex's vision blurred a little as she leaned over, passing the bong back to a chuckling Mae. Her chest stung from the smoke she'd just inhaled. It was simultaneously painful but invigorating and relaxing, all at the same time. Alex took a moment to soak in the atmosphere around her as Mae lazed back into their chair, bong in their lap.

Ellie began to strum at her guitar again, and Alex couldn't help but admire the worn, rowdy-rough look to the woman's hands, her freckled face, the scar in her eyebrow. Her hands seemed to be shaking a little as she tried to play her instrument. Hm, maybe she was a little cold? It was winter, even if the temperature had eased up a bit recently. The fire felt nice, but the scent of ocean air was, like the marijuana smoke, a painful thing to breathe in, despite relaxing her, as well.

"Rrgh, fuckin'...-"

Ellie had stopped playing suddenly, grumbling to herself.

"Huh?" Alex prodded, trying to show concern.

Ellie shook her head at Alex, dismissing her curiosity. Ellie then flicked wrist out, re-positioned herself, and went back to playing her guitar. Mae was staring up at the stars, their eyes glazed over, lips open a little. At least they looked relaxed. Now Alex had to get there.

Alex happily let herself get lost in the reverberating sounds.

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"Mr. Dreemur, the Council's not simply going to sit back and-"
"Asgore," the Mayor firmly said, continuing to walk down the hall, not heeding her.
"Mr. Asgore," Isabelle sighed, attempting to keep up with her short legs.

Isabelle wondered if perhaps she hadn't come dressed...formally enough for this soiree. Flat turquoise shoes, navy blue slacks (a bit too big on her, and her belt was uncomfortable), her trusty orange winter jacket over a white blouse...Hm, her lucky bell ribbon hair tie didn't set the tone too well, so she'd left her favorite hair tie back at the office, but her hair was not conditioned to be in anything but a rowdy ponytail at the moment. She had helped with formal events before, but it always felt a bit odd when they were this formal. She was a government worker, not a member of high society.

Clearing her throat and speeding her heel-tipped steps to catch up with the Mayor, Isabelle tried again, swiping at her phone as she multi-tasked – reviewing the evening's schedule while also trying to make her concerns known.

"The Council is not going to just sit and watch Zaibatsu continue meddling with the Mountain's infrastructure, especially with the mines in such a state of disrepair. Further tunneling into Celeste could present serious safety hazards! Now, I know you have ties to Misters Ogundimu and Sandalwood, I'm sure they're...well-meaning gentlemen, but personal biases should not impact how procedure is followed. I've gone over the documentations, and it's not looking like this 'Aperture' facility is a good idea; not after what FutureGadget has already implemented. Those two companies have been at each other's throats for years, and I just...don't see why they'd suddenly...-" She trailed off, fluttering her lips in a sigh.

Mr. Asgore wasn't even listening to her. He had paused at the edge of the hall, just before it opened up into the main lobby of City Hall, leaning his cane in front of him with both palms pressed together at its top. At the top of the cane rested a brass sculpture in the shape of a goat's head, its weathered metal horns curling backward. He was rubbing his thumb against one of the horns methodically, his posture tense. Clearly, something else was on his mind.

"Um...Sir?" Isabelle prodded, letting her phone hang to her side.

"Izzy," Asgore said tiredly, using a nickname she did not prefer coming from him.

"Miss Shizue," Isabelle corrected, affirming her surname. If he wanted to get all bothered over names and titles this evening, why, she'd do it right back. He was her boss. Not her friend. He'd been ensuring that clarification quite a lot recently. Maybe he was being petty over her spending time with his ex-wife? Isabelle didn't know, but she knew they both still had a duty to serve to the people of Arcadia, and with everything going on that year, getting caught up in personal squabbling helped no one.

"Yes." Asgore stroked his beard, then took off his spectacles. "Yes, Miss Shizue," he murmured, cleaning his eye-wear on a cloth from his breast pocket. "This is a gala, is it not?"

"Wh...-?" Isabelle was suddenly struck with a wrecking ball of self-awareness.

"Can we please reserve shop-talk for working hours?"

"This-...This is a public event, Sir. We are hosting a charity event, this isn't just a party, we're not celebrating. This is about the deaths of bombing victims, this is-"
"Quite right, yes. Yes, yes, of course. We are not celebrating tragedy."

Adjusting his bowler hat, Asgore breathed out a raspy huff, shaking his head.

The irony of his statement struck a nerve, as Isabelle was forced to acknowledge, at least to herself, what a cheery, bright atmosphere lay sprawled before them.

Asgore then pressed, "Since we're not celebrating, should that mean we instead disrespect them by spending time dedicated to their memory attempting to unravel some conspiracy you're manufacturing?"

Isabelle's heart skipped at the glare in Asgore's eye. He never talked to her like this! It was like some...shadow he was casting that she'd not seen before was staring her down.

Asgore clinched the conversation with, "Are you so desperate to feel useful right now that you're actively looking for problems to solve that don't exist?"

"I...-"

Isabelle was dumb-struck. What had gotten into him? Sure, he was acting more stiff and focused than usual – this was a whole public appearance for him and all, she understood that. He was always good at presenting well when he needed to, but it was all a facade, a mask she helped him wear. Asgore Dreemur was a bit of an oaf, truth be told.

Somehow, this – the impatient irritation in his eyes, the exhausted wrinkles on his forehead, the poison-laced edge to his voice – this somehow didn't feel like a mask so much as defensive lashing out.

Being confronted with this was immediately causing Isabelle's eyes to water up. Fear, anxiety, shock? Take your pick. It was spooky, was what it was! She had to get out of there for a second.

She'd, um, she'd go to the restroom, check in on Toriel. That poor woman's child had gone missing, maybe Isabelle could assuage her distraught acquaintance. Friend? Were they friends? Isabelle liked to think so, but-...Hm. If she wasn't friends with Mr. Asgore, then...-

Mr. Asgore was beckoning someone in the distance.

"You can go," Asgore commanded warily, his brows settling low. With his gaunt face pointed out toward the public, his narrowed eyes slid sideways at her, sending a gut-churning sensation through her.

"R-Right, Sir, apologies," Isabelle spat with a hasty bow. Avoiding that callous look, she fumbled toward an apology. "I wasn't-...I didn't mean to-..."

"It's fine, it's fine, just...-" The old man sighed raggedly, picking up his hat briefly to slick his white hair back. Setting his hat back on his skull, he advised, "Get a hold of yourself. And please stop pestering me with these 'concerns' of yours unless there are forms to sign."

Akande Ogundumi was approaching – the Chief Financial Officer of Zaibatsu. He was dressed in his golden sunglasses, his broad shoulders were once again garbed in a pristine white suit, just like the previous time she'd seen him. His stout features simultaneously conveyed confidence and impatience no matter what expression they formed. His bald head was practically shining in the golden light of the main hall as he drew close.

"There you are, friend," his deep voice called out to the Mayor as he approached, a woman latched to one of his intimidating arms. She looked pleased enough to be there with him but disinterested in the proceedings around them. "I was starting to wonder if you'd show your face."

"Aha, yes, yes..." Mr. Asgore nodded, scratching his nose a bit. "I've been preoccupied with matters of the state this evening." A heavy pause hung over the lot of them as the music in the background simmered down. Isabelle tried to scan Mr. Ogundimu's face, but he was ignoring her. After an awkward cough, Asgore said, "Miss Shizue, aren't you meant to be assisting with the hors d'oeuvres?"

Isabelle felt her jaws tighten against one another, but she kept her lips closed and her eyes stern. She could not see Mr. Ogundimu's eyes upon her, but she could see the skeptical way his brow lifted in her direction.

She firmly replied, "Ah, shortly, yes, I'm going to be assisting with that." Her eyes sheepishly darting to the floor when she realized everyone was looking, she mumbled out, "I'll...go prepare for the task." She bowed stiffly. "Mr. Asgore. Sir."

Every muscle in her body trembling with tension, Isabelle scampered away, like a dog with her tail between her legs. The belting, deep laughter of Mr. Ogundimu from behind rattled her as her legs wobbled to get away. Isabelle was able to hide herself in the first floor restroom. She didn't actually need the facilities at that moment, but she did desire some privacy – some time to distance herself from the strange tension she had just experienced. Asgore had been acting more and more irritable as of late, especially since that bizarre meeting with Ms. Vaswani and Ogundimu. That didn't mean he should take that stress out on her. She was doing her best! She was trying to think ahead! Back when Arcadia had been a mining town, it was a lack of planning, a lack of following procedure, which had led to so many problems...Thankfully, the industrial tide had turned, and the city had been reborn as a technological hub thanks to tech and research companies planting their roots down.

Regardless, Isabelle couldn't shake the feeling that the town was heading down a similar path of near-sighted foolhardiness, only there wouldn't be a lucky safety net this time.

Maybe the Mayor wanted to ignore everything for months on end, pretend this city didn't exist when he was too bothered to concern himself. But Isabelle was always there, always diligent, always working, come dark realm or high water, for the good of the city, and what thanks did she get?

She got to serve hors d'oeuvres.

Sniffling and coughing a bit as she cleared her throat and steadied her breathing, Isabelle blinked rapidly to loose any tears out, then dried her damp eyes with her wrist, dialing up a contact on her phone. She plopped herself down on the couch perpendicular to the restrooms entrance.

[ Calling... ]
[ Toriel ]

[ "Yes? Isabelle?" ]

"Mm...-Hrrm-hrm-," Isabelle cleared her throat. "T-Toriel, um...How are you holding up?"

[ "Not at all well, I'm afraid. The doctors who lost my child are incompetent and the police don't at all seem to be taking me seriously. Do you have any news?" ]

"I, um-...I was more...hoping to check with you, in case anything had developed, and so...-" Her voice withered as she felt that sagging sense of uselessness kicking in.

[ "No sign of them? None at all?" ]

"Sorry," she replied to Toriel, seated on a small couch against the bathroom wall. "I'm sorry," she repeated, softer this time. Eyes closed, head clasped in one palm, she took in a slow breath before carrying on. "I, um-...I have checked with the officer in charge of security tonight. Gave them a head's up, just in case, along with my number. So, I mean...if Frisk does show up, I should know pretty quickly. And then, of course, you...will also know...pretty quickly."

[ "...Mm." ]

Drumming her fingers in her lap with her eyes still closed, all Isabelle could picture was that unsettling glint in the Mayor's eyes. Toriel's low-key warnings about her ex-husband were reverberating through Isabelle's skull. Was he truly engaging in...nefarious dealings in the shadows? Urf, such a dramatic way of phrasing it! Of course he wasn't. Asgore Dreemur, a mastermind? Not in the slightest. That bumbling man couldn't even keep his desk organized. He couldn't even drink a cup of coffee without spilling it on something. If anything, others were manipulating him, and he was bending beneath their will. That Vaswani – her eyes had pierced through Isabelle like swords when she'd kicked Isabelle out of their suspiciously short meeting. She'd grabbed Isabelle on the shoulder – and it had hurt a bit!

And the words Ms. Vaswani had said – and the way she had said them:
'Know your place.'
A shudder shot up Isabelle's back as she recalled the image, which had stuck with her ever since. And now, great, lovely, she had a similar moment from Mr. Asgore etched into her memory, too! His grip was even more scary...

Isabelle felt powerless about the whole thing. It was incredibly discouraging.
After so many years of service, how could Asgore be suddenly folding under some pressure?

A stranger who had already been using the restroom when Isabelle had entered had flushed a toilet, jarring Isabelle from her worries.

[ "-very, well, difficult, as of late." ] Oh, dear. Isabelle had...lost track of the conversation a little. She was fairly tired from having helped organize this event. She was even pulling a shift, technically – unpaid, of course – helping with catering. This was her break. And she was spending it trying to convince Asgore to wake up, and trying to help Toriel feel better. [ "I mean, you likely recall their...outburst the other day." ]

"At the, erm, at The Roost?"
Right, Frisk had a bit of a tantrum at the coffee shop when I was with them...

[ "Mm, yes. I'm so sorry about that, I'm just glad that was the worst you saw of it..." ]

"Oh, yes, that was...-" Isabelle blanked on a word to use, watching the stranger in the restroom use the sink. "...Yesss. Very, um, worrying?"

[ "Exactly..." ]

Whew.

"What happened, Toriel? I mean, for them to run away on you like that. I can't imagine you'd have given them reason to leave..." As the bathroom stranger left, a stunning woman in a form-fitting, wide-skirted dress of bright red entered. From her lower angle on the couch, Isabelle couldn't help but notice the woman's lower right leg had a black dragon tattoo inked into it. Oh, wow, and her golden hair was amazing. She looked like a model or something. Isabelle was struck with a tinge of envy. If only Isabelle looked like that, no doubt she'd be having an easier time getting all of these politics to work in her favor...as loathe as she was to consider it.

The beautiful woman, reading her phone, headed for one of the stalls without incident, as did Isabelle with her chat.

"I-I mean, you're so sweet," Isabelle continued her train of thought. "Too sweet. Why would they leave you? M-Maybe they felt...smothered, or...-?"
[ "I...think it may be a bit more complicated than that." ]

"Oh." Isabelle rummaged through her coat pockets, pulling out a half-emptied pack of Pop Star chewing gum. Sliding a single round piece of gum out, she wondered, "How so?" Staring at the adorable smile printed on the gumball, Isabelle reflected on how Toriel seemed far too nice to deserve this kind of drama, especially after what she'd been through with her two previous children.

[ "To be honest with you, Isabelle, I'd much rather not discuss it at the moment." ]

Chucking the soft, hollow gumball into her mouth, Isabelle hummed her acknowledgment.

Speaking through one cheek, she replied, "I understand. Is there anything else I can do to help? I...should get back to the party in a moment, but if you need...-"

[ "It's all right. I...apologize for my mood, everything is just...-" ]

"O-Oh, no need to apologize, it's really understandable. I'll...keep my eyes and ears peeled, and let you know if anything turns up. Frisk will turn up soon, I'm sure of it!"

[ "Well, I truly appreciate your support. Really." ]

"Happy to help! Um-! B-But not happy that this is happening..."

[ "Mm. I suppose I'll let you get back to your evening..." ]

"I'll call you again later tonight, either way."

[ "Certainly. Thank you, Isabelle." ]

"You're welcome."

From her stall, the golden-haired woman on the toilet was tapping the toe of her foot with some impatience against the bathroom floor.

Staring down at her phone, she could see her 'partner' had sent another message.

[ What's TAKING SO LONG? ]-
[ Do you have eyes on the target or not? ]-

By the Trinity, this guy was a real piece of work. She hated collaborating with him, but didn't have a choice. In the end, though, his particular brand of assistance was, admittedly, invaluable, given her current state of affairs.

[ We aren't going to get another opportunity like this! ]-

He was extremely persistent and impatient, though. Probably used to always getting his way, she figured.

[ Are you THERE Amber? ]-

Rachel sighed as quietly as she could given how much frustration was building within her.

As she waited for this dorky woman she'd passed by to leave the bathroom, she texted a reply.
-[ The target is filling up on food. ]
-[ I'm trying to retrieve our client's cache. ]

She double checked the instructions she'd been sent regarding this:

[ Ground floor; East-side restroom ]-
[ Stall furthest from the entrance ]-
[ Second tile from the wall. ]-

Glancing up, she confirmed that, indeed, the ceiling here was constructed from worn-out acoustic tiles laid on a T-bar grid. In other words, her backup items would be found right above her.

The sink ran for a moment as Rachel contemplated her plan of attack. The target was unlikely to go far – by Rachel's estimation, they had yet to make a donation on behalf of their organization. So they were still obligated to stick around. Rachel still had time.

The paper towel dispenser was used – a single sheet – and a couple moments later, the door swung open.

Rachel popped off her heels, letting them fall to the tiled floor, and cautiously climbed on top of the porcelain lid to the toilet she'd been perched upon. Peering over the edge of the stall's walls, she could confirm the couch was now empty – and the rest of the stalls were emptied, as well.

She was clear for a moment – and a moment was all she would need.

Standing atop the toilet, she reached her hands up, gently nudging the tile closet to the wall up and back slightly. Reaching her hands into the dark space above, she retrieved a leathery bag from the indicated second tile, pulled it out – an inconspicuous handbag – and replaced the crusty, water-stained ceiling tile she'd moved.

Phase one was complete.

Everything looked in order.

The first thing she put to use from her kit was a bluetooth earpiece, which she synced up to her phone, and initiated a call with her 'partner.'

[ "About damn time!" ]

"It's called maintaining cover, you prick."

[ "Yea, yea...Get your ass back out there, and maintain visual on the target." ]

Through an exasperated sigh, Rachel replied, "Roger that..."

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

The place was stuffy, fucking clean, too clean!Pearl hated it. Everyone stunk of fake. OK, not, like, literally everyone, you know what she meant. Basically everyone.

It was pretty weird, in that funny way that's dumb. What was the-...? Ironic, yea, that's it.

It was ironic. Oof. Pearl was fucking tired, the fuck was she so tired? She took a nap. Nayru's sake, man. Couldn't even think straight, head was-
"Not a bad party, hunh?" came the gruffy voice of this prick they were fuckin' hand-tied into talking with. Dawson here was the fool who ran that big news site, the fool who'd used that site and his grubby gross hands to cause Pearl a whole ton of hassle she did not fucking need not long ago.

But Red was being a class-act gal for them, here, and asked them to play nice with the press, so...here they were. Workin' through a parade of website and magazine peeps, now ending with this man who'd been making the rounds on all the poor chicks here, prolly.

"Care for a drink, ladies?"

"Sure," Pearl blurted out, gazing around the hall absent-mindedly. She refused to look the asswipe in the eye after what he did last time. Least this stupid interview was out in public, so the dickweed couldn't pull any of that shit. If he fucking breathed on her Marina the wrong way, she'd pop his face so fast...

"Uh...-" Before Marina could say nothin', there was a bottle of fizzy shit, boom. Bottle already opened. Glasses set down, too, ready to go. Carried right to the table by some purple-haired, purple-clothed, purple-eyeglassed twitchy little bean of a girl. Seemed like an intern.

"That the good stuff?" Donovan checked, all grumpy.

"Mm." The girl nodded obediently. Shittttt, was she afraid of him. Good reason, too. Farore knew what the hell bullshit this guy put her through on a daily basis, man.

Run, gurl. Run far away as you can from this asswipe...

But the girl didn't run. Like Pearl, like Marina, like the rest of 'em, she just smiled, nodded, played like this shit was all cool when it wasn't. They all pretendin' like this utter garbage pile of a man was OK, like everything around him was OK.

Wasn't OK.

Everyone had to smile for the fuckin' cameras. How that shit worked. Was what it was.
Pearl hated it, but knew it was true.

"'Atta girl, Kim," said the bald-headed prick, waving his hand at her like she were his servant or some shit. "Now get back to that camera, needs the new battery."

Pearl watched the poor chick rush over to the camera set up next to their table. This stupid banner was stuck up on a stand next to 'em, had the website's logo on it and all that. They were set up in a corner of the lobby, with the shindig goin' on right around 'em.

Red was taking another turn at the main stairway, their stage for the night. She was singin' another one of her songs. Wasn't really Pearl's thing but she could tell Marina was all into it, focusing on Red singin' to try and avoid contact with this fool who had dared laid a hand on her and wasn't gonna lay a hand on her ever again else Pearl would throw him fucking down.

Did Red know what had gone down with Dawson? Prolly not. Or maybe she did and was just better at pretending. Fuck knew, fuck cared, was what it was, right? Red was a hot item, prolly knew she had to play that game to stay in that game.

But Pearl and her Marina let themselves ignore the man as he got up to pour champagne. They held hands beneath the table, and Pearl could just feel how annoyed Rina was with this shit, with this man, just from the way the blood pumped through Rina's fingertips.

So they listened to Red for a minute.

[ "When she shines for me at night,
And her skies show green and white,
She will keep us in her sight.
We all lie beneath her light."
]

"She's somethin', ain't she?" Dawson grunted, sliding a glass full of fizzy booze-juice to Pearl. He filled one up for Marina and set it before her. Neither of 'em replied to him, so he stuck his chin up to Red like they didn't know who he was talkin' 'bout. "Ya ask me-" (we didn't) "-lady like that? She oughtta stick to singin', 'stead of this...-" He wiggled his hand at the party-goin' peeps all around. "-...political shit." He took a sip of his drink as he sat himself down across the table from them, grumbling, "Doesn't suit a refined woman to be gettin' her hands dirty over that crap, stickin' her nose into city affairs. Entertainers do society best when they're entertaining, know what I mean?"

Pearl looked sideways to Marina. Hooo, Rina did not like what he'd said. Normal person? Wouldn't be able to tell. But oooh Pearl could tell...

Neither of 'em said anything still.

Dawson stared at 'em, his fat nose twitchin'.

Pearl really could've used a drink right then, so she had at it. Ooof, stuff was stronger'n she expected. Good, though. She took a second swig. When in Gerudo, do as the Gerudo do, right? Drink the fancy drink, eat the fancy cakes, blabla. Had to play the game to stay in the game...

"See you two are in a real talkative mood tonight," said Dawson with his petty bitter laugh. "Hey, Kim, that camera up yet?"

"J-Just about, Sir!" poor girl squeaked.

Pearl nudged Marina's thigh with her knee, leaning in to whisper in Inklish, "Yo, Rina, we really doin' this?"

"Shh," Marina shushed her? Dafuggg?

"Oh, come on," huffed Dawson at their whispers. "You think I'm happy to be stuck talking with you two?"

"I think you get off on it, either way," shots fired by Marina, yo! She sipped at her champagne like it was some hotttt teaaaa,,, tho!

Pearl drank more of hers, too, eyes wide as she watched where this shit was gonna go. That poor intern was swooping over, doubled checking Dawson's shirt mic.

With a sadistic laugh from his nose, Dawson came back like, "I think my readers get off on all you self-important divas, meaning that even when you venture outside your intended lane, it's in my best interest to not skip a beat."

"Let's not skip any, then," said Marina pleasant-as-fuck but oooh mmmmm she had fire, dude. "Wouldn't want to venture into any wrong lanes."

Dawson grinned, fool was psychotic. He looked at his intern and spun his finger round. She huddled over the camera and Pearl knew they were on. Pearl guzzled more liquid courage, gave Rina's thigh a brisk lil' rub beneath the table, and they faced this shit head-on.

After a hearty fucking laugh, the prick shook his head at his intern, who gave them a thumbs up from behind her camera. And so the bullshit began.

"Welcome back to the Augmented Eye, live from the Beacon of Hope Gala in downtown Arcadia. Next up, we have Off the Hook, fresh from their performance tonight. You know, ladies, it's...truly inspiring, seeing so many outsiders swooping into our good city to pitch in, lend a hand. These bombings have impacted more Arcadian lives than I think most realize. Now, I have to ask, wh

Actually?

Know what?

Nah.

Fuck all this.

Fuck this noise, ya'll know how it is. Smiles, polite stuff, shootin' the shit, promoting what needs a shoutout...Buncha words, but nothin' really gets said, you feel? Pearl wasn't about it. But she'd be a nice girl. Drink her drink, smile and nod...

Few minutes went by, Pearl barely spoke a sound. Prick didn't deserve it.
Felt bad, letting Mar-Mar do all the work. Was better than Pearl sayin' what she shouldn't say, though, right?

Pearl tuned outta the shit, let herself get lost in the sounds of the party. Red's music died down a bit, got all mellow, and by the time the interview was over, that belly-dancin' chick was making her way through a thick crowd of oglers, meet-n-greetin' like a champ. Pearl couldn't help but stare a little herself – damn, how'd that lady pull off baggy breaker pants, panties all showin', not even a full SHIRT, the fuck? What kinda outfit was that, at a place like this? Dang...Woman was tight, though, Pearl wouldn't lie 'bout that. The honkin' purple hair was a lil' dumb, maybe, but somehow the chick made it work with all that red? Owned the look, dead-ass about it somehow. Total respect.

"-'m sure will make a difference to the affected citizens of Arcadia."

"That's...all we can hope for," said Marina, taking Pearl's hand and lifting it up, setting it on the table for the camera to see. "We all...cope in different ways," she said, looking at Pearl with some worry.

Fff fff

Pearl sniffed, her head feeling light as she tried to nod, then gave up, nope, head might flop over if she tried that crap, wouldn't be able to put it back in place...

Pearl tried to speak, but din-damn, her lips were made o' lead, took a sec to get'er goin'.

"Mmmmyeah, iss a tragic, thing, what. what happening."

...nnnnnnailed it? What was wrong with her mouth?

"It is," Marina agreed, saving face like only she could. Pearl felt weird as she watched Rina's hand squeeze her own on the table, aaaaand was that her own hand? Orrr like...? "It is tragic, what's happening these days – people worried about where the next threat might come from, whether or not they're safe walking home from work. The best we can do is remain vigilant, remain calm, and give back to those less fortunate than we are, however we can."

"Lovely words from a lovely woman."

"Ha." Marina laughed but rrreeeeeeeshe wanted to smack his face, tho.

"Before we let you enjoy the festivities, here, why don't you remind Arcadia of what else you're up to in town this month?"

"We're gearing up to help host the biggest Battle of the Bands you've ever seen," Marina shilled. "New Year's Eve, outskirts of town, at the base of Celeste Mountain. All the artists here tonight? They'll be there, too. Even the Squid Sisters, so you best believe we're gonna be puttin' up a fight, ain't that right?"

Pearl nodded, grunted, laughed. Hrrrrhggghhhgghffff oo-rahhh yo yo URRGHHH gon' tear that shit up WUT WUT!.!.!

Rina had to calm Pearl down, she'd started laughing like she was on some kinda giggle juice.

"Is she all right?"

"What, Pearl? She's good, she's...just real jazzed up, Shantae's up next, so...-"

"I see..."

"Well!" Marina had taken Pearl up to her feet – woooff. "We'd better...go get out there," Rina said, excusing them from this bullshit. "I see Red's wrappin' up, we don't wanna miss what she has to say, so...-"

"Thanks for your time. Off the Hook, folks."

This champagne, tho, yo. Had a real kick like she couldn't believe. Pearl was struggling just to stand, to walk, owwwww, errhghhggghhh...

They wandered to the crowd huddled by the stairway Red was using for a stage.

"You OK, Pearlie?" whispered Marina into Pearl's ear. "You're looking a little...unsteady. And you were acting weird back there."

Pearl was fuckin' dazed, dude. What. The effing a-through-z.

This 'party' was, tbh, pretty lame. Red was gorge, beaut, nice, very. Red meant all the nice stuff, she did, no bullshittin'. This purple-ponytail chick waitin' to sing, ehhhh, Pearl had a good gut feeling buuuut the lady seemed a little fake like the rest of 'em. Maybe just more thirsty for gazers than Pearl liked in someone, like she...-!

Ffffff-

Pearl tripped."Pearl-!" Marina hissed, catching her girl by the back, and setting her up straight like a bolling pin. Bowling pin? Eugh."I didn'...- " Pearl was trying to communicate.

She was feeling...out of it. Like she was on something. But she didn't take anything! Serious! No wayyyy some piddly champagne coulda wreckt here likt his. Made no fucking sense, bruh. What. Was going. On here.

Worst part wasn't even that she wasn't feeling sober, but that she couldn't even appreciate not feeling sober, for a multiplitications...of reasons?

"Let's...-" Marina was escorting Pearl, whose legs were having hellllla trouble cooperating. Knew these heels were the worst. Idea. Literally. Worst. Would never caught be dead in this, made me come here, stupid suit, dumb shoes! Ohhhh, ho-ho, but this, this, thissss is some fancy-ass hoity-toity shit, had to dress upppp n' look all pretty n' poshy pearl, I hate this-

Hurrffff-
Almost upgushed some o' that drink. Gughh.
Nah, nahhhh good, we good. We good!

Oh. Oh we sitting now? Eh? Sittin'? Out in the back, here? In this hallway or something? Hidin' our asses out back in the dark, this old-timey shit all on the walls, n'...-

"Are you OK? What the hell...-?" Rina was talking, but...-?

Took Pearl's fucking brain a sec to process words.

Wake the fuck up.

"What is wrong with you?" Marina whispered, her voice like hot coals dumped all over Pearl's face. "Can you be quiet? Red's trying to talk out there."

"Wh-? I wasn't...-"

Ah, fuck.

"You were just rambling, Pearlie. Being super disrespectful. Kinda not OK."

Ah. Yea. Fuck. She'd said some of that crap out loud, huh? Hopefully in Inklish...?

Where had this started, again?

Ironic.

Ironic. YEEAAAA yea yea yea yeayeayea, that asshole!

Everyone here was a fake but that one asshole, that reporter prick, the bald one with the gross stache!

"think he put somethin' in my somethin'," Pearl snarled quietly at Marina, feeling her eyelids sagging.

"What?"

"Dawwwwson," seethed Pearl through her teeth, her eyes squinted shut as her head swam in 'somethin'.'

Donovan D. Dawson.

That asshole.

Ohhhh, they'd done their stupid fuckin' interview for him. Champagne, he poured it n' they weren't looking. Shit shit shit fffffuccckkking fucker cunthole, he was the one who gave Pearl her drink, hadn't he? POURED IT himself.

Yea, yeayea, she remembered. Thought she did. Maybe makin' it up?
Ooof. This was...-

"A mess. You're a mess, Hime, what the...-?"

Marina felt tears forming at the edges of her eyes. She hurt, seeing Pearl like this. Sure, whatever, having a good time, a little blunt, a little booze, here or there...not really Marina's thing, but Pearl could be cute, in a way, when they partook in that stuff. But this, no, Marina recognized this, this was the even-worse-stuff. This made Pearl stop acting uninhibited and start acting like...fucking nothing. Like she was nowhere, inside her own head. Marina loathed it. It physically ached her, right in her gut, in her chest, to see her love like this. It wasn't the first time, but Marina had thought that hospital trip would've been the last.

'think he put somethin' in my somethin'.'

It was possible Pearl was just spouting gibberish. But Marina didn't think this was something Pearl would've managed to put together in words if not for a reason. And there was precedent with this...-

Well.

Donovan Dawson was an asshole. She'd admit it, she'd go so far as to use the word. She hated having to play nice with him – but they'd promised Red...

It was no wonder *Kira* Mikki had turned down Red's request to perform at this show. Marina had wished she had known about this sooner, but, ah. Maybe Red was just too protected to have to deal with Dawson like this. Maybe she knew how to keep him in check. Marina didn't know. But if it was true – if he had drugged her Pearlie – then that made this shit a pattern, officially, and Marina would not abide.

She had connections, and wasn't afraid to use them if she had to to protect her Hime.

As Marina's brain had nearly short-circuited trying to sort this out, one of the officers doing security detail at the event approached the pair. The couple was seated on an old wooden bench in a back hallway down the west wing, near one set of restrooms. Marina had chosen to take refuge from the main floor as soon as she noticed Pearl looking unwell.

"Everything all right, here?" asked the guard, keeping their distance respectful but their tone concise.

The officer carried themselves sternly and rigidly. Their nametag read: { F. AMARI }

"Is your companion in need of medical attention?" asked the cop.

Marina reminded herself that they'd been having this convo in Inklish, so Marina had to shift her tongue's gears around to the local language.

"I, um-..." Marina hesitated. "I think she might be sick. Someone-..."

The second Marina got the authorities involved, she had no guarantees this wouldn't blow up.

Which was exactly what that asshole wanted, no doubt. For Pearl to 'mess up' again, in public, at an event like this? The shame they'd have to endure from Red alone was an unbearable idea to Marina.

Finishing her thought to the officer, Marina changed course.

"Someone should look after her while I...-" She rose from the bench, running a hand across Pearl's head gently. "-...go arrange for someone to get us a ride home."

"Understood," said 'Amari', standing watch beside the bench with a courteous nod. They tapped the comm unit on their shoulder and muttered something into it as Marina approached the gala floor.

Red's voice was echoing through the building via the speaker system as she finished her speech from atop the luxurious stairwell at the heart of the hall's lobby.

[ "-for the victims of last month's attacks. Your generosity tonight will help families put food on their tables. It will help victims heal their wounds. It will ensure that children affected by the bombings still have a future to look forward to, unburdened by crippling debt. You're protecting families from the hands of dark fate." ] Red paused, and Marina caught her gaze as she realized just how bluntly she was stalking across the hall. She slowed her roll a little to not distract from Red's speech. [ "When I heard about these tragic events in your beautiful city, I knew I wanted to contribute, to pay respects. Where I come from – up in Cloudbank – our community is constantly adapting to fit the needs of its people. And I wanted to bring a piece of that to Arcadia tonight. But there is one man who made this evening possible, pulling so many together, uniting us around this cause. I'd like to allow that man to have his say – the man of the hour, everyone: Mr. Volfred Sandalwood!" ]

Marina was practically stopped dead in her tracks by the uproarious applause that pounded the marble walls, columns, and floors of the hall.

The CEO of Zaibatsu himself emerged from upstairs, humble and calm as he always was. Marina did admire the man's stage presence, though it was of a much different sort to her own. His appearance was a bit of a surprise, unannounced to the public. Even Marina hadn't known he'd show his face at this party. His every movement was graceful yet stiff at the same time, his slender fingers waving to the crowd upon his descent from the second story.

[ "Yes, yes. Mm. Mm-hm." ] He nodded, lowering his hand at the audience to qwell their cheers as he reached the microphone at the stairwell's plateau. [ "Many thanks, one and all, for your generosity during these difficult times. I'd like to formally announce that I will match all of the proceeds made tonight –" ] Another swell of cheering. [ "– so those of you who may still be considering your donations might have more incentive. Before our next performer graces us with her alluring presence, I'd like to take a moment to tell you all a story: a story from years ago, when I was much shorter and, if you can believe it, somewhat less strange." ] Some polite chuckles, filling the whole place like bubbles.

The press would've been swarming the place if they knew this man was here. He rarely made such appearances, formal or otherwise.

And that was where Marina would find her man – in the chaotic paparazzi scramble.

As Volfred tried to calm the crowd, multiple members of the glamorously dressed elite began taking out their phones, memorializing the moment. A quick scan of those figures swiftly directed Marina to the shining bald head of Donovan Dawson. There was no way that guy was not live-streaming this, leaving him oblivious to Marina sneaking up behind him. His intern was being a busy bee, recording the event from a safer distance with her shoulder cam.

Volfred was regaling his court with a flowery tale of his younger days working in a mail room, of graduating to running the printing press for a local newspaper, and the unfortunate mine-shaft incident which had crippled the city in his younger years. Marina knew the story, she'd seen a doc on the man at one point. Rags to riches sorta thing, going from a humble print worker to climbing the corporate ladder. Had to admit that unlike most CEOs, on the occasion the guy did show himself, he genuinely seemed to give a carp about this city he helped industrialize.

But Marina wasn't wading the crowd to fawn over some tall, dark man in a suit. She was there for Dawson. Finding herself behind him, she knew Donovan's guard was down. So she hissed into his ear – loud enough that she hoped his phone (and thus his livestream) caught it, but not so loud as to interrupt the high-decibel, high-bass projection of Mr. Sandalwood.

"Why'd you drug my girlfriend, Mr. Dawson?" She made sure to emphasize his name, giving his shoulder a tap on the shoulder with the edge of her teal fingernails. She relished in the way he flinched, and she seized the moment, swiping his phone and pointing it at him.

"The fuck're you talkin' about, y-...You?"

He made a swipe for his phone, but Marina dodged backward, leaving him to get shoved by the hungry paparazzi piranhas a little. As he squirmed around, Sandalwood's tale of rags to riches overshadowing them all, Marina flipped the camera onto herself.

"Marina – Off the Hook – coming at you LIVE from this asshole's phone. Donovan Dawson is a manipulative creep who sexually harassed me and my girlfriend earlier this year, and now he's-"

Donovan had caught up to her quicker than she'd anticipated, snagging his phone back – or trying to, knocking it to the floor.

They were starting to make a bit of a scene, so much so that Volfred had paused his speech.

Marina simply smiled and waved, cautiously backing away from the man hunched on the floor, scrambling to shut his phone's feed off.

His eyes pierced through what shield she'd built up, sending an unnerving shock through her system.

There'd be consequences for this. But then, he'd brought this on himself. She was ready to go circles around this prick if he wasn't going to leave her Pearl alone.

Firing back her best ember-glow glare, Marina muttered polite and courteous apologies as she helped the creep to his feet, keeping up appearances, as if this were some mishap. Volfred continued, but Marina's senses were entirely occupied with burning this bald fucker with her mind.

Her chest on fire, her heart racing, she whispered to him with steel syllables, "Your turn in the spotlight," before he shoved her away.

Her legs suddenly weak, she nearly toppled over as she tried to find her way back to Pearl. She'd need to get on the phone and call Sheldon, have him iron things out. They'd have to apologize to Red for leaving early, but...maybe this could become the start of an actual dialogue. If anyone they had any connection to could help with this, it was Red.

But in this damn dress, she had no pockets – Pearl was carrying both their phones that evening in her suit.

In her heart-fluttering dash to her love, Marina bumped shoulders with a startlingly radiant woman in a blood red dress.

"Sorry, excuse me," Marina warily – hastily – muttered, working her way by.

The woman, her precariously straightened golden locks shuffled out of place by the encounter, simply gave the singer in the silver, gaudy outfit a stern look, waiting for her to disappear down a hallway before resuming her scouting.

[ "What was that about?" ] asked the voice in her ear, coming through her ear piece.

"Nothing," Rachel replied, sifting her hair back into a presentable position.

[ "Why haven't you done it yet?" ] he complained. As he always seemed to. [ "We're not exactly going after someone with a skill-set you can't deal with..." ]

"It's not the right moment," Rachel explained as calmly and quietly as she could from her place at the back of the crowd. "I'm waiting until she's alone," she clarified, making sure she still had eyes on the target.

[ "Rrrrrrghhhh...!" ]

"Oh my Nayru, are you impatient," she sighed gently and tiredly. "Swear to fucking Goddess, don't they have, I don't know, something you can take for that?"

[ "Like what? From where? In this place? HOW." ]

"I don't know, but holy shit, do you need to cool your jets."

[ "You're one to talk." ]

"I am, you know? I am. Take it from me, prick, you need to find a way to calm down or you're gonna...-" Rachel could feel her arms quivering, jittering. Stinging. It was him. "Fucking A," she hissed, taking a couple steps back from the crowd to shake her arms out. "You see what you're doing?"

[ "..." ]

Dead air on the other side. Rachel flicked her wrists out – was like they were sore but had also fallen asleep. She could feel his influence still sparking about, her muscles twitching slightly and involuntarily.

There was a wave of applause as Sandalwood finished up his speech.

[ "Thank you, Mr. Sandalwood," ] said Red, swooping in to the microphone. [ "Our next performer will be with us shortly, but in the meantime, please consider speaking with one of our representatives, and remember: every dollar raised tonight will be matched by Zaibatsu to help victims of the Arcadia bombings put their lives back together." ]

The gala hall gradually buzzed with activity again as Volfred took his leave, heading upstairs.

"Maybe we should go get acquainted with him, instead," Rachel pondered, watching Sandalwood take his elongated strides up the marble steps. While she did owe the man a debt, she owed a few people some very steep debts, and that never stopped her from getting what she wanted, in the end...

[ "No," ] seethed her impatient partner. [ "What the hell is wrong with you? Stick to the plan." ]

"Yea, I was," she testily reminded, folding her twitching hands against her waist. Nails scratching over her satin dress. "Until you got trigger happy..." Rachel re-scanned the lobby.

The target was on the move.

[ "Don't lose sight of her!" ]

"I won't," Rachel insisted, her heels clacking against the polished stone of black, cloudy formations on off-white.

[ "I cannot believe I am stuck trusting you of all people with this..." ]

Rachel huffed hot air through her nostrils, pursuing the target with care. She came to a dead stop.

"We can always re-negotiate terms with the client if there's someone else you'd rather w-"
[ "Shut up, shut up, I get it, just do the job!" ]

With a smirk and a slight shake of her head, Rachel put one foot in front of the other.

"That's what I thought, dick."

[ "Remember: we need her alive." ]

"I'm aware."

So, then. Where was their target going? She looked flustered over something or other, and was on her phone, only...it looked like something was amiss. She was a portly woman, early to mid thirties, with chubby limbs and a round figure. Her skin had freckles aplenty and her blonde hair was frayed at the edges despite what appeared to be some semblance of effort at tidying it into a braided ponytail for the event. Her simplistic, flower-petal-laden dress admittedly did flatter her features, and given the ring on her finger, Rachel assumed the spouse must have picked it out. This woman did not understand presentation.

But that was fine.

They weren't after Doctor Alphys for her sense of fashion.

Stalking her from a safe distance, Rachel watched as she feigned for the east bathroom, only to take a swerve down the ornate hall, heading for a stairwell. The guard posted on that hall was preoccupied assisting one of the evening's performers, who was looked pretty...drunk? She'd still managed to stop Alphys, however, but with a citation of "I-I-...Em-Emergency, need-...need reception...-!" in tandem with the sickly singer starting to barf up over her boots.

The guard sighed out "Proceed," and shooed Alphys off.

When Rachel made her pass, and the same guard gave her a confused look, Rachel simply pointed off down where Alphys had scuttled toward, flashing her most convincing look of concern.

"That's my friend?" Rachel insisted with a slight shake of her head. "I just-...She has an important call – someone might've died? I need to be there for her, in case-...Well..." Aaaaaand a timid, squeamish look for good measure.

[ "What the hell's going on?" ] that damned voice grumbled in her ear, but she ignored him.

The officer looked forlorn, and even more so when the platinum-blonde shrimp of a performer stumbled into her, moaning in what sounded like Inklish.

"marina. Where the fuck's marina...? That asshole...if he fuggin...-"

The officer shrugged up one shoulder at the singer, and at Rachel's impatient but expectant look, shooed her off with a nod of her head.

"You both had better come back quickly," called the guard. "It's not safe up-"
"Hurrrghhh...-!"

Ugh,

disgusting. That sick singer chick was heaving and coughing and-...gross.

The guard's shoes were covered in watery vomit.

It at least served as the distraction Rachel needed.

"M-Ma'am, please, you need-..." The officer was trying to ease the sick lady toward the bathroom, but the chick had slumped over against the wall. Pressing her shoulder walkie and speaking into it, the guard flung her hand at Rachel to get on with it. Relieved but unsurprised that it had been that easy, Rachel tried to rush along as inconspicuously as she could, the guard's voice fading into the distance. "Amari here. I'm going to need that medic ASAP, Miss Houzuki is...-"

After rounding a corner, Rachel popped her heels off, discarding them by a potted plant. They'd just be a hindrance from here on out – but her handbag wasn't just for show. It had been packed with items Rachel had requested for this op. Keeping an eye – and an ear – on the direction the doctor was headed, Rachel pulled out a pair of plain black sneakers. Would've been too conspicuous to be wearing in the lobby, but...this was Phase Two.

[ "Well, that sounded messed up. Anyway, what do you think Al's doing up there?" ] he grumbled impatiently into Rachel's ear as she snuck toward the stairwell entrance – much more quietly and comfortably than she would have in heels.

Rachel hummed out a distant breath of uncertainty, intent on not giving herself away, and wondering why the hell this frustrating brat was asking her such things when she was concentrating. Reaching the metal door leading to the stairwell, she precisely grasped the handle, very slowly turning it and quietly nudging it open. She could hear Alphys' heels clattering up the stairs.

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"
Alphys' voice rebounded across the stairwell jarringly.

Easing the door closed behind her with a delicate, adroit touch, Rachel kept an ear out as she continued her stealth – this was exactly why she'd worn a dress that gave her legs a wide berth, at least.

"Frisk?" Alphys' lispy voice was whimpering. "Wh-Wh-Where are you? What-? What are...-?!"
A metal door slammed shut, instantly muffling the conversation. "...Oh. Oh, dear. That's-...No, that's not-...Frisk, you need to...-"

[ "What?" ] he was grumbling into her ear. [ "What's she saying?" ]

Rachel's chest tightened. 'Frisk?' As in, 'Subject Seven?'

Shit. Fuck. No, no, she couldn't deal with that kind of interference...

"She mentioned the kid," Rachel grunted warily, rounding her way up. The only place Alphys could've gone was the roof – which meant she'd be trapped.

[ "Wait, the kid? As in, the kid kid?" ]

"The fuck do you think?" huffed Rachel under her breath, swerving up the last corner of the well. She slowed her pace as she approached the door.

[ "Are they there?" ]

"What, at the party? No. Definitely no."

[ "Because I just saw-...Wait, wait...-" ]

"I thought you could see them," Rachel grumbled.

[ "Huh? I can! But I don't-...Argh, just shut up a second..." ]

Rachel was confused. She dismissed whatever the angry idiot was on about, readjusted her handbag's position on her shoulder, and took a moment to breathe.

want to rip his stupid smile off his stupid face tear all the fucking petals off and burn them
burn all of it all of it
he wants a reset? Ohhhhoho I'll GIVE HIM a reset
bring this whole fucking thing crashing down to...-

Deep breath.
Deeeeeeep breath.
Take your own advice, Amber.

[ "Hello?! Are you even listening to me, or what?!" ]

Rachel's fingers squeezed tightly against the door handle, her jaws clenched with frustration, an instinctual reaction to his inane commandeering.

"Trying not to but I've realized that's fucking impossible, so...-"

After an unpleasantly loud squeak from her sneakers echoed through the stairwell in her haste, Rachel had burst through the metal door, onto the roof, the cold winter air blasting over her, through her bones.

Alphys wasn't there. Baffled, Rachel could feel her eyes bugging out of her skull as she scanned the rooftop. There wasn't really much of a place to hide. The glass dome ceiling portrayed the gala below. That purple-ponytailed bimbo was taking the staircase stage – though Rachel realized she perhaps shouldn't be too hard on her own kind. Shantae was a chameleon, like Rachel was, but that slut sold her trickery far too cheaply and easily. Shantae wallowed in selling herself. It was embarrassing, so far as Rachel was concerned.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

"Heyyyyy, beautiful Arcadians~!" Shantae waved, giggling into the microphone. "Yes! Yeaaa-haah~" She strutted down the right side of the upper stairs, arriving at the wide landing above the main central stairs. "Shantae here, How're ya'll doing tonight, huh? Living your best lives? Hey, hey, save some champagne, not all of us have gotten a chance at that yet. Heh. But real talk, everyone, real talk, here. When Red told me about what all has been going on out here recently, I knew I wanted to contribute in my own way. Part of that means doing what I do best – struttin' my stuff for all you fine people – but I also want to announce that next week, I'll be co-hosting a telethon with MTT Network to continue building off of what you've all accomplished tonight. We can't undo what's happened to the victims of these attacks, but that doesn't mean we can't find ways to help them out. I'll leave it to Mettaton to announce the deets when he's ready on that, so stay tuned. Now, then – with that being said, I think it's time to get back to the show, amirite?"

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

"Uh...Yo, Max?"

Max heard Chloe's prodding but was too focused on her quarry – Rachel seemed to have disappeared from the main hall as the next performer had shown up. What was she here for, who was she after? Given the circumstances, Max was hard pressed to believe Rachel was there as a donating patron, much less-
"Max! Hey! Helllooo?!" Chloe was whispering. Why?

"What?"

Max dropped her binoculars for a second to glance to her right at her wife. Chloe was using an old as hell spyglass from their childhood as her spying tool in the absence of a second pair of 'nocs' (as she'd called them).

"We got company," Chloe explained as concisely as she could, jutting a finger across the way.

Sure enough, across the glass dome, toward the stairwell access door to the roof, there was now a woman, round in figure and seemingly unaccustomed to walking in high-heels. She looked panicked based on her fidgety body language, and Max couldn't help but find it suspicious.

Keeping a low profile, Max flicked her wrist, signaling Chloe to follow. They began circling round the hall's dome roof, keeping an eye on the odd woman. She seemed to be fussing with her phone, making some kind of call...

"-...have to use it before she finds me!"

By the time they were close, they could see the woman ended her call abruptly. She was finagling with her phone for a moment – texting someone, from the way her thumbs were moving – before jamming her device into into her faux-scale purse. Max noticed something odd: out of that same purse, the woman pulled some kind of...disc-shaped...something? She tinkered with it for a moment, then...-

What the hell?

She just chucked it from the roof. Like a damned frisbee. Lifting up something in her opposite hand, she seemed intent on watching the disc she'd just thrown sail downward toward the ground.

Max and Chloe exchanged puzzled looks before Max took initiative.

Emerging from their semi-cover against the roof's dome, Max greeted, "Hello? Is something...-?"

But before Max could finish, the woman had flinched, and then...vanished.

Just...into thin air. She left behind some kind of...trail of pink light, briefly, which quickly dissipated.

"-...the matter?" Max finished her sentence as she watched this unfold.

Chloe stood upright and stepped away from the dome, approaching the spot where the woman had just been standing.

"Did you...-?" Chloe balked, pointing at the now unoccupied spot in space.

"Yea," Max mumbled, trying to make sense of what had just transpired.

"You think she did what you do?" ventured Chloe with a befuddled shrug.

Max shook her head, rubbing at her chin as a cold breeze swept over them. Holding fast to her hat, she pondered the possibility. But, no, why come all the way up here, only to disappear like that? If she could do what Max could do, surely she'd have just avoided the pair of them entirely, right?

Besides, that pinkish, purplish light...Max wasn't familiar with it. At all. Odd.

"What was that thing she threw?" wondered Max aloud, peering over the edge of the building. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but from that height, she couldn't make out details. Pulling out her binoculars, she tried scanning the streets below them.

"Whatever it was," Chloe surmised, "doubt she came all the way up here just to play with some toy..."

Unable to pick out anything of note, Max gave up. Whoever that person was, they weren't either target. Turning away from the roof's edge and elbowing Chloe gently, she tipped her head back to the gala unfurling below them.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Alphys, safe and sound(ish) in an alleyway a block away from the venue, was carefully maneuvering over a puddle of her own vomit, dropped out involuntarily as she'd stumbled for cover off of the main street.

Good news: it seemed Olivia's estimations were correct. The translocator could work with Alphys' physiological composition, and across a decent distance, at that!

Not as good news: the signal strength was stilllll not the best, meaning Alphys had to have climbed to the roof to get a strong enough connection between the receiver and the translocation plate.

Bad news: oh-goddesses-did-using-the-tech-make-her-sick.

That had been a close one. If Frisk hadn't warned her...-

N-No. Shouldn't think about that.

[ ".. .. . . … …... . . . …" ]

She couldn't quiver into a puddle again, going down that d-dangerous line of thinking.

Her research had p-paid off, a-and...and-...

[ "..? . .. .! .. .. p.h.y.s.?" ]

Oughh. Hurf-!

S

o dazed and queasy from the jump, she flopped into the side of a garbage dumpster with a -whumpf-. Her heart was thumping harshly, her face flushed with blood as it tried to recover from the misalignment her body had just undergone.

[ "Are you all right? Doctor?" ]
The voice Alphys had just called moments ago was still trying to engage in conversation via Alphys' phone, which she'd tucked into her purse before the leap.

Awkwardly tugging the uncooperative device out from between a hairbush and a pack of chewing gum, Alphys replied.

"Yuh-...Y-Yes, Sandra. Th-Thanks, I...-" Alphys rolled from her knees onto her bottom, taking a moment to catch her wind back. Shuffling her glasses on straight, she lamented the dirt she'd gotten on the only actual dress she owned from her less-than-elegant landing. "I made it out OK. I think? I think I did...?"

[ "It would seem your little test operation was successful," ] Sandra mused, sounded very sly and taunting, as she often did.

"It would seem," Alphys repeated her confirmation, though less amused. "I-I appreciate your-...your timeliness, it...-"

[ "I'm always here to assist, Doctor." ] In the pause between Sandra's sentences, Alphys could feel the tension rising. Sure enough... [ "It's not as if I have much choice otherwise..." ]

And there it was.

"Not at the moment," Alphys sighed, trying to walk the middle line. "If things keep p-progessing, as they have, however, we can...perhaps...-" She trailed off. She was in no position to make promises.

[ "Don't forget to retrieve the plate," ] Sandra reminded, referring to the translocator. [ "Even with my help, that device is useless without both pieces." ] She was bitterly discarding Alphys' half-hearted attempt at instilling hope.

Alphys begrudgingly turned around to glance at the metallic emblem on the ground, still steaming from the energy that had been flooded through it moments prior.

"R-right," moaned Alphys, wiping a tired palm across her makeup-caked face, smearing it around a bit in her exhaustion. Upon realizing what she'd just done, she gawked at the gunk in her palm and grunted irritably.

Hobbling to the small hexagonal plate on the grungy tarmac, Alphys bent down, scooping it up, and reattached it to the core unit, still in her purse. All the while, she lamented this turn of events.

Why couldn't this party have just gone by without incident? Did everything have to devolve into some kind of emergency now? Why was Subject Seven on the loose? Why had they come to warn Alphys? And why was someone after her? Was it Vaswani? Or one of her superiors, maybe? Who'd made the call? What did they want her for, and why did she feel an awful fear about it?

Alphys' aching brain was beginning to finally level out from her metaphysical leap.

[ "Shall I remain on standby, then?" ] Sandra checked. [ "In case your assailant continues to give chase?" ]

Being able to utilize Sandra's inherent, latent abilities would certainly prove useful if the need arose. Alphys was fairly certain that even that overgrown dandelion wouldn't be able to track them.

"Puh-Please do, yes," Alphys instructed, setting her phone to rest on her round stomach as she let her arms sag to her sides, whimpering out her exhaustion.

[ "Should I arrange for transportation?" ]

"Uh-...Uh, um, what...-?"

[ "A Warp Whistle." ]

Ahhh, right, that ride-share service where one contacted roaming drivers to escort them, sort of like private taxis.

"Sh-Sh...Sure, all right, yea, that sounds good..."

[ "Re-initiating contact until your transit arrives..." ]

Alphys readied herself, despite her nausea.

Her stomach lurched, her vision blurred, her muscles went stiff...

She and Sandra were once again -

- connected -

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Down on the street, Officer Lena Oxton was pulling her motorcycle into the parking lot of City Hall, having caught a glance of some flash of light and force from the side of the building. Her fear was that some kind of bomb had gone off, but...when she hopped off her bike to inspect the building's structure, it...was entirely in tact. The music pounding from within the hall was still going strong.

Was she just seeing things? Doubtful.

Her helmet still tucked beneath her arm, she checked her phone, having expected some kind of update from Aloy's contact on site.

Nothing.

Biting her lip and tapping her thumb aimlessly against the side of her phone, Lena took another glance at City Hall from her position on the sidewalk. She tucked her phone back into her jacket, paced back to her bike, hung up her helmet, and took a moment to survey the scene, wondering what to do with herself.

Just as she decided to enter the gala, she received a text from Aloy.

( Any word? )-

Lena replied,
-( Not yet, luv. )

Aloy then requested,
( Keep me posted. )-

to which Lena said,
-( Aye aye! )

Officer Oxton paced up across the front lot of City Hall – with its elegantly laid brick path cutting through two rows of palm trees. She passed by some party-goers on her way up the massive staircase and between its entryway columns, which were currently splashed with golden lights.

She entered the hall, nodding along to the front guards, passing through the security check, and...lost herself a bit in the glamour of everything displayed before her. She was keeping her eyes peeled for either of the two targets – Miss Amber, or Toriel's child.

The purple-haired, provocatively dancing singer front and center in the hall's main lobby was...kind of not conducive to Lena's current search, as pleasant a sight as she was. Lena decided to start poking around the party, see what turned up.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Everything had gone tits up on this fucking assignment.

Rachel was supposed to have cornered the Doctor in a bathroom or something, threatened her life, and let her partner do his thing to keep her constrained.

WHY had the bitch run to the roof? And where had she gone? Did she have someone helping her, like Rachel did? And if so, who? Why? How had Alphys been warned? Who else could've known?

Unless...Fuck, did Chloe's wife know something? Had their stupid visit to The Downside tipped them off? DAMNIT.

Rachel couldn't find Alphys, and had been briefly distracted by the belly-dancing bimbo below, but now that she was on the hunt again...-

[ "Head's up – that chick from before is up here." ]

"What?" Rachel murmured, pressing her earpiece in closer to make sure she heard that right.

[ "Right in front of you. The, erh, the chick from the restaurant?" ]

Rachel was confused. Right in front of her was the massive glass dome roof to the hall, and-...

Shit. Bastard was right. Staring at her from the opposite end of the building stood two figures.

Rachel was just glaring at them. Max couldn't make out her expression from across the distance, but she doubted it was friendly.

"Chloe...?" Max prodded, maintaining eye contact as she elbowed her wife in the ribs.

"I don't see her, where do you...-?"

Chloe trailed off as Max pointed out the golden-haired woman in the dress across the dome from them.

Rachel pressed her palms up against the glass, shooting them dagger looks.

"...Oh," Chloe blurted. "We, uh-...We should probably...-"

But Max was already on her way around the structure, ready to face Rachel head-on and get some answers.

Rachel was...mumbling to herself? Max couldn't make out what she was saying.

"Rachel Amber!" Max called out testily, snapping photos of the woman without a second thought.

Rachel shook her head at Max's approach, half of her form swathed in golden light from the lobby below them, the other half scorned by the bluish dark of the winter night air beneath dim moonlight.

Chloe was rushing to catch up to Max, sputtering out nervously, "Heyyyyyy, Raych, what a-...What a wild...co-inky-...I mean-...Whoo, small world, amirite? That we'd all-...Psh. And after just bumping into each other earlier this-...It's, uh-...Yea."

Max and Rachel were both glaring at her impatiently. Shoving her hands into her overall pockets, Chloe shrugged and nodded once, looking down at the gravel rooftop as she rocked to and fro on her boot heels.

"What did you do?" Rachel demanded, slowly approaching them. "Huh? Fucking moron, meddling with shit you don't know anything about, you-"
"A cop hired me to keep my eye on you," Max blurted, figuring she'd play the smaller card first. "Obviously whatever shady shit you're up to, it's gotten attention I don't think you want. If anything happens to us, what do you think that'll mean for you?"

Rachel slowed to a stop right before them, her eyes narrowing. She looked unimpressed by Max's threat.

"Nothing will happen to me," Rachel scoffed. "You think those incompetent pigs can do anything to stop all this? They couldn't help me when I needed it! Or those girls you're looking for? Can't even help them, either, can they? Need your unprofessional ass to do the legwork for them!"

Max turned to Chloe, who shrugged, rolling her eyes and looping a finger in a circle near her ear.

"Dude. What the hell's your deal, Rachel?" Chloe demanded. "After what you did, you come back around here, and...-" Tossing her hands out with disgust, Chloe just blinked, shaking her head. "What happened to you?"

Rachel's eyes flickered with...pain? Nibbling at her lip precariously, she eyed Chloe for a tense moment.

"I never left," Rachel cited. "You and this fucking ace detective here gave up looking for me...Just like the cops."

"What?" Max spilled out, her heart skipping at the idea. That wasn't-...They hadn't given up, they just...hadn't found anything definitive, so they just...-

Shit. Seriously, what?
How the hell could Rachel have never left but also never have been found?

"Don't you try and pin your choices on us," Chloe defended. "You knew exactly where to find me. Bullshit you never left. We spent weeks looking for you, you were a ghost."

Rachel burst out a laugh at this, her hand slapping itself over half her face.

"Yea..." she mumbled, bemused. Pushing wind-swept hair back over her head, she nodded. "I disappeared, all right..."

Chloe pointed out, "And now you're back, and we just so happen to be crossing paths like this? I'm supposed to think that's, what, coincidence?" She turned to Max, looking for some kind of backup.

"Wh-?!" Max puffed out hot air, shrugging. She wasn't getting in the middle of this, the past was in the past, they needed to leave it there.

"I don't believe in coincidence," Rachel sighed, "But now I know you were lying to me when you said you'd never abandon me."

Max didn't get what Rachel was trying to say. Nothing they had discovered insinuated that Rachel had been in Arcadia this entire time. It didn't make sense. She must have really gone underground for nothing to have turned up...In other words, she must've not wanted to be found, by Max's estimations.

So why did she look so hurt about it? So...betrayed?

Probably just an act to lower their guards. It sounded like the Rachel Amber that Chloe had described, the chameleon of a woman that never matched up with any two peoples' descriptions.

"Shut up," Rachel hissed, bobbing her head. "Let me deal with this..."

Max realized now that Rachel had something in her ear – so she was...talking with someone?

But this seemed to impact Chloe with a weight of disbelief.

"Who're you talking to?" shouted Chloe. "Huh?"

"My partner," Rachel said with a smarmy swagger. "He's an idiot, but he's been more helpful than you ever were..."

"Fuck you," Chloe deflected this guilt-trip. "You know what? You abandoned me. You abandoned Frank. You screwed us both over – in every fucking meaning of the word." Chloe's voice was cracking, shaking like a leaf in the wind, its stem unwilling to break. "Then you have the balls to be, like, kidnapping kids, now? The fuck, man?" She thrust out a disparaging hand, shaking her head as her eyes glazed over with impending tears. "Who even are you anymore?"

"What?" Rachel seemed offended. She hissed quietly, "No, I don't think they-...NO. Fuck. You are so...-"

"This bitch!" Chloe puffed at Max, choking out a sob, nodding her head to Rachel and ignoring whatever conversation Rachel was engaged with. The reaction made sense – Chloe was trying to pour her sorrow out for this woman who she'd once fancied the love of her life, and was being completely discarded in lieu of some...'partner?' Over the phone?

"-for sure? Then what 'kids' is she talking about?" Rachel was hissing quietly.

Wait – speaking of kidnapped kids, where was Frisk, anyway? If the child was supposed to be here, and they weren't with Rachel, then...-?

"Where's Frisk?" Max asked bluntly.

"...Who?" Rachel said, brows furrowed – too deeply. She knew the name. Her mask was slipping.

"Don't play dumb," Chloe accused, walking right up to Rachel and stabbing a finger against her sternum. "What the hell happened to you, Rachel? Sneaking around, stalking people, all in some secretive, shady-"
"Oh, what, like your wife over here?" Rachel flicked out a hand at Max, who rolled her eyes.

This wasn't getting them anywhere.

Where had the woman from before gone off to?
Where was Frisk?
Why was Rachel here?

A lot of yelling, a lot of fuss, and yet not a single answer. It wore Max's patience. It was like they were transported back to college, where all of this shit had begun.

Chloe protested, "Max is an investigator, she's helping people. What the fuck are you doing? Breaking more hearts?"

"More like trying to put them back together," Rachel hissed through clenched teeth.

"Pff. Yea, OK..." Chloe didn't buy it.

As usual with the mysterious case of Miss Amber, Max wasn't sure what to think.

"Like I care if you believe me," Rachel scoffed. "Just stay out of my way." She gave Chloe a harsh shove, which almost landed Chloe on her back.

"Hey," Max growled, stepping in to separate the two of them before Chloe retaliated. Max gave her wife a look, signaling that Chloe needed to cool it. Sucking in air through widened nostrils, Chloe swung her arm out of Max's grip and walked off a few paces, hands against her skull, as if to prevent steam from billowing out.

"I don't give a shit who hired you," Rachel seethed, tearing Max's hand off of her shoulder. "I fucking warned you to back off..."

"I can't do that," Max said plainly. "Not when a cop is paying me to keep tabs on you – not when people are going missing. You want us to stop following you? Give me some answers."

Wide eyes, brows furrowed, Rachel shrugged wildly, her hair whipping around as a cold wind rushed over them.

"I can't do that," Rachel rebuffed. "What I can do is make you wish you hadn't interfered – maybe that'll at least give me another shot at accomplishing what I set out to do, here."

Max was...confused.

Rachel reached into her handbag, and pulled out...a gun?

How in the hell had she smuggled a damn gun into this party? There was a metal detector and everything, the guards were scanning everyone's things on entry, they...-

Wait. Rachel hadn't had that bag earlier, when she'd entered the gala.

What in the shit?

"Max!"

Oh, yea. Gun. Meh. Max had sort of become conditioned to not fear the things as much as she probably should...After all, when worse came to worse, it was like Max was sort of immune, in a way, as if-

-bang-

Before Max could react, Chloe had plunged herself into Max, shoving her out of Rachel's fire. They both collided into the glass dome with a loud -pompf-, bouncing off of it and rolling against the roof's surface.

Max scrambled to get herself up, her face and hands scratched up from the collision.

Chloe wasn't moving. Sprawled in a heap on her side, she had a nice, bloody red spot on her jacket, with Rachel looming over the two of them. Chloe was wheezing and grunting with pain – she'd taken a bullet. Again. No, it was fine. Don't worry about it, this just-...This happened sometimes.

Glaring at Max through her pain as the life seeped out of her, Chloe shot Max a look.

'Do it.'

Damnit. Ugh.

"...Well?" Rachel taunted, gesturing her hands out. Sauntering over, leaning down, and pressing the barrel of her pistol against Chloe's temple, she goaded, "You going to make me finish the job? From what I hear, you don't have long to try this again...Easy way or hard way, Caulfield. Choose."

Max was...bewildered.

But she remembered: Rachel had claimed to know what Max could do. What Max had used to get them through the place and up to this very roof in the first place. What Max used to keep tabs on targets that were proving difficult to follow. What 'gift' Max had first become aware of possessing specifically because of Rachel's disappearance, years back – and specifically because she watched her childhood best friend – Chloe – get shot right in front of her.

Max had certain abilities. Apparently, Rachel knew about them.

"Fine," Rachel huffed, cocking the barrel of her gun back. "The 'hard way,' then..."

"Stop!" Max cried out, fumbling over her own limbs as she tried to get up.

-bang-

Rachel just...shot Chloe again. Clear through the skull.

Max's arm, extended out uselessly, flopped down into her lap as she stared. Just...momentarily mesmerized by the sight of Chloe's blood pooling against the side of her skull.

Max wasn't even shocked, really. Just kind of...numb.

"Fucking warned you, Max," Rachel grunted, as if what she was doing was nothing. She pushed her foot against Chloe's motionless body, rolling the fresh corpse onto its back. They both gawked at Chloe's open, wide, blood-shot eyes, getting redder with each moment beneath the golden glow of the gala beside them.

Not again...Fuck-fuck-fuck.
How many times, now?
Twenty seven? Twenty eight?
Max had lost count, honestly. It was in the high twenties.

Oh, uh-...The number of times she'd watched Chloe die.
No, don't worry, this was-...
This just kind of happened now and again, you know?
Max always dealt with it, it was fine, she had things under control.

And that 'high twenties' was just counting the times Max had witnessed it firsthand. Had to have been closer to forty otherwise, though they'd managed to actually go a little while this time before...-

"Do it, already!" Rachel cried out. "I know you can..."

Right. Max had to focus.

Chloe wasn't lying. Rachel is crazy.

Her hands shaking, burning with that tingling, electrifying sensation she both savored and loathed, Max gave Rachel's sadistic smirk one last glare before she flashed out her right palm, summoning that force she'd become familiar with.

With Chloe's body so close, the process was instantaneous. Max was immediately

- connected -

Max's vision lost all sense of color before blurring, fading...

The burning sensation in her hand rapidly shot up her arm, seizing it like a bolt of lighting had gripped it.

Th́a̛t f̀or̷ce ͢s͢wi͝f͡tl͠y̧ ̨s̕ho̶t̴ u̴p͝ he͞r ̵s͢houlde͠r, ̸t̕h͏ro͘ug̸h ͢h͡er h͢eąrt,̧ úp ͡in̴t͢o ̨her̛ ͝ne͏ck, f͏ill̀in͝g ͠her ̴sk̛úl͏l.͟..͡

.͒̂
̇̂ͣͧ.̓ͨ.̏̈ͥ̒̉͐
̍ͫ̽…ͯ͌͋̎̎̔
̔͂̓͋̋ͮ͛̽…̂ͩ͌̈́.̊́̇̓͆̃̀

".̡..̶nàc uoy͢ ͠won̨k I͡" ̕.͡tu̧o d͜e̛irc ҉lehc̀a͘R̡ ̀"!y͜d̀aerl̷a ͟,͟ti̷ ̡òD͘"
͠,͏ḑe̛tn̵ur̕g lehcaR ",͢xa͠M͟ ,͠uo̶y ́den҉ra̡w̴ ͝gni̵k̕cùF"
-gnab-

"͡!po̢ţS͡"͟
"͝..̶.̡neh̛t ',̵y͟a̡w d̕ráh̀'̛ eh͘T ̧.̧eniF"̸
- -
…̦͚ ̖̺̥̰͚…̘̰̜̦̯.̥͉̙͖͚.̻͚̝̦..͓͇̣̞͓̦ͅ.̰̲̹͓̦.̭͓̪..̪̠̯̯̞͇̮..̪͙̤.̫͇̼͍.̺͈̠̣͖ͅ..̩͙̦̲̦̮̺.̳.̩͓.̥̘̙̘̝ …͕͎̼̻̞.̯͖͕͙̝.̹̟̪͎ .̮̲̭.̯͖̩̯̮̜̫..̭̣̰.̘̥..̥̯̪̲͔.
͇̰̻̻̗.̫̹̠.̫̠̪̫̹͍̘ ̱͉͍….͓̤.̦̘͙.͇͚̳̻̩͚̙.̭͕͓̙̠̞.͕̹̣̪.̗.̞̗͓̩̣.͖̪̱ ̯̝͕…̘̖.ͅ ̥̘̻̥͓̩. ͇̥̭.̬ ͕̬.͖͕͈̯ ͈̞̣̞̦.͙̫̺̟͚̺ ̗̮̙̘…͉̤̙̭͕͉ ͔̠̖̥͚̰͎ ͖̼͈̱ .̲̳̫ ͓̯̹ ̤̠͚̟̰̬.͕̯̝̲̲̻.̹͕̠͎͚͇ ͈̥ ̻ͅ ̬̼͔̯͉͓ ̦̼̱̝.̙͓̟͍͍ ͉͈̮̙͍ ͈͔̳̰̝̦̪ ̲͚͍̜̣̭ ..̥̲͉̺̜ ̩̱̟̲ ͈̖̪ ̣̬ ̝ ̰̻ ̹̠̯̻̝͈ ͎͓̺̘.̘͍̖͓͉̺ ̰̙̹̲ ͖̱̱̞ ̦̬ ͈̭ ̠̙̪͙͙ͅ ̞̬̲ͅ ͚̗͓͓̟ ̼ ̞̲̪̙͕͔ͅ.
̪̦͔.̜̮̰ ̯̙̯̥͔ ̬͍̻̰ ͙̳̫̱̠͖̟ ̺̻ ̠ ̱̳͍ ̱͔͚̤̼ ͍ ̫͇ ͖͈̗̤̹̙ ̟ͅ .͔ ͎̬̹̺̩̘̰ ͖̺ ̘̱ ̰͔ ̹͉̪̝ ̘͚ ̜͓̼̪̟ͅ ̲̩̹̗̯ ̠̮̖͚ ̣̯̤̖ ̹͍͎̳̞̖ ̜͈ ̦ ̩̫̙̭̣̰̬ ͔̼̙ ̼͇͔̯ ̣͍͉͈̱̞̤ ̮̥͈̭ ̬̫̜͙̜ͅ ͓ ̞̞̦͖̻͇̟ ̮͎̮͔͚̥̹.͖̥̫̞͉̗͎ ͔͍̰̱ͅͅ ͇ ̘̻͓͓̘͍̜ ̗ ̞̠̭̳͍͓͓ ͓̬̰͙̭̦̤ ̦͎̻͎̺͙̖ ̥̺ ̜̯̖͉̝ ̙̹ ̼̳͓̤̟ ͓̤̣̱̝ ̙̹͙ ͍̝͓ ̟̼̦̗ ͈̗̣͔ ̯̖̰̙̣ ͚̜̫̪̭ ̪ ͔ ̗̘ ̙̲͓ ̹͎̺̤.̰̘̬͚̜̜̫ ͉̟̳͉̟̮ ̘ ͕͙ ͇̘̖̲͔ ͓̣̻̠̟ ̲̲̜̥̠̘ͅ ̘͍͎̻̗̠ͅ ̹ ̼ ͚̖͉̜̯͚̜ ̙̻̻̣͔ ̣̠̺ͅ ̞͖͍͎ ̗ ̘͕ ̘̺̰ ̝̜̬̲ ̟͚͓̭ ̙ ͎͎ ̘̯̭̪̹̘.

Max Caulfield had grabbed time with her mind, twisting it backwards. 'Rewinding,' as Chloe had coined it.

Seriously. Max could 'Rewind' time. She'd been doing it off and on for the better part of a decade, now.

In a way, it wasn't surprising anymore, was it?
She'd gotten quite used to it.

It was like...manually twisting a cassette tape a few rotations back, only each spin of the reel simultaneously felt like stretching out one's brain flatter and flatter, because one was twisting reality itself a few rotations back – and not with a pencil, but with one's own being.

In other words, Max could only go so far backward before she'd pass out.

Just as the pain began to reach the point Max knew was dicey to tread, she released the force.

.̓̂͒.̈́̍̋̉͐̑ ̂͋.̉̑̔ͪͦ̾̓ ̊.̓̇̑ͨ̑͂̎.̓̅͊̒͂ͤ̔.̾.̔͌͐͑̉.̓ͣ̔̏̌̏..̿̑ ͋͑̒ͪ̇.̉.. ͪ̏ͮ̓ͪ̐.ͩͤ.̔ͧ̏ͯ.̈́ͮ.̃̎ .͒͛́̐͊̓͌ ͪ.̿̍̂̅͂͐ ̾͋̈́̾͋.̐͋͐̌ͥ̿ ͩ..ͪ̏̉̏̑̐̓.ͪ̾̓̑.͐̐͂ ̊ͮ̂͒̔̈́.̅̎̽

Gasping for air, she found herself coughing, choking on her own fluids against a thick pane of glass radiating a golden glow.

As familiar as she'd gotten with the process of going backward in time, Max's body still didn't seem to agree with it much. Go figure.

They were...-? Where were they? Right. Roof of City Hall. A couple minutes back, maybe? They were back where they had been before that woman had shown up...Not Rachel, the, erh, the other woman...Who...-?

"́̃W͋ͦͮ̃ͯͨḣ̃ͬ-́ͥ̊̂ͫͫ͆W̔͌ͦͪ̏̀̅h͋̓ŏ̒͊aͯ̒ͤ͌̈́̅͊,̔ͫ͊͌̏ ͣM͗ăx̿̽̽ͨ̌ͣ,͋ͤ͆̈̊ ͋̿ͪ̓yͭ̉̎oȗ̐̀ ̿͊͒O̓K̎ͫ̂?ͤ" Chloe checked from her side, pounding her hand into Max's back.

Max's hearing was coming back quick enough, but she was still faint-headed.

"Y-Yea, I was, um...-" Max coughed into her arm and wiped her nose, only to notice the glob of blood she'd smeared against her sleeve. "Shit..."

Chloe stared for a moment, then groaned with irritation.

"Damnit, Max, what happened?" Chloe was used to this. Sort of. "Don't tell me I died again..."

"What? No," Max quickly lied. Chloe always got more angry and annoyed if she knew it had happened yet again. It seemed to fill Max's wife with a sense of unsettling dread, like she was...'meant' to die. And that would get Chloe all self-conscious with guilt and she'd start rambling about how she 'didn't deserve to live,' and...-

No. Nope. Nuh-uh.

Max wasn't going to let that stand, and certainly wasn't going to abide any notion of it.

"Fucking A, Max," Chloe saw through the fib, though. Slapping at her wife with the back of her hand – Max barely flinched, still a bit numb, it seemed – Chloe huffed through her teeth. "Stop lying, I can see it in your eyes. FFFFFFuck...-" She shrugged with frustration, shaking her head. "Well?! What's the plan, here? Huh? What's about to go down? What is it? I get-? I get pushed, or...-? Do I fall?" She thrust her hands out toward the roof's edge. Max was speechless, still regaining her bearings. Chloe tossed her head back. "I do, don't I? I fuckin' fall, din-damnit I'm such a klutz! I-"
"Rachel," Max spat out the beginning of an explanation, clearing her blood-mucused throat.

Sniffing at her now loosened nostrils as more blood dribbled out, Max let it spatter onto the rooftop before wiping at her upper lip again. "She has-...She's got a gun, and-...Sh-Shot...-" Max's head went light for a moment, but she shook it off. "Shot you. She shot you, and...-"

"What, she shows up?" Chloe prodded. "Rachel? Like, up here?" She pointed a finger toward the ground, alarmed. "With a gun? How even, dude? Security here's...-?" Chloe pushed out an exasperated hand in a vague direction, rubbing at her temple with the opposing hand. Puffing out a breath of disbelief, her extended hand fell, clapping against her overall-laden hip.

Max nodded, grumbled out a "I know, I know, but...-" She groaned, double-checking that her nose had calmed down. Yea. Seemed good for now.

Chloe assumed a 'stealth' position against the lower portion of the glass dome, peering over it toward the only entryway to the rooftop.

"Crazy bullshit," Chloe grumbled to herself.

"Hey, you volunteered for this," Max pointed out. "I warned you that it's been a while..."

"Yea, yea..." Chloe waved a dismissive but conceding hand. "Wish you could go back more than like five fucking minutes so you could tell me to bring my gun, 'n then I could shoot her before she-"
"Well, I can't do that, and we're not shooting anyone, Chloe, no one is getting shot, so just-"
"Let's just figure this out, what's about to happen? OK? Can we do that?"

The strained couple let their sizzling tempers cool off a moment before Chloe clutched Max's hand, stroking it in that rushed but delicate way she did, and the situation diffused itself well enough to proceed.

"Someone else is going to show up," Max explained. "But she-...I-I don't know, she's going to disappear before we can get any info out of her. And-...And then we'll have a minute or two before Rachel arrives, and-...Y-Yea, she's psychotic, Chloe, you weren't lying."

"The fuck is she doing here, even?" Chloe hissed, slapping a palm against the glass.

"You two argued and we still couldn't get much of anything out of her, only...-" Max sighed through the wave of achiness that was passing through her body. This ability of hers seems to get a little rougher to recover from each time she pushed it. "Chloe, she knows about me."

"That...we're married? Yeeee-uh? That happened this afternoon, when you met her?"

"No, no. She knows. About the Rewind?"

Chloe did a double-take.

"Fucking how? 'D you tell her?"

Tight-lipped, Max shook her head slightly, shrugging wildly.

"Look, I don't know, can we just...-?" Max gestured toward the stairwell entrance.

"Yea. Yea, OK." Chloe tried to put these questions aside as the pair of them tried to scope their chances for an escape. Max wouldn't be able to try her time-trick again for a bit, or if she did, she'd probably only be able to buy a few seconds.

In other words, they had to avoid getting found out by Rachel, straight-up. Given the only, singular exit they had access to, Max was suddenly experiencing something she hadn't in a long time: fear.

There weren't any other ways out. If they tried to make a go for the stairs, they were certain to run into Rachel. Max just knew it in her gut. And while Max's power was impressive in its own right, it could not magic them off of a three story building, and the more times she had to use it in quick succession, the harder it got to use.

"We juss-...hooo-..." Chloe's voice cracked in a daze as she wiped sweat from her forehead, her stance wobbling a bit.

Chloe looked suddenly out of breath, hunched over against the concrete propping up the stairwell's door. Damnit, Max had pushed it too much with the Rewind, so much so that it was affecting Chloe, too. But what choice did she have?

The rub with Max's ability to control time?

She didn't quite understand how, but...Max just knew: Chloe was the source of it. Literally.
Max was -connected-with Chloe in a way unlike anyone else she'd even known.
And Max knew that connection was the source of her power.

It made sense to her that using it put a strain on her own body.
The human body wasn't...designed to exist outside of how time and space worked.

What did not quite make sense to Max, however, was why Chloe's body seemed to be getting affected more recently – other than her theory that Chloe was literally the source of the ability. Which well, that evening was only proving her theory, given how much easier and more readily she had been able to use her Rewind ability when in proximity of her wife.

But it seemed to be coming at a cost, and Max didn't like it.

Grasping at her stomach as if she were in pain, Chloe sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

"Rrrgh, fucking A, man," Chloe huffed under her breath, her body tense. "Did it always hurt this bad...?" she posed to Max, trying to make light of her aching.

Max had her theories, of course, as to why her power was having these kinds of effects on them, but she didn't have time to get into this. The door to the stairwell burst open behind them, around the structure's corner, and Max instinctively silenced Chloe from reacting.

While she couldn't see them from this angle, Max remembered who it was: that woman from before – the round-figured, messy-haired blonde woman with the strange device who'd disappeared. The one Rachel must've been...chasing?

Before, however, when they'd attempted to approach her, the woman had immediately disappeared. This time, though, things...went a little differently.

Kind of...very differently?

"F-F-...Frisk?" stammered out a lispy voice – presumably, the woman's.

'Frisk', as in, Toriel's child? The one Aloy had reported as somehow being at this party? But that made no sense, they were on the roof, that kid hadn't-...Oh, was she speaking to them on her phone? Was that who it was?

Giving Chloe a reassuring rub on the shoulder as her wife seemed to regain her composure, Max carefully peeked her head out around the structure's corner.

The woman was going on, "Wh-Wh-...? You shouldn't...be here, what if they try to...-?"

Max saw the freckled back of this curious woman, only...she was speaking to an actual figure, a fraction of her size.

Standing there at the edge of the building was Toriel's child. No doubt about it. Max had spent enough time scrutinizing those photos of 'Sans' and 'Papyrus' from a while back. She could never get a clear shot of either of those bigger people's faces, but she knew she'd recognized this 'Frisk' child, and sure enough...-

Still, though, something was off.

That kid had not been on that roof before – the last instance of reality Max had experienced. What the hell was going on? How had they gotten there? Had they been hiding all this time, or...-?

What had Max done differently that would've elicited this child to...-?
HOW had they not noticed that an entire other person was-?

Wait.

The kid – Frisk – they were flicking their hands around at the woman, concluding their gesturing by shoving both index fingers off and away – in the direction the woman had thrown her device the last time Max had lived this moment. Sure enough, the woman did the same thing she'd done before: fiddled with her phone, put it away, tossed an odd disc-like object off the building, fiddled with some kind of thing in her hands...and vanished in a colorful blink of lined purple light which trailed off in the direction of the disc.

Frisk was wearing a blue winter jacket with purple stripes across the chest – but the jacket was unzipped for some reason. Beneath it, they wore a yellow shirt with two green stripes, and a golden, heart-shaped locket. They had on a cap, twisted at an angle, and wore a pair of black shorts. How was this child not cold out here, dressed like that? It was pretty windy out, and some snow still remained sprinkled around the place.

Max snapped a quick photo of the child with her phone, knowing it could prove useful later. Much to Max's alarm, however, Frisk's gaze was now piercing the evening air and cutting right through her.

The child pointed at Max, then opened their hand, tossing it back over their own shoulder.

"...Wh...-?"

Max felt the hairs on her back stand up for some reason, and hid her phone away.

This kid was in serious danger. Max needed to do something.

"Frisk?" Max called out, stepping out from behind the stairwell enclosure.

"Max! Wh-? The fuck is that? This one of those missing kids, 'r-?"
But Max shooed a hand at Chloe, insisting she calm down.

Hands raised as non-threateningly as she could muster, Max slowly approached the child, whose brown eyes gently reflected the golden glow emanating from the glass dome beside them.

"It's 'Frisk,' right?" Max checked, taking cautious steps. When the child didn't react, Max lowered her hands, putting them in her coat pockets. "You're-...You're Toriel's kid, aren't you?"

The kid looked confused. They shrugged, a bitter expression falling over them. Then they...saluted, sort of...? Or...-? What?

Ah, right. The child was speaking in hands – sign language. Too bad Toriel wasn't around to translate...

"Listen, um...-" Max lingered over the kid, glancing back over her shoulder. Chloe was glaring at her with baffled irritation, but Max held up a finger to her wife. Turning back to Frisk, Max explained, "Frisk? Someone...very dangerous is about to show up, so I need you...to...-"

But Frisk was nodding, pressing the fingertips of a curved hand to their temple.

Max sighed, mumbling, "Sorry, I don't...-"

Frisk went on, rapidly. They pointed at Max first, then took their left hand, palm open, facing inward, gripped it into their right fist, then yanked their left hand up and out of their right fingers, and lastly pointed one index at the back of the opposing wrist.

Wait. Tossing a hand back, pointing at their wrist, like...a watch?

Time...being thrown back...? Or...?

Did this kid know, too?

But how would this weird kid be able to tell?
Unless they...-

Frisk then pointed at their own chest with their left index finger, made a peace-sign with their left hand, stuck it up toward their eyes, then flicked their wrist outward. They thrust their open palm, facing inward, forward from the side of their head. They concluded this sign language with an affirming nod.

Max wasn't sure what this meant, so she popped up one shoulder, shaking her head slightly, and impatiently.

This was all well and good but Max didn't understand.

The kid's face dulled a little at Max's lack of interpretation, to which Max's head shrunk a little into her own shoulders as she shrugged squeamishly.

After tossing their head back with impatience and sucking in a harsh breath through the nose, the kid sighed out steam into the bitter winter air. With a flat expression, the kid pulled out a very broken-looking phone, typing away wildly with one hand. With the other, they made a 'Y' shape with their hand and pushed it back and forth between themself and Max, then paused...shrugged, and shook their head, as if reconsidering the notion.

They tapped their thumb at their phone, and it played a text-to-voice, the speaker a bit on the fritz:

[ "͠Y̶ou̸'rè l̛ik͜e̛ ͏m̷e͜.̷"͝ ]͢

Max was not exactly sure how to respond, but she couldn't help but assume Frisk was referring to her ability to manipulate time.

The child added a moment later,
[ "̧Ća͢n̨ y͜ou͜ h͡e̷a̵r ҉th͏em,̶ t̵oo?"͡ ]

Could this child do what Max could do, then?
Was that why they were involved in whatever the hell all of this was?
Could they be trusted?

Wait, wait.

'Hear them, too?' What the hell?

So Max tried to listen.

But Max...couldn't hear anything outside of wind and evening traffic.

"L-Look, uhh...-" Max was trying to find something to say.

"Max," Chloe was grunting. "Didn't you say Rachel is supposed to show up? What're we-?"

-pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-

Footsteps against metal stairs. Rachel was coming – fast – and the sound had caused all three of them on the roof to turn dead silent.

Max was at a loss. Glancing at this kid – Frisk – she felt...oddly paralyzed.

She just...froze up. Chloe was tugging at her arm, trying to get her to move, but...she couldn't.

She was lost in the glassy eyes of the child.

Wait.

Their eyes, they were...-
Weren't Frisk's eyes brown? They were supposed to be brown.

But right then, in that moment, the child's eyes were...glowing...-

~ LIGHT BLUE ~Frisk clenched their fist, thrusting it out into an open palm toward Max and Chloe.

And suddenly, Max felt even more nauseous and dizzy than she did already, as if she'd lost balance. She felt herself tipping backward, her hair rushing past her head as she fell...Only she didn't hit the gravel of the roof. She just...kept falling? Without moving? Wh...-?

Max was floating.

Her feet were off the ground, her entire body was off the ground, she could feel some kind of...tension against her chest, as if some force was keeping her aloft from inside of her. It kind of reminded her of when she...used her Rewind? Only rather than doing the pulling, she was being pulled.

In the single moment she processed all of this, she managed to notice that Chloe, too, was alsofloating, beside her – but Chloe was flailing and struggling against this bizarre phenomenon.

"-fucking shit, dude?!"

Max, however, felt...strangely trusting of this.

With a glance back toward the roof at Frisk, hand extended, Max understood – the kid was doing this somehow.

The child flicked their arm out in a dramatic fashion, and Max felt her entire body shoved, pushed, like descending the steepest hill of the tallest roller coaster – before she knew it, she was careening through the air, off the roof, Chloe being flung around beside her.

OK, so, um...did not trust this anymore.

She braced herself, thrashing out her right hand, desperate to undo whatever this insanity was. To go backward, to prevent it, but...she couldn't – empty in the tank, perhaps?

So.
Was this it?

Killed by...some psychotic telepathic child, blasted from some roof?
Not exactly a fitting end, she felt, for...-

Oh.
Oh, they were fine?

They were fine.

They'd landed on solid ground, so to speak, bruised slightly from rolling against the harsh concrete of the neighboring roof they'd been flung upon, but...oddly safer than their velocity would've dictated.

"Ho-ho-hohhhh-leeee-shit," Chloe was chuckling, shouting, lost in some state between amazement and trauma. Sprawled on her back, she pumped up her fists, hooping a cheer. "They're like you, Max!" Chloe wheezed with excitement. "They're strange!"

Max had tried to stand up – perhaps too quickly. All of this craziness, after having pushed her Rewind so much in one evening...it was a lot to handle.

Max could feel her chest turn hollow, her breathing become difficult, her limbs turn to lead.
She felt-...oof.

Ough.

Before she knew it, she'd. . .fffhh-

-FWUMP-

"͉̺͎̪̙̪͇̮̥M̨̥͇̗̘̺̻ͅA̵͙̳̗̳̲̬̯̞͝X̶̺̯̤?̷̰̼̙̭̻͖͠!̹̤"͏͓̳͔̗̳̻̣͈

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

"Are you serious?" Rachel seethed into her headset, climbing the stairwell in a panic.

[ "Yea! I can feel it, there's people up there. And one of 'em just did a time jump. Can feel that residue lingering around, ya know?" ]

Rachel didn't exactly have a reason to doubt Flowey on this – he could see things she couldn't, and there was no way he'd make up this kind of bullshit at a critical moment like this.

Still.

"What can they do?" asked Rachel cautiously. "Who are they?"

[ "Erh-...Hoo, you ain't gonna like this...-" ]

"Flowey."

[ "It's those chicks you've got history with. From the restaurant?" ]

Great. Chloe and her time-hopping private eye partner. Rachel had fucking warned her to stay away...

[ "Whoa, whoa, wait. They're with the kid." ]

Shit.

"Seven," Rachel uttered the subject's name, looping around the last flight of stairs.

[ "Yep." ]

"Great, juh-huhst what we fucking need right now. So where's the target?"

[ "Erh, well-...I've lost track of the Doc, but gimme a sec, n' I'll see if...-" ] He trailed off, doing his thing – trying to find their target.

Flowey was an asshole, but he was a very useful asshole to Rachel, because he could see the oddities transpiring in Arcadia. He functioned as Rachel's 'radar' and field support, so to speak.

Rachel burst out of the stairwell and onto the roof, ready to take Alphys into custody, and ready to throw down with this fucking abomination if she had to.

[ "Wait-wait, they-...How did-...? Ah, damnit. Well, good news, yer ex and the PI are...not up there anymore. Bad news? That kid's really gonna try and get in our way." ]
Flowey was grumbling nonsense – he had a habit of doing this when he was trying to make sense of what was going on.

But as the winter-swept air rushed over her on that rooftop, Rachel didn't see anyone, save for a single, lone figure, off to the far edge of the building.

Standing precariously over the precipice was the kid. Subject Seven.

Subject Seven – aka 'Frisk' – was a freakish, hellish creation that FutureGadget Labs had cooked up in their mad pursuit to harness the bizarre properties inherent to Arcadia. Rachel had been keeping tabs on this unnatural creature, in part because she was being told to by their client, and in part because she was fucking intrigued.

This 'child' wore masks of its own, and Rachel knew not to take that lightly.
She knew all too well how deceiving appearances could be.
But at least she had some semblance of an answer as to how the Doc had gotten skittish: Seven had warned Alphys. For all Rachel knew, Seven had somehow helped Alphys disappear, too. Fuck if she knew. Flowey didn't seem able to make up and down of what was happening up here, useless prick.

"There it is," Rachel whispered to Flowey, slowly approaching the monstrosity trapped within a deceptive shell.

[ "Wait-wait-wait, it's Alphys, I think I see her, she's...-" ]

Rachel's hands were trembling, shaking with a mild aching as she readied herself to do whatever she had to. Her right calf began to burn up a little, the pre-emptive cramping before the real heat began...

The kid slowly turned around. They stared at Rachel, wordless. Slowly, Subject Seven reached their right hand into their coat pocket, pulling out an eight inch long blade – a kitchen knife?

Rachel lingered before this supernatural, pint-sized beast. Their head slowly twisted to the side, glancing off at the glass dome. The sudden roar of applause from within as a song finished caused them to squint their eyes shut.

"So, you wanna get in my way, huh?" Rachel posed to this disturbing creature. "I'm not afraid of you..."

To this, the child's face eerily mutated into a toothy grin, their eyes opening up wide.

Despite holding her ground, Rachel felt her skin crawl as Frisk's eyes changed color from an unnatural brown to a sickening shade of...-

~ RED ~

A twist of their wrist, and Frisk suddenly pounced forth at Rachel, brandishing the knife.

[ "FFFFFFFF gimme a sec, I'll-" ]

-fwsss!-

The knife came flying at Rachel at a forty-five degree angle from her left as Seven took a swipe at her. Rachel nimbly sidestepped it, but it sliced her handbag open, spilling out various contents – including the pistol she'd procured for just such an occasion. Not that such a thing would prove to be much use on this abomination.

Stumbling backward on sneakers with a spaghetti strap dress and a half-torn handbag – all in the wintry cold on top of a roof, by the way – Rachel was getting real annoyed real quick.

This was supposed to have been an undercover thing. An easy in-and-out job.
Suffice to say, she had not come properly equipped to deal with this bullshit.

-fwsss-fwss!-

More knife swiping, more dodging, but this time she managed to grab the fucker by the arm, twisting their wrist back and forcing them to drop the knife.

Within Rachel's grip, they didn't...even struggle, though.

They just grinned, staring at her with those unnaturally red eyes. Waiting.

"Flowey," Rachel growled, all patience gone.

[ "No sudden moves, Amber, just lemme...-" ]

Rachel's muscles tightened as she braced for the impact of the connection to hit. Like a jolt of lighting through her spine, Rachel felt that familiar surge. She was-

- connected -

[ "We're set." ]

Rachel's heart skipped. Her jaws locked up, her lungs sucked in air and held it in. Her arms flexed outside of her control, wriggling and writhing for a second until Flowey synced up with her. The child took the opportunity to slip out of her grasp with ease.

A sharp pain suddenly erupted from Rachel's arms as her very skin was quickly peeled off in chunks, thorny vines extending like whips in multiple directions from the openings.

Her 'backup' was finally here, and she'd take all the help she could.

Her arms felt like they were simultaneously on fire yet drowning in wonderfully invigorating adrenaline. She could sense, even understand, her partner's intentions, their wills bonded together as they had been multiple times in the past. She flung her arms to direct his vines at the pesky 'child' before them.

But Subject Seven's eyes shifted color again, shimmering a deep shade of...-

~ DARK BLUE ~

With ease, Frisk jumped – exceedingly high – flipping up and over, dodging Rachel and Flowey's thorny-vined onslaught entirely. Stunned at this display, Rachel was jarred by the thunderous applause that quaked the building she stood upon.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

"All right, everyone!" cheered Shantae from the staircase's plateau, qwelling the clapping down in volume. "I've got one more song for you tonight, and it's a fan favorite~" She paused, letting a few folks hoop and holler out. "Now, I know things are tough here right now, but if we don't let ourselves have a good time we let those monsters win, and we sure aren't letting that happen, right?!" The audience agreed. "Well OKAY, then! Are we all RET. 2. GO?!"

A cacophony of cheers erupted from the hall, thunderously rumbling the glass dome on the roof.

"Let's transform tomorrow into a better place~!"

Shantae snapped her fingers, bounced her hips from side to the side, and the music began.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

As Frisk landed from their ridiculous, needlessly flashy maneuver, they skidded across the roof's gravel effortlessly. With a grunt that sounded almost like a laugh, they stood upright, twisting their cap backwards on their head.

The front, now facing backward, read { MERCY}.
The back, now facing forward, read { FIGHT}.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Shantae, the smooth-skinned, sparkly-eyed performer, was gyrating her hips with hypnotic precision, her arms tossing her bushy ponytail aloft as she sang lasciviously into her microphone.

"They say we live in the darkness
They say there's trouble ahead"

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Squaring off with Subject Seven, Rachel eyed the pistol near her feet. She took note that the knife she'd wrested from the creature's hand was gone – and as Seven tossed said knife up with their left hand, catching it playfully with their right, Rachel knew this wasn't going to be easy.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Every day there's sorrow: today, tomorrow"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

'Frisk's' sadistic smile returned as they charged forward, their eyes flashing color again:

~ RED ~

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"But I'm dancing, instead"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Rachel, with Flowey's help, unleashed a barrage of thorned vines, weaving her arms like a conductor gone mad to thrash them about in a cluster of slicing strikes.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"'Cause I can dance through the danger"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

To Rachel's dismay, Seven effortlessly dodged every strip of spiked vegetation – the child was using their knife to snap back at the vines. Disconnected pieces instantly turned to gray dust, scattering to the wind.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"The magic flows through my Soul"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Rachel had intentionally left a few of her vines out, ready to clap them inward and cut off the beast's advance. A snap of her wrists brought the vines flying inward, surely too many to be cut or dodged in time, and yet...-

~ ORANGE ~

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"All around, it's seeming in the dream I'm dreaming"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

It all happened in a fraction of a second – Rachel watched her vines pass clear through Frisk's body, as if the child had become ethereal – all the while the pesky creature was pouncing at her with a mean jab, right to her gut.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"a better day
can't be far away"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Caught off guard by the sudden burst of brute force, Rachel was sent spiraling through the air.

[ "hold on hold o on n!" ]

Rachel let her airborne body go limp as she tried to process what the fuck was even going on with this irritating child.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"So I will dance through the danger
And fly away to the stars"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Suddenly, she felt the tattoo on her right calf ignite, searing her nerves with a familiar, strangely welcomed pain. Flowey had seemingly summoned this other force for more aid.

[ "Sera! DO SOMETHING!" ]

Sera...?!

Rachel wasn't sure how Flowey had summoned her here so suddenly, but she could feel Sera's presence.

Wordless as ever, Sera -connected-with Rachel in an instant – not the way Flowey did. With him it was like a phone call, this was more like a hand on her shoulder. A cold hand.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Take my lead and I'll start it to the beat of my heart"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Rachel felt Sera's presence aiding her as her body began to fall down the side of City Hall.

She thrust her arms out, fingers gripping at invisible strings.

A cyclone of wind encapsulated her in a flash, re-orienting her upright.

And then that lovely, wonderful intensity splashed itself through Rachel's arms and out through her hands: a burst of flame.

That delicious fire. So potent, so intense, that when combined with the rush of air she controlled, her body was propelled upward and onward, arriving back on the roof.

Thanks for the assist, Rachel thought, wondering if Sera was even listening – and wondering how she had 'shown up' so quickly. Her sister's doing?

But as Rachel tucked and rolled her landing, whipping her hair back over her neck, she huffed through her teeth at Frisk, knowing that answers would have to wait.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"I'll never give up in my fight 'til the future is bright"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Frisk was still just as eerily cheerful as before. They snapped their fingers, and as their eyes changed color again -

~ PURPLE ~

Rachel was appalled at how their form tripled. Two copies of themselves split off from either side of Frisk's body. Was this an illusion? Rachel wasn't going to risk it.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Her hands quivering and sore from the flames she'd just expelled, Rachel knew she'd have to buy Sera some time before they could belt out another blast of fire. As the three forms of Frisk came dashing toward her, Rachel changed gears, relying on Flowey's vines once again. Her already stinging arms were swept up by another wave of pain as the surreal whips of spiny vegetation punctured their way through realities once again and out from Rachel's skin.

Sera, Rachel thought, trying to commune, are you there?

But Flowey spoke instead, grunting through the vine-lashing that seemed to miss the aggravating child's dopplegangers.

[ "She says your sister sent her?" ]

Rachel's brows lowered, her eyelids sagging with irritation. Of course it had been her. But the damned woman had no idea what Rachel was up to, or else she might've refrained from sending over help.

At least it made sense how Sera had gotten there so quickly. How Rachel's fucking sister had known about all of this was a matter to deal with later, but Rachel suspected it had to do with the goddess fucking damned monster in front of her what the shit how could she not land a single fucking strike on the annoying prick why was nothing HITTING THIS PRICK?!

The purple-eyed trio of Frisks were practically flaunting themselves, weaving and bobbing around every attempt Rachel and Flowey made to capture or even land a blow against them.

Screw this, Rachel decided, shaking her still shaky hands loose. I'm going for it.

[ "Eurgh-! She s..s th.t's ..ybe no. a ..od ide.!" ]

The connection with Flowey was breaking. Rachel couldn't juggle both.

But Rachel didn't care, she needed to end this as quickly as she could. Alphys was gone, but if they could capture Subject Seven? That would be even more valuable.

Rachel goaded Frisk to "Dodge this shit!" as she charged heat back into her hands, dissolving Flowey's vines away into dust and ash yet again.

Joining her wrists together, she flicked her hands outward toward the three grinning Frisks. With this she gestured, she unleashed a flash of fire so wide Frisk would have to move upward, giving Rachel space.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"So we will dance through the danger"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

The blast had caused Frisk to go soaring into the air, but, even upside down and airborne, the child wasn't powerless. Their eyes flashed again –

~ YELLOW ~

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Together we'll never fail"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

-and suddenly, they had a revolver pistol in their hand. A fucking gun, now?
How much shit did this creepy kid keep in their otherworldly pockets?

Rachel barely had enough time to react, rolling out of the way as a quick-fire hammer-fan of six shots ricocheted off the roof behind her.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"We will forge a path to our destiny"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Having prepared her counter-attack as she'd dodged this enemy fire, Rachel whirled around, flinging a condensed fireball with unnatural accuracy toward where Frisk was falling.

But the kid's eyes had changed color again.

~ GREEN ~

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"I ask you to dance with me, so the world can see"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

The gun was gone, now replaced with a metal shield. Like, a fucking medieval shield.

Fuck's sake.
Rachel's fireball was absorbed without incident, the child landing effortlessly and giving her a cocky smile as it did so.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"That we can dance through the danger
Together, we will set sail"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Amber was so done with this bullshit.

[ ". .. .. . . .. . . . .. .. !" ]
Flowey was still trying to communicate, but the connection was too distant now.
Like tuning to a different radio frequency, Rachel was making the signal between her and Sera as clear as possible. Sera's influence enabled her to tap into herself, and she needed forces of nature more than fucking flowers and vines.She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her lungs burn as if filling with smoke. Her calf ached fiercely, its dragon tattoo stinging with intense pain.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"For a time and space with a faster pace"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

With an animal-like snarl, Rachel swiped out her arms, fire billowing forth from the palms. Licks of flame leaked out through the many vine-punctured holes in her skin, but the pain didn't matter to her.

- Rachel. Is there really a point to this? -

Just do your job, Sera.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Seeing the world as a happier place"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Rachel pelted a flurry of flames, only for each to be negated in one way or another.

- My job is to be your- -
Your job's to protect me! So fucking do that!
It's why she sent you here.
It's why you came.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Yes, we can dance through the danger"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

The damned monster was avoiding every attack Rachel sent at it.
It was like this was some dance they'd rehearsed perfectly.
And for all Rachel knew, they had.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"And fly away to the stars"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

- This fire? It's yours. Not mine. -
- You're burning. You keep letting yourself burn. -

And who's fault is that?!

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Come along, don't miss this
'Cause I know that this is our time"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

A shield to block flames, a gun to stop Rachel from closing in, and a multitude of ways to evade her every move. This unholy 'child' was a force that needed to be contained, no matter the cost. It was out of FutureGadget's control now, she had to do something.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"So we will dance through the danger
Together, we will set sail"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

As Rachel whipped winds and flames uselessly at the inhuman creature before her, Rachel made a choice – she'd just have to take another loss. Nothing she hadn't done before. If she could bring the kid down with her, then...-

- No matter how many times I bring you back, Rachel... -
- It won't fix what's wrong with you. -

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"For a time and space with a faster pace"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Nothing's wrong with me.
It's this fucking city that's the problem.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Seeing the world as a happier place"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

There's only one way to fix this, and destroying this abomination is the first step.

Her back pinned up against the glass dome of the roof, Rachel funneled all of her energy into her arms, into her hands, the scars and wounds on her skin leaking out steam. left an opening – intentionally – and Frisk plunged itself at her like a mechanical wildcat, its knife drawn as its eyes shimmered an intense shade of

~ RED ~

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\
"Yes, we can dance through the danger
And fly-"
\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Frisk collided with her, pounding her back into the glass so hard that it cracked. Pressing against her and swiping at her like a mad beast, its wild eyes and rabid smile were unsettling. Rachel pushed and scrabbled her limbs at the crazed creature, her body aching more and more all the while.

Her arms were burning. Her hands were glowing, now. The very air around her grew thin.

She made to push Frisk off of her, but the child foresaw this and dodged her gesture. No matter. The 'child' took another dive at her, the speed and distance it jumped bearing an inhuman speed and distance. Its eyes glinted through the night.

~ DARK BLUE ~

Rachel tightened her trembling fists.

In mid-flight toward her, Frisk gained a maniacal glint in its eye,
~ RED ~
and its knife was raised as it flew across the roof.

It was her moment to strike.

As Frisk sailed through the air at her, she thrust her hands outward. She unleashed the pent up power she'd been building. Searing flames traveling on razor wind swirled out of her arms, hissing out of the pores created by Flowey's vines.

-KREESSHHHKKK!-

The force had been so explosive, the glass dome behind her gave way, half of its shell shattering into shards around the two of them. As Rachel fell backward through the roof of City Hall, Frisk's momentum had it falling toward her, a small tornado of fire and glass swirling around her, nicking at her feet, her legs, her elbows, her hair. There had been so much chaotic danger flying around, surely Frisk was-

~ ORANGE ~

WHAT?!

Frisk was passing clear through her explosion. Untouched.
The pair were falling through City Hall, and everything felt as if it were moving in slow motion.

Frisk was mere feet away from her. She didn't know how this fucker had eluded such a wild card move, but Rachel wasn't giving up. As Frisk drew close during their fall, Rachel reached out to grab it, to try and crush it during the fall, to pin it to-

~ GREEN ~

As if seeing her move coming, Frisk's eyes changed color again, in a split second's notice, and Rachel's hands uselessly collided against its unnaturally appearing metal shield. Frisk flipped its body round, kicking its small feet off of Rachel's stomach.

Sparks, air, glass, all pushing against her skin, Rachel was falling, Frisk falling right behind her, its shield vanishing as
~ RED ~
that damned knife came out again.

Fuck. She'd messed up. It was like whatever she tried, this abomination could see it coming.

In the final milliseconds before her body collided with the marble lobby floor, Rachel's vision focused past Frisk. Past the glass and fading sparks above. Past the clouds beyond. What little she could see of the night sky was starless. The stars were blurred out by the night light cast by this fucking city.

She would see a night sky full of stars, some way, some how.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

Having scanned City Hall's main lobby as this musical performance had begun, Lena found herself frustrated and confused. She caught her mate Fareeha escorting some dame out the front door. Went to wave, say 'hi' and all that, but Fareeha were too occupied, looked like.

Not a sign of Toriel's kid, but everything had been pointing right at this location. Lena could feel it in her bones – something odd were happening.

At about the worst timing she could've picked, Lena's attention was diverted from her task toward a pair of folks arguing down a hallway. Some bald guy with a 'stache was wrestling with some young lady in a fancy silver dress. Were really havin' a go at each other, weren't they?

Hallway looked empty otherwise, everyone too excited about this eccentric singer and all. Shoulda been a guard posted – ahhh, right, must've been Fareeha's sector. Welp. Lena oughtta help cover the slack, then, eh?

The younger, feminine one had...bloody pounced on the bald chap, was clawing at his face with her sharpened fingernails!

"Oi!" Lena called out, but it wasn't acknowledged.

"-think you can...ruin what we have? Huh?"

Sounded right miffed at the guy, she did, and she gave him a hard smack to his face.

"Hey!" Lena tried to call again, making her way over. Wasn't running as she didn't want to draw attention to this-...well, whatever this was.

Coughing, the chap said something Lena couldn't hear on account of the music behind her.

"Fuck you!" shouted the lady, pounding her fists against his chest.

"...Heh."

Way the bald guy was smiling and laughing, though, made Lena feel proper weird. It was like he was enjoying having his mustached mug smacked round.

"Blimey! Oi, you!" Lena cried out, reaching the scuffle and tearing the dressed woman off of the man on the floor. "What's all this about, eh?"

Shoving Lena's grip off of her, the woman with green highlights in her hair was in tears, and pushed her hands against a wall as she leaned over to take a breath. Cor, was this about the sick person Fareeha had been escorting?

Chuckling and coughing up a bit of blood, the bald man swatted Lena's hand away when she offered to help him up.

"This girl is unstable," the man said warily to her, but with a smirk on his face. "Can't say it bothers me that much, to be honest..." He wiped blood off his lip with his sleeve, staining his shirt. "But she might be a danger to others."

"What is your problem with me?!" the woman snapped at him, swiping an irate hand through the air at him.

The man replied with sadistic smirk, "I know what you were. What you are."

Bloody hell, there were better things for Lena to be worrying about, but she couldn't leave these two without doing something, right?

"Oi, what's going on here?" Lena repeated, her patience about worn out. "Why're you two at each other's throats?"

She got two answers at once.

"This asshole slipped drugs into my girlfriend's drink!"
"This bitch is blaming me for her mistakes!"

Hoo gosh, Lena was not at all in the mood for this. Was immediately regretting stepping in on this.

She weren't equipped for this! De-escalation, she wasn't good at this! Complete rubbish at this nitty gritty cop stuff! Why was she even still here? A bloody fraud in a blue suit, she were, floppin' about like a magikarp out of water, useless upon useless, couldn't even decided how to handle a single bloody dispute, how in farore's name could she be expected to-

"Yes, we can dance through the danger
And fly-"
-KREESSHHHKKK!-

Shantae's song ended a bit prematurely as an explosion rattled the building. The sound of a rainfall of glass could be heard off in the main lobby, along with a sickening -FWUMP-.

"What-?!"
"The hell?!"

Lena would have to leave this lot to their squabbling. Whatever had just caused that explosion, were probably the reason Lena had come here in the first place.

As she made a dash for the main hall, Lena saw enough blood, heard enough screaming, that she knew she had to act, had to do something to prevent it.

Merely an hour or so after getting topped up and she was already needing to utilize her hidden talent.

Oh, right.

Lena Oxton, you see, could manipulate time.

A unique trait, right? Something surely no one else could do.

So Lena had thought for some while.

Recent events had been shifting this viewpoint, however – such as her and Aloy's pursuit of the Los Muertos members days back when they'd taken Toriel's kid. She'd used her abilities, and yet even so, they'd still eluded her tracing their position.

See, Lena Oxton could tap into a strange source within herself – using the medallion Dr. Harold Winston had created as a go-between – and she could manipulate time. She could pull herself backward through it, and she could even freeze it around her for a bit, effectively allowing her to move at lightning fast speed in short bursts.

So, yea. Lena could time travel, to a point.

Ah, right. Something she ought make use of at a moment such as the one she found herself in.

Focusing herself and finding her center, Lena drew from the energies in her medallion.

She -connected- with the part of her she needed to.

Her medallion, stuffed in her shirt, hanging round her neck, vibrated against her chest.

She flung herself backward.

̓ͪ͋ͪ̈̍̒̒̆ ̶̍ͩͯ̀̐͐͋̚ ̷̂ ͧ̓̐͌ͯ̈̓̿̎̿͗̑ͧ̉͞

"͌ͥͯ̎Ẅ́h̑ͣ̔͆̎͑͒atͤ̋ ͬ̋ͩ̔͑̚iͩͪ́ś̏̇ͫ ͦ͐ͭ̎͗̈́y̓͌ͮͤ͂o̓ͩͪ̉͊̏ȗͯͫ̔̌ͮ̈r̈ͫ̒ͤͩ̃̓ ͫͨp̒̌̉̄̉̂̆r̔̒̀͑o̓ͣͥb͂̓̄l̓͒͑̋̂ͧ̑e̍ͧ̍̋͊m̋͂ ̏w͌̍͌̃iͪͧͭͫ̍t̀ͩ̿̾̚ȟ͌̓͐͛ͣ͊ ͭ̍ͮͪ̌̓̿m̑ͣ̈́̆̓͑e̚?ͨͨ̋̊́̃!̒͆̽ͭ̀"̽ͥ̋̅ͭ
"Iͮ̅̅͋ ͆k͒no͊̓ͪͪ̂̂̂w ͤẘh͛̌̾̐ͩ̇̚aͮ̑ͤ̅́̿t͑͐̌̏͊ͨ ̉͂͊̓ͪ͐y͋ͪ͋o̊ͣ͐u̍ͥ w̆̌̓̚eͨr̿̈́ͨe̅͌̍̚.ͫ͐̂̐ͥ̓ ͂Wͦ̇ḧ́̏ͩͯ̆͊ͣa͗ͩ̄̄̾̋t̊̓̎̌͆̒̅ yoͬ̉ͨ̇ͨͮu̅̋̍̓ͫͪ͐ ͪ̄̊̽a̋͌̌r͌e͊ͮ͐͑.ͩ"ͬ̈̈͛ͭ

Lena could hear these words between those two bickering tossers behind her as she sprinted back down the hall. Only had a few seconds, so she'd have to push through the queasy stomach she had and use her other talent to get the job done.

Her medallion shuddered against her skin, a shock of electricity rushing through her.

Time froze around her, but Lena ran forward – felt like running through water – and reached the crowd, just time for-

-KREESSHHHKKK!-

Gah, this whole day was going to pot, wasn't it?
Lena blinked through time again – pushing some civilians out of the line of glassfall – and pulled her trick a third time for good measure, getting stragglers out of the way.

Never seemed able to go beyond three pulses in a row, her head would always get too faint trying that. And even after three, her medallion began to burn up.

On the third go, she stumbled a bit, rolling against the tiled floor with the last pedestrian in her arms.

The rainfall of glass shards sprinkled itself against the floor behind her, eliciting a flurry of gasps and cries as that sickening -FWUMP-accompanied the glass.

Pushing herself up from the dazed civilian she'd saved, Lena scrambled to see what had fallen through the domed roof.

The body of a woman in a red dress was mangled against the hall's floor, limp and lifeless in a slowly growing pool of blood, seeping into the spaces between the marble floor tiles.

Hunched over the bloodied and battered form was none other than Toriel's child, its hands wrapped around a knife that had been plunged right through the woman's heart. The child's eyes were glowing a bright, gut-twisting shade of

~ RED ~

Lena was speechless.

The purple-haired singer on the stairs was escorted up and away, down a hallway on the second floor. The speaker system spat out jarring feedback from the mic stand being knocked over, but the sound was quickly cut in the chaos that followed.

The gala rapidly devolved into a hurricane of chaos as the party-goers were reasonably alarmed by the sight of all this.

"Frisk?!" Lena called out to the child, simultaneously aghast and afraid of what the seemingly innocent kid was evidently capable of. "The bloody hell...?"

Frisk yanked their knife out of the woman's corpse without difficulty, and blood spattered out against the tiled floor from the jerking motion. The look in their eyes calmed from red to brown.

Then, Frisk began to do something altogether confusing (as if this all weren't confusing enough!) they began running their hands across the woman's abdomen, as if they were...looking for something she carried?

"Oi!" Lena cried out, making a dash for the kid. When Frisk looked up at them, bam, bloody eyes had gone all red again! Lena had to stop whatever this was.

But within the single second she spent running toward them, there was that bloody knife, suddenly heading straight for Lena's face.

Right, then. Back she went.

̡͆͊̇̚ ̴̃͑ͧ͑̎̈́̈̉̌͆ ̵̧̀̒ͦ̓͗̎̿ͧ̆͋ͬ̾̚ ͋ͤ̅ͨ͞ ͂̈́̊̅̿ͥͩ͒̿̌͌͠

T͈̬̖͔͚h̲͎̬̭̖ḛ ̮̹͓͎̥̹g̘̘͖̪a̟l͉͎̲̥a̠̠̙͎͍͙ ̦̗̰̠ͅr͙̻͈̻̣̤a̦̻p̲͇̰̺̘͓ͅi̱̙͓̦d̗l̼y̮͎̭̳ d͍͚e̻̫͎v͔̘o̤͚̞̳͙̩̦l̰̫̣̗̯v̮̦̜̤̜̙ed̠͎̣̤̙ ̮̻͚̥̠ị̹̩̯̫̞n̻to̹̼̭ ̬̥͈̜̮ͅa̩̥̜̫̰ ͉̪͈̯̼h̫u̯rri͖̦c̻̹a̺n͚e̻̯͕̲̻̞͓ ̜̠̰̰̮̥̜o̜͚f͚ ̭̙̹͙̩ͅc̟̣̦͍̦͓̮h̼̠͖̯̺a̤̱̣̪̪ͅo̦̪ͅs͇͕̟̱ a͓̯͍͓̮s͕ t̙̙͚̪ͅh͖e͕̣͇̻̥ ̪̱̻͙͕͖̙p̗̞̮̬̞͇ͅa͍͖̟̯̩r̺ͅt͚̳͙y͔-̹̘̹̙͕g̟̱̫̞ͅo̫̝̹̣̙͓er̦s͖̜ ̪̤̤w̬er͍͉̙e̞̲͉̰ͅ ̙͓͚̥̖̼r̲̦̩̥̞e̞̼̯̘a͇͍̠̗̰͖̥s͓̟̗̰̝̗̲on͙̺ably͈ ͓̖͔̱̘ͅa͚̺̯̳̬͖l̮̱̰̲a͖r̼̺͕ͅm̙̬̥̖̪̙͚ed ̘̳͉̪b̳̱͈͔̮̪̼y̭̹̜̤ ̺̲̟t̳h̦̟̬̮e̱ ̳̞͕ͅsi̤̭̺͔̲̤g̜̝̮͉͚͉ht.

Having flung herself back in time a few seconds again – were only as far as Lena ever seemed able to go – Lena was not at all sure how to proceed. Her medallion was hot from all this energy, her heart was racing, her head was getting faint, and her stomach felt like she'd throw up any moment.

But she had to do what she could.

"Frisk!" she tried to call out again, coughing in a daze as the kid pulled their knife out once again. This time, when she received that spooky red-eyed look, something were different about it. The kid smiled. Had they done that last time? Nah...

As the sound of party-goers making a dash for it died down, Lena could hear the security guards on duty scrabbling around, readying their firearms.

"Oxton?!" It was Fareeha.

"Amari," Lena acknowledged, not sure where the woman was but not keen on taking her eyes off this disturbed child.

"No sudden moves!" Fareeha commanded, and Lena wasn't sure who it applied to but assumed the both of them.

Frisk's head tilted slightly. Like they were waiting for Lena to do something.

But bloody hell, she weren't in the mood to get a damn knife in her.

Blimey, she didn't like where this was going.

Frisk's eyes had gone back to normal again, and they went back to...er, frisking this poor corpse. The woman was in a dress, not like there were many places to look, what was...-?

"Drop the weapon!" Fareeha commanded, her voice echoing across the hall as officers slowly closed in.

With a spiteful glare – more annoyed than threatened – Frisk held out their hand slowly and dropped the knife. It clattered to the marble floor, the gentle clanging deafening in the moment.

But Frisk went right back to searching the body.

"Step away from the body!" Lt. Amari ordered. "Put your hands behind your head!"

Lena felt awkward, sticking her own hands up and slowly backing away. She didn't have any orders, here. Hadn't been given any, either. Wasn't supposed to be here, really.

But Frisk wasn't listening. Was ruddy ignoring the Lieutenant, even with all these guns pointed right at 'em!

Things got a bit weirder. Of course they did. Why wouldn't they?

Frisk had stopped their search, and was holding out one of their hands, palm out. Their eyes had gone all wonky again, changing colors.

~ LIGHT BLUE ~

The corpse moved. Shuddered. It was like it were being pulled at from the inside. Whatever the kid was looking for, it seemed to find – out from the open stab wound in the woman's chest, a glowing...something popped out. Popped right out, all golden and shining, what in...-?

Bloody odd thing happened as Frisk held this weird glowy bit in their hands. Ah, wait.

A flower? What in...-?

They'd pulled a flower out of this dead lady's chest. Golden petals, like the lady's hair. Frisk was staring at the flower, like they were waiting. Still didn't seem to give a care about all the guns pointed at 'em, either, but at least their eyes had gone back to normal.

"Back away from the body," Fareeha said again, louder this time.

Suddenly, every cell phone on everyone present – including Lena's, from her pocket – all began screaming with the same voice. Like they were all suddenly part of some creepy sodding conference call.

[ "PLEASE! I didn't-...I wasn't trying to pull anything on you!" ]

But something told Lena this phone call was for the kid standing over the corpse. They sure seemed like they were listening, all while staring at some...weird little shiny thing in their hand.

[ "The, uh-...Yea, I mean, I played with you a little, but that was just to get you to come OUT, ya know? Now, we can-...We can be together again! A-All right?! That's exciting!" ]

Frisk took the flower they'd found and folded it up into a...mushed up...not-so-happy flower. The voice on the phones got all crazy.

[ "W-WAIT, WAIT! I CAN STILL BE USEFUL TO YOU!" ]

Frisk opened the golden heart-shaped locket round their neck, stuffed the crushed up flower inside, and closed it.

[ "I CAN STILL BE-" ]

The call died out, and the entire hall went all eerily quiet again.

The security detail, spread throughout the hall, was murmuring utterances of confusion.

"For the last time," Fareeha cried out, "back away from the body with your hands behind your head, or we will be forced to subdue you!"

Lena did not like the smile Frisk took on at these words.

"I don't think they're gonna listen to you!" Lena advised, continuing to cautiously make her way back.

"Oxton," Fareeha grunted, grabbing Lena's shoulder and tugging her inward. "What are you doing here? Where's Nora? Who is this?"

Her face beginning to sweat as she started to shake like a leaf from all of this pent up tension in the lobby, Lena attempted to reply.

"I-I don't know, Lieutenant, it's-...That, um, it's a missing kid we've been looking for, only I didn't know-"
"-got a gun!"

But before she could finish, the whole room had gotten flustered.

Frisk had...pulled out a gun from somewhere?

Was a bloody revolver, where'd a kid like this even get some kind of old gun like that?

Blimey, and their eyes had changed again.

~ YELLOW ~

"Permission to engage?" asked a jumpy officer.
"Denied," Fareeha replied, scanning the lobby carefully.

But nobody lowered their weapons.

And Frisk just held their gun at their side, like some blooming cowpoke ready to quick-draw.

Lena's medallion was still a bit too hot, her stomach too uneasy. She couldn't try any of her tricks for a bit yet – not anything big enough to settle this all down.

Where had that kid pulled a gun from? Lena had been watching the whole time, hadn't even reached for their pockets, or anything! Least, she would've sworn...

Uh-oh. This loonie kid was making to shoot at Fareeha. Why was she standing her ground? Why wasn't she-?! Bugger all, Lena would have to-

-bang-

Lena had shoved Fareeha over sideways, tackling her to the ground. Way she saw it, worse came to worse, she could just force herself backward, only...-

-tik-ti-tikkt-
-clakt-ssss. . .-

Wait, what?

Struggling to her feet, and helping Fareeha do the same, Lena realized that...no one was bleeding.

Frisk wasn't holding the gun anymore. Had been knocked out of their hand, hit the floor.

"Thanks," Fareeha said solemnly but softly, giving Lena a rough pound on the back with her palm. Stepping forward boldly, Fareeha was looking up toward the top floor of the hall.

Blimey.

It was Aloy up there, smoking pistol in her hands. She'd shot a bloody gun out of that kid's hands, at that distance? Crikey, really was a good shot, wasn't she? Lena had been so focused on the kid, she hadn't even noticed her gal up there. Made Lena feel even more foolish than she already did.

Gesturing her fingers at the kid to signal her officers to go in to subdue Frisk, Fareeha talked into her shoulder walkie.

"At ease, Nora. Good work."

From her perch up top, Aloy responded through the walkies, [ "How's that saying go again? 'Justice rains from above?'" ]

At this, Fareeha chuckled quietly, shaking her head. She answered, "Ff. It's been a long time since I've heard anyone say that one...Before you know it, we'll-"

"WAUGH-!"
"HULGH-!"

And just as quickly as everyone had calmed down, everything went all tense again.

Something had happened with the kid when the officers went to cuff him, looked like.

Frisk was...just gone. Cops had gotten shoved off, seemed, but...-

"Where's the target?" Fareeha asked, instantly putting her serious face right back on as she stomped toward the field of glass surrounding the poor corpse.

With a wary sigh, Lena left her fellow coppers to do what they did. Even when she could bloody time travel, she felt off about all of this. Didn't feel right, trying to be something she wasn't, did it? She kept trying, kept following her orders best she could, but...-

Agh, bloody hell, civies were starting to come back inside, find out what was up.

Lt. Amari ordered Oxton, Nora, and a couple others to maintain the perimeter, keep civilians out, start cordoning off the scene.

Fareeha didn't know exactly who the attacker had been, why they had been there, why they had murdered some poor woman in cold blood, or how they had vanished.

But Lt. Amari knew damn well that it was connected to whatever her mother kept hiding from her.
All the more reason to get Helix up and running as soon as possible. If anything, perhaps this incident could serve as the final nail in the coffin she needed to get out from under Ana's thumb and start operating on a level that Arcadia seemed to require.

In the meantime, Amari still had to follow chain of command, down both avenues.

She ordered another pair to conduct a thorough search of the building and advise her of anything they found. She put out an APB on the child, who Oxton and Nora had identified as 'Frisk.' Given that the knife and gun the child had been holding had vanished as strangely as the kid itself had, Amari advised that the child was not only dangerous, but likely still armed. She called up Ana – her Captain first, Mother second – and reported on the situation.

She was distracted during her report by some manner of bird that began flying about the place. Damned hole through the roof...all of this glass everywhere...This was going to take all night to get sorted. They couldn't just leave the hall's roof exposed like that.

[ "Lieutenant?" ] came Ana's stiff impatience.

"Sorry. Ma'am. There's a lot to take in here, I...-"

[ "Then take it in. I'll arrange a press conference for tomorrow for you to address this. I'll report back shortly on what our official statement will be." ]

Damnit, Mother, I don't-...

"Yes, Ma'am."

Ana hung up.

Fareeha, who had been watching as this brightly-feathered bird perched itself on a ston guard rail above, was caught off guard by a voice from the main stairwell.

"Wh-Whuh-...What was that?! Was that really Frisk?!"

Gah. It was the Mayor's lap dog, Isabelle Shizue, fumbling her way from upstairs. What was she still doing in here?

"Miss Shizue," Fareeha sighed, approaching the small-statured woman with a dismissive gesture, "Please stay away from the crime scene. What are you still doing here?"

"Th-That's...-" The poor woman was clearly in a bit of shock. "I was-...My friend's child...How-? How could they...-?"

"I am sorry you witnessed this, Ma'am," Fareeha spit, her tone robotic as she had work to do. Easing the stammering secretary toward the entrance of City Hall and away from the scene, Fareeha dropped her off with Nora to be questioned before re-approaching the scene.

Drawing close to the body, which one of her officers confirmed was, in fact, deceased, Amari advised them to note the time of death.

But just as they went to do so, the body's eyes opened. Those eyes leaked out smoke.

This seeming corpse of a woman startled everyone present as its mangled limbs popped and snapped while it rose upward. Hunched over its knees, golden hair veiling its face, the body opened its mouth, more smoke billowing from it maw, and

it screamed.

It was the most distressing and ear-piercing sound Fareeha had ever heard. It wasn't just a shriek, it was a scream, and it went on for seconds. The woman's body burst into flames and she kept on screaming.

So loud and surreal, the prolonged utterance of terror rendered everyone stunned, the very air in the hall swirling and whipping up a frenzy, like a freak storm had suddenly swept in through the broken roof.

When the noise finally settled, and the wind died down, Fareeha and her officers were able to regain their bearings.

But just like the ominous child they'd just encountered, so, too, had the victim of its attack vanished, leaving behind a trail of ashes being swept up and out through the roof, toward the winter evening sky above. Not even a trace of the woman's blood remained.

Irritable and bewildered at the same time, Fareeha's officers were not nearly as fazed as they had once been at such a sight, and neither was Fareeha herself.

Pulling out her phone, she called up Chief of Police Jack Morrison.

[ "Lieutenant?" ] he gruffly greeted her.

Watching her own hair flicker to a stop as the winds died down around her, Amari spoke simply to him.

"City Hall. We've had another incident. At City Hall, Sir. Dozens of witnesses."

[ "Mm." ] He sounded tired. She could hear his sigh, visualize him running her fingers against the bags beneath his eyes. [ "Any civilians?" ]

"I believe they all escaped before...well...before anything dire transpired."

[ "Good. Follow protocol. You know the drill." ]

"Roger that. But, Sir, I'd like to request an emergency meeting to re-evaulate how we're-"
[ "One thing at a time, Lieutenant. We'll adjourn tomorrow." ]

He wasn't stone-walling her this time, at least. Fareeha could practically smell the reconsideration in his voice. She on the cusp of getting her request granted, she could feel it. She just had to keep things up a little longer. Watching the bird who had distracted her earlier find its way out through the gaping hole in the building's roof, Fareeha took a breath, unsure of what to say to the Chief.

[ "That is all, Amari." ]

"Understood."

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

-FWUMP-

"͉̺͎̪̙̪͇̮̥M̨̥͇̗̘̺̻ͅA̵͙̳̗̳̲̬̯̞͝X̶̺̯̤?̷̰̼̙̭̻͖͠!̹̤"͏͓̳͔̗̳̻̣͈ After her encounter with Rachel, Max had found her ability to Rewind time prove to be more difficult than usual – almost like someone else had also been tugging and twisting the name aspect of reality she had been. She'd passed out, but had come to some place...that didn't look right.

She was dreaming.

She knew she was dreaming. She had experienced this dream – or at least, dreams like it – multiple times before.

After all, the sky was not swathed in green grid lines, and the city she inhabited was not a collection of archaic purple polygons.

But there she was, waking up on a roof top, in what seemed like the same spot she had passed out in, only she stood within this bizarro retro album cover art version of what she knew to be Arcadia.

Max didn't have a body, per se. It was...more like she just existed there, in that space.

Off in the distance, across the way? Yep. A wire-frame lighthouse perched on the cliff side projecting out onto the bay, its light long faded. In front of her, an approximation of City Hall.

To her side, a blue light with little wings. A thread made of ethereal light tied the blue ball of light to Max. Where its half of the thread was blue, Max's was red – and the two faded to purple halfway.

It was Chloe, of course. The blue light.

Max and Chloe were -connected-, always. As weird as this dream was, as little sense as it made, that much was obvious enough to Max.

What didn't make sense, however, and what startled Max more than anything, was something off in the distance.

A building – an exceedingly tall building; or rather, a polygonal thing shaped like a tall building? – was being consumed. What did it represent? Max thought a moment – she could think, at least, in this place, in this dream. She was self-aware.

There was only one building which Max figured it could stand for, one entity that resided in a structure that large in Arcadia: Zaibatsu.

A giant storm was swirling around the building. A gray tornado, just raging around, its appearance startlingly more detailed than the rest of the archaically imagined environment around Max. Purple lightning spouted from the tornado, flickering and flashing, causing uproarious thunder.

Up in the sky, above the tornado, lurched an even more sinister-looking force.

Three triangles of red light, arranged in a triangle themselves, lines of gold drawn through the sky between them – an eerie portal existed in the space between those lines. A muddy, ever-shifting vomit of colors, the portal flickering and blinked like a TV with its antennae being played with.

Chloe would probably be having a fit over what a cool album cover this whole sight would make.

But Max somehow felt displaced, uncomfortable, on edge.

"͏͢M̕͡ą̢̢́x͢͏̛?̵̡!́͠͞҉ ̶͢M̧̧͘a̸̷͟͡x̸̧̕͢,̸̴̨͝ ̴̡̀͞i̧͘s̷͘̕ ̶̷͜t̶̵̷̨͠h̷̢͜a̵̶̡͜t̸͝͞ ̢́̕ý͝ơ̴͢u͏̵?̴̷̷!̶́͡"͟͠͠

Having someone shout her name from nearby did not make Max feel any more at ease.

When Max shifted focus on the strangely familiar voice, she saw about the last person she'd expect to see in a place like this.

She saw her friend Alex.

Only Alex didn't quite look right. Didn't sound right, either. Her voice was loud, yet fuzzy, barely decipherable, a radio station only just barely in tune enough for Max to tell there was a signal at all.

Not unlike the strange portal hanging in the sky, Alex looked even less in-focus. A hologram from an old sci-fi movie, struggling to maintain its connection. And yet, despite these layers of static, Max knew, deep down, that this was Alex Olas speaking to her.

And as static as this vision of Alex was, as garbled as her words were, Max could tell she was quite upset.

"͏̧͠͠Ớ̧̡̕h̶́͡͞ ̸̨́g̵͠o̡̨͜͜d͝ḑ̶͘ȩ̛s̵̸͠͡s̶̡͜͢͢ȩ̷͞͏s̨̢͘͜,̨̀͜͜͞ ͘͞í́͘͢t̨̢́̕ ̸̧i͟͜͜s̷ ̀͏y͏ò̷̡u͘͟.̵̷͢͝͞.̧̨͟͞͞.̧҉̷"̵҉͢ ̀

Max couldn't respond. She had no means of doing so – she wasn't here, really, she had no form to speak with.

"M̵a͝x,͜ ͢yo̴u̧-̷.̷.͞.̶" A̶ s̛o͢b͘ fro̢m͞ A̵l̕ex̸. ͘"I ̷fu͡c̡ke͜d̡ up,̧ ̸Mąx̸.͜ I do͠n̛'̴t k͢n̵ow͡ ḩo̸w̢ to ̵g̡et-̕...̛I͏'m̡ jus̡t̀ tr͟ying to͜ g̢et̡ ̶b̡ack̷,̶ ͞sh̴e͢'̷s͏ h̀el̛pin͢g ͠mę,̢ b͝u̕t͡ I ͞d͠o͠n't-.̴..̸H̡o҉w ͘d͝i͘d ͏y̡ou͟ ͞ge͢t ̵h̢ere,̴ ̸M҉a̧x͠?̷ ̀Ta̸k̢e͏ ͞me҉ ̵ba̸ck ͝w̸i̧th ̕y͡ou̴, ̀p̴le̴ás͡e!͜ I̕ j҉u̸st ̨ņee͡d ̷t͟o͘-"
…̇̄̂̐
ͧ̂͛̅̒̚.̅.ͤ
ͦ̆́.̌̆͗̅
̋̿̂ͣͤ
̇̓ͣ̄.̏̈ͮ͊ͥͤ
̾̿͌̊̒͊̐
.̐̉ͦ̂͒̔̈́
"MAX!"

Max's throat was on fire, she was hacking up a whole damned lung, it felt like.

She was back. She'd woken up. She was choking, Chloe was pounding on her back. She was on her knees, on that fucking roof she and Chloe had been telepathically launched onto.

Shit! Frisk! Rachel!

What-?!

Argh, she could barely breathe, she was coughing up a small puddle of blood.

"Breathe, Max! C'mon, keep-...Get that shit out, just...-"

Chloe was bringing her back. Max was on her knees, her hands pressed against the concrete roof. Groaning for breath and spitting hair from her lips, huffing it from from her runny nose, Max's chest pain began to settle down as she breathed.

"Din-fucking-shitballs, Max," Chloe eked out, her voice trembling with fear as she collapsed into a sitting a position beside her wife. "Fucking scared me, Max, you never do that when...-" She gestured vaguely and with frightened frustration.

Max has passed out in the past from overextending her powers, but...she had never seen another person in her visions like that, and she had never woken up coughing up blood, either.

"The fuck just happened?" Chloe whispered, wrangling Max into her grip. Pressing Max's head against her own shoulder, Chloe followed up, "What did you see?"

"Gugh-..." Max cleared her throat, wiping her bloody lips on her coat sleeve.

"A-And fucking...Rachel? And that creepy kid? What...-?" Chloe was a bit hysterical, which was, well, maybe understandable. Max was just in shock.

"Something's happening, Chloe," Max eked out through her ragged breath. "I think-...I think we're in danger."

"Sssh!" hissed Chloe incredulously. With a nervous laugh, she kissed Max's head. "Yea. Yea, no shit, Sweethart..." With a deep sigh into Max's hair, Chloe grumbled, "Ain't we always?"

Max's hip vibrated.

Shit, she was technically still on the job.

"Max..." Chloe begged when Max went for her phone. "What're you doing? C'mon, don't...-"

( From: Nora )-
( I'm here. )-
( Find anything yet? )-

Max eked out a text back to the officer.

-( danger )
-( rachel )
-( frisk )
-( gun )

So exhausted from her ordeal, Max's hand dropped, her wrist colliding with the hard roof, her phone slipping out of her grasp as she let herself rest against her uneasy wife's chest.

Her eyes gazed off across the distance, toward the lighthouse perched far off at the city limits. It was difficult to see but it light gave it away, even amongst the bright neon of the city below.

The lighthouse's beacon was alight, slowly spinning in circles, its illuminating beam a reassuring sight.

\/\/+0+1+0+/\/\

'Flowey' originates from Undertale (toby fox)
Shantae originates from the
Shantae series (Wayforward)