Trying something new here. Overlapping POV shifts in a chapter, marked by page breaks. We're reaching the climax of part one. Some character development and plot reveals here before the big finish, then we'll move into part two of the story. Hope you enjoy.
Chapter 11 – The Only Truth There Is
A foreign policy aimed at the achievement of total security is the one thing I can think of that is entirely capable of bringing this country to a point where it will have no security at all. And a ruthless, reckless insistence on attempting to stamp out everything that could conceivably constitute a reflection of improper foreign influence in our national life, regardless of the actual damage it is doing to the cost of eliminating it, in terms of other American values, is the one thing I can think of that should reduce us all to a point where the very independence we are seeking to defend would be meaningless, for we would be doing things to ourselves as vicious and tyrannical as any that might be brought to us from outside.
-"Radcliffe Commencement Address," George F. Kennan, 1954
Sans woke up covered in rubble and detritus, coughing and sputtering as he suddenly rose back to life with a gasp, only for the hammers pounding on his skull to double down. A strange ringing filled the air, a weird fuzzy static over everything, until he realized that the problem wasn't around him, it was him; something had gotten knocked in his skull, and he shook it out despite the pain, slowly bringing the world back into focus around him.
What the hell had happened? He tried to remember. He'd . . . he'd found the woman behind the door, or what was left of her. He'd turned to leave, and then the entire place went up in a flash of light and sound.
Just how long had he been buried in that pile of rocks? He had to get out, warn everyone. Warn Papyrus.
That kid's partner was down here after all. That damned kid . . .!
He tried to get up, but his first effort only made everything hurt; it was a miracle he hadn't died right then and there. He'd barely gotten a wall up in time after spotting the glint going off, and that split-second reflex had saved his life. Dammit, he couldn't just lay around here! He forced himself up, staggering out the door and into the snow outside, scanning the snow. There, under that stick – he picked up a rock with his magic and chucked it, only for a geyser of snow and flame to erupt out of the ground. Whoever the kid's partner was had double booby-trapped the door to catch anyone leaving. Might still be out here watching; Sans would have to take that risk. The partner clearly had no qualms with violence, unlike the kid.
How had it all gone under so fast?
He tried to blink forward, feeling the fabric of time-space part enough to let him slip in, but he could barely reach his sentry post before he was forced out, staggering to the hard ground of reality. He could feel it, somehow, all around him. Something different, something wrong.
The feeling only grew as he passed by the dogs' stations and found nothing, heard nothing, as he saw smoke in the air rising above the town.
Papyrus.
Sans began shouting for him, running into town, only to be met with a nightmare. Half of the town was in ruins, flames licking up into the air from the librarby. Stars, the little bastard had even taken out the Gyftmas tree in the center of town.
"hello?! anyone still out there?!" Sans called out, glancing around. He had a terrible feeling crawl up his spine; this was different than the other times with that damn flower. He wasn't sure how, but he could tell that something was very different, and very wrong. He ran up to the general store; the door was broken in, and it looked like a bomb had gone off. He didn't see Mary. He ran up to Grillby's next, shoved at the door. It didn't budge. "hey, anyone in there?! papyrus?!"
There was movement inside, something heavy being shoved or dragged, and the battered door opened to reveal Grillby, dimmed and flickering, one of the lenses on his glasses cracked, but he was alive, thank the stars. He glanced out quickly then ushered Sans in.
"Sans. Good to see you in one piece," Grillby crackled. Sans was about to reply when he saw the inside of the familiar bar had been barricaded up like a fortress, the windows covered, and a small group of survivors were scattered around in seats and stools. The only member of the Guard he could see was Dogamy, his head down, as someone performed healing magic on him.
"the kid's partner came through." It wasn't a question.
Grillby nodded. "Heard something on the outskirts of town. Guard went out to investigate. Kept everyone inside after our last guest. This one was worse."
"She just started blasting!" Buncrazy wailed, shaking her head. "It was horrible. Only Dogamy managed to make it back."
"Didn't try to come in. Didn't try to talk. Just attacked. Ran through town." Grillby said, offering Sans a drink. He paused for a moment, considering, then took it. "Green armor instead of blue."
Stars and stones. He took a sip. He'd been terrified enough by the kid, and she had been friendly if awkward. Actually seemed reluctant to use those weapons of hers, actually wanted to talk. He'd thought there had been a bit of progress with her. Now they were seeing just what could have happened if the kid had actually wanted to hurt them.
Or maybe the kid had just been waiting for backup, and this was the plan all along.
"have you seen papyrus anywhere?" Sans asked. Grillby just shook his head. Dammit, he never should have left him alone! What the hell was he thinking?
"We called ahead and warned the Capital. The Captain should be on her way," PB said. "But . . . but we don't know how long. What if that human comes back?"
"she won't," Sans said after another long drink, realization dawning on him. "ah, hell." Grillby looked over at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "they want out, to rejoin their war effort. that's what that shaking was a while ago; some big fight over the mountain, and they want to get back out there. meaning . . ."
"The King." Grillby's flames flared in alarm.
"they're going to tear straight through and bust out the barrier." He set the rest of the bottle down, turning to leave. "there's no time. i need to find pap."
"Wait." Grillby said, turning to head to the back. "Not alone."
"grillbs, no."
"Dangerous. You'll need the help."
"you've got to look after your kid."
"Not here. At her school in the city. Lockdown." He grabbed his waterproof jacket, shrugging it over his shoulders. "First your brother. Then to the King."
" . . . thanks, pal. c'mon, let's hurry." They dashed out the door, shouting out instructions to stay inside and stay hidden until help arrived.
It didn't take long for them to find him. On the outskirts of town, where the wind picked up and the snow fell hard, there was a scarlet reminder of someone that had only ever tried to do the right thing. Of someone that had only ever tried to cheer others up, had always thought of others before himself, had never given up or taken the easy way out. It sat in the snow, forlorn and abandoned, and as the heavy flakes fell down onto the ground, they began to pile alongside the brother that had just lost everything that ever mattered to him. Grillby stood there, one hand on his shoulder, as Sans screamed into the snow. It summed to muffle him, somehow, wrapping around him, like screaming into a pillow.
Eventually, he was able to stand, clutching that red scarf in his hands. He wiped away the frozen tears, fists clenched. For too long, he'd been passive. No more. The snowstorm picked up in intensity around him, flaring with the dangerous glint in his eye. He'd already gotten a measure of the kid, before.
Now they'd get a measure of him and learn just what it meant to embody karmic justice.
Chara and Frisk had always been special, even among the rest of their generation of Erinyes. Each had been flash-grown from the same master template (Chara had always despised that about the others, how they resembled her and Frisk, but they weren't them), their minds and bodies forcibly accelerated, bio-engineered and genetically enhanced in order to be thrown into the meat grinder to stem the bleeding as the rest of the ISAF did nothing but lose. But only Chara and Frisk had shared that special connection; sure, some of the other Sovereign fireteams called each other sisters and worked together, but they were just pretenders. Chara and Frisk had a bond, something that linked them. They were special.
Their handlers first discovered this during a mental conditioning exercise, when the Erinyes were being rewired to lose their flight instinct. Frisk wasn't cooperating; she wasn't fighting the way she was supposed to (sweet little Frisk, ever so passive). So when Chara was up next, she had decided to show the petty officer with the bent nose and the ugly glint in his eye just what she had thought about his treatment of her sister. She kept showing him even as the rest of the men dragged her off and the blood dripped from her lips.
That day was when Chara learned the first truth of the world: it was better to be doing the hurting than to be hurt. And Chara was very good at the former. But she was also smart and patient. And oh so thoughtful. She figured out quickly what the handlers did and didn't want to see from them, what Erinyes were supposed to be. Who she could punish and get away with, how to make herself valuable enough to not be punished in kind. Frisk was too kind; she was weak, and got hurt for it. Chara learned how to be violent enough for the both of them, until eventually the handlers realized it was better to keep them together. She covered for Frisk when she was slower on the uptake, holding her hand when she fired her first rounds and helping her squeeze the trigger, words of encouragement as she ran her fingers through her hair. There, there. Inhale, hold it, exhale, steady pressure, squeeze. Easy. She became the perfect soldier, ruthless and effective.
But she never forgot what they did to Frisk and her. And she never forgave them.
Frisk still believed that there was a higher purpose to the war. That they could save the human race from the enemy. That they were "heroes."
Chara was thoughtful; she didn't take that fantasy from her sister. But she never believed it for a second. To hell with the human race, to hell with everyone else but her and Frisk. The strong live, and the weak die. And Chara was strong. Stronger than everyone that ever tried to face her, to kill her. So long as she was strong, she would survive. So long as she kept Frisk strong, Frisk would survive next to her. But she would never allow these weaklings to drag them down.
"Heroes." Feh. There was no damn thing. No one had come to save them from the scalpels and needles, from the mindplague and poison gas, from the rain of fire. They'd done it all themselves. So why should anyone else be saved?
Chara knew the truth behind the war, too. The real truth, what the brass had wanted to hide from everyone. Why it started, why it was ending with an Authority fleet over the planet getting ready to scrub the surface clean.
It was all a joke. Her entire existence was just to cover-up the mistakes of some old, dead idiots that started a war and weren't able to finish the job.
She wasn't sure if it was all funny or none of it was funny, but at some point, it all became the same anyway.
They'd pushed through the scorching heat of the lavafields, making their way through the industrial maze that must have been the Core. The number of monsters had dropped significantly; Frisk could only assume that they had taken shelter or hid. Chara seemed nonplussed about it all, but Frisk was relieved behind her visor. She hoped that all of the rest of the monsters had the foresight and good luck to be out of the way. She didn't want to do this anymore, this senseless slaughter. Her laughter still rang in her ears, haunting her, after the death of that Guardswoman. She didn't want to be this.
How much easier it would be if she could just lay down and never get back up.
But she was Sovereign, and Sovereign never faltered.
They'd made it into the vast city that must have been their capital. Frisk had never seen a city this large and untouched. It was pretty, in a quiet sort of way. Gemstones in the ceiling of the massive cavern glittered like stars, and looking out across the vast ocean of structures and buildings Frisk could only imagine what their life was normally like, safe and secure under the mountain.
"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Chara shrugged, scoped in and sweeping her gaze across the expanse. "Castle's coming up. My guess is they're hunkered in. A diversion would help draw some of the defenders out, give us an opening to break through."
Frisk looked over at her, an unspoken question on her lips.
"Fire off a couple Fimbuls down there. You've got some to spare, yeah?"
Her chest tightened.
"Looks like we got some residential districts and a school down there. That'll draw the most attention, unless you spot something better to hit. I don't see any good industrial targets."
" . . . Chara," Frisk shook her head. She finally looked up from the scope to eye Frisk. "Let's just go."
"Don't go soft on me now, partner," Chara said. "It's no different from the Argam Shipyards raid we practiced in holo."
Right. Create chaos behind their lines to make an opening. Just the same as in training.
But a small part of her, for the first time, uttered out a quiet refusal.
"Firing." She let off a pair of the anti-matter missiles, the projectiles streaking out in their clusters before impacting along the empty streets, scattering rubble across the neighborhoods but leaving the buildings untouched. From up here, they could hear warning sirens begin blaring, and her visor picked up the farthest traces of movement. Chara just stared at her for a moment, long and cold, before flicking her head forward and pushing ahead.
Frisk followed.
They pushed through an old dusty house that seemed to make Chara bristle, her shoulders hunched, and as they pushed through, she wasn't gentle, leaving broken doors and glass behind them. Frisk looked over at her questioningly, but said nothing.
Finally, they came out to a long corridor, flanked on both sides by impressive pillars that rose up to a vaulted ceiling. Golden light bathed the room from massive stained glass windows that contrasted with the dark shadows from the pillars across the checkerboard tiles, and the moment they entered, Frisk felt a hush settle over them, as if it would be a grave sin to break the silence, and even Chara seemed to respect the sanctity of the room. It reminded her of the chapel from Camlann Tor, before the battle, and she was suddenly struck with the feeling that Holloway would have liked it here.
After a moment's pause, Frisk took the lead, and her heavy footfalls echoed through the room.
And then in front of her she felt a pressure unlike any other, like a predator had just woken up and the entirety of its being was weighing down just on her, watching her, hunting her. She felt herself involuntarily take a single step back, her hands coming up to defend herself, her heart hammering in her chest, as if everything she had ever done had led to this moment.
A predator was in front of her, hungry and cold.
"heya. you two been busy, huh?"
