Being Human - Act I - Chapter 36

"So... You sure there's no other way around this place?" Frisk is moments away from removing his sweat-soaked sweater in this scorching inferno. The thing keeping that from happening is not knowing where the cameras broadcasting his every move to the Underground for Mettaton's show could be. He could have privacy at this moment or not with no way to know; he would instead not take the risk.

So, he trudges along the stoned path. Despite the lack of monsters or puzzles, every step he takes comes with a great struggle as the heat amplifies the weights on his body and mind.

"Y-Yeah, sorry, Frisk, but this is the fa-fastest and easiest way to New Home." Alphys says over the phone." I k-know it's really hard, but I know you can do it. You've made it this far, and b-be-between you and... me… Mettaton doesn't stand a chance."

Frisk offers a smile as thanks for her encouragement. "Sure thing. What is this place for, anyway?"

Frisk has been walking through what he assumes is the largest construction site in the world for a decent amount of time. Heavy industrial machinery and equipment are scattered around at random intervals, large conveying pipes branch out in every direction, and towers of scaffolding and platforms that reach the exposed upper levels. The only means of reaching them is using the elevator pods that await at each floor's end.

"Well, since you're asking me, Frisk: this is Hotland. You see, monsters have to get power from somewhere. We don't have any fossil fuels like you humans, we don't have enough water for hydropower, solar was a total bust— back in the day, we used crystals. Personally, I always liked those the most; they make great friendship bracelets. I'll make you one later if y-you like— but now we use geothermal power from the world's mantle to provide us with the electricity we need. This whole place supports the process and carries the power over the Underground like a giant power plant. I can't even begin to tell you how difficult and long it took us to make this. First, we had to wait for you humans to invent computers and throw them away so we could reverse engineer them and..." Alphys continues to drone on and on, and Frisk allows her, paying little attention as he walks towards the path's end.

In the near distance, there is another path, but empty space and a hundred-foot drop stand in between them.

"How the heck am I supposed to get... ACROSS!" Frisk shouts as a powerful gust of wind shoots beneath to propel him high into the air. For a few terrifying and heart pulsing seconds, Frisk wonders if he will crash and burn in the sea of lava below. However, it seems that the further he flies, the closer the second platform approaches him. Finally, to his relief and surprise, the landing comes with a mild thud, no harm done except for the ten heartbeats he skipped during midflight.

"...And then we channel the excess steam into the ventilation system, where they come out in giant bursts so we can travel from place to place. That was my idea," Alphys explains. "So, did I answer all your questions, Frisk?"

"Yeah. You did." Frisk murmurs, having had most of the wind sucked out of him.

"Good to hear! Oh, sorry Frisk, but I gotta let you go now. Gotta keep an eye out for Mettaton's traps and puzzles. Can't be too careful around him. B-But don't worry, I'm only one phone call away if ya need me... Friend." Alphys hangs up.

"How does this place keep getting better and worse at the same time?" Frisk wonders as he ventures deeper into his burning predicament. The path doesn't last long. It eventually breaks into many smaller platforms that move in different directions. Knowing what to look for, Frisk finds a ventilation vent that spews a powerful burst of air. Despite having already experienced their effectiveness first hand, the idea of doing it again intentionally is a far taller task to overcome.

"Come on, Frisk," he mutters, "it's just hot air. You got past Flowey. You got past the Royal Guard. Not even Undyne could stop you. This is easy peasy compared to all that. And it'll be just like flying again!" Thoughts of flying in the air thanks to Papyrus's Blue magic restore his grin and spirit. Frisk leaps onto the vent.

"Yeah, you can do it!" He shouts and leaps but remains where he is. He repeatedly hops on the dead vent to get some kind of reaction. "What the heck is going... ON!" Frisk shouts, not ready for the vent to have taken a break before shooting him into the air, screaming all the way. The one relief he looks forward to is the solid ground his feet can land on soon.

"Well, at least it's... OVER!" Frisk shouts again as he lands on another vent, which seems to be carefully coordinated and timed to ensure his flight stays uninterrupted. The pattern continues as the ducts carry him from platform to platform to platform in a twisted heated game of leapfrog. While the experience starts off nerve-racking and heart-pounding, the effect makes itself familiar to Frisk, and by the fifth vent, the game takes on a more exciting turn. His screams gradually transform into cheers.

"Whoa! Again! Again...! This is so much...!" Frisk declares as he falls headfirst onto solid ground. "Uhhh... That stinks."

"You hurt?" Frisk faces a tiny, cute monster running up to him with a bright and warm smile— literally, since the monster appears to be a living fissure vent with steam emerging from an opening on top of their head. "Let Vukin heal you up real good, Friend."

"Ahh, that's so nice of you, and..." His words die in flames as Vulkin erupts, spewing charred rock and tiny chunks of magma into the air, raining literal hellfire on him. "No, I'm feeling fine!" Frisk waves his hands frantically, but is too late as he rolls around on the ground in a desperate effort to avoid the mistaken attack. All the while, Vulkin parades around singing and spewing more of its 'healing' lava storm, while Frisk curses the day he left the surface with a polyester wool cotton-blend sweater.

"Stay still, Friend or my lava cannot help you."

"But these attacks aren't helping me!" Frisk cries.

"Umf... Not helping? Fine. Help yourself." Vulkin sulks in the corner, dismayed, frustrated, and radiating heat around himself. Frisk's heart grows heavy, but the last thing he needs is to catch on fire. Frisk tries to walk past Vulkin, but the air surrounding Vulkin becomes scorching to touch and unbearable to endure as if Vulkin transformed into an active volcano.

How am I gonna get past him? Frisk ponders the situation and comes up with a horrible idea. Feet, don't fail me now.

"Actually, I was dumb and wrong. You're doing a great job. I need more healing." Frisk says.

Vulkin turns around, its smile even warmer and brighter than before. "Really? I'll do my best, just for you, friend."

Vulkin unleashes another torrent of flames and rocks from his head, raining down in burning droplets as Frisk dances across the ground to avoid them. Unable to resist, Vulkin closes his eyes and does the same, dancing around in delight. Frisk would also be amused if he wasn't dancing for his life, constantly scanning the skies for the firestorm, and staying light on his toes in the hopes that he would not have to stop, drop, and roll.

"Oh yeah, this is great. Keep it coming!" Frisk encourages with applause and a nervous grin.

"Getting tired… but okay! Here it comes," Vulkin's smile is now almost blinding to behold. Frisk shields his eyes by staring at the ceiling, and his dance quickly becomes a frantic uncoordinated frenzy of foot movements. However, his efforts do bear fruit; the more heat and flame Vulkin exhausts, the cooler the air and ground become, and the less intense the attacks become as Vulkin exhausts most of his magical energy. Eventually, this raging volcano becomes a scorching summer's day, something Frisk can actually tolerate as he takes a rest.

"Well, at least it can't get any..." Frisk spies a plane flying overhead, leaving behind an echoing whoosh. "How in Sam hill is there a plane down here and... Incoming!" Frisk shouts as a payload drops from the plane, heading directly for their location. Frisk notices an exhausted Vulkin sitting to take a break. Frisk leaps into action, as he grabs Vulkin and pulls both of them away from ground zero.

"Okay, I think we're— OWW!" Frisk leaps away from Vulkin's still burning hot body. While Vulkin appreciates the effort, neither have the time to contemplate this as a thundering crash deafens their ears. When Frisk regains his senses, his eyes come across a bombshell casting. However, as strange as that is, it is not as odd as the lettering on the bomb:

Hi, I'm Tsunderplane. Not that I wanted you to notice me... Baka!

"What the heck just happened?!"

"Oh, that's just Tsunderplane," Vulkin says casually. "Don't worry, friend. She is harmless."

Frisk stares at Vulkin. "Dropping a bomb from a hundred feet on top of someone is harmless? How does that make sense?"

"It just means she likes you, friend."

The ground shakes as a second payload crashes into the ground. This time the bombshell casing is labeled: NO I DON'T!

Frisk's eyes twitch as he examines the situation. "So… this is just a thing that happens."

"Pretty much," Vulkin says. "She must have a big crush on you. The bigger her feelings, the bigger her bombs. Try to let her down easy, friend. Well, glad I could heal you! La, la, laa..." Vulkin sings as he marches away with a smile on his face, leaving Frisk alone.

Frisk wishes he could be stunned, amazed, that he could say this is the strangest thing that's ever happened to him, but Frisk doesn't believe anything will surprise him for the rest of his life ever again. With a resigned shrug of his shoulders, he returns to the path, accepting the helpless absurdity of his situation.

To his fortune, the vents seem to have run their course and are replaced with conveyor belts, moving platforms that take him from point A to point B in record time and without having to exert himself. The first belt takes him across a large and elaborate twisted path, gliding him across like a relaxing train ride. He only wishes the sight could be something other than magma, machinery, and more magma. Not helping is the occasional buzz flying overhead; whether it's a flying plane crushing on him or one of Mettaton's camera drones, Frisk no longer wishes to know.

He reaches a solid platform and turns to another conveyor belt, but he notices several beams of light traveling across the platform, some orange and some cyan. His phone rings, and Frisk answers. "Uhh, h-hi!" The other side says. "So the blue laser— I meant, Alphys here!"

"Lasers? Why are there lasers?"

"M-Mettaton activated them, but don't worry! The Blue lasers won't hurt you if you don't move! O-Orange ones, um... you have to be moving, um... So, they won't, um... Just move through those ones... Uh, bye!" She hangs up, leaving Frisk bewildered but thankful for the instructions.

The path is divided into five sections: three covered by stationary orange lasers and two covered by mobile cyan lasers. True to Alphys' word, Frisk reduces the orange lasers to an absolute joke as he walks through them with ease. The cyan lasers are more complicated, but careful coordination & timing are all he needs to pass them. Once he passes through the final set of lasers, he comes across a steel platform with a red switch. A quick pull and the lasers deactivate, bringing relief to Frisk. Should he ever need to backtrack, the path will be easier; not that he can see a reason to do so.

He comes to a platform that goes off in four directions, three via steam vents to the north, west, east, and one south through another set of conveyor belts guarded by more lasers. His phone rings again.

"A-A-Alphys here! Th... The northernmost door will stay locked... until you solve the puzzles on the left and right. I...I think you sh-should g-g-go to the right first."

"Alright, Alphys, but what kind of—" His words die along with the phone line. "...Puzzles, are they?" He sighs. "Well, it's not like anyone down here is normal." There is a mighty sizeable blue door ahead and platforms along the sides with waiting rooms. Following Alphys' instructions, Frisk takes the right platform. The platform isn't large, with only enough space to reach the housing structure built into the rocky wall. A pig and octopus monster sit along the platform's edge, gazing at a portable TV set in their hands.

"Wow, I can't believe it. Mettaton really upped his game this time. He's going to take on an actual 'human'! That costume and performance are so convincing. Can't get a show any bigger than this!" The Pig monster in a delicate blue suit says.

"Never say never to Mettaton; trust me, this is just the start of his schemes. But I sure would hate to be this actor. They don't stand no chance against Mettaton." The octopus monster replies.

"Well, I'm cheering for Mettaton!"

"Me too!"

Not wanting to attract more attention than he already has, Frisk sulks through the doorway to enter the puzzle room. Before him is a large turret aimed at a series of boxes with a set of directional buttons. A wolf monster bangs his head in frustration in the corner. "Don't bother, kid. This puzzle can't be beaten. You'll always run out of ammo before solving it. I tried a dozen times already, and my coworkers won't help me. It's like they don't want to go to work or something."

"Umm... Let me give it a try." Frisk says as he examines the puzzle and ponders its mechanics. He spies a target on the opposite side and two boxes blocking his way, but only two shots to use. He plays with the buttons a few times, moving the boxes into new positions. However, there is no way to clear the path completely, as there is always one box standing in his way. That is when Frisk realizes he has two shots to use. Shoving one into the side, he blows the other box to pieces, freeing the path to the target, and fires the last shot.

A computer screen reads CONGRATULATIONS.

"Wow, you solved it. I'm impressed. You must be a total nerd!" The wolf monster says. Frisk basks in the glory; hours of solving puzzles back at home are finally paying off in ways he never expected.

"Nope. Just a puzzle master!" Frisk exclaims with a thumbs up.

"Yes, that means the door is unlocked, and we can go back to work now." A haunting realization comes upon the wolf monster. "Oh, no… that means we can go back to work now." He returns to hide in his corner. Frisk can relate, knowing many empty and silent days thanks to another job.

He almost doesn't want to unlock the door but needs to move on. He marches outside to the steam vent that propels him back to the original platform. A glance at the door reveals a shining light on the right side, telling him he is halfway through the door already.

Another steam vent takes him across to an identical platform. This time, a single cyan laser blocks the path as school girl monsters wait along the opposite side of the platform. One is a lizard on a skateboard, while the other has a body of green fire that reminds Frisk of Grillby, though her flame burns brighter and hotter than him.

His phone makes itself known. "Al-Alphys here! Wow, that laser seems totally impassable. B-b-but! As the Royal scientist, I h-have some tricks up my sleeve! I'll hack into th-the Hotland Laster database and take it out!" Alphys says in a voice that reeks of faux coolness and confidence.

"Wow! That's amazing! So, you can take out every laser in all of Hotland?"

"Umm- um... Sure... I have to go now." Alphys hangs up the phone, and after a few seconds, the cyan laser deactivates.

"Wow, she must be smart!" Frisk is astonished owing to his little or no experience of computers and their inner workings. However, a piece of him remains unconvinced and curious. Nevertheless, the school girls notice that they are now free.

"Finally! Someone turned off that laser. Was it you?" The girl of fire asks.

"Umm... No. Kind of... Maybe?" It was Alphys who deactivated the laser, but it was because of his presence that she did it. Which does make him wonder how these monster girls got stranded in the first place. But what really surprises him is how the girls don't seem too excited at the prospect of being freed.

"Well, thanks for whatever you did," the fire girl says. "Now that we're free, we can... Uh...Well I guess, we'll just keep standing here."

"Honestly, this rules, if ya ask me! With all these puzzles reactivated, they've got to cancel school!" The Lizard girl says.

"Amen to that!" Frisk and the Lizard girl exchange a congratulatory gesture to express their solidarity in avoiding a plane of burning and tormenting inferno of anguish, misery, and suffering. Frisk supposes Hotland is bad, too.

"Wanna join us?" The girl of flames asks.

Before Frisk replies, a thundering noise crashes behind them, sending them hopping into the air. When they turn to face it, there is another dropped bombshell casing with more lettering: NO HE DOESN'T!

"Ahh, Tsunderplane likes you, and… nevermind!" Her sweet voice quickly turns urgent and slightly afraid.

"Is this really something that just happens?" Frisk asks.

"Ahh, don't worry about it, little boy; she'll be over you by next week."

Next week? Frisk thought. I want to make it through the next hour.

With that, Frisk departs from the girls before any more bombshells drop from the sky. He stumbles across a larger and more complex variant of the puzzle he defeated in the opposing room inside the next room. It's double the size, holds triple the number of boxes but has one solution to solve the puzzle. Frisk toys with the controls to manipulate the boxes to his growing frustration; every action he makes always leaves two or more boxes in the center to block his path.

Frisk checks the ship turret and ensures he has two shots to solve the puzzle— a third one would have made the whole ordeal a cakewalk. He scans over pattern after pattern, movement after movement, and box after box. No matter what, the solution stubbornly refuses to make itself known. As time passes, he increases in speed as his mind goes over the possibilities until he comes across one where only a single box blocks his path, and he brushes past it.

"No! Go back! go back!" Frantically recounting his steps, Frisk finally comes across the solution that leaves him with a single box in his way where he blasts the target to pieces. Frisk destroys the ship on the opposite side to the sound of his applauding hands as he leaps into the air. With both puzzles defeated, the doorway should be open, and he will be free to continue.

Frisk exits outside, noticing the schoolgirls and employees displaying the same sense of urgency and commitment anyone should take when attending school or a job: absolutely none, and he cannot blame them.

Frisk returns to the vent to take him back across to the center platform, where the large and mighty door slowly opens for him to use. However, he cannot help but turn his attention towards the conveyer belts heading south in what seems to be an alternative route. There are lasers of alternating colors protecting it and several signs that discourage monster access; few would take this rear path with the way ahead open under normal circumstances.

Ummm... I wonder… and I ain't a monster.

With the door in no hurry to open and curiosity driving Frisk, he leaps onto the conveyer belt where it takes him along for a ride, moving much faster than the previous ones. On the one hand, it feels somewhat like a flowing breeze, but on the other hand, it puts his reflexes to the test as the cyan and orange lasers advance towards him. Briefly getting the colors mixed up, Frisk runs through a cyan laser and gets zapped before falling still to get zapped again by an orange laser.

With that harsh reminder out of the way, Frisk plays a frantic game of cat and mouse as he plays possum to evade the cyan lasers moving towards him and he charges towards the orange ones whenever he can. Not helping is the conveyer belt moving beneath him and when the lasers themselves start to move as well, forcing Frisk to keep track of those ahead as well as those behind him. Often moving and immediately freezing to evade the same laser twice when it comes back for another run. As if things aren't tricky enough, the conveyer belt takes Frisk closer towards the lava bed, filling him with regret for taking this path.

Only someone made out of metal or filled with Determination could have made it this far.

Fortunately, there is a button at the end, and Frisk counts his luck there is a way out of this laser-filled scorching heat trap. Once he passes the final set and arrives, Frisk slams into the button in a gasping mess, which deactivates the lasers and reverses the direction of the conveyer belt. "Thank goodness, who the heck left this— these things here?"

Frisk approaches the edge, recognizing some things that seem far out of place, a cooking apron and frying pan, both are scorched but intact. There are embellishments knitted upon the apron: From Robert & Joanne and letters engraved into the frying pan: And Alex & Sam. Quite unusual names for monsters, but not for humans.

Someone else made it this far. That's six of us now. Frisk counts himself, Chara, the owners of the hair ribbon, manly bandana, Liza's Tutu, and these. He doesn't count Amy. She said it best when she declared herself an exception to the rules. He doesn't know how or why? Here are these monsters desperate for the final human, and yet there has been Amy, prancing around under their collective noses. It makes Frisk wonder about the answers, but that time is better suited for one where he isn't going to be cooked alive.

Returning to the conveyer belt, Frisk takes one final glance at the apron and frying pan. That crazy robot probably got them… I bet it doesn't even know what Mercy is. Well, it ain't getting me… and you're coming with me!

Finished, Frisk resumes his journey, now greatly alleviated as the conveyor belt brings him to the door and full of confidence as his backpack carries the fallen human's possessions. Returning to the top, the door is now completely open, to his relief. Before he can approach, his phone cries out for attention.

"Uuhh, I think... Um. Hey, Frisk, about those puzzles on the left and right. They're a little bit difficult, but I think I can help you solve them!" Again, Alphys' voice is strong but strained, mere seams away from shredding to pieces.

"Oh, I already solved them!" Frisk reveals with an overly casual voice. Using a steam vent, which by now brings him thrill and relief from the scorching heat of Hotland, he passes through the door and enters a room bathed in thick darkness. He considers it strange but is so overwhelmed with the presence of air conditioning that he couldn't care less.

"...Uhhh, so you already s-solved them. And without m-me, too. That's awesome!" She whimpers, poorly hiding her nerves.

"Don't worry about it, Alphys. I'm pretty good with puzzles, but I'm sure you're a lot better than I am. With you being a scientist and everything, I'll need all the help I can get, and I'm glad it's you." Frisk enters deeper into the darkroom, the path suddenly turns to hard decorative glass. A strange buzzing noise plagues his ears.

"Wow, thanks, Frisk... You shouldn't have said that..." She speaks, her voice frail, before taking a pause so long Frisk thinks the line died on its own. "H-hey, it's kind of dark in there, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." Frisk waves his arms ahead of him to find empty space. "Where am I anyway, Alphys?"

"Don't worry, I'll hack into the lightning system and brighten things up!" With those words, the lights turn on and fill Frisk with confusion as he discovers himself inside a fully stocked kitchen with all the basic necessities: a long dining table, a stove and oven combo, a refrigerator, microwave, and an abundance of food and ingredients. They're standing in the middle of a large set, where a camera records and follows his every move.

"Why is there a camera here and... Oh no!" Frisk's voice winds down as he realizes the camera person is a miniature Mettaton Drone.

"Oh no!" Alphys mimics him as reality sinks in.

"I think you all mean Ohhh Yes!" Mettaton announces and emerges from behind the table while wearing a chief's hat.

"Welcome, Beauties, to the Underground's Premier Cooking Show!" Relaxing pop music play from hidden speakers as a large and lavish decorative sigh emerges from the ceiling: Cooking with a Killer Robot!

"Preheat your ovens at home dearies! Because we've got an extraordinary recipe for you today! For we're going to be baking..." Mettaton's voice box goes silent as a drum rolls plays and random images of food flash across Mettaton's screen, much to Frisk's confusion and disbelief. After Papyrus' puzzles and Undyne's fury, a cooking show is the last way he ever expected anyone to try and capture him. Though again, Papyrus' greatest puzzle was bad pasta, and while he did not defeat Undyne, it was the kitchen where they fought their final battle and burned her house to the ground.

"…A Cake! Now, my lovely assistant will go and gather our ingredients. Everyone, give him a big hand!" Mettaton applauds as confetti rains over the stage, along with a blinding spotlight and speakers that surround him with the sounds of clapping hands. Frisk remains paralyzed in dread as the camera locks on him, broadcasting him to hundreds, if not thousands, of monsters across the whole Underground. He wishes he could stretch his arms and smash the thing to pieces; being the center of the Underground's attention is far more daunting and intimidating than any killer robot.

Yet with an actual killer robot standing a few feet away, Frisk gulps and awkwardly raises his hand to wave hello to the Underground, winning the most uncomfortable smile of the year award at the same time.

"Now we're going to need flour, sugar, eggs, and milk. Now go for it, Sweetheart!" Mettaton says with excessive enthusiasm and the demeanor of an entertainer. Eager to escape the spotlight, Frisk turns his back and approaches the counter where the ingredients lie. He gathers them into his arms before placing them onto the ground. Hoping to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, he takes the apron from his backpack and wears it. If he's going to be on a cooking show, he might as well look the part. Then, with great reluctance, he returns to face the camera and Mettaton with the ingredients.

"Great job, beautiful! We've got all the ingredients we need to bake the cake and—" Mettaton flatlines. Even the lights on the monitor screen turn pure black, standing there like a hollow husk. Frisk wonders if this is some kind of malfunction and is willing to let Alphys find out herself. If someone was watching the show at this moment, they would be treated with the bizarre sight of dead air, a non-functioning host, and a special guest star sliding their way to escape. Until Mettaton suddenly returns to normal.

"Sorry, my dearies. Spaced out for a second there, alas, I have returned! And I must ask, where did you get that attractive apron, my lovely assistant?" Mettaton asks, leaving Frisk puzzled as to why the robot would even care.

"Oh, I found it in Hotland. I had to save it." Frisk says as he pads the apron and shoots Mettaton a scornful look before putting him and show out of his mind to turn his attention to the ingredients. Since he prepared most of his meals on the surface, Frisk finds himself back in his comfort zone in the kitchen while wearing the apron. It gives him peace of mind, knowing what he can make with his hands to fill his tummy with something yummy.

"Well, my lovely assistant, thank you so much for bringing me an apron to use for our spectacular show. Just what I needed to finish my wonderful wardrobe." With a snap of gloved fingers, two Mettaton drones fly out of the ceiling and latch onto the apron, gently flying up to remove it from him. Frisk clenches the apron to his sides to keep it.

"Now, now," Mettaton says. "Don't be so stubborn; that apron looks hideous on you anyway, lovely assistant. Think about how much better it will be on my magnificent body!" Mettaton does jazz hands and spins to showcase the point, yet Frisk does not relent. Hideous or not, which he strongly disagrees, Frisk will not allow a human possession to fall into the gloved hands of a soulless machine. He owed their previous owner that much, at least.

"Why are you resisting so much, lovely assistance? It is a little old apron, and you're making an ugly scene for our beautiful audience. Don't make me break character; you wouldn't like it if I broke character." Mettaton's voice retains a TV Show Host's flare but sharpened to a pointed edge.

"No, I won't," Frisk insists. "It's human, and I'm taking it back to the Surface where it belongs." The gentle grabbing game turns into a fierce tug of war as the Mettaton drones desperately try to retrieve the apron. To his surprise, Frisk holds onto it, despite knowing he should be no match for Mettaton's superior mechanical strength. In the end, when the apron threatens to rip apart, Frisk drops to the ground when the drones let him go.

"Very well, you can keep it. Just be sure to take extra special care of it, lovely assistant. Some things are quite difficult to... replace." Despite speaking with a digitized voice, Frisk cannot help but notice a hint of pain coming through with that final word. Since Mettaton's a soulless murder machine designed to hunt down humans, Frisk assumes it intends to share that pain with him, perhaps a pain Mettaton already shared with the owner of this apron.

"My apologies, lovely dearies. It's just a minor infraction between the assistant and me— it's so hard to find good help these days. Now then we have a cake to bake, my not so lovely assistant." Mettaton addresses the audience in that showman demeanor, almost like that whole fight never occurred at all.

"Oh, that's so nice. What kind of cake are we making?" Frisk asks, eager to bake once again but yearns for his previous baking partner, Toriel.

"I am so happy you asked! How could I have positively forgotten the most important ingredient of all!" Mettaton reaches beneath the counter and to Frisk's shock and awe, pulls out a chainsaw. "A Human soul!"

Overcome with fright, Frisk stumbles to the ground as he desperately tries to crawl away from the actively buzzing chainsaw. "Jeez! Fine, here you can have it!" Frisk almost yanks off the apron, and his offer does bring an end to the buzzing as Mettaton stares deeply at him. They pause there for a few awkward moments. Until the speakers die and a new audio source takes over.

"Hello...?" Mettaton says. "I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

"W-wait a second!" Alphys shouts over the speaker. "Couldn't you make a... Couldn't you use a... Couldn't you make a substitution in the recipe?!"

Her rescue brings an enormous sigh of relief to Frisk. "Thanks, Alphys!"

Mettaton's menace and chainsaw pause briefly. "... A substitution? Do you mean, use a different non-human ingredient? ...But why?!"

"Uhh, what if someone's... vegan?" Alphys adds, her voice uncertain if Mettaton buys it.

"Vegan...? That's a brilliant idea, Alphys! Actually, I happen to have an option right here! MTT-Brand always convenient Human Soul Flavor substitute! Made from the freshest artificial ingredients and chemicals!" Mettaton declares like this is the most extraordinary thing in the world and that no kitchen in the Underground will be complete without it. Meanwhile, all Frisk can do is clutch onto the apron and himself, wondering in dread how anyone can replicate the flavor of human souls.

It's going to kill me and eat me... What the heck is wrong with this thing, Alphys?! Frisk thought as Mettaton performs the ad portion of the show, complete with a 24/7 shopping hotline and free shipping if they order within the next 30 minutes.

"A can of which... happens to be just over on that counter!" Mettaton directs Frisk's sights to the stage exit, where a can sits on the counter. A simple enough task, if only the counter was not 300 feet tall. His eyes can't even see the counter's top.

"By the way, our show runs on a strict schedule. If you can't get the can in the next minute... We'll just have to go back to the original plan!" Mettaton declares while measuring him for the oven to Frisk's horror. "So... Better start climbing, beautiful!"

Rockets emerge from Mettaton's body which sends the mechanical chief soaring into the air, leaving Frisk stranded at the bottom of the floor, staring upward at his only hope to avoid becoming the dessert dish in a three-course meal. "How the heck am I supposed to get up there?!"

"Oh no!" Alphys exclaims. "There's not enough time to climb up! But, F-f-Fortunately, I might have a plan! When I was upgrading your phone, I added a few... features."

"What kind of features?"

"I'm glad you asked. You see that huge button called Jetpack!?" Frisk pushes the button, the phone transforms as it triples in size, sprouts two rockets, and transforms into a jetpack. One which Frisk's eyes with intense hunger and fascination, he doesn't hesitate at strapping it onto his back, ready to live out the dream of every kid in the world.

"Holy cow!" He exclaims with star-stunned eyes and gaping mouth, staring to the top of the counter with a newfound sense of awe-filled confidence. Even a piece of himself could not contain the excitement coursing and tingle across Frisk's whole being.

Frisk is Filled with Determination.

"There! You should have enough fuel to reach the top! Just know this is a one-time deal! Now get up there, buddy!" With Alphys's encouragement, Frisk ignites the Jetpack and leaps off the ground. "Up, up, and away!" With the final word, the rockets fire and send Frisk soaring into the air, to his utter glee and joy.

For a few wondrous moments, he isn't underground but flying across the blue sky with a red cape wrapped around his shoulders, with no one standing in his way or trying to capture him. It reminds him of the blue magic Papyrus used on him, except he has complete control over his situation this time. He flies into the air, unable to resist the urge to swing side to side and perform a loop and loop to satisfy his exhilaration. He wishes it could last forever, however, as he passes the fifteen-second mark. He knows all good things must come to an end, and he makes a beeline directly to the top of the counter.

Mettaton and the drones make a rude return, using their rockets to fly ahead of him with Frisk's ingredients. To slow or stop Frisk, Mettaton drops them on top of Frisk in rapid succession. Together they unleash clouds of flour to block his vision, carry baskets of eggs, nuts, and other foods to drop over him, and they even go for a pie-in-the-face gag as they throw pastries at him. Their combined efforts come together to create a rainstorm of delicious delectables. Under different circumstances, food raining out of the sky would be another dream come true, but this is a meal he'll be sending back to the chief.

However, Frisk maneuvers his jet pack to evade the attacks and considers smashing through Mettaton to end this charade. However, he doesn't want to harm himself and moves from side to side and varying his speeds to avoid the attacks. The most annoying prove to be the clouds of floury dust which linger in the air and cling to his eyes, sending him on irregular flight patterns or collisions with crumbs, eating up valuable time. Not that Frisk allows it to stop his flight, soaring through the rainstorm of food and treats like a bat, his sights locked onto the can of artificial synthetic human soul flavoring.

As he nears the top, the jet pack putters and shorts as fuel runs low. "No! Don't give up on me now! Almost there!"

As Frisk comes to the final ten seconds and levels of the counter, the drones throw themselves at him. However, they do not seem intent on stopping him but are more focused on latching off the apron so it can fall off his chest and into the air. He avoids their attacks, and as his fuel reaches its end, the final bursts are enough to propel him high and above the counter. Frisk hangs in midair for a few paralyzing seconds until he drops and reaches for the counter's edge. He clings onto it with his hands, almost falling away as his fingers dig to find a secure grip.

"I got it!" He pulls himself onto the counter and takes the can with a triumphant cheer and leap. Then he realizes he is 300 feet in the air and looks down at the set and path below like a distant sidewalk for ants. Desperate to know what the inside of his eyelids look like, he keeps them shut and turns as solid as a statue.

Please get me down! I only brought one pair of pants! Frisk thought in growing panic, at least until a banana cream pie lands on his face. Unable to resist, he opens his mouth and tastes the creamy and delectable dessert, replacing all the dread and fright within him with a delightful "yummm" as its creamy sweetness calms his nerves. A piece of him wishes it could be chocolate flavored, but Frisk couldn't find any reason to complain.

"You know, I needed that," he says. Then, as the counter gradually descends to the floor, he takes the pie off his face and eats it piece by piece. Mettaton flies to his side.

"My, my. It seems you bested me, my lovely assistant! But only because you had the help of the brilliant doctor Alphys!"

"You're darn tooting right!" Frisk declares with a hand slap in midair he meant for Alphys, but a piece of him cannot help but find these circumstances convenient.

"Oh, I loathe to think what would have happened to you without her! Unfortunately, our program is about to reach the end credits. But don't change your channel yet, my dearies! This is merely our first round, human! Be sure to stay tuned in for our next explosive confrontation! By the time we're done, human, our names will shine in the stars together! Well, toodles!" The counter reaches the ground, and Mettaton waves a hand as the rockets are ready to jettison the host to their next arena and scheduled programming.

"Oh, yes... about the substitution! Haven't you ever seen a cooking show before?! I already baked the cake ahead of time! So, forget it!" Mettaton declares in that extravagant TV show's host's voice Frisk has come to expect from the machine. He groans at having his time wasted but remains high on the feeling of flying through the air. When Frisk steps off the counter, the cameras turn off, to his relief.

However, Mettaton lingers behind. "And don't you forget to take good care of that apron, or I'll have to take it away from you... Frisk."

Frisk does not know what surprises him more, being addressed by his actual name or the sudden grave hardness of Mettaton's voice. As far as Frisk cares, his name possesses all the quality of an over-baked dessert made with expired milk, rotten eggs and served long after it was baked. That mechanical voice might as well have been icing made out of actual cement hardening into concrete. Then, before anything else can happen, Mettaton flies away into the dark heart of Hotland, leaving Frisk alone with his concerns.

"Wow. We... we did it! We really did it! Great job, team!" Alphys declares like she cannot believe this is actually happening.

"You better believe it, Alphys! Glad to have you on my side!" Frisk reassures her as he removes his apron and places it back into the backpack. "Really weird, though. Why does it care so much about my apron? Do you know anything, Alphys? It's your robot." He asks, and there is a long period of silence, broken by a few desperate and nervous gasps for breaths.

"W-well, uh, anyway, let's keep moving forward! Just take really good care of that... apron... Yourself, too. We don't wanna lose ya!" The line dies before Frisk could receive any answers to his questions. He holds the phone in his hand for a few moments.

"Now what was that about?" Frisk is hungry with a curiosity no cooking show could ever satisfy. Instead, Frisk makes his way offstage and reenters Hotland.

Author's Note: This will be the final update for 2021 due to the holiday season, updates will resume on January 05, 2022. I hope you enjoy yourselves during this break and see you next year for more Being Human.