Well the door back was already gone, so the only way out was forward now. Frisk was already pulling her frying pan out while she walked, swallowing an uncomfortable lump in her chest and intermittently remembering that she was actually supposed to be back in bed by now. But being caught wasn't her biggest worry anymore.

It didn't take a whole lot of walking to reach something new; the hall had widened out some, and on the opposite end was a door with a big black computer screen positioned next to it. Frisk remembered Alphys' lab and approached both warily, expecting slews of curse words, typos, and whining about friendship problems that were in large part the whiner's own fault. The screen flickered to life upon her approach.

[ATTENTION POTENTIAL NEW TEST SUBJECT, CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'VE BOTH BEEN SELECTED TO ASSIST IN A COMPREHENSIVE SERIES OF EXPERIMENTS RELATED TO CORE HAZARD EXISTENTIALIST THEORY. THROUGH THESE TESTS, YOU WILL BE MONITORED AND REPEATEDLY ASKED TO PERFORM MONOTONOUS OR STRENUOUS ACTIONS TO REACH DIFFERENT RESULTS AND PROCEED THROUGH THE TESTING CHAMBERS. THESE EXPERIMENTS ARE DESIGNED TO BROADEN YOUR LIMITS AND MAY BE PAINFUL, IMPOSSIBLE OR UPSETTING.]

[YOUR PARTICIPATION IN THESE TESTS IS ENTIRELY VOLUNTARY.]

Words appeared on the screen, and they might have even been English, but Frisk didn't recognize the letters; they were more like shapes than anything. She tilted her head, reaching out a hand as if in preparation to tap on the screen, see if it was just a mistake. But she withdrew at the last moment. Back home, when she could use the computer, sometimes she'd seen letters like these on a Word document.

Frisk's midway-raised hand trembled between the screen and the door, unable to commit to either direction. She held her weapon tight and took a step back. There was no way but forward now, so she may as well see what's on the other side of the door. She committed to the knob, grasped and turned.

It's locked.

"What the fuck!" Frisk said.

She tried turning it a couple more times, but the voice of her head only told her the same thing again and again, while the knob jiggled and clicked. It at least wasn't the same kind of "locked" as before, where interacting with it at all seemed forbidden.

So irritated was she that she almost failed to notice it, but with a small beep the black screen to her left was changing. Words were erasing and being typed in their place, like somewhere out there was a person with a keyboard.

[BY SIGNING ON THE SCREEN, YOU EXPRESS CONSENT TO YOUR PARTICIPATION IN THESE TESTS AND TO ANY MEDICAL PROCEDURES CONDUCTED ON YOU DURING THE COURSE OF THE TESTING.]

It ended in a long flat line, with an x on either side. A stylus on a silver chain dropped down from the bottom of the screen, dangling well within Frisk's reach.

With a suspicious frown Frisk gripped the stylus. "What is this, a quiz?"

If the whole thing was in actual English maybe she could have passed and gotten right out of this place, or so the child was thinking as she clunked her frying pan upon the ground. She reached out and tapped the screen, the image distorting around her fingertip with each click of nail on computer surface, but nothing else changed. There wasn't even a blinking cursor.

When she pressed her full print onto the screen, however, a little green did get left behind. It faded after a few moments. Perhaps like how she was supposed to write something with the stylus

"Hey I need it in English. I dunno what I'm supposed to put here."

She took the stylus up in her free hand, and that's when a sentence popped into her head. Will you sign?

Yes | No

"Ah!" Back home, sometimes when adults went shopping and paid with a card, they'd sign something on a computer screen before the payment went through. It looked so sloppy and hard to sign that way, but the machine always accepted it all the same. Handing over money that Frisk had taken off of monsters she beat up was a lot easier.

Still, the door wasn't opening just from her wiggling the knob, and trying to bust it down was what she decided she would call "plan b". She didn't know cursive, but Frisk took the stylus and wrote her name in big letters, the stylus drawing them across the screen in green pixels. "Yes."

The wingdings screen, with her name at the bottom, faded and left the computer a black screen.

Click! went the door lock. Frisk held her frying pan tight in both hands. "Hold on, I didn't mean to buy anything. If that's what I did. Don't take any of my account money. Fucker."

In response, the door creaked and hung slowly open, as if gently nudged from the other side.

It swung just in front of Frisk's face, and she took a step away in reflex. From what she could see, there wasn't anyone on the other side. Just more grey walls, ceiling, and flooring. But as she continued to stare beyond the door, she made out more shapes as well. A platform, and a button?

Violent monsters could be hiding behind anything, waiting for any opportunity; her mind blank, Frisk's shoulders shook. She shoved the door open so hard that it smacked against the computer right next to it and the sound of cracking glass trickled across the hall. She ran through the door, and it slammed closed behind her just as hard, causing her to give a small yelp in the grey chamber.

Yes, it wasn't just an empty hallway this time. It was a large room, and the platform she'd seen sat in the middle of it, raised till it reached to about her chest-in the center of it was a deep, narrow indentation. There were smaller stands in every corner of the room, shaped like podiums but each studded with a large white button. On the far wall hung a one-handed clock, but it had no numbers and only little ticks along the rim to denote time. The hand didn't move. Frisk never learned how to read analog anyway.

Aside from the door in, there didn't seem to be any exits.

A quick look around - bending and peering to see behind podiums while staying as close to the closed door as possible - reassured the child that there were no monsters about to approach. At that, Frisk's heartbeat had just started to slow when out of the corner of her eye she saw movement.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck off!" The metal frying pan sliced through the air, swinging so hard that it almost threw Frisk off balance. It missed the target entirely, which stayed well out of harm's way above the large platform in the center.

A pair of white hands, floating in open space.

Not completely white; on the back of each hand was what looked to her to be a large black dot, although it was difficult to see clearly from that distance. And, as soon as she'd stopped swinging to get a better look at them, the disembodied hands changed rapidly in practiced and deliberate movements.

It was like-

In that movie-

Signing?

Frisk's throat was tight, but she managed to croak out, "Well you're just wasting your time, 'cause I don't speak sign lan-"

"-Test Subject-"

It hit her head like a cold gust, that sudden sense of understanding when she looked at the hands. It wasn't like they were speaking aloud, and there weren't letters and words to read, but still the words were coming into her head.

"Welcome newest test subject," the hands repeated, with quick and enormously exaggerated gestures. Frisk had never in her life learned how to speak sign language. When she raised her hands to try and "reply" something herself, she still didn't know how.

Nonetheless the hands signed at her, and she made out, "Before the experiment begins, please complete the following preliminary test. Failure to complete the preliminary test will result in an end to the experiment." Just like the last message they repeated themselves again. And then, before she could ask or say anything, the hands quietly dissolved into the air.

"A what." Frisk examined the room now that they were gone. Trying to open up the door back to the hallway met with failure; it was locked tight. Pressing a few of the buttons on the podiums resulted in the white button flashing black, beeping, and then turning white again. The platform in the center of the room had a big square in the middle, but pressing on the square or tracing its outline did nothing.

No food, no water, no monsters.

Her interest in this place was dead; Frisk pulled out her phone, hesitating between the Sanses in her contact list before finally dialing for her own Sans. She knew the routine, it'd take like five rings for him to finally pick up, and then he'd-

There were no rings. Just static, and an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the phone.

"NO. HINTS."

Then it hung up. Frisk hardly noticed that, as at the instant she heard that voice she'd let out a loud scream and nearly dropped it. "Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck!"

She took a second to let her heart stop pounding before turning her focus back to this blank grey room. So this was supposed to be a test, huh? And she a test subject. She hoped she wasn't going to get stuck with any needles, even if it was with a super serum. Getting a gun that shoots portals through walls would be pretty cool though.

Well it was clearly a puzzle, at any rate, and of a similar vibe to the traps that she faced back underground (although hopefully this one was without the threat of death.) As the only things around to interact with were the buttons, she gave her attention back to them. Pressing on the buttons didn't change anything for long... they gave a series of beep, and then eventually turned back white after several seconds, each one the same beep.

Along with that, it didn't seem like the platform was changing at all, or anything else about the room.

It took her some time and boredom to finally press one button, then another before the first one turned white again. It was as that she heard a click, and the "clock" over on the wall changed; the hand she'd thought for telling time squeezed off to the left, past one of the ticks. When the buttons both turned white again, the hand returned to its original position.

"Aaaah," Frisk hated time limits. At least it wasn't the color maze, though. She slammed her hand down on the nearest podium, and off she went running to slap down on the other three, eyes partially on the "clock" as she went. That hand slid around clockwise with gentle clicks, the anchor in the center to which it was attached seeming to protrude forward with each button press.

Of course, Frisk only did get to three before the buttons all turned white and the hand slid counterclockwise back into place, coming up just short of the last button. She skidded to a stop, slamming into the podium. "Motherfucker!"

Starting with the button that she had missed last time, Frisk pressed it and then went racing around the room like a baseball player that had hit a home run. Just as before, though, once it was time to reach the final button she came up short, heard the resetting click before she could reach the podium. Cutting through the center of the room was pointless too; it actually took even more time when taking into account how she had to vault over the platform in the middle to get through.

After that, she wasn't sure how many attempts there were... although it was definitely less than fifteen... before she tripped over her own feet and crashed to the hard grey floor beneath her. Her blood boiled, sweat running off her face, and Frisk took out her beloved burnt frying pan. She whacked the floor, whacked it again, felt her head pounding and heart spinning out of control. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

With her last ounce of self control she abruptly cut off her scream of profanities; tossing away her pan, curling into a ball, and just yelling into the hard ground.

She could be spending a long time just trying the same thing over and over again. Why were monster puzzles so stupid? She was already sweaty and thirsty; was she at least going to be able to get a drink? Or a snack?

It was too bad that she had her frying pan and nothing to fry up with it.

"Hmmm," huffing and wiping her face, Frisk got back on her feet and took the pan back in hand. Running around to all of them wasn't going to work, she just couldn't be fast enough.

But, Frisk eyed that clock and also eyed what was in her hands, and some of that angry tension in her body relaxed. Her expression was still sour, but now she faced the center of the room with squared shoulders. She counted under her breath.

On three, Frisk hit the first button.

BEEP.

There were three beeps until the black turned white again. Frisk was already racing to the next podium, slapping her hand down without stopping. Second button.

BEEP.

The third podium was already coming up; Frisk slowed, just for a second; her frying pan was still in her hands, but in the next moment she'd wound her arm back and thrown it for the podium in the far corner. And as it flew through the air, she reached the third one.

She hit the button, it turned black.

...Then she saw that the frying pan missed, and the clock reset again.

But it was okay, she got it on the second try.

The frying pan hit the podium so hard that Frisk thought she might have seen it wobble, though it was silly to think that she could be that strong. Luckily, this time it also hit the button, and just a little before Frisk.

The effect was immediate, as Frisk ambled over to catch her breath and take her weapon back. The hand on the wall "clock" went in a full circle and then fell off the wall with a clatter. Frisk put her pan away as she went to inspect it, a black little tie-shaped blade.

It fit the indentation on the table; once Frisk had placed it inside, it sunk down and away, and a large portion of the platform fell away with it. It gave way to a large hole, one that led down so deep that Frisk couldn't see the bottom through the darkness.

Her throat tightened. Frisk was prepared to just spend a long moment staring at that hole.

Although, the child was not to be given that luxury. Something snapped against her back, like a cane, and she screamed as she fell forward, half of her body almost going into the hole. "Ow!"

- 10 HP

The pain was more searing than she expected. Another hit like that, and she didn't know if she'd-

Another white shape was headed her way - in fact, there were several forming from the walls right before her eyes. Frisk scrambled, pawed, levered herself the rest of the way in. She was falling headfirst through the hole in the platform, down somewhere she didn't know.

Falling headfirst.

Falling feetfirst.

It was all still falling.

It was still going to hurt at the bottom.

Falling into a bed of thorns, being captured by a gently smiling monster mother, screaming from the broken leg, head knocked against something and so that was fuzzy too, or else maybe she wouldn't have trusted-

A nightmare that had just ended-

The hole through which Frisk was falling took a gradual sloping turn, and there was suddenly a bottom under Frisk's belly. Instead of falling, she was sliding. It was too little too late, though, as the child struggled to breathe and watched purple and white spots popping across their vision.

Several seconds later, Frisk rolled off the end of the grey slide and into a new grey room. She lay there for a minute facedown, the only sound being her choked breathing as she curled up her chubby fingers into fists.

No Flowey this time.

The cuckoo-cuckoo sound in her head eventually faded, though, and teeth gritted Frisk looked up. There wasn't much to look at, though, as it was all the same slate-grey as the room she'd just left, only exception being a little path of light grey leading into the distance. There weren't even buttons or clocks to break up the dull color of the walls.

Though, with how dull it was here, it was easier for a strange glittering to catch Frisk's eye as she stood.

She remembered what it was immediately, and approached it with dread.

Not far away, those hands were back, as if they had just materialized in the empty space. "Preliminary test complete, subject determined to have basic reas-"

She touched the little miracle, took a snapshot of these lifeless grey corridors in her mind and stored it somewhere for future use.

"-Skills; the following test will now determine-"

Frisk's eyes were dull as she cast them forward.

You are filled with D˅Û̿͟rȓiǭńatio˖͡.

Your game has been S̶ƴAVEǵD̒.

It wasn't raining as hard in the forest now. But that wasn't reassuring somehow.

They couldn't go off on their own. They needed him to get back before they were missed. He knew that, they knew that. So why?...

"...an' they weren't picking up, an' i can't find em anywhere else, uh. so i thought, it's not super likely, but maybe they changed their mind and decided to come visit you after all?" Sans didn't know why he was cringing a little bit as he finished the sentence, sweating and peeking at Toriel mostly with one eye (his good eye.) "so uh... they in there?"

Toriel had the same placid expression as ever, that calm demeanor that he had come to appreciate so much since they first exchanged jokes. But this time - and to be fair, this was often the case with her anyway - it was colored with confusion. A complete lack of comprehension, as if he'd been speaking in another language the entire time.

That particular look drove him crazy. He scowled. And Toriel suddenly spoke, pressing a hand against her cheek, "Who did you say this was again, Sans?"

"...uh," he huffed out a breath, and leaned to the side just a little, almost like he could see around her and into the house to find out for himself. "Frisk? The human kid? kid that broke the barrier a little while back?"

"What do they look like?"

No more scowl; those words knocked it off his face, and Sans had a bad feeling in the place where his gut should have been. Toriel was smiling calmly, still, waiting for his reply. Sans took a small step back, just to stabilize himself. "...uhhh short, dark hair on just their head, orange and black... stripes... uhh. hairless skin. kinda goony..."

But Toriel was just shaking her head, frowning. "I'm sorry Sans, but that doesn't sound familiar at all."

"the kid that broke the barrier," he repeated at her, shoulders moving in plain disbelief, but no matter how he moved she didn't catch on or tell him she was just kidding.

"...But..." Toriel turned her head to look to the distance. "Asgore was the one who broke the barrier, wasn't he?"

"what," Sans breathed, wheezing softly. "i'm sorry but, what."

"Oh I know, it was a team effort from everyone. But we somehow managed." Toriel said with a sage nod, and she didn't sound like she was even talking to Sans anymore, wandering around on the porch. "I don't know how we're going to go about the next stage of the plan, though. Asgore is not exactly god material even though the barrier is broken."

"th-that's because he did-didn't-" It was a joke. It was a joke, right? It was supposed to be funny? Or maybe the old lady was crazier than he'd thought; Sans pulled out his phone, started texting as fast as his cold bony little thumbs would allow.

That the old lady was being really weird about Frisk.

But the reply he got back from Alphys was

who's frisk? :T

Next Chapter: Black and Green Screen