Happy Holidays. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Undertale.


Golden petals and blinding light.

That's what I woke up to that oh so infamous morning. Not my alarm - which hardly worked anyway - not my… Wait, I didn't go to bed. At least, I didn't think I did. I couldn't have, I wasn't in a bed. I was in a…

... Why was I in a hole?

I groaned as I sat up. My body was aching, mostly my back and shoulders. Neck was stiff… Did I fall outta that shiny petal hole over me? Looking up at the massive drop I laid at the bottom of, I was pretty sure falling was the only way down.

Deciding to address the hows of the situation later, I instead began feeling myself for injury. As I patted my hands across my body and hoped not to hit something that stung, burned, or ached, I noticed a foreign object in my pocket, nestled uncomfortably in front of the square of my phone. I reached in to retrieve it…

My... Pen?

Pen:

Mightier than the sword.
+2 ATK.

I stared at the blue ballpoint with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, tried to remember why I would carry such a little thing. Why was it important, again? Someone gave it to me, I thought…

"Where did this..?" The echo of my own voice drew my attention, and I lifted my eyes to the cavern that surrounded me. Grimacing, I concluded aloud, "You know what? More important questions."

"Like, for example..." I shifted, forced myself to a knee in the gold of the flower bed beneath me. Pushing myself to my feet, I hardly noticed that my body was already loosening up and the pain of my plummet was dying away. Instead, I was throwing holding my arms out to the side and whipping my head back to scream,

"WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!"

Chapter 1: Golden Petals

"This is my game. And you have no place in it."


After a few more moments of staring up into the light, my arms dropped back to my sides, my shoulders sunk forward, and my head dropped. My lungs deflated with a sigh, and I reached up, rubbing my eyelids with my index finger and thumb.

"Okay, so..." My eyes drifted around the room, eyebrow arching with confusion. I spitballed theories aloud, "Fever dream?"

I looked down to the gold flowers that I had landed on, examining them curiously. I'd seen… Something like this before, right? Yet seeing it now felt wrong, unreal. Everything did, my brain was covered in fog.

"Was I sick..?" Right hand in my pocket, I looked to its left counterpart while I wondered. Pale skin, long fingers. Hands that would be good for a pianist, or a keyboard jockey. The latter felt a little more accurate, but what did I know? I was just some amnesiac. "Was I on something..?"

I started to walk, there wasn't anything else to do. I couldn't remember my name but at least I could still feel my legs. My tennis shoes crushed flowers without much care, and I wandered in the only direction there was: forward.

Crunch, crunch, crunch...

I guessed I probably should have been panicking. But, I didn't feel too much fear. Maybe I didn't remember enough about the concept to feel it, or maybe whoever I am was brave. In my chest there was a strange desire, an urge to push ahead that was only soothed by putting one foot in front of the other.

Crunch, crunch, crunch...

I wonder, was that always how I was? Would this desire to move ahead ever go away? Had it always been there? I grasped at straws, tried to put my identity together while I wandered through the purple cavern. Dust gleamed silver on the walls and the floor, and the sight of it made my skin crawl. But why?

I thought and thought, felt my whole life on the tip of my tongue. Tried to check my phone, but the stupid thing was dead. Eventually, though, a breakthrough came in the form of the wide open door on a purple brick building. A blackened and dead tree looming behind me, my eyes were glued to the golden star at my feet.

It hovered there, shimmering and shifting and burning with a light that comforted me. Drew me in, intensified that urge to move forward. Like an itch in my brain or maybe somewhere in my chest, and staring at the flashing gold of that star convinced me there was only one way to scratch it. Thoughtlessly, I reached out. My hand moved with painstaking slowness…

Ding!

*YO#'R# BL#E N#W

*Ki#l or #e #ill#d

*Twi#ig#t ## sh#nin# thr##gh Th# Ba#ri#r

*Be#ut#f#l day #uts#de

*Anyt#in# b#t#er to #o?

*Se#en. S#ven #uman souls.

*Despite everything, it's still you.

I jumped, yanked my hand back from the star of DETERMINATION before me. Felt like my brain stuck a fork in a light socket. Vibrations and electricity shook in my skull, images flashed before my eyes. People, places, words. A screen and a keyboard, a desk in a dark room. Some part of who I am…

Slowly, I lifted my head. My eyes glossed up the front wall of the home that loomed over me, I felt its shadow weigh on me. Green eyes wide and jaw ajar, my tongue trembled and flexed between my jaws. It wasn't my name, but this place… It was a part of my identity. And I remembered it, dared to say its name. "... Undertale."

*You saved the game.

My eyes drifted back down to the black box detailed with white text, and I paused to contemplate its words. Then, I lifted my gaze to the dusty footprints making their way up the steps and through the doorway before me.

"... Debatable, text box. Debatable."


The floor creaked under my feet as I stepped through the empty home, eyes carefully examining my surroundings. In my left hand, my pen was gripped tightly. No goat mom and no squinty child, but it did kinda smell like cinnamon and butterscotch.

*Keep moving.

I looked to my text box and took a deep breath while I contemplated it. I focused some, squinted with thought, aaand… The textbox morphed, shifted almost instantly into a box of stats before my now wide eyes.

"Oh shit it worked!" I said with excitement, a giddy grin already shaping my features. Said excitement faded, however, when I got a look at my stats.

ATK 2

DEF 1

Weapon: Pen

Armor: Earbuds

"What kinda armor is that?!" I exclaimed thoughtlessly, before immediately remembering I was invading a home. Crouching and swiveling my head to look and listen for any goats or humans, I remained on edge for a moment or two before breathing a sigh of relief. Then, I gradually stood up straight and returned my focus to my stats. I muttered while I reached out to click on those words, "Okay..."

Earbuds:

*Music is a universal language. Having earbuds as armor is a universal let down.
+ 1 DEF, +1 SPD

I was grimacing again as I looked from the text and down to the thin black wires that ran from my pocket to my ears. Connecting into the headphone port of the phone in my pocket, my earbud's cord ran all the way up my black and red striped T-shirt and between the open zipper of my blue, red striped hoodie to the sides of my head. The speakers were draped over my ears, I was kinda amazed they hadn't fallen off while I was whipping my head around. Under my breath I bellyached, "Well, at least Texty here has jokes…"

Speaking of belly, the smell of food got my attention again. And as I looked back towards the kitchen entrance to my left and recalled what that SAVE POINT had let me recall about this game, I made a decision only half influenced by hunger.

"... I'm totally gonna steal the rest'a that pie."


Somewhere far away in this new reality, in a different timeline unbeknownst to the one our amnesiac narrator woke up in, crimson eyes fluttered open. Golden light reflected in the beautiful red of eyes unblinded by the sun's shine, and pale hands slowly clenched into the gold of the flowers he laid upon. Bulky, big knuckled hands that thoughtlessly crushed those petals in his palm.

"... Am I dead..?" The words slipped past his cracked lips, gentle like his empty expression and unlike his clenched fists. He laid still, let the sun reflect off the shallow white of his skin. The warmth felt unnatural, unwelcome and undeserved. Too little too late.

*Get up.

He sat up without a second thought, didn't struggle to lift himself. Now he was slouched forward, the long white of his hair dangling in an ivory mess around his face and briefly obscuring the empty red of his eyes. His hands fumbled blindly through the flowers, carelessly mashing and uprooting the humble plants in his thoughtless search.

Finally, his fingertips met something cool and hard and curled instinctively around the item. It felt so very familiar… A part of his body, a part of his soul. He pulled it from the dirt, and it was easy. He knew exactly how much it would weigh in his hand. And he lifted it up in front of his face, stared at the blunt tool with the same slackjawed lifelessness he'd stared at the sun with.

*Mother's crowbar.

The curved steel in his hand did in fact appear to be a crowbar. What would have once been a silver shine was greased over by filth and grime, black muck and most noticeably red crust. No light reflected on this wicked tool, clenched tight now in the pale flesh of his left fist. Where it belonged.

*Our Inheritance.

Letting his arm drop back to his side with his crowbar, the young man got his feet under himself and rose to his full height. The shadow of his hair dripped down his face, hiding away the brilliant red shine of his eyes. Like the living dead or, maybe a living that could not die, he sauntered forward and out of the sun's light. Arms limp at his sides, he entered The Dark armed with only his Inheritance.


"Ha... Ha..."

I was shaking. Back pressed against the cold brick, I stared straight ahead at the wall opposite to me and hoped my heartbeat wasn't as loud to the rest of the world as it was to me. But why? Why was I afraid? Listening to a familiar mother's dying laughter, I once more felt my identity on the tip of my tongue. Another dark hallway, another dead woman? I was remembering something… Someone. Red eyes… Red eyes!

No, stop it, not now! I scolded myself, bit my lip and clenched my left fist around my pen until my knuckles went white. This wasn't the time to worry about my past, now was the time to worry about the present. Because as I hid there in the hallways beneath Toriel's home, as I listened to her die and crumble away, I was forced to come to terms with something. I wasn't just in Undertale - I was in Undertale during a goddamn genocide.

My teeth ground together to keep from chattering and I watched a gust of wind carry dust down the hallway. With the Ruins door pushed open, a brutal chill wailed into the empty Ruins. Not a warning, there was no one left to warn in this place. The howling wind was a plea for mercy, and I don't think anybody but me heard it.

After I listened to those doors creak shut I forced myself to step into the open, inspecting the hall before me. Across the door there was a splash of crimson paint, which was slowly turning to a silver ash, much like the dust that blew across the floor. And for just a second, for a reason I couldn't explain, the musky odor of the Ruins passage smelt more like iron and fresh rain than anything else in the world.

*Familiar.


*Forward.

An####y

LV: 1

SAVED

His feet dragged up the steps into that home, which he didn't bother to so much as turn his head to inspect once inside. Immediately walking across the carpet and to the staircase, he gripped the railing and made his way down the steps with no urgency. He appeared to be in a trance, marching possessed through the hall.

A muffled voice. It was feminine. He didn't care to tune in. His brain was fuzzy, surrounded by fog. But he didn't ponder his identity, because he was holding it in his hand. His Inheritance would make things clear soon, he knew that to be true deep in his soul.

*Oh, a murder.

Across the hall and standing in front of a dust and blood spattered door was another human. They were short, smaller than him. In their hand was a plastic knife caked with silver ash. And upon hearing his footsteps echo along the empty walls, Frisk turned their head. Opening one red eye and peering over the shoulder of their striped shirt, a deep frown cracked their usually bland expression.

*Familiarity.

"Who are you?" They asked coldly. Blood that was turning to dust dripped from that plastic knife, and it shattered to the concrete floor. The sound of dripping was familiar to him, brought him back to… Somewhere. Dark, underground. Water, dripping…

*Dead in a basement.

His distant eyes squinted at them - they looked disgusted by their red color. He tried to understand if they were real, if anything was real. They asked him a question, didn't they? What did they want? Name… Names… His voice creaked in his dry throat, "... It starts with an A, I think…"

"You don't belong here." Frisk's voice echoed throughout the hall, but each echo was denied from his ears. He wasn't listening. Don't belong here? Again, he thought he heard water dripping. Underground, in The Dark… In the basement.

"... That's… True." He had to think about it, but they were right. He didn't belong in the basement. He had to get out. He had his crowbar, and it could help him. Help him get out. He had to get out.

And as Frisk's footsteps echoed ever closer, his very being ached. His pale hand tightened around his crowbar, his knuckles went white. It was calling to him, but Frisk couldn't hear it. It was a shadow in the light, didn't they understand? The truth, the way out of the basement.

Frisk's jaw clenched tight at his lack of reaction. No fear and no bravado, this character was boring. Not just that, he was insulting. The Underground only had room for one human, and they didn't need any new toys. So, they crouched and prepared to lunge. Make him regret coming down this mountain, because everyone under Ebott was destined to die. Everyone but them.

And as they dove, eyes almost seeming to glow with a red fury and malicious grin tearing up their face, his lips twitched. Formed a smile, just barely. He remembered something funny. Blood flew through the air, and the fog lifted.

His crimson eyes were wide now, life was injected into him with that toy knife buried in his shoulder. His blood was overflowing out of his flesh, making the long sleeves of his red striped black shirt soggy and staining his ivory skin. And Frisk's head was now leaned to the side, eyes wide with pain. Blood was pouring out of them too, overflowing from their mouth. That was his gift to them, brutal salvation with the swing of his crowbar.

And he stood there, silently staring. His arm was still up over his head, and his eyes darted from his punctured arm to the blood that was now trickling down his Inheritance. Then, he started to smile. His chest rumbling with some chuckle that his gritting teeth were trying to suppress, he let his arm drop back to his side and dribbled Frisk's blood across the tile floor while he did. Then, red running into his palm, he reached up with his punctured arm and grabbed his face. He smeared his own blood on his pale skin, rubbed it in his hair and indulged in its iron smell. It sent a shiver up his spine, and his eyes rolled back some. "Thaaaat's better."

Frisk took a step back, kept a hand on their shattered jaw and let the scarlet drool trickle between their fingers while they glared. It dripped to the floor, reminded the albino in front of them of a leaky pipe. Reminded him of the basement. Without hesitation, he reached up and grabbed that toy knife. Twisted it in his skin a little and made his eyes roll back further before he ripped it out of his arm. Tearing it from his shoulder, he sent his crimson colors splashing over the tile as he chucked that stupid baby toy away from himself.

"Now I remember!" He exclaimed, yanking his bloody hand away from his head and giddily showcasing the color he'd mashed against the white canvas of his face to his new acquaintance. Frisk wasn't impressed, one hand holding in a mouthful of blood and teeth while the other summoned their stick from their inventory. They might have insulted him, if he hadn't ruined their mouth. He mistook their silence for kindness, flashed them a grin while he continued. "Thanks for bringin' me back, stranger! How can I ever repay ya?"

Frisk answered by spitting a mouthful of blood and teeth onto his chest. His smile washing away, he arched a brow down at the red splat barely showing on his dark colored shirt. But then, his eyes narrowed with cruelty, and his smile crept back up his lips as he looked to Frisk. Breathing through bleeding lips, they managed to form one word with their broken mouth. "Name…"

His expression tensed when he heard that, Frisk wondered if it was a tough question for a moron like him. Regardless, the albino before them clenched his crowbar, tilted his neck until it cracked. And Frisk watched a red soul appear on his chest just like the one on theirs, their eyes widening at the sight of it. He didn't care to notice their shock, yanking his crowbar back and taking one long stride forward to close the distance between them. He spat his name like it was acidic,

"Anarchy!"


"Well at least it isn't windy..." I tried my best to look on the bright side, hands stuffed in my zipped up hoodie's pockets as I shrunk into the collar of my coat to protect from the cold. My eyes darted from side to side, searching for any little shit children. Luckily, I didn't spot any. I did hear some blood curtailing screams off in the distance, however. So I was pretty excited that they weren't nearby.

Unfortunately, the Underground is mostly a straight path, my cracked memory was telling me. Which meant they were ahead of me. And if I wanted to get anywhere, I'd have to get around them. My first idea was to stay behind and out of their way, maybe wait things out in Toriel's old house. But then I remembered how a genocide route ends: with the world being ERASED. And I thought I probably counted as part'a the world.

"How do I get outta this one..?" I wondered out loud, narrowing my eyes down at my shoes. I guessed I was the type to talk to himself. Maybe the sound of my own voice was comforting, might have made me feel less alone. Or maybe it just helped me think. "I mean, how hard could prying a knife out of a little kid's hand be? They're like nine, right?"

"And, I'm… Seventeen? Eighteen?" Ah fuck how old was I? This amnesia shit was getting old. I glanced thoughtfully to the side while I stepped through that rickety wooden gate without much concern, scraping around in my empty head for details. When I came up empty handed, I decided to go for a different option and asked aloud, "You got any insight, text box?"

*You need to wake up.

"Already ruled out the fever dream theory, bud." I frowned at the answer that black box of white text provided before it disappeared. At least the thing's responsive, I thought. Hopefully the next thing it says is something useful.

"C-c'mon... Y-you're not gonna... Murder me in cold blood, a-are ya..? E-... Ehehe..."

Walking too fast! I came to the simple realization at the sound of another dying voice. I ducked into the trees and decided to scold myself later, busying myself instead with glancing between branches at my fellow human.

Snowdrake was flat on his butt before them. He was already starting to flake to silver, sweat beading down his face as he stared up into the cold, lifeless eyes of his enemy. Frisk said nothing, twirling their toy knife in hand while they tilted their head to the side. They were certainly taller than a nine year old. A good bit shorter than me, but taller than a child. Though they didn't have any particular secondary sex characteristics, I'd have to be an idiot to think they were any younger than sixteen or seventeen.

"This is not accurate to my headcanon..." I muttered grumpily under my breath as I watched them bring up that knife. Snowdrake's eyes went wide with horror. And, I'm not sure what this says about my character or who I am, but that knife came down, and I didn't feel a single urge to intervene.

*Your LOVE has increased!

Frisk just glanced down at their own text box, before turning and walking over to the chest next to a sign near the pathway leaving this area. They flipped the box open, moving on to their next task like the life they'd just taken meant nothing to them. Reaching inside, they retrieved a padded glove; I thought it looked like something an MMA fighter would wear. They frowned as they pulled it over their fist, and then they marched on ahead down the path.

*Keep going.

"Yeah, yeah..." I muttered, slowly making my way out of the brush after waiting a few more moments to make sure that serial killer had walked out of ear shot and had no intentions of turning back. So much for Texty's next sentence being useful. As I stepped back into the open, I looked down to the pile of dust that once was Snowdrake, scratching the back of my head.

"Uh... Sorry, dude." I grimaced and glanced awkwardly to the side, before I carefully stepped by the dust. Walking ahead to the frozen ground just before the river up ahead, I hoped to find a snowman. But, just like everywhere else in this friggin' cavern, there was nobody. Just a stick taped in place.

*It's a fishing pole. Something about phone calls.

"... Ah, right. Now I remember." I shut my eyes and sighed with exasperation. Did I even remember this fuckin' game right? My mind was about as reliable as my text box, so how was I gonna survive out here? I needed a friend, I needed help. That thought made something in me ache, though. Maybe whoever I was just wasn't that great with friends. I shook my head, "Snowman's up ahead."

"It's not worth the call."

"Ha! Yeah," I agreed as I turned towards the voice that suddenly rang from behind me. Suddenly, relief was washing over me. Hearing another person talk to me felt like a prayer being answered, and I spun around hastily to face them. If I was lucky, maybe it'd be someone who could help me outta this predicament. "I'm not that lone-"

My feet stopped, along with my heart, and seemingly the whole world around us. Frisk blinked those cold, crimson eyes. They were staring through me, like they looked at Snowdrake. No… They didn't look like they felt anything looking at him. But staring at me, they looked disgusted. One by one, their fingers curled inward to form a fist with that Tough Glove. "You aren't supposed to be here."

I couldn't move. Those eyes paralyzed me. That red, I'd seen it before. Shifting Darkness, broken glass. Blood, rain. Screaming. Something, someone… Red. Red!

*Your identity.

"Come kill me."

Who said that? What was happening? I felt a tide of emotions and memories ripple through my core, and all I could do was stand there, staring into those eyes like that's all there was. My green eyes dilated and twitched, cold sweat was breaking out on my forehead. Something, I lost something. What did I lose?

*No use for it.

"Hm." Frisk's lips curved up into a little smile. They must not have heard what I was hearing, couldn't see what I was seeing. "What kind of look is that? All the monsters down here, and you're really that terrified of me?"

Were they talking? Their lips were moving, I thought. I couldn't make anything out - it sounded like everything was talking and I was going deaf. Frisk didn't seem to consider my side'a things, instead furrowing their brows irritably. "... Are you ignoring me? Are you stupid?"

Was I stupid? What was I? Who was I?

"You aren't making this encounter interesting at all." hands balling into fists, they stomped forward towards me. I flinched but I couldn't run. Shouldn't run, stand and fight. Get back what was taken. What was taken? "This is why I hate humans."

The world around us seemed to be rushing by, but I remained still while they pulled back their fist at an avoidably slow pace. They must not have thought much of me, but that was okay. I wasn't sure I thought much of me either. "You're all so predictable!"

Pain.

Frisk's fist crashed into my face, and they planted their feet, putting all of their weight into the punch. Their crimson eyes widening and flaring with anger, they completely floored me with that right hook. My body crashed to the ground and skidded back across the snow, which crimson from my split lip splattered across.

*Back to reality.

My eyes snapped open, darting quickly to Frisk, who was walking ever closer, the snow being mercilessly crunched under their feet with each step. I winced, gripping my throbbing jaw. Blood filled my hand real quick, which gave me a pretty bad feeling about all the iron I tasted in my mouth.

"You have something to say yet?" They tilted their head to the side, those crimson eyes narrowing at me with disgust. I'd seen that cruelty before, too. It was all getting clear now - maybe they were the help I'd needed after all. Shadows dripped down from my hairline and obscured my eyes. I pushed myself up onto one knee while my blood splattered down from my jaw onto the pure snow, staining it red.

"Come to think of it..." I felt their hand latch onto my hair, tugging at it until I started to stand. They forced me to stand on shaky legs, but my knees remained bent. I was taller than them, and they wanted to loom over me. "I don't think I've ever gotten to kill a human before."

*Rage.

"Ptew!" Without hesitation, I spat a glob of crimson onto Frisk's face. Their eye twitched, and they snarled with anger, pulling their Tough Gloved fist back and ramming it into my abdomen. This forced me to drop to my knees in an instant, the pain forcing a wave of bile up from my stomach. I coughed a mix of stomach acid and blood onto their shoes, falling forward onto my hands and clenching my eyes shut.

*Rage.

My eyes snapped back open, only the left visible through the shadow of my hair. Took something, had to get it back. Had to get it back. I grabbed them by the ankle and panted like some poor dumb animal as I looked up at them. Fury was burning in my soul now, clear in my expression. The sight of me now made their jaw clench and their eyes narrow - maybe they knew a thing or two about what a violent human looked like.

"Get off me!" Frisk yanked back their free leg, and I felt the terrible sting of their foot connecting with my broken jaw. The kick sent me flinging backwards and flat on my spine, and I laid there, chest heaving up and down. Frisk was quick to strike again this time, planting their foot on my chest to keep me in the snow.

*RAGE.

I felt my hand wrap around Frisk's ankle, and my head tilted up to shoot them some feral glare. My chest heaved with snarls and enraged panting, my eyes wide and my pupils shrunk.

"What are you-!" They looked down at me, and their eyes widened. Staring at the red soul burning on my chest, they grimaced. I hadn't even noticed the thing - I was too busy clawing their ankle and fantasizing about killing them.

"... No, you can't be serious..." They muttered under their breath, their expression softening with confusion and surprise. That was, before they felt my fingernails draw blood out of their ankle with a brutal scrape, and were forced to look back at my frothing expression. And they growled with rage, yanking their foot up into the air and ripping it out of my grasp. They shouted, "Don't you dare come back!"

And their foot crashed down.

Shatter.


Flash.

"This would be a lot, easier!" Anarchy tilted his head to the side and let Frisk's toy knife stab right over his shoulder, reaching out with his free hand and grabbing a fistful of his fellow human's shirt. He used that to yank them in, bashing his forehead against theirs and making their head whiplash back. "If you stayed dead!"

Blinking their eyes a few times, Frisk stared straight up at the ceiling while they tried to fight back a concussion. Blood was trickling down their forehead from where Anarchy's thick skull had struck them, and he wasn't done. He crashed that crowbar of his right into their diaphragm, folding them forward and releasing his grip on their shirt. Frisk dropped right to their knees, arms wrapping around a stomach full of broken ribs. Still, they managed to lift their head just a little, smiling weakly at The Anarchist looming over them. "I… Get that a lot…"

"... You know, where I'm from, death is permanent." Anarchy's eyes narrowed down at them, he looked disgusted by their little smile. Lifting one foot, he brought his heel down on the back of their head and shoved their face down against the tile. Mashing their bleeding forehead against the unforgiving floor got him smiling again. "Actions had consequences in my world."

"Y-yeah, well…" Wincing against the floor, Frisk had to grit their teeth to stop from screaming with indignation. Who did this freak think he was? If they had more LOVE, if he'd fallen at the end of last route instead of the start of this one, they would have had him dead to rights and they were certain of it. But clearly FIGHTing wouldn't work - they needed a different approach.

Shakily opening one hand over the ground that they were forced to grovel at, they summoned a golden rectangle under their open palm. Frisk smirked at the sight of it - this other human was strong, but they were beyond strength. And as they pushed their hand down on their RESET button, they steered up at Anarchy from under his shoe. "You're in MY world now."

White light flashed, the world broke away to flashing numbers and code. Frisk was grinning ear to ear as reality raced back to the start, feeling the pain Anarchy had inflicted on them wash away. A pacifist run would give them friends to battle Anarchy with. If he wanted to fight them, he'd have to fight Monsterkind too. And that sounded like a pretty fun game to Frisk.

Flash.

… Where were the petals? Where was the light? The smile wiped from their face, a wide eyed Frisk stared with horror down at Toriel's dust. They were still at the Ruins door?! How?! Dusty knife in hand, Frisk was only able to theorize for a few seconds before this awful little laugh caught their attention. It was like a chuckle but through gritting teeth, and it convinced them to slowly turn their head.

They looked over their shoulder once again as they stood over their mother's corpse, and they sure were expressive now. Eyes wide and pupils shrunk, their lips were parted in what might have been a silent gasp. Cold sweat was beading down their forehead and a knot was forming in their stomach as for the first time in forever, Frisk had to consider the weight of their actions.

Because across the hall, looming in the slithering darkness, was Anarchy. Chest rumbling and shoulders shaking, he was trying his best to keep his hysterical giggling locked behind his clenched jaws. In his left hand he held his crowbar, and with his right he reached out to the side. Specifically, to the glowing gold star that had manifested beside him. His SAVE POINT. And as Frisk started to tremble, he finally managed to stop his giggling, tilting his head forward and letting wild white strands of hair dangle in front of his face. His voice slithered out past his fangs,

"I disagree."


Keys clicked, and several computer monitors lit the room in an eerie and dim white. The room, which consisted of a twin sized bed, the computer desk he was seated at, and the doorway a handful of steps behind him. It was a little, windowless place, but he liked it. No sunlight meant no glare on his screens.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and he looked over his shoulder, cocking a brow into the darkness. She stepped into view, and it put a smile on his face. Spinning around in his chair, he didn't really take note of the fact that her head was down. Her long black hair falling over her face, he was trying to formulate a joke that compared her to that girl from The Ring while she hid her miserable expression.

"Wassup Pred-" His eyes widened when he heard her sniffle sharply, snapping him fully out of the happy world that the game on his main monitor provided. Forgetting the gold heart blasting little robots and the fabulous dancer, concern overtook his expression and he stood from his computer chair. Stepping closer, he reached out towards her skeptically. Gently he rested his hand on her shoulder, "Whoa, Lexi, what's wrong?"

"... Angel..." She spoke quietly, not looking up and not seeming to have the strength to. Her voice was so weak, so unlike her that it tied a knot in his stomach. "Am I a bad person..?"

"What..?" Confusion overtaking his expression, Angel had disbelief in his voice when he spoke. "Where's this comin' from, Lex..?"

But she didn't speak again. She just slowly stepped forward, reaching out and wrapping her arms around him. This surprised him a little, his eyebrows raising while her head leaned on his shoulder for comfort.

"Uh..." He glanced from side to side a little awkwardly, looking to be contemplating. But, slowly he returned the hug. Holding her against his chest, he smoothed her long hair with his hand and hoped that it would comfort her. And while she started to sob into his shoulder, and he felt his shirt getting wet with her tears, he took a deep breath. Quietly as he could, through his teeth. He hoped she didn't notice.


"Lexi!"

I shot up and out of the snow. My chest was heaving up and down, I was gasping for air and drenched in cold sweat. My eyes darted left and right - where was I? With the fog in my head lifted and all my memories coming back at once, everything was jumbled. It was hard to pick out which memory was the present, at least for the first few seconds of consciousness.

But, eventually I closed my eyes, and my wits returned to me. The last forty eight hours of my life were a cruel answer to all the questions I'd been asking, and now I reached up, running my hand over my jaded expression and through my hair. Falling backwards into the snow, I hide my face in both of my hands and groaned. "Ah, fuck, I remember who I am..."

*Not the revelation you wanted it to be?

"... No." My hands dropped away from my face, arms landed in the snow sprawled out to my sides. It looked like I was back by that lamp and sentry station; made sense, that was where I'd last touched a gold star. I didn't think too hard about that though, busy staring up at the icy ceiling a hundred feet up. "No it wasn't."

*Keep moving.

"And bump into the hash slinging slasher again?" my eyes darted over to my text box, and I arched a cynical brow. "Pass."

*You've fought worse.

"Was a little better equipped then." I frowned at my text box, making a gun shape with my fingers and pretending to shoot it at the flavor text floating beside me. Then, I grunted and forced myself to sit up. Running a hand through my hair, I shut my eyes briefly. "Look I don't know who you are or how much you know about me, but I'm more of an intricate plan kinda guy, not a kill someone with a pen kinda guy."

*I know you better than anyone.

"That must suck." I winced and grumbled sleepily while I got my feet under myself. I forced myself to stand with a sluggish process, wiping snow off myself along the way.

*If you're not going to fight, what's your plan?

"... Hm." I looked down the path after I read Texty's question, furrowed my brows and thought hard. One good thing came outta remembering myself: I remembered being smart. So, stuffing my hands in my pockets and working out details in my head, a little smirk curled my lips. "... I think I have an idea."


Frisk just blinked, watching the skeleton brothers spin around in front of them. Was the same bit that they'd seen a thousand times, and it stopped being funny somewhere in the hundreds. Eventually the two stopped, keeping their backs to Frisk.

"Sans! Oh my god!" Papyrus looked to his brother with wide and excited eyes as he whispered. Then, suddenly his expression became tired and confused. "... I'm dizzy. What am I looking at?"

"Behold." Sans answered, and the two spun around to face Frisk. He threw out one hand to gesture towards them, using his other elbow to nudge Papyrus. "A human."

Wait what? Frisk's blank and bland expression suddenly flexed with confusion. And when they looked over their shoulder, confusion hastily morphed into withheld fury.

"Howdy!" I gave a two fingered wave, standing in front of the rock Sans typically pointed out. I grinned in a way that seemed friendly to the skeletons but I hoped Frisk was able to read as a very knowing and very smug facial expression. I know this game too, you little shit. My smile told them. You gonna throw this run away just to try and kill me in front of these two?

"What?!" Papyrus said with shock, looking right at me with his skeleton eye holes. I just kept waving, tried not to think too hard about the fact that I was meeting a beloved video game character in person. Papyrus whipped his head back to look at Sans, "But then what's that thing in front of it?!"

"Dunno." Sans shrugged, white dots in his eye sockets darting up to Papyrus. "Not a rock?"

"Not a rock?!" Papyrus repeated in shock, before slamming his fist down in his palm. "Then, by process of elimination, it must be a human!"

"Foolproof." Sans looked right back to Frisk and I, winking his eye shut and continuing to grin like this was normal.

"Humans!" While Papyrus spoke I walked right up to the person that had killed me five minutes ago. Hands in my pockets, I stood shoulder to shoulder with Frisk, a giddy smartass grin on my face.

"Prepare yourself for high jinx! For low jinx!"

"Ooh this is so exciting!" I leaned over some to whisper to Frisk while Papyrus spoke, and they shot me an absolutely venomous glare.

"Go to hell." They whispered back, barely opening their scarlet eyes to glare up at me.

"Easy with the funny faces, short stack." I muttered to them, straightening my back and looking forward again. The skeleton brothers were so busy with Papyrus's hero speech that they didn't seem to notice us mumbling to one another. At least, it didn't look like they did. "You don't wanna blow your cover, do ya?"

"... Refreshments will be provided! IF YOU DARE!" Papyrus concluded his speech before Frisk could answer my question. After he finished talking he spun right around, running away with glee and excitement

"NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH!"

Frisk shot me a glare and opened their mouth to speak, it looked like they even started to pull their gloved fist out of their pocket. But, before cussing me out and beating me to death again, their eyes darted back to Sans. He was still standing there, watching us with that permanent grin and those unblinking eye sockets.

*He's supposed to walk after Papyrus.

Their mouth closed, and they narrowed their eyes at me. A silent warning before they stepped forward, walking past me and continuing on ahead. They didn't bother to stop and speak with Sans, disappearing down the path after Papyrus.

But after they were gone, I walked right up to the short skeleton, a certain urgency in my step. Sans was busy watching Frisk continue on out of the corner of his eye, but once I got within speaking distance of him, those white dots in his eye sockets darted to me. It was just a little jarring - I'd never seen a skeleton that wasn't dead. At least, not in person.

Is Sans gonna know about the RESETs? Is that canon or fanon? Is what I preoccupied my thoughts with as I stopped in front of him. My heart was racing almost as fast as my brain, and my mouth lagged far behind. I stumbled to get the words out, tried to put something together. How do you explain to someone that they're a video game where you're from and that you need their help stopping the end of the world?

"Heya." Sans spoke first, and I didn't know if I was relieved about it or not. He didn't hesitate to stick out his hand, looking up at me. "I don't think we've met. I'm Sans, Sans the Skeleton."

I looked at his hand and the gears in my head started to turn again. What was the fastest way to make a point here? Maybe it didn't matter - if I screwed up I would just have to figure out how to LOAD back. With that in mind…

... Ah, fuck it.

I reached out and I grabbed past his fingers, getting a grip on the whoopee cushion attached to his skeletal palm. Sans brow bones rose just a little as I yanked it free, holding it up to show him that I had in fact foreseen his classic joke.

"... Huh. Not a fan of fart sounds?" He winked an eye shut, his smile unbothered by my actions. If he did think anything about what I'd done, I couldn't tell. "You're pretty perceptive, kid."

"Sorta." I agreed while I offered Sans his whoopee cushion. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I added. "But, I think I just have a good memory."

"But uh, and correct me if I'm wrong," Sans reached out and took his whoopee cushion back. Casually squishing it, he let out a little 'heh' at the fart noise it made before slipping it into his hoodie pocket. Then, he looked back up at me. "This is the first time you n' me have met, isn't it?"

"That other human is Frisk. They kill people, they RESET time, they're trouble." Alright, I guess I'm just gonna vomit words at him. As good a strategy as any - tear the band aid off. I pointed ahead as I started my tangent, in the direction Frisk had gone. "The other skeleton is your brother Papyrus. Frisk fights him outside of Snowdin, right before Waterfall, where Undyne lives. After that is Hotland, where Alphys is, and then the CORE, and then New Home with the King of All Monsters, Asgore Dreemurr."

"..." Sans remained silent. He just stared up at me, expression totally unbothered and unchanged. Blinked once or twice, but kept grinning. I was hoping for some kind of reaction, but all I gotta was that deadpan grin and an "... Un huh?"

"And none of this I should know considering I just dropped down a huge hole and stumbled through already dusty ruins to get to here where I bumped into them," I once again pointed in the direction Frisk went, eyes widening some to express how much that sucked. "And they killed me, but I respawned a few minutes before the event afterwards."

Once again, Sans gave me nothing. I told him I died five minutes ago and he just kept staring. This was a little frustrating, but I didn't stop puking words on him just yet.

"I guess what I'm trying to ask is are you aware of any of this time travel multi timeline genocidal human ghost text box DETERMINATION shit or am I gonna have to figure this out on my own?" I held my hands out in front of me, pursed my lips, narrowed my eyes, and desperately awaited a good answer.

"..." Everything was quiet. For like, ten whole seconds. Sans just kept staring up at me, and I was starting to wonder if the lights were on and nobody was home. If this was some gag and he was about to start snoring, revealing he was asleep with his eyes open. But, after letting my expression grow more frantic in the silence for a handful of seconds, he actually spoke. And it wasn't helpful.

"Humans got a funny way'a introducing themselves." He winked an eye shut, and I didn't know if I was glad he wasn't brain dead or irritated that he ducked my very coherent and totally answerable question. Regardless, Sans walked right on by me, wandering off back in the direction Frisk and I had came from. He waved back at me, "I'll see ya up ahead, kiddo."

I furrowed my brows and watched him wander off, throwing my arms out to my sides. I managed to shout only after he was probably out of ear shot, "That's it?!"

"Eugh… Fuckin' fanon…" I deflated, letting my arms drop back to my sides while my shoulders sunk. Sans disappeared down the path while I grumbled. And I stayed angry for at least a minute, before finally taking a deep breath and collecting myself. Tilting my head back and once again looking up at the frosty ceiling, I tried to be optimistic. "... Well. 'Least I got you, Texty."

*Keep moving.

"What is that, your catchphrase?!" I snapped again, glaring daggers at the word rectangle that I'd been grateful for a second ago.


"You're so rude, you know that?" Anarchy asked the human he had trapped beneath himself. He was seated on Frisk's chest, his hands wrapped around their throat. They fumbled and tried to pry his hands off with their own, but it didn't do much good. A lot of their fingers were snapped and broken, crushed by precise and cruel crowbar strikes. It stopped them from swinging that stupid baby toy around. "All this time we spend together, and you haven't even introduced yourself."

"Ptew!" Frisk hawked a bloody loogie up onto Anarchy's face. It seemed like a pretty good answer in their eyes. Anarchy's eyebrows rose as he felt that mix of blood spit and snot splatter against his cheek, but then he smiled. Past his lips his tongue slithered, reaching over to the loogie dribbling down his cheek and licking it with deliberate slowness. Frisk cringed at that sight, managing to choke out a few words. "You're… Disgusting..!"

Anarchy didn't respond - he honestly didn't even look like he heard them. He just let his unnaturally long tongue slip back past his sharp teeth, before smacking his lips obnoxiously fast, like he was pondering how their bloody spit tasted. Eventually he stopped that too, and sighed with content… Before starting to wring Frisk's neck, shaking their head up and down and beating the back of their skull against the tile.

"I'm asking about you, punkass!" Anarchy snarled, leaning forward and looming over Frisk while he throttled them. Their legs shifted and kicked uselessly underneath him, their shattered hands rubbing and scraping against his own. Anarchy didn't notice. "I don't know where the fuck I am! Don't know who you are, don't know what this place is!"

"So you're gonna start answerin' questions," Letting go of Frisk's throat with his right hand, Anarchy cocked back one fist and punched them across the face with it. That threw their head to the side, got their closing eyes to open. "Or I'm gonna get MEAN!"

Frisk didn't respond. They just laid there, trying to suck in air through the throat that he was strangling and staring off into space. They wanted this to be over, they wanted to find the weak spot and push on it until it bled. But there wasn't one, not that they could find. He didn't flinch when they attacked and didn't listen when they ACTed. This game wasn't fun anymore, they didn't like playing with Anarchy because he didn't play along.

The Anarchist had reached a similar conclusion. Killing Frisk over and over was no fun at all, because murder was not a game to him. It was a need, a burning itch on the inside of his skull. An itch that was only relieved when something died and stayed dead. But this little mongoloid he was choking kept coming back, unhappy as they were starting to seem about it. They were stubborn, and he thought it could take him an eternity to kill them for good. Maybe one had already passed, it was hard to say. But regardless Frisk was still there, and if Anarchy was gonna spend the rest of time murdering someone he thought he should at least know a thing or two about them.

"... How 'bout I cut you a deal, cupcake?" Anarchy let up the pressure on Frisk's bruised throat, let them gasp and sputter while he pulled his hands away. The sight of them sucking air was at least a little cathartic, but he still couldn't stop himself from slapping his hand repeatedly against their cheek while he spoke. "We're gonna be here awhile, ain't we? So why don't we get to know each other?"

Frisk snapped their jaws at Anarchy's thumb, made him pull away the hand he'd been bouncing off their face while his other hand flew in from the left. The crack of his next slap echoed through the halls, split Frisk's cheek and forced their head to the side. He didn't derive any pleasure from that strike though, frowning down at Frisk. They glared up at him from the corner of their eye, head still tilted to the side after that smack. Anarchy continued, "Listen, I gave ya my name, why not tell me yours?"

"Ptew!" Another loogie. Frisk managed to spit this one right up into Anarchy's right eye, and it got him to recoil. Wincing his now stinging eye shut, he grit his teeth and let rage seep into his expression. Frisk didn't look too intimidated, managing a weak little laugh from where they lay trapped beneath The Anarchist.

Frisk's laughter was cut short when Anarchy grabbed them by the head, shoving the back of their skull against the tile and driving his thumbs into their eyes. And Frisk squirmed, cried out in pain while the overgrown nails of Anarchy's thumbs peeled back their bottom eyelids and dug into the slimy surface of their eyeballs. Anarchy leaned forward and shouted over their screaming, "I try to be nice and you spit in my face! You really think I can't make this worse for you?!"

Frisk was too busy writhing and screaming, vision a blurring red while stinging pain made their entire face throb. Their shattered hands tried and failed to pry Anarchy's hands off, and those thumbs drove deeper into their eyes. Nails dug under red irises, pulled up and tried to dig them out of Frisk's head. All while Anarchy snarled, "Every time I try to go easy on you, you make me regret it! So now we're gonna do things the hard way! You want this to end? THEN WHAT'S YOUR FUCKIN' NAME?!"

'"F-Frisk-!" Frisk called out without thinking, mouth opening and closing. All their facial muscles pulled and twitched, every bit of them trying and failing to pull away from Anarchy's subjugation. "My name's Frisk, you fucking psycho!"

Just like that, Anarchy yanked his hands away. Letting up. He lifted his blood soaked fingers up and peered with intrigue at the blood and goop that was buried under his fingernails. His furious expression had lightened some, but he wasn't smiling yet. Exhaling slowly through his nose to slow his pounding heart, Anarchy asked. "See? Was that so hard?"

"Fuck you!" Was Frisk's immediate and unhesitating response. They leaned their head up towards him, even though they couldn't see him anymore. Blood and tears poured out of scraped eyelids, but defiance and indignation remained on their bruised face.

"Next question!" Anarchy didn't bother acknowledging their defiance, instead planting the palm of his right hand on their forehead. He held their head in place while he hooked the index and middle fingers of his left hand in their nostrils, beginning to pull up with them. And just like that, Frisk was shouting again. "You play any sports, Frisk?!"

Frisk tried to keep that answer to themself, eyelids opening and revealing the mutilated orbs beneath. Anarchy spat into one of those dug out eye sockets, and Frisk made some nose that he thought was pathetic. After another few seconds they felt something start to snap inside their face and - fearing Anarchy actually ripping their nose out of their head - they cried out, "Soccer..! I played soccer!"

"Soccer, huh? Yeah, that one's alright." Anarchy's tone was so casual as he yanked his fingers outta their nose. He reached to his back pocket, where he'd wedged the end of his crowbar. Wrapping his fingers around the wretched metal, he continued to speak. "I was always more into baseball, myself. Won a homerun derby this one time."

"Good… For you…" Frisk panted while they gave their miserable response, sarcasm on their tongue. Anarchy must not have recognized it, or maybe he didn't care. He looked like he was thinking about something while he retrieved his crowbar - maybe he was reminiscing.

"Ooh, I got a good one." Frisk heard Anarchy's voice, and they shivered when they felt his crowbar's disgusting metal rest itself gently under their chin. Why hadn't he just killed them already? They wanted this to end, but when it did it would only start again. Why couldn't he just kill them fast and get it over with..? Anarchy's voice was the only sound in the darkness. "Ya like burnt popcorn?"

"... Y-... Yeah." In the two or three second pause Frisk gave before answering, they felt the world around them grow more tense. They couldn't see it, but the fear making their heart pound told them that if they didn't answer there would be more torment in store.

But, regardless of their answer, Anarchy pulled his crowbar up over his head. He was starting to smile, because they were coming around. They were learning. This was his world now, he would teach them. And they didn't have any place in it. The muscles in his arm tensed, and he prepared to crash that metal down right through their forehead.

"See, I always thought it just tasted like gross burnt nasty. Can you explain the appeal?"


Trailing Frisk through Snowdin Forest had its ups and downs. On the upside, Frisk figured out all the X O puzzles so I didn't have to. On the downside, I had to play along with each of Papyrus's puzzles that Frisk got to ignore. Being a human that played along, however, was working in my favor. Papyrus was clearly ecstatic to have someone to show his puzzles, and Sans seemed more trusting of my motives the nicer I was to his brother. At least, I thought he did. Guy was hard to read.

I stepped from the empty shop in Snowdin, pulling my technically stolen Tough Glove over my left hand. Sure, the shop was empty and I had definitely stolen the items now filling my inventory, but I didn't care. I needed the money, the food, the weapon, and the armor. And though part of my plan was to take these things so Frisk couldn't have them, they didn't bother with the shop.

I poked my head out the door of that Snowdin shop, wincing some when I heard the ding of the bell tied over the door. My eyes drifted out across Snowdin Town and to Frisk, who was walking without any particular haste towards the edge of the little village. Towards the blizzard that blared just between Snowdin and Waterfall, and towards where Papyrus was most assuredly waiting.

And I stood there, watching them disappear into the distance with thoughtful eyes. I didn't have to consider my options too long, I only had one of them. And while I tied the Manly Bandanna I'd stolen around my left bicep, I remembered how light a gun had felt in my hand yesterday.

*Kill or be killed.


"Hey! Quit moving while I'm talking to you!"

Frisk stopped walking forward on Papyrus's command. They were surrounded by white, The Great One before them obscured in the whipping snow. Harsh winds pulled at their auburn hair, but they didn't mind. They'd felt it all before, and now they didn't feel anything.

"I, the Great Papyrus, have some things to say!" Papyrus did in fact stand before them, his orange scarf waving in the wind. He was without fear there, alone in the winter storm with a murderer. Frisk had decided a long time ago that he was stupid, not brave. "First: You're a freaking weirdo!"

Frisk smiled, that line always got them. They didn't say anything - they never had to. This was the most important part of Snowdin, their favorite part. And that green eyed oaf was nowhere to be seen.

"Not only do you not like puzzles. But the way you shamble about from place to place... The way your hands are always covered in dusty powder." Papyrus's eyesockets narrowed with concern. Frisk had decided that too was stupidity and not kindness. They weren't the one he should be worried about. "It feels... Like your life is going down a dangerous path."

*We've heard this all before.

"However! I, Papyrus, see great potential within you!" Papyrus planted a hand on his chest, grinned like in his endearingly dumb way. When they'd first cleaved his head off, it had made Frisk feel sick in such a thrilling way. Now, they ached to feel that way again. But that guilt would never return, would never twist their gut in those wonderful knots and never make them feel so wonderfully sick again. "Everyone can be a great person if they try! And me, I hardly have to try at all! Nyeheheheh!"

Snow crunched under Frisk's feet while they continued their march forward. Like usual, this got a reaction out of Papyrus. The same one as always. "Hey! Quit moving! This is exactly what I am talking about! Human! I think you are in need of guidance! Someone needs to keep you on the straight and narrow!"

*I'm the only guide you'll need.

"But worry not! I, Papyrus... Will gladly be your friend and tutor!"

*Lets get this over with.

"I will turn your life right around!"

Frisk continued walking forward again, snow crunching useless under their feet again. They pushed through the blizzard towards Papyrus, who did not heed the warning groans of the frost under Frisk's heel. "I see you are approaching. Are you offering a hug of acceptance?"

*Idiot.

"Wowie! My lessons are already working!" Papyrus's words brought a smile to Frisk's face - they couldn't help it. There was a way about him, his foolishness and his innocence always made his destruction feel like a perfect tragedy. Yes, there was an art to murder. That's what these poor monsters didn't understand, and that's why Frisk continued to slaughter them. "I, Papyrus, welcome you with open arms!"

*Papyrus is sparing you.

Papyrus opened his arms. He shut his eyes, let down his guard. His life was the canvas for his death, and Frisk wondered if he understood that. If anyone could ever grasp the beauty of their own annihilation.

*Forgettable.

Frisk bent at the knees, cocking back that fist. Their expression was blank, their ears were filled with the screaming winds. But as Frisk lunged forward, as usual, their eyes widened with ceaseless rage. Rage that was not their own, rage that lurked within the parasite that owned their soul. Everything moved in slow motion now; Papyrus's sockets opened, his smile falling as his eyes began to widen.

THUD!

Everything continued to move in slow motion as Frisk felt that elbow drive into their cheek. Their eyes, flaring with rage, slowly moved to look at their attacker just before they tumbled to the ground. They tripped over themself when they hit the snow, fumbled and got on to their hands and knees with the grace of a three legged hippo.

Papyrus fell back onto his skeletal butt the moment time sped back up, and he and Frisk alike stared up at me with wide eyes. I clenched my hands into fists, which I put up. My heart raced, and on my chest, a burning red SOUL appeared, glowing plain through my shirt.

"Other human!" Papyrus cried out in surprise, looking between Frisk and I. The gears turned in his skull, he put together what had happened quick enough. "You... Saved me?"

I didn't dare take my attention from the killer before me, who was climbing to their feet. My eyes twitched, I heard words in my head even though no part of me wanted them. My own voice, and another that a man like me had no right remembering.

"Why would I need to know how to fight, Preds? I never leave HQ."

"... You think you can back that attack up, tough guy?" Frisk's eyes narrowed at me as they reached up, wiping away the small stream of blood running down from their split lip. They pushed their body up to its feet with ease - the sight of their own blood put a twinkle in their eye.

"What if you bump into someone strong who happens to want to beat your ass?"

"Gonna have to." I answered plainly, white knuckled fists ready to swing. I took a step to the side, put myself between that rabid brat and the skeleton behind myself. Play the hero, win him over. Win everyone over. Win the game.

"Look, Lexi, I'm gonna be real with you."

Frisk cracked their knuckles, smirking right at me. They reached back, pulling that Toy Knife from their back pocket and spinning it once with the hand that was not clasped in a glove. Play the villain, kill me. Kill everyone. Lose the game.

"If we're ever in a position where I have to fight,"

I reached into my pocket skeptically, pulled out my pen with my ungloved hand. And as Frisk just barely opened their eyes, and I could just barely make out the red within, cold sweat broke out on my brow. What I'd give for that gun right now, or even Granny's baseball bat.

"We've already lost."


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XWolf26, out

APRIL 2022 IMPORTANT EDIT NOTE:

Hi, thank you for reading this far in! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of DoubleTale: Rewritten! I actually updated this chapter in April 2022, because the original 1st chapter was very poorly written. I began this story when I was a senior in High School over three years ago, and my writing has greatly improved since then. Every chapter of this story is a little better written than the last, and at the point that I am at when writing this note (chapter 82) it has evolved to what I think is a really impressive and entertaining writing style. I'm leaving this note here because at the time of writing this, I have not yet updated the other early chapters. That means that there's going to be a weird sort of quality dip for the next few chapters. I promise the plot and characters remain consistent, its mostly the description that's lacking. But, the chapter quality will be going back up to this level and going further beyond it.

So, if you read this far and have enjoyed it, I encourage you to keep reading. If this doesn't seem like your cup of tea I also understand. But, I promise that there's a good reason this story has the amount of reviews, favorites, and follows that it does. I've worked very hard on it these past few years and intend to keep putting my best into it, and I've been told by a lot of people that it is a great story. Trust me, I know it looks edgy and that things like OCs and pointy toothed manic albinos can seem like a red flag, but I promise this thing is going somewhere good and fast.

I'm going to be touching up a lot of these earlier chapters periodically, between the updates, which come once every two weeks. I don't think I'm going to have to change any other chapter as much as I had to change this one though - I really just wanted the first chapter to be the best impression it could be. But, who knows, maybe I'll be back here in another year with an even better chapter one.

So! If you like action, drama, multiverse shenanigans, lore, consistent plot, and fun characters this might just be the story for you!

Thanks for reading, and sorry for the weird advertisement. I hope to see ya around. :)

XWolf26, out