*A lab towers before you. The dark shadow engulfs the path.
I can see that, thanks, Frisk thought, biting their lip as they resisted a giggle. Saving had taken the edge off and left them refreshed, but the crossroads before the lab was still obscured by the lab's shadows and it left a foreboding air about the path. Frisk certainly didn't remember it looking this gloomy, but then every part of the Underground was different from what they remembered.
Flowey shuddered, ducking down behind their neck. "I… I don't suppose you'd mind trying the elevator?"
Frisk glanced back at him, surprised. What had gotten under his petals? "Do you think it'll be working?"
Flowey paused then slumped. "No… knowing her, she's probably cut the power off already."
Smiling gently, Frisk twitched their shoulder to get his attention. "It's still worth a shot. Let's go check."
They headed north, but sure enough, the button wouldn't even light up when they pressed it to call the elevator. After a few long moments, they both agreed that it was a no go. Resigned, they walked back and headed towards the lab. Frisk hesitated outside the door, unsure if it would even open, but to their surprise, it slid open without a hitch.
Inside, the lab was pitch black. Frowning, Frisk got out their phone to use it as a flashlight. The light revealed piles of trash lining the walls of the lab's entrance—that was disconcerting. Alphys could be a bit of a slob when she procrastinated, but she was usually quite careful to make sure the floor stayed clear. More distressing, the trash was bits of shredded lab reports, broken test tubes, and syringes—it all looked incredibly unsafe. Carefully, Frisk picked their way through the mess.
They were so busy trying not to step on something breakable, they almost missed the flash of red out of the corner of their eye. They paused and looked more carefully at the wall—hidden by the piles of trash, some kind of machine was attached to wall. It had a tiny red dot of light coming out of it. When Frisk glanced at the other wall directly across from it, Frisk could see another red dot. Stomach sinking, Frisk dug their toe into the nearest pile of trash and kicked the junk between the two red dots.
They were half blinded as something exploded, knocking them back a few steps. Flowey yelped and Frisk cursed as dots danced before them.
"Frisk! Are you okay?" Flowey asked, craning his head around to get a look at their face.
Eyes watering, Frisk forced themselves to nod. "I'm fine. It was just kind of bright and startling."
Deep in the lab, something giggled, echoing strangely.
Flowey shuddered and went back to hiding. "S-sorry, Frisk. I, I don't know where any of her traps or puzzles are in here."
"Shh, it's fine," they murmured, rubbing a tear away as their sight finally cleared. "We'll be okay. Just trust me, alright?"
"Okay. Just… be careful."
"I'll try," they answered before walking forward again. It was slow going as they had to keep stopping to check for more traps, but eventually they walked in front of the computer monitor. The giant screen turned on, showing them on the display. The camera angle was from the back corner, but Frisk didn't bother to go check for a camera. Instead, they ignored it and kept walking forward. It was impossible to make out much in the dark, but Alphys's desk was shockingly filthy, even more crowded than it had ever been back in their old world. Frisk lifted one of the papers on the desk and peeked at it—there was terrible chicken scratch, barely visible in the light of the monitor, scrawled all over it along with some disturbingly realistic diagrams of the insides of monsters. Unnerved, Frisk dropped the paper and took a step back.
"Interesting," said a voice. Frisk jumped—the voice had moved, but they'd heard no movement. It was Alphys for sure; even if it sounded a little off, it was most certainly the scientist. Was she speaking through a speaker system? "Very interesting. I admit, I hadn't ex-expected you to make it this far. Hrm, I haven't showered, I-I'm barely dressed… you really are a bother, did you know that? Human?"
Frisk looked around as the voice kept changing which direction it was coming from. Finally, a door open and a figure stepped out into the gloom of the lab. As the figure stepped out, two lights turned on, one directly above Frisk and one above Alphys.
Looking at the scientist, Frisk resisted the urge to shudder. Alphys didn't look all that different from the monster they'd always known and that was the problem. She wore a white lab coat and glasses, but the cuffs of the coat were frayed as if she'd been picking them apart and her glasses were nearly opaque. She wore a red and black shirt under her coat, along with a long black skirt. She could have been like their own Alphys—she even had her small, tentative smile on her lips but with none of its usual sweet, nervous charm. Now it looked more like she was fighting a grimace.
"Hiya," she chirped, shifting back and forth so fast that she looked like she was swaying to some inaudible song. "I'm Doctor Alphys, the Overlord's Royal Scientist. D-did you like my little trap there by the door?"
Frisk forced themselves to smile cheerfully. "Yeah, it, uh, you could say it really lit up my world for a second there."
Alphys grunted, disappointed. "It was supposed to blow your legs off. But you noticed it too soon."
Frisk grimaced, but quickly pushed that expression back off their face. "Mm, sorry to disappoint."
"I d-doubt that. You've done nothing but do those things since you started." She gestured to the screen behind them. "I've been observing you ever since you walked out of the Ruins."
Well, that wasn't anything they hadn't already suspected. "Oh? And what have you thought so far?"
Alphys grimaced and froze her frenetic movements as she flinched away. "You… you spit in the face of every law we here hold dear. Well, maybe not hold dear, b-but obey at least. You flaunt your abilities, your charms, your good hair all to subvert everyone's attempts to capture you thus far."
"You think I have good hair?" Frisk said, reaching up to study a lock with their most charming smile.
The doctor did not seem amused. "Your fights, your friendships, everything—I've seen it all." She shook her head. "You've been nothing but trouble and you're trying to drag everyone down with you. B-but, that ends now. Don't think I'm just going to let you out of here." She lifted her chin, a deranged shadow sliding over her face as she stared. "You've really fallen into my trap now. I always wanted a live human to experiment on—I'm not letting you get away now."
Frisk took a cautious step back, frowning at her. They and Alphys had never fought before—what kind of techniques would they have to fight against? Or was this all a trick? Was she trying to set up another ruse, like she had back in their proper world?
Alphys looked like business at least. She raised her hand and things began to beep and whir in the shadows of the lab. She was starting to grin now, although the smile didn't reach towards her twitching eyes. Then, abruptly, the smile fell off Alphys' face; from the corner of their eye Frisk saw a familiar yellow blur duck down behind their shoulder.
Alphys began to glare. "You! I was right—I saw you on the monitor, but I wasn't sure. I hoped I was wrong. And now, you dare show your face around here?"
Flowey's body shook hard against their back, like he was caught in a tempest.
"You useless weed, you absolute failure. I should have tossed you onto the compost heap."
*She… appears to know Flowey?
*… you are not surprised by this.
*You are hiding something from me.
Not now, Chara. Frisk cleared their throat. "Hey," they interrupted, their tone cold. "Why don't you pick on someone more your size?"
"Frisk, no," Flowey whimpered.
Alphys glared. "That can be arranged."
Frisk fell into a defensive posture, but froze. Something in the wall made a loud clunking noise, like metal whacking against metal. Frisk glanced at it and began to sweat—something that Alphys also started to do, to Frisk's confusion. There was a second loud bang.
Alphys was gazing at the wall in a sort of horrified fascination. "O-oh n-n-no no, not now…"
A third and fourth bang followed by four more in quick succession. Frisk's jaw tightened and braced themselves for what was coming.
Another blinding flash of white and a loud crash; at least this time Frisk turned their head away in time to keep from getting a face full of light, unlike Alphys who began to loudly and clumsily curse.
"Oh yes, you mean." A flat, robotic voice announced. Suddenly, all the lab lights turned on, revealing the hideous mess around them and the new monster. Alphys screamed and tried to scramble back into the shadows like a startled cockroach, but there was nowhere left to hide under the blaring lights.
Mettaton looked like Frisk had suspected he might—just familiar enough to make their stomach lurch at how different he was. His square shaped form wasn't too different but his screen was cracked, buttons and dials missing from his front, but most bizarrely at all was that he had a second pair of arms waving around him. In one of his four hands, he held a microphone that he began to speak into as he rolled further into the floor, displacing trash without a single glance.
"Welcome, nasties and gentle-nasties," he crowed into his microphone, "to today's interview! Mettaton here with the latest news update. Just this morning word got to us here at Channel MTT that an exciting new person has decided to grace us here in our cozy little hellhole in the Underground. Yes, folks, that's right—a human has foolishly dropped into our midst! As everyone knows, Overlord Asgore, our generous and benevolent sovereign," he added, sounding shockingly snide for being completely monotone, "already has six human souls that he got after butchering children. With this soul here, we will finally have the seventh soul necessary to break the barrier and free us monsters."
He paused, turning to stare at Frisk. Frisk cautiously dropped their stance and straightened before raising a hand to wave. "Greetings."
In a long moment where Frisk swore they could hear his components and gears whirring loudly inside him, he turned back to face the camera, wherever it was. "Interestingly, the human is not a child! Which leaves one to wonder what kind of idiot wanders up a forbidden mountain and falls in. Let us interview our strange new guest and see if we can find out more about them."
To Frisk's amusement he rolled straight through the trash, loudly pushing it aside as he moved towards them.
Once he was close enough, he lifted his microphone again. "Hello, human! I hope you can understand my speech."
The microphone was shoved into their face; Flowey ducked down with a hiss but Frisk kept their amusement to a small twitch of their lips. "Yes, I understand you just fine."
"Fantastic! If necessary, I would have used any one of my nine million language packs to communicate with them, but seeing that our human guest understands English that makes our lives much simpler. Tell me, human, what brings you to our little corner of hell?"
He flipped the microphone into their face again, nearly smacking them in nose. Frisk didn't blink at it. "I heard that there was a fabulous robot star down here and had to see for myself." They smirked and winked at him. "Although the rumors hardly do you justice."
Whatever reaction they were expecting, they didn't get one. "Sarcasm. I see that humans have faithfully been curating the old styles of humor. But never mind that! On to the questions. Human, if I may, do you have a name that we can call you by?"
"Frisk," they answered as the microphone swung uncomfortably near their left eye. It took a lot not to reach up and swat his hand away.
"Frisk?" he repeated. "Frisk. Friiiiiisk-kuh. Frisk the human."
"Frisk Prado," they added after a moment, choosing to use their childhood name, rather than their current one of Frisk Dreemurr. That would just raise far too many questions, although the confusion might be hilarious—and useful, but more likely just troublesome if monsters just assumed they were lying to be a little shit.
"Frisk Prado. Mm, no, I think we'll stick to Frisk the human. So, Frisk the human! Where you heading to?"
"New Home."
Flowey poked his head up just enough to glare at them questioningly. Frisk ignored him.
"The capital? Whatever for, human?"
"I'm told that I—or rather, my soul—has been long awaited by your king. I thought it'd only be polite to pay him a visit."
"What are you doing?" Flowey hissed while Mettaton gasped, a strange flat noise, like a half-deflated balloon popping.
"On your way to meet the Overlord? Are you suicidal, human—or maybe just homicidal?"
Frisk gave the robot a long look before leaning in towards the mike. Well, I should probably give the audience what they want. "I'll guess he'll just have to find out on his own, won't he?"
Mettaton yanked his microphone, clasping it with two of his four hands, letting the other two shake in a jazz hands pose. "Intriguing news from the Lab here in Hotland, folks! The human has declared their intention to meet our esteemed leader. Now that he knows they're on their way, what will happen next? Stay tuned here on Channel MTT for more updates. Remember, folks, we here at MTT News bring you exactly what you want. Real drama, real action, real bloodshed!"
His top left hand snapped its fingers and the lights abruptly dimmed again. The moment it was down, Alphys popped back out of the shadows.
"Mettaton!" she screamed. Frisk distantly noticed that there was a syringe sticking out of her tail, not that she seemed to notice.
*You do not feel like alerting her to this.
Damn straight I don't. Who the hell leaves needles lying around anyway?
Mettaton, for his part, didn't seem to hear her at all. Instead, he wheeled back around to face Frisk. "Do humans really know about me above ground?"
Frisk considered their answer. "Well, no, but I thought your audience would appreciate it if they thought your reach was that far. I do think you're quite impressive though."
He didn't seem bothered by the lie at all. "Really?"
"Yeah. What human doesn't love a lively, multifunctional robot?"
He clapped his hands together. "Humans really love robots?!"
"METTATON!" Alphys shrieked.
The robot grunted and turned back to her. "What do you want?"
"What the hell do you think you're doing here, barging into my lab, interrupting me in the middle of—of-"
"Of what? Confronting the human?" He huffed. "As if you would actually work up the nerve to do anything. We both know that's not your 'style' at all. No, you'd rather have your little toys do the dirty work."
The doctor flinched and began to shake with rage. "You—you hunk of junk! Look what you've done. Are you trying to make me look like a fool?"
"Pfft. Please. You don't need my help for that."
Frisk raised their eyebrows. Damn, looks like he raring to air out their dirty laundry. What on earth happened between these two in this world?
"I should have scrapped you ages ago," Alphys reaching for something in her pockets. What she yanked out looked like a pistol, but only for a moment—the moment she had it fully out and pointed at them, the thing unfolded until it looked like a tiny hand canon. "If you think I'm going to let you ruin this-"
"Uh-buh-buh!" Mettaton tutted, shaking one index finger at her while one hand rested against his box and the other two rubbed the forefingers together in the 'shame on you' gesture. "I don't think your boss will appreciate you murdering his little human guest here instead of handing them over."
Alphys looked ready to have an aneurysm. "You useless-! Fine. Mettaton, grab the human-"
"Oh, look at that, time for me to get going to my next show bye!" As suddenly as he came, Mettaton shot back into his hole and vanished the way he came. For a moment, the three of them stared at the hole, dumbfounded.
*Now would be the time to run.
Frisk blinked at the condescending tone, but their feet obeyed without question. Alphys only had time to scowl and start to turn when she realized Frisk was already racing towards her. The scientist managed to raise the gun, but too late—Frisk grabbed the doctor's shoulders and used her body to vault over her. Something smashed under their boots as they landed and Alphys gun went off with an explosion that left a hole in the roof.
"Why are all these assholes putting holes IN MY HOME TODAY?" she shrieked as Frisk ran for the door.
They didn't linger to point out to her that she was the one to put that particular hole in her home; instead, they ran to the lab's back door. The keypad next to the door flashed yellow, meaning it was locked. Maybe that was why Alphys wasn't running after them—she expected them to be stopped by the door. Unfortunately for her, their Undyne had shown them an old trick to bypass such locks: kick the shit out of them. Hopping up, Frisk smashed their booted heel into the keypad and stumbled back. While Alphys cursed them and tried to scramble after them, Frisk ducked out the door and ran on.
The moving tracks on the floor went much faster than they had back in their world—Frisk was almost launched into the shadowy pit below. Quick reflexes saved them though and they hurried away.
*Successfully escaping Alphys and your own lies fills you with Determination.
Frisk winced. Now Chara was mad at them. Great. But how to explain everything? Aside from a few stray thoughts and mutual planning, Chara wasn't privy to Frisk's memories unless Frisk volunteered it to them, just as they couldn't pick through Chara's brain. They'd never pried back on their first runs through the Underground as a child and Chara had never tried to invade their thoughts either. But, Frisk had been a child back then with less secrets to keep. Their Chara had found out at the exact same time as they did who Flowey was, although in retrospect, perhaps Chara had figured out sooner than they had. This time though, they knew but Chara was still in the dark. Perhaps, however, it was time to start revealing what they knew. But how would Flowey feel about that?
Flowey startled them from their thoughts by loudly breathing a sigh of relief as the lab vanished from sight when they crossed the bridge. "Thank god, I thought she was going to… uh," he paused and fidgeted as they slowed to an easier to maintain jog. "You… you're probably wondering what… what she was talking about. Back there."
Frisk kept their face forward. "A little. But it seemed like something private between the two of you, so I wasn't going to ask." Mostly because they already had a pretty good idea what was going on. Was he stressed out at all, or did his soulless state mean he just felt unsure how to proceed?
"Oh," he murmured, voice soft.
Frisk glanced back at him and tried to smile kindly. "We all have our secrets, bud. You don't have to tell me yours unless you want to, and even then, only when you're ready." That goes for you, too, Chara. I'm not going to make you tell me about anything unless you're ready, but some secrets aren't mine to tell. Not unless it becomes vital, okay?
*…
*Understood.
Thanks.
Flowey was quiet for a moment before sighing again and resting his head against the side of their neck. "Thank you."
"No problem, kiddo."
He groaned at them, leaning away from them so he could smack the side of their neck. "I'm not a little kid!"
Frisk started to speak to tease him, but a Vulkin jumped out in front of them. Their soul popped out of their body and they sighed. I don't have time for this.
The Vulkin shimmied in front of them with a grimace on their face. "Prepare yourself. My magma will roast you alive!"
Frisk took a wary step back, but Flowey poked them in the back of their head. "No, don't. This guy's an idiot, you're going to want to stay in close." Frisk obeyed, stepping forward hesitatingly.
The Vulkin shook and then shot out green blobs of lava. "Face your doom, human! HAha!"
*… it seems that Vulkin thinks green attacks are damaging ones.
*Vulkin… tries its best.
Frisk stood still and let the attacks hit them. The bullets harmlessly vanished and the Vulkin stared at them expectantly. Holding their hands up in the air, Frisk pretended to wince and cry. "Ah, oh god, it burns! Uh, good job."
The Vulkin danced. "Aha, my attack worked splendidly! I can't wait to tell everyone else about this!"
"Oh, why wait?" Frisk began before remembering to groan and clutch their arms in pain. "I mean, oh, it hurts so much! Everyone's going to be so impressed by your battle prowess—you should hurry, now, before I die, so everyone can watch me perish."
The Vulkin hopped in place, lava spilling out from their top and flying everywhere. "You're right! Oh, oh, stay there! I'll be right back!"
"Go, go!" Frisk called after them. They hunched over, watching as Vulkin ran ahead, using the vents to get to the next room. Once it was out of sight, Frisk chuckled and started to stand before pausing again.
Their soul was still out before them. Oh, man, it couldn't be…
Closing their eyes, Frisk turned and looked up.
A sleek, black stealth plane hovered in the air behind them, a pair of raggedy ribbons tied to its cockpit. "You complimented that hussy."
Frisk tried to resist a horrified grimace and took a step back. "Uh, Tsunderplane, I-"
"It's YANDERPLANE!" it screamed.
Frisk winced. "Uh, right. That makes a lot of sense. Now, uh, Yanderplane, why don't we, um, have a little talk about-"
Yanderplane roared its engines at them. "You, you didn't even notice I was here the whole time! After everything I've done for you, why don't you just love me back?!" Before Frisk could speak, missiles appeared below its wings. "Die!"
Rather than argue, Frisk bolted and raced for the vents. The plane monster followed them, dropping bombs in their wake. Frisk hurried for the next room, mournfully acknowledging the fact that they just probably weren't going to get a hold of the burnt pan, which was a shame since Frisk still didn't have anything useful to use for a weapon. Not that they wanted to hurt monsters, but sometimes they had some real nice benefits.
Interestingly, the door to the next area was already open as Frisk scrambled into the next room. They ran for the vent to launch them forward. To their left, however, they heard a strange sound. Glancing over, they saw a whole crowd of monsters staring at them.
Vulkin was in front of the crowd—Frisk realized that the little monster had actually found whoever it was they were searching for to show off their dead body. When the little volcano spotted them they gasped and began to jump on the spot. "Yanderplane is stealing my kill! Look, she's trying to heal the human!"
"Get her!" someone shouted.
Yanderplane heard them and turned to them as well. "You!" she screamed at Vulkin. "You're the hussy who's trying to steal the human from me! I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll-"
"Time to go," Frisk muttered and raced for the open door as the monsters began to fight each other.
The door slammed shut behind them, sealing them into the darkness. Sighing, Frisk shook out their body before straightening. "Well, at least they're going to be busy for awhile." They frowned. "I hope they don't hurt each other."
"If they do, then it's their own fault," Flowey said evenly. "Now, c'mon. The sooner we get out of Hotland, the sooner you can get out of the Underground."
"Yeah… hey, it's kinda dark in here, isn't it?" they asked, squinting as they walked forward.
*You have a bad feeling about this room.
"It is dark," came a familiar voice. "Here, let me help you with that."
Frisk threw up their arms in time to shield their eyes from being blinded by all the lights that came on.
"Again?" Flowey grumbled. "That trick is getting real old."
"O-oh, it should be, but it isn't. Funny, though," Alphys began. On their left, a massive viewing screen turned on, showing the scientist's face. She frowned thoughtfully at them. "You know what else should be old, but isn't? You."
Flowey flinched and ducked down behind their shoulder again.
Glaring, Frisk raised their hand to block her view of him as they turned to face the screen. "What are you up to, Alphys?"
Alphys sneered at them. "That would be Doctor Alphys to you, you little insect. I see that I can add rudeness and bad manners to your list of faults, like manipulation."
Frisk frowned and tilted their head to the side, letting their hair fall in face, over their right eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The doctor scoffed. "Don't play dumb with me as if you didn't just literally escape a fight by siccing monsters on each other." Frisk winced, but Alphys went on. "And that's not all I've seen. You've been turning respectable, law abiding monsters into—into fools like you! Even the sentries, Sans and his brother. You even-" she paused, voice tight and began to fidget with the cuff of her sleeve, yanking more threads loose. "I watched your fight with Undyne. You—how dare you! You don't know what you're doing. You don't know how hard it is when she already-!"
Frisk stiffened. "What's wrong with Undyne?"
"NOTHING! Nothing is wrong with her!" Alphys shrieked. "It's you, you're the problem!" There was a long pause as Alphys panted and fidgeted with her arm more.
Frisk glanced down at her sleeve, distracted. Alphys was tugging at the threads of her cuff, yanking it apart string by string. There was a wad of threads already in the palm of her hand and she was quickly adding more to it—strange, but not nearly as alarming as the fact that the threads were spotted pink and each new one grew darker. Each time Alphys pulled a string, her claws would drag against her scales—they must have been sharper in this world, because the flesh was irritated and starting to weep blood. "Alphys, you arm."
Startled, Alphys' hand twitched and her claw dug in deeper. For a moment, Frisk wondered if Alphys had done it on purpose, but from the way she hissed in pain and quickly dropped her hand, Frisk assumed it must have been an accident.
Alphys glared down at them. "Now look what you made me do." She breathed out heavily through her nose, nostrils flaring. "But never mind that. Now-"
"Are you sure? It looked like it hurt."
Alphys' right eye began to twitch. "It's. Fine." Her shoulders shook. "D-don't think I don't see what you're doing. I'm not going to be one of your new pals," she drawled, loosening her shoulders back up. "I'm through with your nonsense. Now." To Frisk's horror, the wall on either side of the screen opened up tall, thin panels that slid to the side to allow row after row of machine gun barrels to protrude. "Die."
Frisk didn't even have time to flinch. The barrels started to whirl and there was a bright muzzle flash as the first bullets left guns.
Frisk felt it before they heard it; something smacked into them, knocking them clear off their feet. It was wide and large. Their body bounced off it and slapped against the ground while it went crashing on. Above them, the guns fired into the opposite wall and bullets rained down for a good minute until they finally stopped. Frisk winced and tried to take stock of the damage done to them.
*HP: 4/30. You would be better off if the guns had just shot you.
Groaning, Frisk forced themselves to sit up. "Flowey…?"
"I'm fine, but oww. You landed on me," he moaned.
Frisk sighed. That's why it was better to get hit by—wait, what did hit me? Glancing behind them, they saw a bent and bullet ridden metal door lying on the ground. A door? Where the hell did that-?
"Freeze, everyone! This is police!"
Frisk paused and slowly turned back around. Sure enough, there was a whole group of uniformed people in police blue in the doorway, guns pointing in every direction. Are… are you kidding me? This messed up, violent world actually has a police force?
*What?
"What." Even Flowey sounded baffled.
"Well, boys, looks like we've found ourselves a crime in progress," Mettaton announced before he shoved his way through the crowded door, pushing some of his fellows to the ground. He had a belt with a holstered gun strapped to his frame and a spiffy police hat on his top. "Doctor Alphys, up to your old tricks again. Well, looks like it's back to the drawing board, doc, because I believe we've all eaten enough apples to keep you away for the rest of our lives." He slipped on a pair of comically large sunglasses over his metal frame. Somewhere, a speaker played a triumphant fanfare.
Flowey frowned. "That wasn't even funny."
"Hush," Frisk murmured back. "Maybe it'll keep them both distracted."
"Mettaton, get the hell out of my way!" Alphys screamed, glaring at him in disbelief. "Where did you even come from?"
"Tch, as if you could ever hide your schemes from us—the MTTPD!" he shouted, striking a pose. Frisk was amused to see that the other officers scrambled to join him in the pose behind him. "With the MTTPD on the case, your little experiments are getting cancelled."
Alphys blanched. "Oh, god, this is one of your stupid shows, isn't it? Oh, god, I'm on tv?!"
Mettaton made finger guns at her. "Smile for the camera, bitch."
The screen went dark and the panels closed up. Frisk's shoulders slumped—somehow, Mettaton had actually scared the scientist off.
The robot waited only for a moment before shrugging. "Or rather, we were just doing dress rehearsal. Oh well, the scene needed work anyway. Speaking of work, who the hell wrote this dialogue? It's absolute trash!"
Without a moment's hesitation, all of the uniformed actors turned and pointed to the dim looking Aaron who promptly blanched. "Boss, wait! Y-you said you just wanted some dummy dialogue for now b-because you were just going to dub it over in post." He winked at the end, looking more like a compulsive twitch than flirtation.
Mettaton shook in anger for a moment before relaxing. He rolled over and put a friendly arm around the monster's shoulders. The other actors backed away, clearly nervous. "Aaron, sweetie, I know what I said, so I'm not mad at you. But if you ever trick me into saying such awful dialogue again I will cut off your head and leave it in one of your loved one's bed. Got it?"
Aaron whimpered and nodded.
"Good. Now, goodness, rehearsal's really run over!" he said, tossing his arms in the air. "We're going to be late for filming As The Skull Gently Bleeds! Hurry, everyone, we gotta get back to the studio."
Without another word, the actors bolted, leaving only the robot to wave goodbye to Frisk. "Sorry for not staying to chat, dear, but stardom waits for no one. Toodles!"
Frisk watched him leave before slowly and achingly picking themselves off the ground. "Well, that was… sure a thing that happened."
"Did it really though?" Flowey asked, popping back out. "Cause I'm not sure it did."
Frisk grimaced. "It, uh, does sort of feel like a fever dream. Ah, Christ, that hurt. C'mon, let's get out of here before she comes back."
"Please."
Frisk limped their way out of the room—studio?—but paused at the sight just outside the door. In the distance, they could see the Core, rising up out of the magma of the land.
*The ominous structure looms in the distance, waiting for you. The sight fills you with DETERMINATION.
Frisk sighed, feeling refreshed, but stopped to offer Flowey the last of their sea teas. "So much for these things," Frisk murmured after he was done then chucked the bottle off the side of the path. It melted long before it was near the ground, unprotected from the spells that kept the path only warm and safe.
"Sorry," Flowey said, leaning against their shoulder. "I used up the last of the healing items, didn't I?"
"Don't worry about it. It's not like either of us planned to run into her again so soon. I'm sure we'll find some place selling stuff soon enough." They poked the part of his blossom that looked like his left cheek. "No worries."
"Don't get cocky," he shot back, leaning away from their touch.
Shaking their head in amusement, they walked forward until they reached an elevator. Stepping in, they rode upward to the next level.
Outside the elevator, the path was empty. Frisk frowned; hadn't Hotland been an unusually full place when they'd gone through it? Where was everyone here? Turning, they walked westward. They didn't get far when they spotted the snowy roof of Sans' sentry station. Without bidding them, Frisk's feet eagerly picked up the pace and carried them forward.
Despite no one else being around, at least Sans was inside his station. He looked up at them, almost like he'd been waiting for them as they walked over. "Well, look who's not dead yet."
"That's me," they answered brightly. "So, I take it you got away before Undyne caught you?"
"There was no way I was sticking around when that lunatic goes on the warpath. I got my ass here to Hotland. She might have that climate controlled suit now, but she never goes this far into Hotland unless it's dire. And despite my charming personality, she doesn't consider little old me important enough to chase after."
"I guess she just doesn't know how to appreciate a good thing when she sees it," Frisk quipped. "Speaking of appreciating a good thing, thanks for getting a hold of your brother for me while Undyne was chasing me. He called me right in the middle of me running around."
Sans snorted. "I'm sure Undyne loved that."
"She tried to toss a couple spears through me," Frisk shrugged.
"And yet, here you are."
Frisk smiled. "Here I am. So, what are you doing here? You work as a sentry here too?" They never really did figure out what part of the Underground Sans was supposed to be an actual sentry in. He just seemed to appear wherever he wanted.
"Eh, I'm on break now." Without another word, he reached into one of his coat's pockets and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He pulled out a stick with his teeth and promptly lit it.
Frisk watched in amusement as he took a long drag and then sighed, almost contentedly. They remembered their own pack in their pocket and dug it out. "Mind if I join you?"
He raised a brow. "You smoke?"
"Just on occasion. And considering what I've been through lately, I think I deserve it."
He chuckled and waved dismissively at them. "Knock yourself out."
Without bothering to ask for his permission, they perched on the counter of his station and busied themselves with getting out a cigarette and lighting it, ignoring his tense air that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Once they had it lit, they turned back to him. "Hey, so where is everyone around here? I thought Hotland had more people in it."
Sans snorted. "Oh, there's plenty of monsters around. They just don't like hanging out around here."
Frisk's grin twitched, turning as they pulled one leg up onto the counter with them. "You scaring people off?"
"Mine and Papyrus's reputations do precede us," he grumbled, glaring out of the station. "That pain in my ass loves that."
Frisk blinked. "Your guys' reputations? How so?"
He shot them a flat look as he took a drag on his smoke. Ominously, the smoke didn't just come out of his mouth and nose, but out of his eye sockets as well. Considering it hadn't done that before, they assumed he was doing it on purpose. "He's so eager to get in the Royal Guard and so happy to ruin any shot I have at a social life, he goes out of his way to make my life hell. The only place I can drink at any more is Grillby's only because no one, not even my idiot brother, goes toe to toe with Grillby and gets out unscathed. Not that it helps me any, because that dude's an asshole."
Grimacing, Frisk turned some more and let their left leg drop into the station, leaving them to straddle the counter before they pulled their right up as well so they were turned to face Sans properly. "That sucks."
"Also, I'm told often that I'm a nasty son of a bitch. That might have something to do with it."
Frisk smiled. "I don't think that."
He snorted. "That's because you're fucking crazy."
"Maybe. But I can't be the only person you talk to, can I?"
Sans paused, glancing at them a long time. While he stared, Frisk enjoyed their cigarette and tried to be casual by turning some more so both of their legs were properly in the station. They felt a little safer out of the immediate visibility of the path. "There's a voice, you know, on the other side of the door. The one that leads to the Ruins of Home."
Frisk paused to look at him. "I'm aware."
"Are you now?" He asked, voice sly as he glanced at them sidelong.
"Well, kind of hard to not run into the caretaker of the Ruins while trying to escape from there. I gave it a good try though."
"I'm sure," he shot back before falling quiet.
Frisk nudged him with an elbow. "So, she's your friend then?" They smiled a tad wistfully before taking a drag from the cigarette. How oddly nostalgic to think that this topsy-turvy world still had a Sans and Toriel friendship in it. They paused, smile vanishing into a frown as old memories swiftly besieged them. Friendship. Right.
Sans, however, didn't seem to notice their distraction as he snorted and puffed on his smoke. "No. That crazy old bitch hates everyone—she just puts up with me because she doesn't bother trying to open the door to kill me. And because I bring her news about what's going on this side of the door."
Well, so much for that. Poor Sans.
Something must have showed on their face because he narrowed his eyes into a glare. "And what's that look for? What, poor little Sansy, he don't have no friends? What use do I have for that shit?"
Frisk paused, playing it off as them tapping the ash off the end of the cigarette. "Is the concept of friends so weird in this world?"
Sans huffed and looked away. "Isn't that obvious?"
Frisk considered it. "Papyrus and Undyne seem like friends."
The skeleton huffed a laugh. "Undyne's a psycho like him. They're made for each other—what's that look now?"
Frisk's brain tried to keep itself from breaking. "Wait, they're like… together?"
Now Sans looked like his brain was breaking as well. "Ugh, god, no! That'd be so—ugh."
Well, at least they weren't alone in their dismay; grinning a little, they nudged his shoulder with an elbow. "Oh, come on, imagine the babies they could have—they'd be the loudest kids on the planet."
Sans shuddered. "Stop, please. God, the thought of those two together, let alone reproducing… That's Grade A nightmare fuel there, champ." He paused, listening to them smother a chuckle before glancing away and taking another drag on his cigarette. "Sides, I'm pretty sure Undyne has something going on with the mad scientist around here. I'm sure you've met her by now."
"Alphys?" Frisk sighed. Their cigarette was used up; they tossed it out and examined the pack. Annoyingly, the pack was worse off than they feared—they only had one more cigarette in there. Grumbling, they took it out and lit it. "Yeah, we have."
"Real charmer, huh?" He grinned at their grimace. "Been having fun with her traps, have you?"
"Something like that."
He snorted again and paused. "But yeah, besides that, Papyrus has his own," he paused and tensed up. When they raised a brow at him, he began to sweat profusely, which just never made any sort of logical sense to them but looked real funny at the moment. "Uh, never mind."
"What? Papyrus has his own-?" They began before pausing; delight quickly swept over their face. "Wait, Papyrus has someone he likes too?" Had the Papyrus in their world liked anyone? It was so hard to be sure—they'd thought so once or twice, but nothing came of it and it hardly seemed to matter at all to the skeleton, so Frisk never paid it much mind. But was this Papyrus different in that way too? The whole thing sounded downright adorable.
Sans looked genuinely nervous. "Shit. D-don't, don't tell him I said that. Fuck, he'd kill me for sure."
"And here I thought you said you two never talk."
"Don't."
Frisk frowned. "What's so wrong with it? Who am I going to tell anyway? Flowey, you're not going to tell anyone either, right?"
"I haven't paid attention to a single word you've said!" he insisted in an overly loud voice. "And even if I did, it's not like I'm going to be chatting with anyone about it!"
"Better not," Sans growled, taking a drag on his cigarette only to notice that he'd used it up. Frustrated, he flicked the dogend off to the side of his sentry post and dug out another one to smoke. He tried to get his lighter to catch, but it stubbornly refused—rather than let him grow more frustrated, Frisk grabbed his chin and tugged his face to meet theirs. He blinked up at them as they leaned in and pressed their cigarette to the unlit end of his. After a moment of tense silence where they could feel his magic swirling around them, just waiting to form into sharpened bones to spear them through, he breathed in, finally letting the cigarette light. He leaned back, pulling the smoke away from his mouth to salute them awkwardly—they nodded in turn. The two of them were quiet for a long moment as they took their time with their smokes. Finally, he made a noise like he was clearing his throat. "Anyway, we've gotten way off topic."
"Okay. What were we talking about originally?"
"The caretaker of the Ruins."
Frisk glanced away. "She has a name."
"Does she?" he murmured, his voice sarcastic. "I'll take your word for it."
"Toriel. Her name is Toriel."
Sans paused before shrugging. "Doesn't matter. Like I said, we're not friends. We only talk every now and then. Exchange information."
"Is that all?" Frisk murmured, raising their eyebrows playfully.
"What's a matter, babe? Jealous?"
Frisk allowed a small smile to tug the corners of their mouth up. "You caught me. The thought of not having you to myself drives me wild."
"Ugh," Flowey groaned behind their shoulder. Frisk ignored them.
Sans chuckled. "Good to know that if worse comes to worse, I got a fall back suitor."
Resisting the urge to laugh, Frisk batted their eyelashes at him. "I'd wait forever for you."
Sans glanced away. "Anyways." He paused to grin at Frisk's laugh.
"Alright, how did you two meet anyway? What were you doing there in the first place?"
He shrugged. "Hiding from Papyrus so I could finally take a nap. He doesn't like running all over to look for me, so if I head deep enough into the woods, he'll leave me be for a few hours. Well, one day, I go out there to take a nap. I put my back against the door since you can usually feel warmer air behind it, but that day, when I sat down and pressed my back to it, someone called out. They must have heard me jostle the door as I sat. Anyway, no sooner do I sit down when someone shouts 'is someone out there?'
"Well, it was a hell of a shock for me—I didn't actually think monsters lived in the Ruins anymore, aside from a few spiders and Whimsuns. So, just as I'm trying to get up and run off, the person on the other side slams against the door, making me slip and whack the back of my skull off the door as I slipped."
"Oww," Frisk murmured, resisting the urge to rub the back of their head.
Sans snorted. "Oww indeed. So, before I can get up, they shout at me again. Well, now I'm mad, so I get up and snap back at them. But then, the voice, it… changes." He paused, amusement draining from his face. "It sounded like… like she was crying on the other side. So, I decided to hear her out. Turns out, she was trying to find out if Overlord Asgore had gotten another human soul."
Frisk fought the urge to shiver. "Had he?"
"Well, yeah, but I wouldn't know that for another three hours. They announced that shit on the television that night. The Underground celebrated for two days after that. But right then, at that moment, I'd only heard rumors that a couple monsters had found a human and dragged them through Snowdin to take to Asgore. So, I told her that much."
The memory of Toriel's diary, of her heartbroken entry on the sixth child, sprang to mind. "Poor Toriel. She must have been devastated."
"She sounded like she was dying on the other side of the door," he said bluntly. "I had no idea what was going on. Before I could ask what was going on, I heard the sounds of someone running away." He paused, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "I gotta admit, I was kinda curious to figure out what the hell her problem was, so, I'd go by the door in the woods every couple days and see if she ever came back. I couldn't go too often, or Papyrus would know where I nap."
"God forbid you do your job," Flowey muttered, but was smart enough to keep his voice quiet enough that only Frisk heard it. They twitched their shoulder and hoped that it was enough of a warning to keep his mouth shut.
Sans continued his story, which Frisk hoped meant he hadn't heard the flower. "Eventually, one day I do finally hear movement from behind the door and I hear that woman-"
"Toriel."
"-speaking to me again," he went on like they hadn't interrupted. So, maybe he was just ignoring the two of them on purpose now. Frisk wasn't sure how they felt about that. "She asks me the same question from before—did Asgore get another soul? So, I said yeah. And then shit just got weird. She gets all bitter and starts bitching about Asgore. And not like the usual shit that people mutter their breath cause they don't have death wishes. I mean, full on bitching him out, calling him shit that would get you killed in a blink of an eye if you got caught."
"And what did you do?" Frisk asked, idly eyeing their cigarette as if they were only measuring how many puffs they could get out of it rather than feeling their heart die a little for Toriel with every word. As if she didn't have a damn good reason to be upset.
"I listened."
Frisk shot him a look. "That was… sweet of you."
"Not really. I just thought it was kind of hilarious."
Frisk closed their eyes and resisted the urge to snort. "Of course you did."
"Don't give me that tone. I can tell you're kind of amused too."
"I'm not amused that she was hurt. I'm more amused by what a little shit you are."
"I'm probably older than you, babe."
Frisk nearly let that go before they paused. "Oh, I don't know about that—how old are you?"
Sans paused himself for a second before shrugging. "Who knows."
"Uh, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you do."
"Maybe. But on the off chance that you are older than me, well, I'm not going to acknowledge you for it."
Frisk's lips twitched upwards. "I'm twenty four."
He glanced at her. "What month were you born?"
"Early October."
"Ha! Older than you," he announced smugly.
Frisk narrowed their eyes but didn't fight the smile playing on their lips. "That's okay. I always did have a thing for older men." They took a puff off their cigarette before flicking the dogend out of the sentry station, smiling idly to themselves as Sans choked on his smoke. "Okay, old man, but that doesn't mean you aren't a little shit."
Face still red, he waved them off. "Details. Anyway, where were we?"
"You were listening to Toriel complain about Asgore."
"Oh no, this was not just simple complaints. I thought I might have accidentally wandered into a regicide plan. She was pissed. And, you know, I kind of admired that. Hell, I even egged her on a little, just to see how far she'd go in planning this shit out. Let me tell you, that woman is detail oriented like you wouldn't believe. But, eventually, I had to leave and she started going hoarse. I excused myself and left her to come up with more crazy plans.
"I came back again. She asked some more questions, I answered them. Then I listened to her plot Asgore's demise. That shit was comedy gold. Eventually, it became a sort of routine—every few days, I'd go out to the door and listen for her. Sometimes she'd show up, we'd talk, that whole shit. Other times she wouldn't and I'd get a nice nap in."
"So, you are friends."
He gave them a flat look and then noticed they'd used up their cigarette. Without a word, he offered them his; with a grateful smile, they took it from him, silently saluting him before taking a drag and handing it back. "You know what, if you're so hung up on that, fine. Yeah, she's my friend. Happy?"
"Delighted." The smoke curled out of their lips. "It's good that at least you two have each other."
"Feh. I'd rather have an incurable disease than a friend like her, but whatever." He listened to them chuckle before taking a drag off the cigarette. "Although, the way I understand it, I'd assume you two make closer friends than she and I."
Frisk glanced at him sidelong. "Why would you say that?"
He smirked. "Because you're the one she entrusted her hopes and dreams to, didn't she?"
Frisk turned their head to stare at him dead on. "What do you mean?"
"I mean about Asgore. Toriel wasn't going to let any humans through before now. She even told me that I should kill any human that showed up on this side of the door on the off chance that a human did make it through the Ruins."
"So, why didn't you kill me when I showed up?"
He looked at them slyly. "Well, like I said. It's not like we're friends. I have no reason to do what she says. At any rate, if a human got through to the other side of the door, then that could only mean that you'd either killed her or that she was trusting you to take care of Asgore. And judging from your stats, it's a safe bet that the bitch is probably still running around in the Ruins. So then. The old lady's sent you off to kill Overlord Asgore. That just leaves the last question—are you going to do it?"
Frisk grimaced and glanced away but paused when he offered them another chance at his cigarette. Taking their time, they took the smoke from his hand and took another drag, letting the acrid smoke roll around in their mouth before handing the cigarette back. They breathed the smoke out like a dragon, the smoke billowing out of their lips in a steady stream. Only once it was completely gone did they turn back to Sans. "Would it bother you if I did?"
The lower rims of his eye sockets scrunched upwards, his grin widening like a demented version of the Cheshire Cat illustrations in their copy of Alice in Wonderland that they read as a child, long before they traveled to Mt. Ebott. "It's adorable, the way you seem to think I'm some sort of decent person who'd care if you killed that asshole."
Frisk frowned. "That's not an answer."
"So it isn't," he replied airily, puffing away on the cigarette. "Kill him, don't kill him, I'll leave that up to you. Right now, I'm more interested in seeing how it all plays out."
"Plays out?"
"Oh, you know," he chuckled, glancing at them sidelong. "Because of you, Mettaton's shows finally stopped sucking. That's been a pleasant change of pace."
Frisk frowned; had he blatantly changed the topic, or was he going somewhere with this? "What's wrong with Mettaton's shows?"
"They're stupid as all hell, that's what. And he's just an annoying piece of shit at that."
"If his show bothers you so much, why watch it?"
Sans snorted. "If I had my way, I wouldn't have to. But," he sighed, "I always end up having to. If I don't get my ass home before Mettaton's show starts, Papyrus will lock me out. I won't get let back in until the next morning unless I want to try and sneak in, and let me tell you, that's not as easy as you might think."
Wait, does that mean Papyrus makes him watch with him, or does he not have anything better to do? Or is that how they actually spend their time together? Frisk cocked their head to the side, but before they could puzzle out what he meant, Sans flicked the remains of his smoke outside the sentry station.
"Well, my break is over. I need to get heading back to Snowdin," he announced, getting up and appearing on the other side of the counter. He was in no hurry to leave though, and instead only leaned his hip against the counter of the station to face them.
Reluctantly, Frisk picked up their legs and swung them back around to the other side of the counter. "I should get going too, I guess. Thanks for the smokes, Sans. You're, uh," they paused, amused by their train of thought had been going. "You're a real pal."
He stared at a moment before snorting. "I get the sinking suspicion that if I linger here much longer, you're going to set me up with a whole mess of friends."
They grinned. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll keep you all to myself. Who knows?"
He was quiet for a moment before turning and saluting them nonchalantly over his shoulder. "Whatever. See you around, Frisk."
"See you soon, Sans." Frisk turned to walk away, hands tucked deep into their pockets only to turn back around. "Oh, hey, wait! Do you know where I can get some healing items? Mine got all used up."
He considered them for a moment before he dug around in his pocket. Without a word, he tossed something to them; they caught it and glanced at it.
*A half-full pack of Monster Cigarettes. Magical, non-cancer inducing coffin nails. Restores 15 HP per stick—five remain in the pack.
Are you for real? Nice. Frisk blinked. "Shit, Sans, you're sure you want to give me this?"
"Whatever. Just get out of my sight before I change my mind."
Frisk paused and smiled up at him. "Careful, Sans. I might start to think you're actually a sweet person."
"Just fucking go."
They laughed. "Love you too, buddy. Thanks!"
Sans waited until the sound of their footsteps trailed away into silence before he glanced back over his shoulder. He looked down the path where Frisk had gone—they were already turning the corner, heading deeper into Hotland. As they vanished around the corner, he shook his head, his smile a little soft before he too vanished from the path only to reappear in a dark lab. He glared at the trash under his feet, kicking it out of his way.
A telltale click of multiple guns cocking made him pause. "Chill out, Alphys. It's Sans."
The lights came on as Alphys stepped out of the backroom, scoffing at him. "Finally! What were you talking about for so long?"
He shrugged, trying not to tense up as she walked over. He didn't relax even when she turned to sit at her computer. "Mostly just shooting the shit, trying to buy enough time. Did you get the readings or not?"
"I got something alright," she muttered, bringing up a few different programs. "Here, this is the standard procedures readings—body heat, pulse rate, breathing. Completely normal."
"They're a cool customer, alright." Hardly even an uptick when they'd grabbed him by the jaw. They had to have noticed his magic hesitating around them as he debated killing them for the invasion, but they sure didn't show it. "But what about the mental and magical readings?"
"That's where things get interesting. Brain waves were normal until just before you two separated—see, it spikes here. It was about the time you tossed—what did you toss?"
"Pack of cigs. There's a tracking spell on it, so until they toss it away, I'll be able to know exactly where they are. On the off chance they go off the beaten path again."
Alphys made a disgruntled noise deep in her throat. "Should have just poisoned them."
He shot her a nasty glare. "Don't tell me how to do my job when you can't even do your own properly."
The air between them instantly went tense. Sans was aware of the sound of machines turning towards him, clicking off their safety locks, waiting for her signal to fire. He had his own magic swirling around his fingers, but then she turned and looked back at the screen, the tension easing as the weapons went back to idling. He let his magic go, but kept a thread at the ready, just in case she tried to change her mind.
"When you tossed them the pack, there's a sudden spike in mental activity right here in their brain." She tapped the screen.
He glared at the readouts. "That's one of the bits that deal with communication."
"Yes, but it's the one that deals with understanding and forming coherent conversations, not this part here, that makes speech physically possible. Whatever they were talking to, it's literally in their mind. More importantly," she said, switching over to another program. This one was more familiar—instead of an anatomical readout for humans, this one was a magical readout for monsters. Looked like Alphys had actually taken his advice and went for a full battery of tests instead of just the basic ones. "Here. When you line up the readouts to sync up, you see that they have a spike in magical data as well."
"So, it's not just in their mind." He murmured, the light of the computer throwing ghastly shadows across his grin. "They're talking to someone else."
"That's not all. Alright, here's this human," she said as she pulled the file to the side to open up another in the program. "And here's some data taken from one of the other human that fell down."
Sans' hand twitched. He stuffed his hands quickly into his coat pockets and examined the timestamp on the data readouts. "The little cowboy wannabe who got all the way to Hotland before Undyne got him. I remember that little shit." Pure luck at the time meant that Papyrus had just barely missed the human. How the kid snuck past Undyne was beyond him, but Papyrus had been furious for months afterwards.
Alphys grunted; it'd been a close call for Undyne too. Thankfully, the little punk ran out of bullets and couldn't keep up with Undyne. It had raised her spirits for a little while. Alphys remembered that time fondly at least. "Anyway, look at his data and then look at this human's."
He did and narrowed his eyes. "There's no output at all for the boy, for the most part."
"Exactly. This current human though, they have a steady output at all times and I'll bet that they've been getting sudden jumps that match up to their brain waves spiking."
He leaned away. "So, are they not a human? Are they some strange new kind of monster?" That would be fascinating, speaking from a cultural if not scientific standpoint—a new breed of monsters could help revitalize hope in the dwindling population. Still, it meant nothing to him nowadays. Let someone else throw a parade. He'd take the time to nap in peace.
"No, I don't think so. Here, look at this." She fiddled with the program, bringing up new files and messing with the time stamps until all the files showed the same thing—a steady output of nothing, except for Frisk, and then a massive jump that jumped clear off the scale only to abruptly stop and begin again. Sans froze; he recognized those readouts. "This is from, uh, the former royal scientist's records," she mumbled. It was, perhaps, the kindest her voice had ever been around him. It made him want to snarl. "Every single one of the humans match up. There's nothing magically going on with them until some catalyst draws out a huge surge of magic. When you compare them to the charts with the timespace anomalies, you can start to line them up.
"This human, uh-" She paused, looking like she'd lost track.
Sans resisted a sigh. "Frisk."
Alphys grimaced. "Frisk, yes. This human shows similar output, it's just that they always have a low level magical output with large spikes."
He rolled his red eye in her direction. "And do their spikes match up with any anomalies in the timespace continuum?"
Alphys paused, bringing up another program. After a moment, they waited as it loaded.
Then he had to bite back a sigh of relief. There were no signs of any anomalies in the recent span of time for the last two days since starting on their little journey. Whatever had been messing around with time, it wasn't Frisk. The thought was oddly endearing.
"I thought so," Alphys murmured. She closed the program and opened another.
This one was a video program and Sans instantly froze as he saw the familiar figures of Frisk and Undyne, squaring off with each other. The scientist skipped forward in the fight until she reached a particular point where Undyne stood poised to strike with eight spears pointing at the human from multiple directions. Alphys fiddled with her other program for a moment until she reached a particular point in the data with another magical spike.
"Here, watch."
He did, watching in silence as Frisk made the baffling choice to let the spears attack their soul while guarding their back. It's the goddamn flower. They were protecting that little- He held himself stiff as the spears struck their soul.
It shattered.
And then it slammed back into a single whole. Sans blinked.
"What the hell is that shit?"
"Here, look," Alphys said, pointing back to the data readout. She zoomed way out and he saw, finally, what she'd been hiding at first—the spike in magic wasn't like the one where they'd been talking to someone in their mind, nor was it even comparable to the spikes on the other human's charts. Those spikes were like molehills compared to the massive peak on Frisk's data. Worse though, he realized that it wasn't the only spike on their chart. "I think this is our answer. Frisk hasn't caused any trouble in the timespace continuum because, somehow, they have magic enough to keep their soul from dying."
Unbidden, his hand flew up to clutch the side of his skull. "But it's not magic that can refuse death, it's determin-" he paused and nearly smacked himself. Of course, that's what it was—hadn't he once explained to Alphys that they'd recalibrated the magic scans to recognize Determination as a type of magic? It was how they'd first been able to study it in the first place. Maybe Papyrus was right—maybe his laziness really was making him dull. "If determination is what Frisk's been putting out all this time," and that did make sense, now that he thought about it—Frisk was an odd, stubborn creature and heightened Determination fit their soul type especially well, "then why was there a spike in their magic when they were communicating with that other entity?"
Alphys sighed. "I dunno. Probably it has to due to the fact that the test is only calibrated in a general sense. I'll have to tweak it again to search for multiple magics in a person at once. Maybe they're using determination AND magic alternately. So, the question is, are they using magic or determination constantly, and when do they switch between them, if at all." She drummed her claws against the desk, lost in thought. "I'll have to set up some more tests, see if I can get them to produce more data like this."
Sans glanced at her. "Do they and I need to have another chat?"
Alphys waved him off. "No, no. I'll do it myself. I'll whip something up." She paused, brightening. "Or maybe I can just kill them outright. All our problems solved."
Sans glared but glanced away to the computer again. "Any sign of the being that had been causing the anomalies before Frisk arrived?"
"No. Whatever it was, it's vanished."
Sans came as close to a frown as his static mouth would allow. "I'd like to know what happened to it."
"Who cares? Studying it never produced anything useful. This Frisk, on the other hand… they could be useful."Alphys shrugged. "If nothing, then we can at least get the soul out of them."
"…yeah. Well, I've done my job. I'm out of here." He paused before teleporting. "By the way, you have a syringe in your tail."
She squawked in annoyance and reached out to check her tail. Sure enough, it was stuck firmly in there. She yanked it closer and worked it out. "Good riddance," Alphys muttered as he teleported away. The skeleton gave her the creeps, even if he was useful now and then. At least they had similar goals. Still, he'd given her a thorny problem. What could she do with the human to produce results?
After a long moment of silence, Alphys smiled.
"Maybe, Mettaton, I might have finally found a use for you after all."
A/N: These chapters seem to get further from my grasp each time. Oh boy. BTW, if anyone feels like asking me a question on anon but don't want to wait until next week for an answer, you can always try my tumblr. I take anon questions there and I'll get to them fairly fast.
As for Geust: Hrm, I wouldn't expect that out of writers in the Undertale fandom—I'd have presumed the opposite. Well, I'll try to keep the once a week schedule.
Actually it's funny you say that I should go crazed killer because almost all the Fell!Undyne works I see of her either keep her identical to Undertale or… well, don't show her at all, now that I think about it. People seem way more interested in Sans or Papyrus, or even Mettaton, over Undyne. Crazed serial murderer does line up with what I've seen of Swapfell!Undyne though. Interesting.
In stories where the main character is undefeatable or unkillable, it's hard to keep dramatic tension. Frisk isn't untouchable, but they're resolved to never reset. Flowey, however, is quite killable and would be permanently lost if they were to never reset. So, Frisk's new problem is worrying about keeping Flowey alive, rather than themselves.
The skeleton brothers show up only when they feel like presenting themselves to my muse.