"OUTTA MY WAY, OUTTA MY WAY!"

"HE'S RIGHT BEHIND US, MAN!"

Marcel's men tore through the woods, feeling in terror from the specter closing in on them. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, neither daring to look behind.

They soon burst from the thicket into a small clearing, at which they realized that the phantom who had been chasing them was nowhere in sight. The two men stopped to catch their breath, still shaking in terror.

"I don't believe it...!" Bladder wheezed as he plopped down on a barren stump. "It was really him...!"

"This whole night's been nuts, man!" His cohort said, resting his hands on his knees. "I don't think I can take much more of it..."

"Me neither." Bladder grumbled plaintively. "My wife was right; I shoulda quit like Babbet and Hulgor and all the others. None of this is worth the money anymore!"

His friend nodded. "You know what? We oughta go find the cops right now and tell them everything. Connections be damned, I've had it with putting up with Marcel thinkin' I'm gonna get something outta it. The only reward we got was getting the piss scared out of us by..."

He stopped, sniffing the air. His face wrinkled in disgust.

"Speaking of which..." He coughed, waving his hand over his nose. "Jeez, Bladder, he really scared it outta you..."

Bladder snorted defensively. "You seriously think that's me? Do you even remember where my nickname comes from?"

"But... if that ain't you... then who could...?"

A ferocious squeal filled the air, causing the men to freeze in place. They slowly turned to see an absolutely massive boar stepping into their sights. It had two enormous tusks jutting from it's maw, and from the look in it's eyes it wasn't happy to see these two intruders in it's territory.

A new smell filled the air as the men clutched one another in wide-eyed panic.

"That was me." Bladder whimpered pitifully.

"Come on, come on, pick up already!"

For the third time, Gerret smacked the side of the aged payphone in a futile attempt to get it working properly. The only working public telephone in town had sat unused for an undisclosed amount of time rusting and gathering cobwebs.

"Stupid backwater town..." He grumbled over the monotonous dial tone. "Only thing more broken than their appliances are the idiots running the place."

Finally, a connection was made as the other end began ringing. It faded in and out, ready to die at any second, but it was something. Gerret fidgeted impatiently as he glanced up at the asylum perched on the mountainside.

"Hello?" A deep voice Gerret recognized answered, albeit fuzzy and barely audible.

"Phelps!" The junior investigator breathed in relief. "Thank god. I haven't got much time."

"Gardengore?!" The voice responded, taken aback. "Muthaf... man, where have you been? What the HELL are you doing?"

"It's a long story." Gerret said. "I'll explain everything later. For now, I need you to send backup-"

There was a loud burst of static, cutting him off. When it died down, Phelps was in the middle of yelling.

"...ALWAYS pullin' this crap, man! You're too young to be playing this loose canon bull!"

"Phelps, listen!" Gerret snapped. "I've got a huge lead on Doctor Marcel! I've tried to get the local police to back me up, but-"

"They're all here!" Phelps interrupted again. "Jesus man, this was YOUR post! Do you have any idea what's going on at all?!"

Gerret paused. "Wait... what are you talking about? Why's everyone at the convent? Phelps, what happened?"

There was a brief silence.

"...I was called in about a few hours ago," Phelps voice sounded forlorn. "Since your ass wasn't there. Marcel's the least of your problems now."

"Why?" Gerret demanded. "For god's sake, tell me why!"

"The kids are dead, Gardengore."

Gerret caught his breath. "What do you mean, dead?"

"Police have been up here since sundown." Phelps continued. "Got a call from a crazy-ass lunchlady, hollering 'bout how it wasn't her fault this time. God damn, man, it was a nightmare when I got there."

Gerret remembered Doris and her... unbridled passion for children. He knew it would have only been a matter of time before she finally lost it. It was stupid of him to not take her seriously enough to send any reports.

"Did she do it?" He asked, rubbing his forehead in anticipation of the incoming migraine.

"Took her in for questioning." His cohort answered. "We were gonna take the Mother Superior too, on account of how she was losing her goddamn mind when they found her. All our suspicions seemed correct."

"So why didn't you?" Gerret pressed, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

"Marcel was there too." Phelps said gruffly. "He was in the middle of some kinda therapy session with 'er when the boys showed up. Since the Chief Deputy in charge of that spot had vanished, they had to call me to question them instead. But when I got there, they told me Marcel had taken 'er into his custody under an insanity plea!"

"They're all idiots." Gerret said, sighing. "But I suppose I'm an even bigger one."

Phelps paused again, before responding in a much more sympathetic tone, "If it makes you feel any better, further investigation shows that most of them were clearly accidents."

"It doesn't matter." The youth investigator grumbled dejectedly. "I was in charge of keeping those children safe from this kind of thing. Instead I got caught up playing secret agent when I should've been opening up to let them trust me."

It was too bad the bartender at the local pub had unexpectedly dropped dead. Gerret really needed a drink at that moment. Still, there was no time for moping. The signal was getting weaker, and Gerret still had two kids left he could save.

"You still there?" He asked.

"I'm here, man."

"Listen," He said quickly. "Can you convince the police that Marcel holds no authority over them?"

"Been trying since I got here. I swear, they're all incompetent..."

"If the sheriff's reaction was anything to go by, I think there's a little more to it than that." Gerret said, recalling an ineffectual meeting from earlier. "But not by much. Either way, they won't have a choice but to act."

"Why?"

"Not all the children died. Two of them managed to escape, one of which with my assistance." Gerret spoke louder as the wind picked up, rattling the machine and causing more static. "She's alright, but the other one was taken by Doctor Marcel! And if my guess is correct, she's-!"

"Gardengore?" Phelps voice was fading out fast. "Gerret! Can you hear me?"

"Phelps? Oh, no!" Gerret cursed under his breath as he struggled to keep the wind from jolsting the booth any further. "No no no no no, not yet!"

The line went dead, leaving nothing but a flickering tone that eventually conked out. Gerret rapidly clicked the receiver, desperately trying to get it working again, to no avail. He groaned loudly in frustration, kicking the machine bitterly.

"Dammit!" He yelled, rubbing his temples furiously. "Alright, alright, take it easy, Gardengore. Just calm down and think."

He began to pace back and forth, letting his thoughts out verbally as he usually did.

"If I sprint for it, I can make it back to the convent to meet with Phelps in person." He muttered. "Once I've explained everything, we can rendevous with Lilli... though come to think of it, maybe I should've brought her with me."

He glanced back at the direction he came. "No doubt her devotion to her friend might have inclined her to disobey my instructions and go on ahead without me. She could be going through all kinds of traumatizing events. Marcel very likely could have gotten his hands on her at this point and subjected her to a lobotomized shell of her former self, slated forever to act as a drooling servant to a deranged lunatic!"

There was a long pause.

"I suppose that would be enough to lock Marcel away for life." He stated bluntly, putting a hand to his chin in contemplation. "But... no, I've let enough children die on my watch today. Those two are counting on me!"

He was about to take his first step back towards the school, when a grating voice above him suddenly spoke.

"You must not contradict adults. You must not..."

"No, stop! Agh, stupid rabbit!"

Gerret stopped, blinking in confusion before casting his eyes upward. There, sitting on the top of the telephone pole, was a man with a paper bag on his head covered by a long purple cloak. He was holding a stuffed rabbit in his hands, frantically trying to keep it quiet.

Their eyes met. The two stared at each other unblinking for a long, awkward moment.

"Uhh..." The man finally said. "Goodnight."

Before he blacked out, the last thing Gerret saw was the sole of a sneaker about to connect with his face.

A/N: I blame Undertale for this taking so long to get done. Also, Happy New Year!