The child didn't have a lot of time to stew in her suspicions, watching Blue Sans pour over the notes of his other self. All she could do for a moment was study Alphys' face, not liking the nervous smiles and the way that she anxiously kept fiddling with her fingers. ...The way she kept mumbling into the floor, or the way that she would sometimes look over her own shoulder as if expecting someone else to appear. She didn't know if Blue Sans could tell either- although she would hope that he could, given how much he was able to read her own mind at times- but if he did notice, he certainly wasn't showing it. He was more interested in discussing the inner workings of that world-jumping machine, which she supposed she couldn't find fault with.
Must be nice to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
A thought occurred to her, not an intrusive one but uncomfortable nonetheless. When he goes home, will Sans...?
Frisk stood up and wandered to the other end of the lab, where a stack of TV Dinners and more of that "X Lemonade" was located. There was no microwave downstairs, and half of the dinners were partially frozen, but it didn't matter; she peeled back the film and examined the cold contents.
It was grilled chicken and mashed potatoes, the potatoes molded into the shape of snarling face like it was for babies who liked dinosaurs. Mashed potatoes, or maybe they were more accurately called masher potatoes. Ignoring the chicken for a moment, she scooped it out with her fingers and started eating, filling her mouth with the cold, lumpy food until it crumbled. She had a suspicion that there were peas mixed into it, and she half-wanted to spit them out, but she kept eating. The chicken was more tolerable, although with each bite she could taste the ice lining it.
Alphys' harsh, obnoxious voice hit her ears from behind and she ignored it. "What are you doing?! Humans are literal barbarians I swear to god."
Frisk ripped off the film from the chicken pot pie TV dinner and began to eat that with her fingers too, scooping out vegetables and meat and breaking off pie pieces. Yeah, she thought bitterly, glancing at a comic book from the nineties, that's why you have human stuff all over your lab. Barbarian fetishist, that's what you are. A word that Sans taught her.
That thought aside, she did feel barbaric, and not in a good way. After all, it was really weird to eat everything cold. And yet it wasn't long before she was done with the chicken pot pie and searching through the pile for something else.
She wondered for a second why Alphys wasn't coming over to stop her, despite repeatedly calling for the child to leave her food alone.
But then she wondered, as she started eating a frigid brownie, why Blue Sans had stopped talking to Alphys altogether, uttering, "uh, kid," behind her back.
She been so busy eating that she didn't hear anything else until it was directly behind her. Now the human paid the price.
Four clawed hands dragged her screaming into the air.
Her intrusive thoughts knew what was going on faster than she did.
Mettaton Ex – 16 ATK, 4 DF
A Killer Robot in its strongest form.
It was true that he didn't actually trust this version of Alphys, and noticed how increasingly nervous she was becoming while they talked. Mettaton arrived so fast, though, and this Frisk was so oblivious, that Sans found himself doing nothing again while a new threat arrived to cause problems for them both. Now there Frisk was, being held aloft, shrieking like an idiot as four sharp gloved hands were exchanging her between themselves.
It was almost enough to make him laugh, seeing that even Mettaton wasn't immune to the fashion statements of this other world; his elongated, spiked metal human body was a fashion statement to red, black and yellow. But his target wasn't the killer robot, at least not at first. He turned to Alphys, instead. "what do you think you're trying to pull?"
"I c-called in a little HELP to take out the trash," Alphys said, although she shrank under his withering gaze. "S-since I'm not a monster traitor who h-h-elps scum like this human and t-triggers innocent monsters..." Her teeth chattered. "-No offense."
His retort was cut off by a deep, mechanical voice, "Oh, no, did you summon me to interrupt something important, Alphy?" Sans glanced up at the two. Frisk was swinging their pan wildly and yelping each time they were tossed to a new hand, juggled like an orange by their new opponent. Mettaton, on the other hand, looked completely at ease as he smiled down at Sans. "Friendly reminder that I'm not an on-call butler."
"Forget about that! You're literally holding the human in your hands!"
"That's right!" Mettaton abruptly stopped his game of catch with himself, holding the child upside down by the ankle with one hand, arm outstretched so that he was out of range of their weapon. "Let's get a look at you, darling. You seem a lot scrappier than you were the last time we worked together."
Already exhausted, Frisk panted, staring at the metal man holding them prisoner. Their eyes flitted to where Sans was still standing and staring, and he saw them scowl at him- the only thing he could do back was shrug helplessly; at that, the child looked to the robot instead. "Met... atton?"
A tinny gasp rang out. "Oh!" He shook the child lightly, and they snarled. "You haven't seen me in this form yet, have you? I'm saving it for our little televised finale that you made us put on hiatus. So sorry to ruin the surprise! But now that it is ruined," he chuckled and gestured to the rest of his body with his free hands, "What do you think?"
Although recognizable to the Mettaton in Sans' own world, there were a lot of key differences- the main one being, of course, that his tacky pink was replaced by tacky red and, occasionally, tacky yellow. The cracked heart in his midsection was encased in what resembled a metal cage rather than a glass canister, one filled with honey-colored liquid. There were far more spikes welded on his body at every opportunity, even his teeth sharp as razors, making him rather resemble a deathtrap car. His bloodshot eyes were twice the number than usual, and the same went for his number of hands.
Immediately, Frisk stuck their tongue out at him. "I think it's ugly, like the rest of you."
Mettaton's smile slipped, and his voice got an octave lower. A touch sharper. "Somehow, I suspected that you were going to say that." He shook his hand, and Frisk again yelped. "Why so crabby, love? Do you somehow not enjoy being humiliated on live television?"
Alphys took several steps away from Sans, although Mettaton posed enough of a distraction for him while he watched for any sign of a real attack; this was just a prelude to another reset, more time lost. It would be easier to use his magic if the kid wasn't so close to the line of fire, when as it was they could be crushed in the instant it took for him to do serious damage.
Strangely, though, despite his anxiety for another tally to show up in that kid's burrow, he didn't see Mettaton doing harm yet, only playing with his catch. It was for that reason, though, that he doubted bluffing would be very effective either. There was no sign of fear or even the bluster shown by all the other monsters.
While Frisk was being shaken up and down their sweater slipped around their waist, exposing their bloodstained grey shirt; Sans caught sight of the brown corner of something else on their stomach. Mettaton seemed to notice it too, and his eyes flashed with delight. "My, my, what are you hiding under here?" Given no reply, he shot a free hand forward to probe their waist.
Frisk squealed. "Get back!"
His hand grasped something, and with a manic chuckle he pulled it out from under her sweater into plain view; attached to her waist with rubber bands and strings, this Frisk wore a long rectangular piece of cardboard under her sweater.
Scribbled in marker on the front was: temy ARMOR!
He released the cardboard, and it snapped back into place in an instant. "You clever rat, is this how you've survived all of our shows so far?"
"No, I survived them because you suck!"
"look, clearly you guys have some tension to sort out between you two," Sans said at last, and all heads turned in his direction. "but the kid's with me and i'm not really in a mood to deal with it. so if you could put 'em down-"
Alphys pushed her glasses up higher on he snout. "This isn't your problem anymore, other Sans."
"it actually kind of is."
At that, she snorted. "Why? You don't need the human anymore. And besides, this can be one of the ways you help m-" Although starting out confidently, her voice got weaker as she actually looked at Sans' face. "-Well look, maybe things are different w-w-where you live, but, here our freedom i-is important. you are literally telling us we aren't allowed to be free, so?" So saying, she clasped her hands together as though strengthening her resolve and snapped at Mettaton, "So go ahead and kill them already!"
But even as Frisk wriggled, teeth bared, Mettaton frowned. "What, you mean right now?"
"YeEes! Now! You've got the tools at your disposal!" She gestured to his own body, and Mettaton squinted with his lower eyes. Sans sighed; maybe if he fired directly at those arms over several angles at once, the shock would be enough to make him release the child and leave him open for further attacks.
"Fight me right side up, you coward!" Frisk screeched in the meantime, starting to swing their pan again as the robot regarded their little form.
Mettaton laughed, breathlessly. "I think that's something we want to catch on camera, don't you think?"
"Forget about the cameras!"
"We can't just forget about the cameras! Th-the- isn't the final confrontation between myself and this human supposed to be televised for the monster world to see?" Mettaton drew one arm over his face dramatically, moaning, "If I have to kill them right now and no one sees it..."
Alphys slapped her hands over her own face. "It doesn't matter," she cried. "We'll make a reenactment!"
"A reenactment doesn't get ratings."
"If you keep arguing they're just going to escape again!"
"Oh you don't know anything about show business, Alphy."
"Do you want me to make you look worse?" She snarled.
Then Sans understood, eyes widening, and in that same moment saw two opportunities. While Alphys was flinging her claws at Mettaton with that same snarl, and before Mettaton could respond, he grabbed the sleeve of her labcoat. "not to interrupt your murder thing twice now-"
She jerked immediately, as if he had just tried to brand her. "-Hey, friendly reminder- I don't want to make Mettaton kill you, but you can't th-threaten me like-"
"no, no." He cleared his not-throat, releasing her. "i was just thinking," he said, looking up at Frisk, "that if you were to kill this kid i might not get a chance to ask you about something later. so would you let me ask you now?"
Alphys swallowed and pushed up her glasses, "...Uh. Yes?"
Now Sans dug into his coat pocket, keeping one eye on Mettaton and his sharp talons. With a rumble, he brought out the wadded up letter and handed it to the lizard monster for inspection, "y'see i found one of 'my' letters to you at anti-Paps' place. it mentions some kind of theory... about the human. d'you think you could elaborate?"
Judging by the open shock and discomfort on her face, Sans guessed he was asking the right thing. "Y-you found that?"
"what's that look for?"
She snorted, "It's a dumb idea."
"Nonsense!" Mettaton crowed suddenly, startling them. "You love human theories just as much as I do, Alphy!"
Alphys turned beet-red. "-Shut up! Humans are gross human beings."
It worked well as a diversion, although there was one more hitch. With one toss and catch Mettaton had flipped Frisk upright, holding them by the back of their collar, and as they kicked at him they snapped, "What theory!? Who the hell cares about some dumb-"
The robot clamped two hands over their mouth, muffling their enraged voice. "Please, Alphy, continue. I know I'm interested. Especially if it has to do with this brat," the robot said, arms like vises and unaffected by Frisk's struggles.
Alphys' expression changed rapidly, from embarrassed to suspicious to understanding. "I-I guess it is something you should know. B-but, it's not my theory," she added, glancing sharply back Sans' way, "-and I don't know if it's true."
If it came from him, then it was true.
But Sans didn't say anything, just waiting and watching.
Alphys took several steps back, away from everyone, and cleared her throat. "W-well. Uh. It was a while ago, uh, I guess. A-about a week. Sans came to visit me to talk about the human... because he said he learned something new. Previously I- he- we- believed that they were using their Determination to travel back in time." As she spoke, Alphys glanced at Sans for any reaction, any confusion. She ignored Mettaton's widening eyes; Sans refused to give her anything, and she continued quickly, "Because of the irregularities we found... We assumed they had the ability for them to go back to a previous point in the timeline, to prevent dying each time. Or just when they felt like it," she added, glaring over at Frisk. "...And that this has been happening for who knows how long."
This ability was already obvious to Sans. It was the same way in his world; his own kid was a time traveler.
But if this was the prelude to his other self's theory, then what on earth was the theory?
"He found a new irregularity." Alphys looked away, sneered to herself, and then said, "This kid told him that... that their 'friend' remembered each timeline that they aborted."
What?
"...huh?"
"Mmph!" Frisk pulled their head through Mettaton's hands, although disturbingly putting the robot in a position to throttle them if he so desired, "Why is that such a big deal? Of course Flowey remembers everything! It's a good thing, too. Like I'd waste time telling him whatever shit I did each time I died."
Sans just shook his head, blinking his eyesockets. "flowey? flowey remembers?" He frowned hard at Frisk, who frowned blankly back. "...but he can't possibly be coming back with you each time you die."
"That's what Sans said!" Alphys exclaimed as Mettaton muffled the kid again, her crooked-toothed expression triumphant like she was in on a joke. But Sans felt cold in the pits of his bones, as if his marrow had frozen over. "How is that flower able to remember, if he isn't traveling back in time with this human?"
Frisk's expression, or what he could see of it, was one of utter confusion. Naturally; they might not understand what this meant, they might be too young or too quick to accept such things... but the riddle that this world's Toriel said went through Sans' head. How do you remember something that didn't happen?
His spine stiffened.
You can't.
"it's not time travel," Sans said, looking slowly back up to Alphys. "that's his theory, right?"
The stone-serious look on his face seemed to wash away the smug smile on her own, and even Mettaton was leaning in to listen; the only one in the room who wasn't somber was Frisk, who looked more bewildered than anything and had given up fighting for the moment. Although he didn't understand why they were looking so hard at him, when he wasn't the one with the theory.
It was Alphys they should be looking at. He definitely was looking at her.
She cleared her throat, grunted, and smoothed her dress. "He got more... annoying... the longer he talked about it, but yes. He said that he didn't think the human was going back in time at all. He said he thought that they were only- only wanting to go back, or something like that. But even with magic, going back in time is, is physically impossible. And so that want, it- it manifested as this ability, instead, which I guess to him is possible? The human wants to go back, so they... make it like they have."
"'make it like they have'?"
She nodded. "He said it differently but whatever. It's basically... each time they die, this brat does- does things, I guess? Um? Things that make it like they- like it never happened. Like it's all how it was when they SAVED."
"Question." Mettaton absently picked at his teeth with a single free hand while he spoke. "What do you mean when you say 'SAVED'?"
Alphys twitched. "Look it up."
When he harrumphed, she went on, "Things like that, though, you see? All of our bodies changed to how they were hours, even days earlier, moved to where we were once standing. Objects rearranged and replaced, the dead brought back to life, our deeds undone, uh- important special edition videos rewound-" She snapped her eyes over at a stack of VCR tapes and back. "And finally our memories of the last 'timeline'... erased.
"Everyone and everything is returned to its previous state according to the template of a SAVE File. So perfect that to even our calculations it would look like someone messing with timelines, but in reality would only be an approximation of it." She heaved a breath, running out of voice. "According to him, that's the only way this human can 'go back in time' and yet have someone uninvolved, anyone, remember something that happened before; it's if that person slips through the cracks of the template.
"He said that's their real power," she finished in a croak, shivering unconsciously as she stared at Frisk over her glasses. The child had gone still. "To reconfigure the very world at a whim."
No one else said a word, and Alphys' proclamation unfurled into the tension between each of them, human and monster and robot. Somewhere on the second floor there was a sputtering noise from some machine, beeping and whirring. Alphys glanced up and swallowed worriedly, but nobody else moved and so neither did she, rubbing her claws together in quick agitated strokes.
Frisk had gone pale, almost as much as Sans' white skull.
"... ...You mean you've been cheating all this time!?" Said Mettaton at last, cutting Alphys off at a breath. He flung Frisk out into the air again, releasing them save for his one hand on their sweater collar. "Why that explains ev-'ry-thing!"
"Mettaton it's only a crazy-" Alphys began, scowling at him over her lenses, but he abruptly cut her off with a wave of one of his hands.
Instead, his four pairs of yellowed eyes were fixed on Frisk, smiling wide to reveal his sharp metallic canines. "No, no, I'm VERY curious now. Tell me, human: if our old Sans is telling the truth, then how many times have you died on my show, just to come back? Fifteen?" He shook the child. "Seventeen? Eighteen? Was it over nineteen? Oh, you little attention whore!"
The child still wasn't moving, but after a few moments of this prodding began to speak through gritted teeth, cheeks flushing. Quietly, Frisk said, "I lost count after seventy."
The glinting, manic smile froze to Mettaton's face. "S-seventy?" He laughed, loudly. "And you kept coming back that many times? Such determination, it's almost like it doesn't even matter if I kill you or not!" He sneered at Alphys, "Not much of a human hunter, am I?"
"Yeah, especially as you're not killing the human right now."
Mettaton sputtered, and Sans gathered magic into his hands with his eye on the robot- if necessary, he could even have his trusty "novelty cannons" bite that arm like dogs tended to do in commercials, and provided that it didn't just make Mettaton mad it could do the trick without a risk of hitting-
Knock, knock.
Everyone went quiet again.
No one went to get the door. But on the other side, there came a voice that was badly distorted by the metal material, "Dr. Alphys, are you home?"
Sans didn't have time to ask who it was before both Alphys and Mettaton nearly jumped out of their skin, the former crying out in a stage whisper, "King Asgore!" And her face breaking out in a sweat. "What is he- what is he- why is he-"
There was a soft yelp when Mettaton released Frisk, who fell and rolled on the floor.
"Oops!"
"Mettaton!"
"I said 'oops'!" Before Sans' eyes, he was starting to transform, parts of himself folding in and compressing together, his height decreasing rapidly. The only thing that wasn't changing was his arms, that stuck out waving like antennae. "He can't see me like this before the finale," was all he said in a metallic hiss. An electronic metal casing came around the whole works, a wheel popped out, and suddenly this Mettaton looked a lot like the one from last season.
Knock knock knock.
Frisk was scrambling to the back of the lab, and Alphys was scrambling to the door, while Sans resisted the impulse to laugh at the sudden shift in tension. He had been completely forgotten by everyone.
In a way, that was definitely a blessing. After all, it was easiest to slip away when you weren't being noticed, and badly did he want to slip away and not face whatever disaster the red-and-black King Asgore was in this exhausting place. So right before Alphys opened the door, Sans took a shortcut from that too-bright and too-dingy lab room.
Not far, of course. He still had to keep an eye on that kid, regardless of what kind of powers they may or may not have, and regardless of how cold he still felt in the pit of his not-stomach thinking about it all. They seemed to handle things fine, but then for all he knew this too was a scenario they would soon see twice, three times, or even more.
Unfortunately, from this angle he couldn't also see Asgore when he entered the lab.
Just the look on Frisk's face when he rumbled, far more clearly, "Howd'you do? I see you have company."
Author's Note: IT MADE SENSE TO ME. I'm sure to a lot of people this theory looks obvious and like splitting hairs, but it made quite a difference to Fell!Sans.
Next Chapter: Ragnarök
