The first call came in at around 12:31 PM. Due to its obscene nature, the unamused operator on the receiving end debated over simply disregarding what was an obvious prank. Before they had an opportunity to do so, a fellow colleague received another report of a similar vein. Only minutes later, the entire communication center fell into chaos as every telephone rang with urgency- each coming from a witness with the same story to tell.
Surrounding lights attached to nearby police cruisers paint Cassandra's uniform in blue and red. Being one of the first available units to respond, she proceeded to investigate what at the time, sounded like an aggravated murder. Wouldn't be the first time frustrating traffic led to violence within Mirstone.
On arrival, the severity of the situation was made evident by the batch of demolished vehicles scattered across the grassy fields outlining the two-lane highway. The cracked, and in some spots, completely vaporized concrete also gave hints as to what unfolded- none of the possibilities being very promising.
This wasn't just a murder. Cassandra thought when she first stepped out of her vehicle. This was a fight. A big one at that.
Next came interviewing witnesses. Most of them had only caught but a glance of certain events. Even more were frantic with their statements, believing to have evaded near death. While none of their stories held much weight on their own, each contained a vital piece to a larger puzzle, no matter how tiny or significant it was. Once assembled, it didn't take long for the diligent policewoman to find out what transpired.
Scraps of molten metal are currently being photographed before they're ready to be taken in for evidence. If the crowd of curious onlookers outside of the police tape perimeter knew the true nature of the metallic pieces, it'd be even harder for the other officers to keep them at bay than it already is. While inconvenient, Cassandra can't entirely say she blames them for wanting answers. It looks as if a tornado just swept through one of the busiest roads in Mirstone.
"ALRIGHT, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!" a distinct voice yells from within the group of concerned civilians. "BEAT IT!"
Total silence replaces the onlookers' speculative murmurings, followed right after by hurried footsteps away from the crime scene. The gathering quickly disperses behind the chief of police, who ducks below the caution tape to enter the closed-off space.
"Chief," Cassandra acknowledges with wide eyes. The fish-like monster looks much taller in person.
"What happened here, Evans?" Undyne cuts straight to the point, stopping in front of the starstruck officer.
Cassandra subtly shakes her head and regains her composure before answering.
"A double homicide from what we've gathered so far. The suspect has yet to be identified nor located."
"The victims' names..." Undyne asks.
Judging from her tone of voice, Undyne has already been made aware of the situation. Cassandra's eyes droop out of sympathy for her chief. She then gives her the confirmation she requested.
"Without physical bodies, we can't confirm the identification of the two victims... but multiple eye-witnesses saw Mettaton engaging the suspect after the first murder."
Undyne's fists shake at her sides.
"Give me a description," she says through gritted teeth.
"That's where things get peculiar," Cassandra says. "While the statements from each witness vary in some way, everyone saw the same thing. A red knight."
This makes Undyne's brow furrow.
"What, like a Halloween costume?"
"No, the witnesses seemed adamant about the legitimacy of their suit," Cassandra explains. "It was real. Or at the very least really convincing. Humans haven't dawned that type of armor in centuries. Makes me think it could've likely been a monster."
"I'm not sure," Undyne says, looking up at the afternoon sky. "Me and Mettaton didn't get along very well. But one thing I admired about him was his fighting ability. That guy was tough as nails. I don't know many monsters who'd have so much as a prayer of beating him. Humans, however..."
Undyne turns back to Cassandra.
"Put out an APB for some punk in red armor," she instructs. "They won't get far. When I get my hands on them..."
It could be Cassandra's eyes playing tricks on her, but for a second, Undyne's teeth appear to be sharper.
The sound of a car door closing attracts the two's attention. Just up ahead, a News Crew makes their way out of a van, microphones and cameras accounted for and ready to go. Sadness washes over Undyne's fury like a melancholy wave. Her mind can't help but think about the state Alphys will be in once she finds out.
...
What remains of the Emergence Day feast, that being very little, is stored away in the refrigerator. The lack of culinary arts exhibited by monsters does little to justify the indescribable taste that lingers in Frisk's mouth. A brutal war between two of the three dishes they subjected themselves to rages on within their stomach. Neither side has any intent on taking prisoners.
Like a brave soldier, the child is determined to persevere through the pain, keeping themselves occupied by washing plates. They find the way in which the faucet water clears away the left behind gunk from the platter held in their hands oddly satisfying. And keeping busy with a chore works as a nice distraction from the heavy air of the house.
No one wants to say it out of fear of worsening Alphys's already bad anxiety. But her concern for Undyne is mutual amongst the other party attendees. Her 'cheerful' exit had about as much grace as an elephant on a unicycle. Something is up. And Mettaton is still absent.
Frisk isn't the only one keeping themselves busy. Sans has retaken his spot on the sofa, this time joined by Alphys and Toriel. Like usual, it's hard to tell if he's actually asleep. Alphys watches the News, having neglected to bring along any gadgets to fiddle with in order to pass the time. Boredom was the last thing she'd expect considering how chaotic spending a holiday with her friends usually becomes. Having both practice and several lifetimes of experience for someone her age, Toriel effortlessly knits another scarf for Papyrus.
The energetic skeleton currently strides through the blue hall after his brief trip to the bathroom. Re-entering the living room, he throws his arms up and says:
"WHAT A WONDERFUL MEAL THAT WAS! ALPHYS, TORIEL, I HOPE THERE ARE NO HARD FEELINGS. IT APPEARS MY COOKING IS SO IRRESISTIBLE, NEITHER I NOR FRISK COULD CONTAIN OURSELVES AND LEAVE SOME SPAGHETTI FOR THE REST OF YOU! PLEASE ACCEPT MY APOLOGY."
"There's no need, Papyrus," Toriel says, waving down his regret. "I'm just glad Frisk got to enjoy it."
"I AM AS WELL! SAY... WHY DON'T I COOK FOR THEM MORE OFTEN? I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A PERSONAL CHEF!"
In the corner of her eye, Toriel sees Frisk's pleading face from behind the kitchen counter.
"Uh... but how would anyone else get to try some? Frisk is a great child, but not even they deserve to hog such a precious thing for themselves."
Papyrus slaps his forehead.
"HOW FOOLISH OF ME! YOU'RE RIGHT! EVEN THOUGH FRISK IS AN AMAZING FRIEND, MANY OTHERS REQUIRE MY TALENTS AS WELL."
I owe you my life, Mom. Frisk breathes with relief.
"Besides, you're already assisting Undyne in police work," Sans chips in. "It's im-pasta-ble to be in two places at once."
Toriel snickers. Papyrus frowns as much as he's able to without eyebrows.
"SANS, QUIT IT!"
"Why do you two always fight?" Toriel asks. "Can't we just ever spa-ghet together in peace?"
"Ramen to that," Sans winks.
Papyrus grabs both sides of his skull in agony.
"I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!"
"Fine, fine, I'll give ya a break just this once," Sans says, sitting up. "Gonna step outside and get some fresh air."
"SANS, WE DON'T EVEN HAVE LUNGS!"
By the time the last syllable leaves Papyrus's mouth, the front door closes with a CLICK behind the short skeleton. He facepalms.
"Nothing ever changes between those two, do they?" Toriel whispers to Alphys.
"N-nope," the hunched monster answers, smiling a little. "Like a s-sitcom that n-never ends."
Alphys's increased stuttering doesn't go unnoticed by Toriel, who decides not to bring attention to it.
"HEY, FRISK!" Papyrus greets, approaching the human. "MAY I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, LEND YOU A HAND?"
"I think I got it," Frisk says while scrubbing down a glass. "Thanks, thou-"
They jolt at the deafening sound of a familiar musical cue coming from the television. It's followed shortly by a:
"Breaking News!" A male, human reporter sits behind a white-wooden desk, hands clasped over each other. Behind him is a green-screened, digital background of a spinning globe. "Earlier today, we received reports of some sort of situation taking place on Downtown Mirstone's highway. Well, now the police are on the scene in what looks to have been some type of deadly altercation. We bring you there now, LIVE, with Vanessa Chambers. Vanessa, what can you tell us?"
The feed switches. Now in front of the camera is a woman with long blonde hair, a professional black uniform, and a microphone in hand. She wastes no time.
"Well, Jim, it appears something violent has, in fact, taken place, as seen by the pure devastation around us-"
As the reporter continues speaking, the camera pans around. Toriel gasps. Everyone in the room stares at the monitor in disbelief. Encircling the road are no less than two dozen vehicles- all of which are completely totaled. Glass, tires, and various chunks of metal lay across the field.
"LOOK, IT'S UNDYNE!" Papyrus calls out with a pointed finger.
Sure enough, behind the reporter, a little way down the road is a recognizably tall blue monster. Caution tape surrounds her and the other officers examining the crime scene.
"-is unclear what exactly transpired, we did have some time to interview witnesses," the reporter continues. "From what we've gathered, earlier today, some figure dressed as a... 'red knight' attacked and killed a monster whose yet to be identified. While everyone evacuated, viral monster megastar: Mettaton, challenged the attacker head-on."
From behind her reticles, Alphys's small eyes widen further.
"Nothing has been confirmed. But according to those who evacuated their vehicles, a giant explosion of some kind was heard shortly after the celebrity stayed behind. Currently, there appears to be no sign of him."
Immediately, Toriel wraps a comforting arm around the yellow monster to her side. In doing so, she can feel the moisture sinking into her fur.
"M-mettaton..." Alphys chokes.
A stream of tears flow down her cheeks uncontrollably. Toriel says nothing. No words can come to mind, so instead, she stays silent, holding Alphys tighter.
Something shatters. It shocks Papyrus right out of his petrified state. The glass Frisk was cleaning lies in the sink, now in several pieces. Their mouth is agape, eyes glued to the TV.
No. No, no, no, no, no! This... this shouldn't be happening!
"Frisk...?" Papyrus says, placing a hand on the kid's trembling shoulder.
Instead of replying, Frisk's panicked thoughts continue drowning out any sort of physical awareness.
A murderer?! That makes no sense! I did everything right!!! Mettaton...
"Excuse me, Miss?" the reporter says, approaching the caution tape with her cameraman following closely behind.
The nearby officers watch as Undyne meets the reporter at the edge of the yellow barrier of entry.
"Care to comment, chief?" Vanessa holds the microphone to Undyne's face.
She accepts it, staring straight into the camera.
"Alphys... I'm sorry."
Her hold on the microphone intensifies until the small device crumbles easily between her fingers. One last high-pitch frequency sounds off before the broadcast is left on mute. Quickly, the feed switches back to the previous reporter whose brow is tucked in both surprise and confusion.
"Um... while Vanessa figures things out on her end, we'll keep you up to date once new information arises. Until then, stay safe, everyone."
Frisk tries to calm their aching body, but to no avail.
This cannot be real.
...
Ah, the classic "need to get some fresh air" excuse. Never gets old. Probably 'cause it was never new in the first place.
Sauntering across the wide sidewalk with his hands pocketed inside his blue hoodie is Sans. Again today, the grey clouds hanging overhead come together to obstruct the sun's passage of light. Countless years of living underground have made the monster grateful to even just see the sky. Nothing shall ever be taken for granted again. After all, there's no telling when such pleasures will be ripped away once more.
Deep down, Sans feels a tinge of guilt telling the others a white lie. But sacrifices had to be made if he was to successfully escape that house and the suffocating atmosphere inside. While the others continue to anxiously worry about Undyne and Mettaton, the skeleton saw no harm in getting a quick bite out to kill some time.
One of his ever-useful "shortcuts" saved him a lot of walking. Despite most restaurants in Downtown Mirstone closing for the holidays, Sans is familiar with one in particular that always has its doors open. Especially for those of his kind. No matter how much changes in his life, the one place of refuge where everything stays the same. Grillby's.
The skeleton often likes to view the establishment as Earth, and everything outside of it being the larger solar system. No matter how many supernovas, black holes, or planetary collisions go on in the large void that is deep space, there'll always be this floating hunk of rock- its inhabitants blissfully ignorant of the continuously shifting world around them. Now throw in some ketchup and fries, kind customers, and a jukebox that seldom works, and you have heaven.
Right now, Sans can use a little bit of heaven. At minimum, enough of it to clear his head and get some food in his system. Fortunately, Frisk and Papyrus being the world's biggest push-overs allowed him to evade today's case of food poisoning.
Directly ahead, just past a nail salon and hardware store are the familiar outer walls of Sans's favorite place. Remembering how suspicious it'll look if he's gone for too long, he fastens his pace. But not by much. Laziness is a powerful curse.
Stopping in front of the welcoming front doors, Sans raises his arm and pushes them open.
"Hey, hey, everbo-"
His glowing white pupils disappear on the spot, leaving behind no trace of life within his dark, sunken eye-sockets. The resting grin on the monster's face has never been more inappropriate. It feels as though his legs will break at any moment, crumbling under his own weight.
Tables, drinks, the damn jukebox that never works, even most of the floor is completely coated in a sea of white dust. Upon opening the front door, the invited breeze carries away some of it near the entrance. One dissolved monster is nowhere near enough to produce this much dust. Sans's personal heaven has been through hell.
Hell... the only place he wants to send the one responsible for this massacre. His bony knees can't stop wobbling. Then he realizes it's his entire body that's vibrating with anguish.
Just barely can his shaking hand dial in the correct three-digit number on his cellphone. The second he presses it against his ear, he hears from a soft voice:
"9-1-1, what's your emerge-?"
"Get me the chief," Sans interrupts, his voice now shaking as well.
...
By now, Alphys's sobs have slowed to periodic sniffling and the occasional hiccup. Toriel still has the grieving monster held in her arm, with no intent on letting go until her crying ceases completely.
Other than brief condolences from the boss monster, no one else has uttered a single word. Both Frisk and Papyrus sit across from each other at the kitchen table, giving Alphys some space. Adding to the surreal nature of the situation is the skeleton's total silence.
Mettaton may have been the Royal Scientist's friend long before he even adopted the name, but Papyrus's hurt is just as visible. Being a diehard fan of the shining star for years now, Frisk can't imagine how he must feel.
Does he even understand the concept of death? they internally wonder.
It may sound like an odd question, but Papyrus's case is odd on its own. To be so ignorantly optimistic and joyful puts into question one's awareness of the unforgiving coldness of reality.
Sans managed to convince him that everyone went on vacation in one of my... previous runs. But that was so, so long ago. There should be no need to lie like that anymore. To feel this way. Was something like this always pre-ordained? What was the point of all of my hard work?!
Frisk clenches their fists hard enough to drain the color out of their knuckles.
Why continue? Maybe... maybe I can prevent this. All of it. Maybe I can do better next time? Just one more true reset and everything can go back to the way it was.
They take a deep, unsteady breath.
Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm going to do. How Sans thinks of me, stupidly believing I could handle being ambassador, and now Mettaton... it doesn't have to be this way.
A small rumbling vibrates through the floor of the house, startling everyone inside. Accompanying it is a loud BOOM from the backyard. The only other sound Frisk can compare it to is when Undyne took them boulder-throwing.
"What on Earth?" Toriel says, rising from the couch in a panic. "Was that Sans?!"
"WHEN I STEPPED OUTSIDE TO BREAK THE NEWS HE WAS GONE," Papyrus says. "HE PROBABLY WANDERED OFF SOMEWHERE. FOR SOMEONE SO LAZY, HE SURE CAN GET AROUND."
Unsatisfied by the lack of an explanation, Toriel looks down at Alphys with a soft smile.
"I'll be back."
Next, she walks across the living room and enters the narrow hall where the back door lies at the end of its passage. Toriel only makes it two steps forward before her naturally curious child follows closely behind.
"HEY, WAIT FOR ME!" Papyrus says, jumping out of his chair.
Now a trio of curious investigators, the boss monster, human teen, and lively skeleton continue onward. One short walk later, Toriel's hand reaches the knob of the backdoor, pushing it open.
A lukewarm breeze courses through her fur. The yard's trimmed grass sways to the left as instructed by the gentle wind. Past the short slice of tamed foliage is the treeline that acts as a border, separating the owned land and natural wilderness beyond.
In front of the entrance to the forest is a wide, shallow crater. Some of the grass Toriel often went out of her way to keep orderly is replaced by a circle of caved-in Earth. Standing on top of it, in possession of a frightening blade that mirrors the swords seen in Undyne's "historical human records", is an ominous stranger. One who is covered face down in scarlet armor.
The red knight.
No one knew what to make of the description of Mettaton's alleged murderer. It sounded bizarre, like some kind of joke done in poor taste. Whoever just entered the former queen's backyard appears to be anything but.
"If I had known it was such a 'special day', I'd have come sooner," they say, pointing the tip of their sword in the monsters' direction. "Let's get started."
...
Normally, Undyne can tolerate Sans's insistent comedy. Any friend of Papyrus naturally develops a certain degree of patience if one's sanity is to be preserved. But now is not the time for any type of distraction. Especially with a murderer on the loose.
When the police chief steps out of her vehicle, the tiny droplets of H20 that land on her scaley blue skin give the stressed monster some much-needed tranquility. It takes her right back to the depths of Waterfall, where she'd stand in the endless rain for hours on end.
If it was up to her, she'd stay in this exact spot, completely still like she did as a child. She'd allow the rain to wash away her thoughts and carry her mind down a gentle stream of reassurance. Everything that transpired today would fade away like some distant, far-off memory.
Maybe Undyne would. But someone is expecting her. Waiting on the sidewalk spanning across a long line of storefronts, back turned to her, is Papyrus's mischievous older brother. Before him is a nostalgic building that, in Undyne's eye, doesn't quite fit in alongside its neighboring human establishments. No amount of time can undo the countless memories had in the previous location. So when she sees the new one, it's like revisiting a part of the underground that's been maintained in perfect condition. A real-time museum.
A trip down memory lane can wait. Right now, Sans has a lot of explaining to do.
"This BETTER be good, Sans!" Undyne says, marching over to him.
He fails to so much as flinch. Undyne's eye twitches. Admittedly, she has a lot of pet peeves. One of them is being ignored.
"Do you hear me?!" she barks, about to come up on the unmoving monster. "Why aren't you at Tor...?"
The heroine's words are caught in her throat. Any questions on her mind momentarily vanish. It needs all the space it can to take in the horror in front of her.
Monster dust completely envelops the interior of the restaurant. Some of it lies sprawled over empty tables, knocked-over chairs, and unfinished meals. The scent of death lingers in the air with a sickly sense of dread. Brain still on overdrive, Undyne only manages two words.
"What... happened...?"
"Dunno," Sans answers in a low voice. "Was like this when I arrived."
Now at his side, Undyne can see the skeleton's face. Glowing white dots of light are nowhere to be found in his pitch-black eye sockets. In all their years of knowing each other, never has the fish-monster seen him take anything even remotely seriously. It only makes today increasingly more unbelievable, akin to a nightmare.
"This confirms it," Undyne says, barely able to resist allowing her mounting anger to take over. "We're being hunted."
"Whaddya mean?" Sans inquires, looking up at his friend for elaboration. Her eye meets his, and she gives it to him.
"Someone murdered Mettaton."
No words. The two continue staring at each other, Undyne giving her friend all the time he needs to take in the gravity of what's happening.
"When?"
"Earlier today," Undyne says. "Killed by some freak in a knight costume. They also took the life of another monster. And now..."
Undyne's fists curl tighter.
"...this."
Earlier today? Sans ponders. The kid's been at home... so it can't be another genocide.
"I need to call this in," Undyne says, grabbing for her radio. "Once I'm done here, you're coming with me back to Toriel's. It's not safe to be out on your own. Especially someone as fragile as you."
Sans nods his head. Then, he asks:
"Any human casualties?"
"No," Undyne answers sharply, frowning. "Whoever is doing this... they're going after monsters."
...