Today's onslaught of surprises fights for attention within Frisk's mind. Currently, the victor is locked between either the appearance of the skeleton brothers or the true identity of their supervisor.
W.D. Gaster, even after all of the limited information Frisk managed to obtain across their numerous playthroughs, still remains an enigma. The monster who constructed the CORE- a colossal machine responsible for sustaining an entire population, was never so much as given a passing mention from anyone save for his few remaining followers.
It was enough to make Frisk doubt if there had even been a 'Gaster' in the first place. Now finally having indisputable proof does little to alleviate their mounting confusion.
How does he relate to Sans and Papyrus? Why does no one remember him? Something must have happened. But what?
Despite their intrigue, pursuing these questions is the last of Frisk's priorities. Right now, getting home is all that matters. Even though no promises were made, that's exactly what the trio of skeletons are attempting to do with their stupendous contraption of unknown nature. Gaster promised Frisk full transparency after he was finished inputting its calibrations. From there, his helpers will oversee its progress.
While they wait, Frisk occupies one of many comfortable mattresses inside of the lab's large sleeping quarters. Despite the facility's one-for-one appearance of when they had last seen it, the difference in mood is jarring, almost making it an entirely different place altogether.
As Frisk lays down, their heavy eyes and bodily fatigue threaten to force a nap. Something the teenager outright rejects, refusing to get an ounce of sleep until they've returned home safely. Their grip tightens around the collar of their striped shirt, wondering what Plan B is if Gaster fails with whatever he's trying to do. Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind.
If the very pinnacle of scientific prowess is unable to find a solution, there is next to no chance any other monster will be able to either.
"Sorry, am I disturbing you?" Gaster's voice says from behind the bed's headboard.
Startled is more like it. Frisk hadn't heard the scientist come in. They whirl around, facing the smiling skeleton.
"No, just waiting for answers is all," Frisk says as they sit up, crossing their arms.
Gaster gets the memo.
"Then wait no longer," he says, sitting down on the pink sheets of the mattress. "Are you curious as to how exactly we'll aid in your endeavor?"
"Kind of," Frisk replies. "I know you and your helpers are going to use the machine back there. But what does it do?"
Gaster smirks.
"Why so formal? You may refer to my associates by their proper names. After all, they seem to be good friends of yours."
Frisk purses their lips.
"Yes," they say after a moment of hesitation. "They are."
"Which brings us to the exciting part," the skeleton clasps his hands and rubs them together. "Answers. Both of our burning questions finally laid to rest with the valuable insight of the other. Why not start us off with the answer to this question? How did you get here?"
"Truthfully, I don't really know," Frisk admits. "Someone showed up and attacked my family. I charged at them and then... there was this blinding light, and we both flew through this... wormhole. When I woke up, I was here."
"How very fascinating," Gaster says, rubbing his chin. "A wormhole you say? Hmm."
"I think I might have traveled through time?" Frisk proposes. "This world, it's- it's like my own but different. Is that even possible?"
"So to speak," Gaster answers. "You see, Frisk, time travel as most know it isn't scientifically possible. There's no rewinding the clock. Every reality is set in stone."
Frisk squints their eyes.
"What do you mean 'every reality'?"
"That brings me to my next point," Gaster smiles. "Sure, it may be impossible to undo the events of the past. But the past isn't exclusive to your specific reality. That's where our theory of the multiverse comes in. The idea that an infinite number of universes identical to our own are playing out in alternating sequences, out of sync with our current present. Theoretically, you'd be able to infiltrate a reality mirroring what you believe to be your past if access to this dimensional plane was ever acquired."
Gaster winks.
"But, you know, it's purely theoretical as far as anyone else is concerned."
"So... what you're saying is this isn't my world? Only a replica?" Frisk asks.
"If that's how you want to look at it," Gaster says. "But there aren't any replicas, nor is there one true universe. We all exist in tandem with one another. But of course, there is the second possibility."
"Which is?"
"You come from somewhere far beyond the bounds of the multiverse. In this scenario, you'd have come from a separate timeline."
My head hurts... Frisk internally groans.
"Aren't they the same thing?"
"Not quite. A vital distinction separates timelines and dimensions. The former is the dominant of the two, containing infinite possibilities that exceed quantification. An entire multiverse can exist in just one timeline. Which is why what I'm about to say next is very important."
Frisk listens intently.
"What you saw earlier is the DT machine."
"Determination?"
"Dimensional Travel," Gaster corrects. "Our one gateway to these different universes. With a strand of your hair that I sampled-"
"When did you-?"
"-your DNA has been inserted into the machine's bio-data. Naturally, it'll pinpoint your home dimension and you'll be back before you know it. However, if it is from a separate timeline in which you originate, then the DT machine will not have the capability to bring you home, as timelines exist well outside its limits."
Frisk doesn't say anything at first. They stare down at the shiny floor, deep in thought.
"Earlier, you said it was impossible to travel back in time. But in my universe, I had a special ability. With enough determination, I could save wherever I was at any given moment, and voluntarily undo the events that happened after. I haven't been able to use this power in a long time. But what if that explains how I got here?"
For the first time, Gaster doesn't have an immediate answer. He frowns, pondering the question, before he finally says:
"I suppose it depends on whenever your first save point was?"
"It was... when I fell into the underground."
"From what you've told me, this period of our history is foreign to you. So if you're able to create a fixed point in time to revisit as you please, how would that explain your arrival?"
"It doesn't," Frisk sighs.
Gaster places a bony hand on the human's shoulder.
"Worry not, Frisk. I promise we'll see what we can do. If your reality turns out to be unreachable, you're more than welcome to stay here with us. King Asgore has my dearest respect. He'll take you in without a second thought. Besides, I know what losing a home is like. In more ways than you might expect."
Hearing this, Frisk nods, mentally fighting off the prospect of losing their happy ending.
Well... Is it really 'happy' anymore?
...
As they enter the laboratory's main chamber, the returning sound of an interdimensional rift reaches Frisk's ears. To the DT machine's left, hunched over a small console, is Sans, who looks to be typing away on its keys.
Meanwhile, Papyrus stands directly in front of the bright vortex, laser-focused on whatever is being documented on the clipboard gripped between his hands. Or, as it turns out, he's simply consumed with forging a surprisingly well-detailed illustration of himself. It brings a smile to Frisk's face, knowing how little the Great Papyrus has changed over the years.
"How are things looking, Sans?" Gaster asks.
"So far, the machine hasn't found a dimension that matches with the quantum particles in the sample you provided," Sans reports, turning around. "But hey, it'll pick up something eventually. I can feel it in my bones."
Frisk smiles, but it fades just as quickly. With every passing second the machine is at work, the more the possibility of being stuck in a separate universe grows. Somewhere, out in the cosmos, their family is waiting for them to return. No matter how closely this universe mirrors the other, it is not the same. It is not home.
After regarding his brother's pun with a single frown, Papyrus approaches Frisk.
"GREETINGS, HUMAN!!" he says. "SINCE YOU'RE ALREADY ON YOUR WAY, I DECIDED TO MAKE SOMETHING FOR YOU TO REMEMBER ME BYE."
The proud skeleton holds up the self-drawn portrait of himself embedded on the clipboard's paper. In bold, sharp letters, at the bottom of the page, are the words: 'COOL DUDE.'
"WE HAVEN'T GOTTEN THE CHANCE TO KNOW EACH OTHER VERY WELL, BUT HOWEVER BRIEF, SOMEONE AS GREAT AS I CAN NEVER FAIL TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION. WITH THIS EXPERTLY DRAWN IMAGE, I'LL REMAIN FRESH IN YOUR MEMORY UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN."
"Thanks, Papyrus," Frisk says, neatly folding the drawing and slipping it into their right pocket. "I'll hold onto it. But trust me, even without it, I could never forget someone as cool as you."
Papyrus blushes.
"WOW, DO YOU REALLY MEAN THAT?" he says before regaining his composure. "UH, I MEAN, OF COURSE YOU DO! WHO WOULDN'T? NYEH HEH HEH!"
The monster walks back to the portal in large, joyful strides. Once he's out of ear-shot, and Sans has resumed working, Gaster turns to Frisk and asks:
"Is he any different where you come from?"
"No," Frisk grins. "Neither is Sans."
"Good," he says. "Happy to know this reality isn't the only one that can hog them to itself."
"What are they to you? Your brothers?"
Gaster looks confused, clearly not having expected such a question.
"Of course not," Gaster says. "But I guess from your point of view, that is only a natural takeaway."
"You're telling me you're not related to those two?" Frisk says, finding it hard to believe.
"Well, in a manner of speaking, we ARE related. But we aren't siblings, and neither are Sans and Papyrus. They're me."
Not a word needs to be spoken for the scientist to understand how much of a shock this is to Frisk. Their face says it all.
"Allow me to rephrase," he says. "They're me but from alternate realities."
"Alternate realities?!" Frisk echoes. "They're not even from this dimension?"
"Interesting, I hadn't known any of this would be a surprise to you. How much about your friends do you not know?"
"A few seconds ago, I would've said I knew everything," Frisk answers. "Do you remember what you said about the greatest currency? Can you tell me more?"
Gaster smiles. But it doesn't reflect in his eyes.
"Sure," he agrees. "But afterward, I have one final question I'd like to ask of you. And you have to answer honestly."
Frisk nods their head vigorously.
"Very well," Gaster says, closing his eyes. "Long ago, I was a human. Like you."
This time, Frisk's staggered expression is of no surprise to the amused scientist. He continues.
"In the world I come from, there was no monster kind. At least to our knowledge. I used to be a chief executive scientist. Throughout my promising but short career, I dreamed of a way to break the boundaries that shackled our insatiable need for scientific discovery. To fully test the multiverse theory and harness the power to explore different worlds."
The scientist shifts his view to that of the circular contraption containing a purple rift.
"The DT machine," he smiles. "The key to my ascension, and ultimately, the instrument of my damnation. Once it was finally complete, my dream couldn't wait to be realized any longer. Without following procedure, I calibrated it to find the nearest gateway, and I ventured through. It worked, but not without extracting a heavy toll. The unpredictable matter of space-time melted away my skin and modified my very soul, turning me into this. A monster."
Noticing Frisk's sympathetic eyes, Gaster smirks.
"A handsome monster, no doubt," he adds. "Regardless, I couldn't go back. Not like this. Lucky for me, I just so happened to wind up in a world full of monsters. We differed in nature, sure. But our shared struggle to be understood by humans was just the same. Once we were cast away, King Asgore tasked me with finding a way out. Technically, I succeeded by rebuilding the DT machine. But as I'm sure you can imagine, throwing an entire population of people into a separate dimension isn't an ideal solution. So, I tried something else."
He holds up his left pinkie, revealing a missing tip.
"It hurt quite a lot, but unlike you, I don't have the benefit of hair. Using my DNA, I sought to find out if any of my dimensional counterparts made the same mistake I did. That's how I found and recruited them."
Gaster gestures to Sans and Papyrus.
"Monsters without a home. I took them in, gave them different names, and with our combined intellect, we hope to shatter the barrier one day. Papyrus's situation is... unique. His trip across dimensions did more than just disfigure him. It permanently altered his brain chemistry, laying to rest the genius that once was. And most of what made him human, down to his basic anatomy, was taken. Still, he's a part of the family. Without his spirit, Sans and I would've lost ours a long time ago."
"This... is a lot to take in," Frisk says. "If all of you are human, why haven't you tried to break the barrier?"
"Trust me, I gave it some thought. But unfortunately, our souls are barely hanging together, being just as fragile as a monster's. Especially in Sans' case. To overcome the humans' enchantment, we need a soul from both species. And ours count as neither."
To know they hadn't been the only human in the underground gives Frisk a weird sense of comfort, despite the shocking nature of the revelation. Suddenly, they think back to the countless times Sans fought them. Something he said in the battle always stuck out...
Look, I gave up trying to go back a long time ago.
"Is this what you meant?" Frisk mummers aloud.
"Hmm?" Gaster cocks an eyebrow.
"Hey!" Sans cries out from across the room. "The machine's picking up something."
Relief sweeping over them, Frisk hurries over to the swirling mass of purple, followed closely by Gaster. All four humans now stand before the machine.
"What is it?" Gaster asks.
Sans doesn't answer. Within the vortex, a low voice calls out:
"Friiiiiisk?"
It does so again. This time, only slightly louder.
"Friiiiiisk? Where are you, my child?"
"Why does that sound like the queen?" Gaster asks.
"Mom...?" Frisk says in an unsteady breath.
Picking up on what's going on, Gaster looks over at Sans.
"Where is it coming from?"
"Weird," he whispers. "The console hasn't found the kid's home dimension yet. The source is not inside a gateway. It must be originating from somewhere out in the void."
"That's impossible," Gaster says. "Whatever it is, ignore it."
"Don't!" Frisk pleads. "I know that voice! It's Mom! She must be looking for me..."
"Look, Frisk, I know you really want to go home, but our data is never wrong. Nothing exists within the void, it's a place of complete nothingness. It must be some sort of glitch."
"And if it's not?" Frisk argues. "We all heard it! You have to at least try!"
They clasp their hands together.
"Please..."
At that moment, Gaster doesn't see the person he once did. In those pleading eyes are his own, staring back at him. That ever-familiar longing for things to go back to what they once were... rationality doesn't hold a candle to the melancholy gaze confronting him.
"Hone in on the signal," Gaster tells Sans. "It's worth a shot."
...
At minimum, half an hour has passed since Gaster instructed Sans to further investigate the peculiar signal. Even in the scientist's exceptional mind, he fails to identify what could exist beyond the reach of dimensional gateways. While he has never been the superstitious type, a part of him prefers not to find out.
But he made a promise that he'd do all he can. And he always keeps his promises.
While the skeleton duo continue monitoring the console, Gaster and Frisk share a spot at a small square table in the back of the room. On it is a mix of schematics and more of Papyrus' drawings that fight for space in what limited amount is available.
"Um, Gaster?" the teenager says, getting the scientist's attention.
"Hm? What is it?"
"I never said thanks. For helping me get home. At first, I thought you were going to hand me off to Asgore."
"No need to thank me, Frisk, this was a transaction. Because of you, a great many things have been unveiled. For instance, your old ability to create a reachable point in time, along with the person who sent you here in the first place, has cemented the fact that others possess the necessary power to influence the multiverse. This information will go a long way in fully understanding space-time."
Gaster winks.
"Besides, it's like I said earlier. What King Asgore doesn't know-"
"-won't hurt him," Frisk grins.
He gives them a slow nod.
"Well, I guess it's time to redeem my final question. Before I do, however, I'd like to ask you some smaller ones first."
Hearing this, Frisk perks up. This scientist may be the only reason they'll ever reunite with their loved ones. Answering a few questions is the least they can do for him.
"So you're friends with both of my colleagues, right?"
"More," Frisk says. "We're family."
"I see," Gaster says. "Tell me, where do I fit in this family?"
No answer. One doesn't arrive in the child's panicked mind. Seeing this, Gaster looks solemnly down at the table.
"It was odd," he says. "How you seem familiar with just about everyone. Sans, Papyrus, that strange River Person, and even the entire royal family. Yet, I'm a stranger to you. Has anyone ever mentioned me from your world?"
"A few monsters have," Frisk sadly answers. "But no one else. Not Asgore, Mom, your successor, or even..."
Frisk glances over at Sans and Papyrus.
"...them."
"What happened?" Gaster asks with a furrowed brow.
"All I know is you fell into your own creation. But I don't-"
Evidently, that was all the royal scientist needed to hear. His pupils enlarge at the newfound information, instantly being hit with an understanding.
"The CORE..." he mutters. "Yes, that'd make sense. If a soul were to end up down there- a human soul especially, the result would be disastrous. Its very essence would scatter across space-time by the machine's magical properties, blurring the lines of reality. Everything- everything that person ever was, their influence... it'd be wiped completely."
Dismally, the skeleton sits back, his eyes staring at nothing.
"I'd be erased from existence."
After all this time, Frisk now understands the truth behind W.D. Gaster, and why he's never brought up. Having the answers only breaks the child's heart. Before they can reach out, Gaster speaks.
"Now for my final question," he says. "Answer honestly, now."
He looks over at Sans and Papyrus.
"Are they happy? In your world?"
Without hesitation, Frisk gently reaches over and takes the skeleton's bony hands in theirs.
"Yes," Frisk answers with a warm smile.
"Good," Gaster smiles back. "That's all that matters."
...
No, space, no problem.
Even with the cramped apartment's suffocatingly tight interior, the large monster doesn't allow what little room is available to hinder his natural lifestyle.
Along the windowsill are several potted plants that bask in all the sunlight their non-sentient appetites can desire. Or at least that would be the case if not for the unusually gloomy weather persisting across the sky of Mirstone City. Still, Asgore sprinkles them with their daily dose of H20, careful to not spill any.
Behind him is a large, wooden rocking chair, constructed by the best carpenter around. Only his superb craftsmanship could build a chair with the durability to sustain the king's hefty weight. For his talents, he was rewarded a thousand gold.
In front of the wooden chair is a bookshelf taking up most of the west-side wall, packed with enough literature to make a librarian blush. On quiet days, the king always fancied reading sessions spanning countless hours. And all there ever is are quiet days. Except for recently.
Despite their obvious sugarcoating of monster discrimination, Asgore feels a little bad for earlier, having derailed from the script handed to him. For whatever reason, his impulses have gotten stronger lately, and in a moment of sadness for the lives lost, he decided to tell the people his truth.
While there'll be some who appreciate the modesty, and even take his speech to heart, others will undoubtedly interpret the acknowledgment of monster prejudice as an act to propagate a second war. In the unforgiving world of politics, intent is not determined by the individual, but rather by whatever juicy headline that is sure to follow.
Suffice it to say, everything Asgore conveyed to millions of people was far from the cautiously worded means of assurance the mayor had wanted. And quite possibly, far from what the world at large needed.
Content with the state of his flowers, Asgore sets the sprinkler down and walks across the carpeted floor in the direction of the closed entrance to his bedroom. Behind it is a single king-sized bed that occupies every available square inch.
Getting the piece of furniture through the door's small frame was tough. So tough, the king enlisted the help of Undyne. Resulting from that admittedly foolish decision was in the fish-monster's mind, a mission success. Although, Asgore's definition of a "mission success" didn't involve snapping the frame in two.
Right when the boss monster's hand touches the silver handle, a gentle knock at the front door steals his attention.
"Coming!" Asgore says, his muddled mind wondering who it could possibly be. Nowadays, he seldom gets any visitors.
He reaches the front door and opens it.
"Howdy, what can I-?"
His words trail off. Both of his eyes are wide open in shock, attempting to process the arrival of such an unlikely visitor.
"Hey, Asgore," Toriel says, unsurprised by his bewilderment.
The king composes himself, unable to fully read Toriel's expression. Then, he finally says:
"Would you like some tea?"
...
"Hey, G, the signal is getting stronger," Sans reports, staring down at the readings currently displayed on the console's small monitor. "This might be it."
Nodding, Gaster turns to look at the human on the opposite end of the table, lying forward with their head snuggled into their sleeves. The scientist leans forward and gently shakes the napping child's arm.
After a moment, Frisk slowly lifts their head, visibly mystified as to how much time has passed. Upon opening their eyes, the first thing that comes into view is Gaster's smile.
"Moment of truth," is all he says and Frisk understands clearly.
As they sit up, their heart rate quickens until the anxious muscle is practically slamming against their chest. Right now, at this very moment, is when the world will decide if they can return home. If the last seven years of hard work were for nothing.
Both Gaster and Frisk join Sans and Papyrus at the front of the DT Machine. Standing so close to the swirling vortex gives the human an unpleasant reminder of the one that took them here. Hopefully, the ride this time around won't be nearly as chaotic.
"I KNOW THIS MUST BE SO HARD FOR YOU!" Papyrus tells Frisk. "HAVING TO LEAVE US SO SOON."
Truthfully, it wasn't, since Frisk had a fully grown Papyrus waiting for them back home. But to spare this variant's feelings, they nod.
"It is," they say. "But who knows? We may meet again, someday."
"MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY," Papyrus says. "IT'S LIKE YOU CAN SEE INSIDE MY SKULL!"
"Let's not get a-HEAD of ourselves," Sans tells him. "We're still not sure what exactly it is that's emitting this signal."
Neither of them do, but Frisk does. What they heard was unmistakable. Somehow, some way, their mother is calling them. Calling them home.
Patiently, the four humans wait and keep a lookout for any notable changes in the portal's color and texture. As they do, Sans' pupils stay transfixed on the monitor. Dimensional travel rarely yields predictability, and this situation is as far from predictable as one can get.
Suddenly, the console begins to beep with urgency, drawing everyone else's attention away from the machine. As if responding to the rhythmic alarm, the facility's lights shut off completely, with the portal's uncontested brightness now casting the surrounding area in a purple hue.
"Sans?!" Gaster calls out almost immediately.
"The signal... it's getting stronger," he answers with an unsteady voice. "Right now, the DT Machine is pulling all available electricity to sustain functionality. At the rate we're going, a system failure is imminent."
For a moment, Gaster closes his eyes. Then he turns to Frisk. Once more, their eyes are pleading with his, and they gain his sympathies. But they don't succeed in blinding him from what has to be done. Like the skeleton learned many years ago, some risks aren't worth taking. He prays no one else has to learn the way he did.
"Shut it down," Gaster tells Sans.
"You can't!!" Frisk says, pulling on the skeleton's sleeve. "This could be my only chance!"
Gaster grabs the teenager's arm with a stern grip.
"Listen to me! Right now, the DT Machine is draining the entirety of the underground's power. If it keeps up, the CORE will overload, and yield disastrous consequences for all of us."
"But we're so close!" Frisk looks into the eye of the vortex, imagining what lies beyond its cosmic properties. "Mom..."
Instinctively, Gaster wants to provide them with comfort, but soon, his creation will lay waste to an entire population of innocent people if nothing is done about it.
"SANS, YOU ALWAYS PICK THE MOST INCONVENIENT TIMES TO BE LAZY!" Papyrus says.
"Not me, lil bro," Sans responds, sweat accumulating on his forehead. "The machine isn't shutting off."
"IN THAT CASE, WORRY NOT, BROTHER," Papyrus says, stepping beside Sans. "LEAVE IT TO ME!"
Papyrus presses the "off" button but to no avail. Frowning, he does so again. Nothing happens.
"HOW STRANGE. THAT USUALLY WORKS?"
"Stand back!" Gaster warns. "We have to destroy it!"
Right as Frisk is about to protest the drastic idea, something carries them off the ground, knocking the air out of their lungs. Alongside the three skeletons, they're blown several meters back, landing roughly on the hard floor. From what Frisk can conclude in their rapidly moving mind, their abrupt flight must have been caused by some kind of shockwave.
"At last..."
Instantly, Frisk's mind goes still at the sound of that voice.
Toriel's voice.
They couldn't have craned their neck soon enough. Staring ahead, the glowing expression on the human's face fizzles out.
Their mother is nowhere in sight. Someone else stands in front of the still active portal, providing the room with its only source of light. That person is a relic from a distant memory.
The Mystery Man.
On a single run through the underground out of hundreds, Frisk had been met with something new at last. A secret door in Waterfall. What awaited behind the wooden entrance earned a permanent spot in the child's nightmares for years to come.
Inside the small room was a ghostly figure who wore a long black robe that completely covered his slender frame. What haunted Frisk most was the stranger's pale, distorted face. Part of their skull was cracked, running down to their right, slanted eye. Despite his mangled appearance, the creature dawned a wide, sadistic smile that stretched ear to ear.
Once he became aware of the petrified human standing before him, the man simply disappeared, fading from reality like an apparition. Frisk ran out of the room, crying. They swore to never revisit it again. However, even if they wanted to, it never reappeared, nor had the mystery man inside. After many years, Frisk began to question if what they saw had even been real, or merely a nightmare conjured by the paranoid mind of a nine-year-old.
Now they have their answer.
"Ironic, is it not?" he says with Toriel's voice. "The key to my ascension and the instrument of my damnation has now become the answer to my salvation."
The man's voice makes the hair on the back of Frisk's neck stand. It could belong to a demon.
"For eons, I have languished between worlds, trapped in oblivion. NO. MORE."
"What... is that?" Sans asks aloud.
"It's... me..." Gaster answers, being the first to stand.
Both Sans and Papyrus share the same shock. While the revelation still surprises Frisk, it explains the royal scientist's odd familiarity. Like the back of their mind expected, the two had indeed met before. Just under wildly different circumstances.
"What... happened to you?" Gaster stammers out.
"What always happens to us. Unrelenting misfortune. One bad railing is all it took to be condemned to hell. For everyone I've ever loved to forget about me."
The mutilated Gaster's glowing pupils land on Frisk.
"To endure several eternities of watching my dearest friends be slaughtered like cattle, their lives forever toyed with in a neverending paradox."
Increasing anxiety and a heavy sense of guilt weigh down on Frisk's heart. The second Gaster's knowledge of their multiple runs doesn't come as a surprise due to his alleged ubiquity. Even with their legs feverishly shaking, the human manages to barely stand.
"I've... I've changed!" they say, fighting off tears. "Everyone is now living a peaceful life on the surface. We're happy!"
"And how long will this 'happiness' last? Ah, I know. Until you decide to strip it away from them once more. And what of the deal you made? Was that in the interest of their 'happiness'."
"Things are different now!"
"No, child. They never will be."
"What are both of you talking about?" the normal Gaster asks, as the other skeletons behind him rise from the floor.
"Gaster, I-!"
"You took in a murderer."
"SHUT UP!!!" Frisk yells, tears swelling in their eyes. "I'm not that person anymore!"
"Correct. Now you're my prisoner."
Seven skeletal hands materialize around the disfigured doppelganger and hover at his sides. In the center of each of them are circular holes.
"Killing you isn't enough. You'll just reset and take an alternate path. But no worries, I have something even better in mind. There will be no end to this. No escape. I am going to siphon every last bit of agony possible before your mind and body break. You won't die... only because death will be a mercy."
"Listen," the other Gaster says, cautiously approaching his double. "I do not have the full puzzle, only a few pieces. But I have enough to know what happened to you is... indescribable. But I cannot allow you to hurt this child, no matter what they've done to you. Or, by the sound of it... us."
Frisk lowers their head.
"Do not bother trying to appeal to my humanity. There is none left. There is NOTHING left, but the burning desire to make that demon scream."
"Very well."
What comes next startles everybody but the person responsible. A white, fiery beam erupts from the west-side wall, colliding with the disfigured man and sending him crashing into the other side of the room. Splinters of metal scatter across the floor.
A Gaster Blaster initiated the attack. Frisk recognized the monstrous, skull-like face the moment it appeared in thin air next to its creator. They're thankful to not be on the receiving end of its fire for once.
"Papyrus, get the kid to safety and alert the king." Gaster calmly instructs. "Sans and I will keep him at bay."
"WILL DO, BUT, UH... IS FIGHTING REALLY NECESSARY?!"
"'Course not, Paps, we're just... aggressively restraining him," Sans says.
"OH, VERY WELL THEN! COME ALONG, HUMAN!"
Papyrus grabs hold of Frisk's hand and attempts to pull them away from the brewing conflict, but to his surprise, the human doesn't budge. Their feet might as well be glued to the floor.
In the skeleton's mind, he contributes this to overwhelming fear. In actuality, however, the culprit is rising anger, brought on by a dreadful sense of déjà vu.
Papyrus, take Frisk and get inside!
Toriel had made her objection to her child aiding in the fight against the armored foe from earlier loud and clear. And much to their regret, they listened. If they had done more, maybe they'd still be home. This thought fills Frisk with Determination. Fleeing is not an option.
"I'm not going anywhere."
From across the room, the corrupted Gaster rises with unnatural elegance. He looks completely unstirred by what should have been a devastating attack. Paying no mind to his combative doubles, who both brace for retaliation, his eyes still remain on the person behind them. Frisk.
"Good. Why deny yourself the potential EXP?"
Before Frisk so much as gets the opportunity to respond, they notice something out of the corner of their eye. Something they should have been looking out for, but foolishly allowed themselves to get distracted from. One of the scarred skeleton's floating hands. It stays suspended to their right, and the hole within its center burns bright with an impending beam.
In that split moment of realization, Frisk knows there is no way their body can react in time. They'll have to take the hit. Yet, something still moves them forward. It takes the human a moment before they process Papyrus's shove.
Their head whirls around just in time to make out that signature smile on the skeleton's face, before it, along with the rest of him, is reduced to mere dust by a surge of scorching heat.
"NOOOO!!!" Gaster screams, witnessing what just happened.
Sans drops to his knees in disbelief, his eyes fixed on the remains of what used to be his little brother.
"Papyrus..." Frisk mutters, lying on the floor. Their tear-filled eyes struggle to make out the sight before them.
Gaster tears his gaze away from his fallen colleague and turns back to his indifferent opponent. Right as the Gaster Blasters he materializes on either side of him open their jaws to deliver another concentrated beam of fire, four hands appear around his doppelganger, preparing to join together an attack of their own. Both beams of untamed energy clash, locking together in a fierce stalemate.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?" Gaster screams over the noise.
"Please, I've watched that simpleton die on innumerable occasions. Always a fool to the end."
Gaster yells, translating his fury to the intensity of his attack. Unfortunately, his attempt is in vain once his doppelganger effortlessly match and surpasses the power of the two Blasters. The resulting explosion hurls the royal scientist into the opposite wall, momentarily taking him out of commission.
The rushing steps the human takes toward the monstrous figure gives them away almost immediately. Two skeletal hands seize Frisk's arms, stopping them in their tracks. Then, like a ragdoll, they're launched upwards, crashing into the room's ceiling. Reeling from the violent impact, the human lands hard on the floor, worsening the pain of their aching body.
Before the deformed skeleton can continue, he's distracted by a sudden pressure emanating from his blackened soul. He looks down at his chest only to realize for the first time since his fall, it once again has color. Blue.
Sans throws his arm forward, and in correspondence with his movement, the soul now at his mercy lurches back and takes the body it belongs to with it. The distorted Gaster slams into the open space in the wall he previously crashed into.
"What was that about making a demon scream?" Sans asks, with the unsuppressed hatred in his voice not at all matching the wide grin on his face. "Can't think of a more fitting punishment for the freak who killed my brother."
"Time and again you've died for your 'brother' in the name of vengeance. Only after you finally gathered the courage to defend your home. But it was always too little, too late, wasn't it?"
Even if Frisk managed to cry out a warning, it'd have achieved nothing. One of the weaponized hands reaches the short skeleton, who is just barely able to dodge out of the way. But its trajectory was only a distraction. A second one comes from behind and mockingly flicks the back of Sans' head with its fingers.
What should've been an inconsequential gesture leaves a crack in the skeleton's skull. A crack that gradually begins to spread, much to Sans' bewilderment.
"Always the laziest of us, old friend. And by far the weakest."
Sans drops to the floor, while the man he previously had under his control is freed. He looks down at the deteriorating skeleton apathetically.
"Get dunked on."
Finally, the skeleton's SOUL comes apart, followed shortly by the rest of his body.
"Still clinging to life, I see," the man observes, watching as his remaining double lies in a small crater of metal.
"How... could I... ever end up like you...?" Gaster ponders.
"Time is unforgiving."
All seven hands gather before the dying scientist, ready to fire.
"And now so am I."
Before he can finish Gaster off, the doppelganger jolts back in shock. A sharp pain in his abdominal region draws his attention to the person standing next to him. Frisk, who clutches a shard of metal that once made up part of the facility wall.
It pierced through the fabric of the skeleton's robe with ease, and now impales his lumbar vertebrae. From the wound pours a thick line of crimson that seeps from the clothing's newly formed hole.
He tumbles over, falling onto his back. Each of the predatory hands hovering over the other Gaster dissipates. Frisk kneels over the wounded man as he too begins fading from reality, much like when they first met all those years ago. Except this time, he'll be gone for good, and Frisk will never doubt his existence again.
The skeleton looks up at the human face hovering over him. Tears stream from the child's eyes. Within them is not a single sign of remorse. No regret, no empathy. Only the want to see their victim die.
Seeing this, the disfigured afterimage of a man who once was leaves them with one final grin, and utters the words:
"There you are."
At last, he fully vanishes. Upon his death, Frisk acquires four hundred Execution Points, pushing their Level of Violence to seven. They can feel their newly earned strength course through their body, ushering in a wave of adrenaline. It's been so long since they've felt this type of power. It feels good.
"The DT Machine resets with every usage," Gaster says, making Frisk snap back to reality. "It'll take you to a new universe. Use it. Due to the power surge, others nearby will come here to investigate. When they do, I need you gone."
The shard of metal drops from the human's shaking hands. They hurry over to the dying scientist, unsure of what to do.
"Hang on, okay?" they say. "I'll- I'll get help!"
Gaster's breathing slows.
"What... are you?" he says, before he meets the same fate as his colleagues, dissolving into unrecognizable dust.
Frisk gets up, being hit with deafening silence. All that breaks through it is the subtle hum of the DT Machine, and the occasional sound of their teardrops hitting the floor. Careful to avoid the surrounding pools of monster dust, the human limply makes their way to the purple vortex awaiting them.
Abiding by the royal scientist's final wish, they enter through the dimensional gateway, leaving behind a world that was never theirs. And never will be.
...