Observing the orderly decor lining every wall and the immaculate tidiness of every corner, Asgore can't help but smile. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he stepped into the small residence for the first time, but nothing he saw surprised him. Everything is just so... Toriel.
What should be a joyous occasion isdampened by a heavy atmosphere thick with unease. Shortly after Frisk warned of their vicious counterpart, everyone went their separate ways within the compact house, having nothing to do but sit and wait for what is to come.
Currently, Undyne and Alphys are outside, being drenched in nasty weather; Asgore hopes neither monster catches a cold. Papyrus is in the kitchen, brewing a concoction that already smells burnt, and his older brother must be somewhere around.
Much to their mother's silent dismay, Frisk went back to their bedroom, with the shut door indicating a want to not be disturbed. The Boss Monster cannot entirely blame them for seeking momentary isolation. Back when he did something... shameful, it took a while before company was welcomed.
As for the owner of the house herself, Toriel hasn't left her spot, sitting on the velvet sofa opposite of an inactive television. She hasn't done much aside from stare down at her paws, undoubtedly lost in deep thinking. Given recent events, there is certainly a lot to think about.
King Asgore is still nearby, standing next to the curtained window, he too a victim of thorough reflection. The boundless extent of Frisk's Determination has set many things into perspective, making what was previously considered to be a flawless human who knew all the answers into a much more understandable figure.
However, in his mind, the truth behind the child's impossible feats doesn't take away from the inarguable good that resulted from them. And Toriel undoubtedly feels the same way.
Mustering the strength to overcome his cowardice, Asgore finally departs from the living room wall, approaching the furniture his former lover is situated in. Internally, he struggles to place what exactly was so terrifying about the thought of conversing with her.
Hoping the couch can support the weight of two Boss Monsters, Asgore gently eases himself onto its left-hand side. Other than the wood softly creaking in protest to the sudden increase in pressure, it looks to be holding fine.
"How, um..." he clears his throat. "Are you alright?"
It takes but a moment for her to respond with:
"I'm a terrible mother."
Asgore opens his mouth, already prepared to dismiss the absurdity of such a claim. Toriel must have sensed his surprise because she continues before he can get a chance to voice his disagreement.
"All those years ago, when Chara fell down, you and I felt something we had never before."
She smiles.
"True hope that things will get better. We gave them the responsibility of ending an age-old war. It was a heavy task. Maybe if we hadn't put so much pressure on them, they'd still be-"
"Tori..."
"And then there's Frisk- always trying to fix others' mistakes. Our mistakes. I pushed them too hard, believing them to be perfect when... they're still so young. They've had the weight of the world on their shoulders and I have been completely oblivious. Pathetic, is it not?"
"Tori, stop," Asgore says, his words coming out more forcefully than he intended them to.
He got her attention nonetheless, as she now stares at him, tears on the cusp of leaving her eyes.
"None of this was your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is me. As the king of all monsters, the unfair expectations placed on Chara were a result of my failure to fulfill everyone's needs. It was wrong to think a single child could solve all of our problems, just as it is to suspect as such with Frisk. It was I who offered the role of monster ambassador and shifted the heavy burden of being a peacekeeper onto them."
Toriel nods, but from the look on her face, she appears far from convinced not to be liable for some of the blame.
"Do you... do you think they can handle what's coming?"
"They have to," Asgore plainly states. "Because it's coming all the same. I will speak with them, but first, there is something back at my place that I must collect. Undyne can give me a ride."
Unexpectedly, Toriel smiles, lighting up the king's insides.
"Thank you, Asgore."
...
Any second now...
Wrapped in their cool bedsheets is Frisk who lies in a fetal position, having underestimated how good a proper mattress would feel after an adventure spanning across several worlds. Even as the human lays on what might as well be a cloud, sleep evades them.
How can one's mind be put to rest when at any moment, a demon will resurface to claim the lives of everyone they love? The thought isn't just scary, no, being caught in a web of ticked-off spiders is scary. Being hunted by a spear-wielding maniac is scary. Finding a forgotten laboratory full of abominable monsters being kept in a horrendous state of living is scary.
This is terrifying. Knowing that at the will of one's desire, everything they've grown to care for will be brought to a violent and unceremonious end. Part of Frisk wants to vomit knowing they subjected Sans to this very same nightmare. All of this could be considered poetic justice in a way.
After taking another 'shortcut' back to the house and changing into a pair of dry clothes, they wasted no time and gave Neil a call. The city must be evacuated, and if anyone has a chance of reasoning with the Mayor, it's him. At the very least, an empty city could possibly deter Frisk's double from going through with another Genocide.
Wishful- no, desperate thinking.
Knock knock knock
A knot ties itself together within the teenager's stomach, knowing that it wouldn't be anyone but Toriel with the politeness to knock. She hasn't done anything wrong, in actuality, it is the opposite. No matter how hard Frisk tries, they cannot accept their mother's kindness...
Still, it isn't fair to make her worry. Reluctantly, they say:
"Come in."
At their request, the door opens, and the human's narrow eyes widen in surprise seeing another Boss Monster that isn't Toriel. Instead, it is Asgore who ducks below the doorframe and walks inside the small, well-put-together bedroom.
When the king first arrived, he wore a casual outfit consisting of homemade clothes made exclusively to fit his build. Now, he dawns a much more recognizable outfit, that being his royal uniform. The reason for the sudden change is obvious. He's dressed for a fight.
Seeing this makes the reality of the current situation all the more real, which does little to ease the human's pressing fear.
"Howdy," Asgore says with a smile.
"Hi, Asgore," Frisk greets, still wondering what the reason could be for the visit.
The Boss Monster makes it over to the bed in two strides and kneels to meet Frisk's eye level.
"May I ask how you are doing?"
The human smiles.
"Did Mom put you up to this?"
The question earns an honest chuckle from Asgore, who answers by shaking his head.
"No, Frisk, I am here on my own behalf. Though, that is not to say your mother isn't concerned for your well-being. She is, as are the rest of us."
Hearing this makes the teenager feel a surge of guilt. They've put their family through enough, and to find out they're making everyone worried...
"A long time ago, I had a son."
Immediately, every thought fighting for attention goes mute within Frisk's head.
"Asriel Dreemurr. You already know this, even though neither I nor Toriel mention him very often. Once my time was done, he was going to succeed my rule and do more for our people than his father ever could..."
Asgore's eyes look past Frisk, staring ahead at nothing. Then, he recovers from his trance and continues.
"Of course, he wouldn't have been handed a trident until he was crowned ruler. But once he came of age, I was going to equip him with something small- his first weapon as prince of all monsters."
From somewhere within his robes, Asgore draws something that makes Frisk gasp. A pointed blade that looks to be assembled from rich material found only deep beneath the Earth, as its unmistakable gold exterior demands admiration. Whatever was used to make the handle and hilt, Frisk doesn't know, but its crystal-blue transparency is equally astonishing.
"This was going to be Asriel's first step towards protecting his kingdom," Asgore says. "But you're going to be protecting something far more valuable... family."
With both hands, the Boss Monster holds the sword out as an offering. Frisk sits upright, accepting the alluring weapon. They stare at the monster's beaming face and ask:
"Are you sure...?"
He nods.
"Considering our opponent's strength, it may not be of much use. But it's better than nothing."
The king places a paw on Frisk's shoulder.
"We've asked too much of you, already. But... Frisk, you cannot give up. You must stay Determined."
Now it's Frisk's turn to nod, right before they throw their arms around the unsuspecting Boss Monster.
...
If Neil wasn't worried before, his recent phone conversation gave him every reason to be. The one responsible for the Emergence Day massacre is coming back, and Frisk did a poor job hiding the fear in their own voice while they entrusted him with a single request.
Evacuate the city.
Not much is known about the human teen's doppelganger, but if the original is under the impression that they're capable of causing a city-wide cataclysm, Neil isn't going to bother asking too many questions. People are in danger, and if fighting isn't an option, there is no shame in running.
Unfortunately, only one person has the power to authorize such a drastic measure, and the last Neil saw him, he was experimenting with a colorful assortment of... 'remedies' for the distress recent blows to his unsalvageable reputation have sustained.
The city administrator only feels a tinge of pity. Attempting to sweep years of societal injustice under the rug could only end one way for the deluded senior. Now that monsters and a large pool of sympathizers have learned of his true ethics, a re-election is far from a likely possibility.
On his way up the steps to City Hall, the thundering rain completely soaked Neil's formal wear, causing his black oxfords to squeak through the polished marble floor of the governmental building. Proceeding through a narrow hall leading to a singular destination, that being the double doors of his employer's office, Neil pushes them open.
He may as well have stepped into another realm. Leaving behind the pleasant, rich architecture of City Hall's main body, the melancholy, uninviting mood of the unlit office washes over like an eerie breeze. Each of the shadowed decorations, normally cause for appreciation, adds to the room's ghostly ambiance.
Only the sparse light provided by the darkened sky gives the room any brightness via the two windows. Standing in front of one, back turned to the office's new occupant is the Mayor. Held in his hand is a half-full glass of what Neil assumes to be mostly alcoholic.
"Um... hello?" he says, closing the doors behind him.
Now aware of Neil's presence, the Mayor sluggishly turns around, confirming that whatever it is he's drinking- it's working as intended. Perhaps a little too much. At the very least, intoxication may serve to ease the politician's signature stubbornness.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" the Mayor slurs, blatant sarcasm in his voice.
"It's urgent," Neil says, opting to cut to the chase. "I've just recently spoken to Frisk about the knight. According to them, the entire city is in danger. An evacuation has been suggested- no, highly advised. There can be untold casualties and-"
The Mayor holds up a hand, making the city administrator pause. Not so much out of subservience as it is confusion.
"An evacuation of Mirstone would take days if done right, and from what I understand, none of us know when Killer Frisk will be coming back- or whatever the hell you want to call them."
"It doesn't have to be perfect," Neil urges, taking a step forward. "Even if evacuating the entire city is impossible in a short timeframe, we can still get a decent number of people to safety."
"But who will they blame for the ones left behind?" the senior's eye twitches. "Oh right... me. I can see the headlines now. 'Incompetent Mayor dooms hundreds to die.'"
"Can you stop thinking about yourself for once!!"
Crack!
Whether intentional or not, the glass slips from the Mayor's hands, shattering into pieces on the furnished floor. Drunkenly, he stumbles forward, raising a shaking finger in Neil's direction.
"How... dare you!" he grumbles. "For over a decade, I've given everything to this city! And what do I get in return?! A bunch of worthless ingrates desperate to drag me to their level! I don't owe this city a damn thing, not anymore."
"You're making a mistake-"
"GET OUT!!!" he barks, clearly uninterested in whatever more Neil has to say.
So the city administrator obliges, starting for the exit. What little pity he felt for his employer on the way in has since evaporated. Neil pushes open the two doors, thinking solemnly about his failure to persuade the unpersuadable.
Mirstone only has one hope left.
...
"PLEASE, DIG IN!" Papyrus urges. "COMPLIMENTS TO THE CHEF, WHICH WOULD BE NONE OTHER THAN I!"
Several days ago, Frisk and the others ate at this very table, seated for what was to be another cheerful Emergence Day celebration. Asgore's inclusion makes the gathering even more compact than before, with everyone seated tightly next to one another in a circular formation.
Toriel and Sans are on either side of the human teen, and directly across from them sits Undyne sandwiched between Asgore and Alphys. The heroine doesn't look anywhere near as pissed as she did before. Even if she's had time to cool off, Frisk knows it'll take a lot of time before she is open for forgiveness. They have every intention of doing whatever it takes to make it up to her- to everyone.
Plated before each meal attendee is a serving of spaghetti, which radiates a peculiar scent. Presentation-wise, nothing seems overtly wrong, but the human has experienced enough of the skeleton's cooking to know better. Appearances are not to be believed. After he enthusiastically divided up the portions, Papyrus took his seat between Sans and Alphys.
Not a single guest looks particularly eager to take a bite. Part of Frisk was surprised to see anyone but them show up until they thought about it a little more. Every person in this house wants a reason to be together, even if that reason involves food poisoning. That doesn't mean they're not on guard.
Not only does Asgore still have on his royal armor, but his trident is not too far away, slanted against the kitchen wall; Frisk's recently gifted sword lies next to it. The king isn't the only one dressed for the upcoming battle. Grey armor covers Undyne's body neck-down, mirroring the appearance of 'Frisk Two' with the exception of a visor, and unnaturally bright red steel. Even Papyrus is dressed for the occasion, dawning his 'battle body.'
Armor won't do anything. Not against Nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine Attack. However, chances are they already know this. Maybe it makes them feel a little safer.
Not wanting to keep Papyrus waiting in suspense any longer, Frisk cautiously takes in a spoonful of the meal-
Woah!
It's... it's not bad. Not amazing by any stretch, but not disgusting either. Surely a trick of the mind. Maybe bad anxiety can lessen the effectiveness of taste buds. Only one way to know for sure. They take another bite, and another, and another.
Each one delivers a consistent taste of acceptable quality. By now, the other monsters all have their eyes- and eye sockets- set on Frisk, studying their face for any sign that could be perceived as a warning. Their disbelief is a feeling the human shares. It doesn't take long before the others start on their own portions. In doing so, the surprise on the monsters' faces is only heightened.
"O-oh my gosh," Alphys says in disbelief. "This tastes..."
"MY APOLOGIES..." Papyrus says. "I TRIED SOMETHING NEW THIS TIME AND... JUDGING FROM YOUR PASSIONLESS EXPRESSIONS, IT MUST NOT HAVE WORKED OUT."
"Papyrus, this... this tastes edible," Undyne says. "More than edible, like- like real food."
"Yes," Toriel nods in agreement. "This may very well be your best dish yet."
"If it's not too much to ask, could you share your recipe?" Asgore smiles.
"Sorry, it's a family secret," Sans responds, winking at the Boss Monster.
"NOT SO FAST, SANS! THIS RECIPE IS A PAPYRUS SECRET!"
"Aw come on, bro, that's pre-pasta-rous."
At once, the house is filled with laughter, much to Papyrus's visible disappointment. The pun wasn't very clever, and not at all a testament to the full extent of Sans' comedic prowess. But at this very moment, it may as well be the funniest joke Frisk has heard in their life.
Everything comes to a standstill, the sound of their family's laughter fading in their head. Frisk observes the sight before them as if it were a lively portrait, noting every fine detail of the excellent piece. Monsters have always had a knack for staying happy during the most dire of times, and here they are, enjoying a nice meal together.
Their shared happiness, Papyrus's drastic improvement when it comes to his cooking... it fills Frisk with-
BOOM!
Collectively, every smile vanishes. Undyne, Sans, and Asgore weren't present before, but the trembling Earth accompanied by an unmistakable crash is all the confirmation they need. That, and the petrified look on all others present.
It's time.
What quickly cemented itself as a good memory may very well be their last. The king is the first to move. With swiftness that goes against his burly build, the Boss Monster rushes over to his red trident and swipes it from the wall.
Now everyone else is moving, uncertainty lingering in the still air. Frisk has to remind themselves to breathe when they join Asgore near the wall and pick up their own weapon, which feels heavier in their shaking hands.
Asgore turns around, addressing the whole room.
"Stay behind us."
Toriel is on his right in a single stride, and together, the Boss Monsters lead the pact. No one says a word as they advance cautiously through the narrow blue hall leading to the back door, which Alphys had hastily repaired on the day this all started.
Now or never. Asgore grabs the knob and pushes the door open. One by one, they leave Toriel's shelter and step out into the violent downpour. The afternoon sky could be mistaken for night, as the blackened clouds layer the troposphere in an ominous gloom.
The previous crater is now twice as gaping. In its center- the one standing in the way of everyone's hopes and dreams.
"Our little game ends where it began."
Brandishing their weapon, The Player points it in the direction of those standing in their way. An open invitation Frisk is all too familiar with.
"Let's finish this."
...