Time within the void is fickle, refusing to flow in a straight line.
Walking forward may lead to the past or to people out of place in your present. Turn right, and you might glimpse your own future. Turn left, and you could become lost at an unknown point.
In this moment, however, you couldn't connect to the present. Again, you latched onto a signal from the past.
And so...
The Observer's lens flickered to life, its systems gradually booting up. Before it could orient itself, a skeletal figure loomed over it, faint white glows flickering in his hollow eye sockets. On instinct, it scanned him.
Fell Reality NC32F84 detected. Non-Canon.
"Scanning me as your first instinct?" Gaster pondered aloud, a soft chuckle escaping him. "I suppose that's fair. If I were in your position, I'd scan everything I could, too."
The Observer replied with a simple, mechanical remark. "Scanning. Instinct."
"What are you hoping to find, I wonder?" Gaster mused, taking a drag from the cigarette perched in his off-hand. Words shimmered faintly in the void around him. "My origin?"
The phrase Fell Reality NC32F84 detected. Non-Canon. floated idly in the void, only for him to dismiss it with a flick of his hand.
"Want to know a fun little secret?" He leaned closer, scanning the Observer's lens before letting his gaze drift past it—to you. "Those numbers? They aren't 'real.' I put them there to keep entities like you from uncovering my true origin. Information, after all, is power here in the void." He exhaled a breath of smoke, his voice softening. "But let's move on to the matter at hand... You gave poor Asriel quite the fright, you know?"
"Where... are we?" one of your voices slipped from the drone's speakers.
"The void. Or, more specifically, my laboratory in the void," Gaster explained, gesturing vaguely around him. "It's my home." He paused. "Unfortunately, one of my wards inadvertently connected to you all when they built your Observer. This has... caused a number of problems."
As he began to pace, you took stock of your surroundings.
You recognized this place: a room suffused with fragmented symbols and shifting strands of text, an enigmatic space where reality seemed to ebb and flow like a restless tide.
A disorienting labyrinth unfolded around you, with endless staircases rising and falling in impossible directions. The central room, however, was more grounded. A long table dominated the space, flanked by counters cluttered with an array of peculiar devices, containers, and tools. Threads of code intertwined with fragmented pictures scattered across the walls and floor, intermingling with other odd artifacts.
The Observer itself rested on a small stand amid this chaos, an unassuming device in an environment teeming with the extraordinary.
Still, this version of the lab was younger than the one you'd known. The counters were far emptier, the space cleaner and more cohesive. Only a few empty canisters, damaged photographs, and flickering monitors filled the room. Stray anomalies—glowing substances, fragmented code-hearts, and eye-like containers—were scattered about like relics of forgotten experiments.
As the Observer scanned the room, faint whispers echoed in the void. Glimpses of lost worlds and lives flickered in its lens before fading into obscurity.
Its focus shifted back to Gaster.
"One of those anomalies is a... colleague of mine," he explained, his voice strained. "If I may speak plainly, you represent a possible escape from this. For them. For the many worlds we've sworn to protect." He took another drag, his hand trembling slightly. "I've had demands to proceed."
"Proceed?" the Observer repeated.
"You're connected, little scrap heap, to beings outside the void," he said, a note of longing creeping into his tone. "The idea is that you could help ferry something out of here. A world, and its denizens." He hesitated, glancing toward the door where faint knocking echoed. "But... there's a cost to everything. And I can't..."
His words faltered, his gaze dimming as cracks along his right eye began to seep and drip. Bits of his structure glitched and melted as his thoughts scattered between conflicting concepts and fears.
"It's been many years since I had children," he murmured, his voice softening. "And while neither of them is mine..." His eyes flicked toward the Observer. Then, to you. "Don't take Chara. Not them. Please."
Emotion cracked his composure. "They're fragile in ways you can't comprehend. Give me time. I'll figure out how to replace their code with... whoever you want. Whatever you want. But don't involve them."
A few of your whispers slipped through, disjointed and fragmented.
"Chara."
"How would grafting the Chara effect—"
"Papyrus killing Chara and—"
"Gaster or Chara."
"A new connection, with a vessel."
And then silence. Bitter, suffocating silence.
You hadn't seen it before, but now you bore witness: the look of fear etched across Gaster's face.
"I see," he said quietly, forcing himself to straighten, even as his form flickered. "I know some part of you is empathetic. That you're... people. Or close enough to it."
He stepped closer, his cigarette smoldering weakly in his shaking hand. The ends of his coat glitched, softening into an amorphous, goopy mass.
"Whatever you're seeking, I'll help you find it. I'll replace their code with mine if I must," he said. "But you must leave Chara be."
A wry, tired smile touched his face. "And if others come to you, pleading their case... ignore them. Please. I know I can't force you to agree. Can't make you respect this request. But I have to try."
The Observer chirped softly, its limited systems unable to fully comprehend his words. It hummed faintly, its prototype design ill-equipped to process the gravity of the situation.
The knocking at the door grew louder, joined by muffled shouting. Gaster lingered a moment longer, his structure stabilizing as he extinguished his cigarette. The trembling in his hands persisted as he turned and approached the door.
Forcing it open, he slipped outside, the cacophony of voices slipping in briefly. The door shut firmly behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of this space.
How long had you been waiting there?
It didn't feel like it had been that long, though it was more than a minute or two. The small drone continued its loops, scanning the same areas in repetition. Slowly, your whispers began to reach it again—responding to a question one of its systems had asked or voicing your collective thoughts. Your decisions rippled outward, spilling from its fractured circuits.
Your voices overlapped, disjointed but insistent.
"We are split into trinity."
"Am I the only one who didn't get it?"
"Wait. Is this... our lab?"
"Are we in the past?"
"Let's play the pacifist for now."
"So, are these Gasters Chara and Asriel?"
"Yes, pacifist, then genocide :)"
"I'd like to do mundane stuff."
"...then maybe Neutral...?"
"...Shall we?"
"3."
"I guess 2?"
"3 windows. 3rd choice."
"I guess 3?"
"3rd choice."
"Uhm...3?"
"What a wonderful idea."
The sudden flood of input caused the Observer to emit a low, sickly whir, its systems faltering under the weight of so many words at once. Its lens refocused unsteadily, swiveling to find that it was no longer alone.
The faint creak of the door caught its attention, along with the sound of muffled voices yelling in the distance. A small figure slipped inside, closing the door softly behind them. Disheveled and visibly anxious, their uneven breathing gave away their distress.
The child's appearance had changed. The simple shirt from before was now partially hidden beneath a heavier green jacket. Their rainbow scarf was tied in a neat bow at the back, with the remaining fabric trailing behind them. A slightly worn backpack rested on their shoulders.
The Observer registered your Vessel. "Chara."
Its distorted voice startled them slightly. "O-oh. Moxie," they greeted softly, wiping their eyes with the sleeve of their jacket. "You're okay."
Chara stepped closer, their small hands trembling as they examined the drone. The Observer noted the stains on their cheeks and their red-rimmed eyes. Though it detected distress, it lacked the capability to fully understand why.
"Is... all... okay?" it asked.
"You heard them?" Chara's voice cracked with guilt. "I... I think I really messed up, Moxie." Their gaze shifted to the door as they continued. "Everyone's so upset. They're yelling, and some of them seem happy, but... the doctor and Asriel, they're... scared."
"Scared." The drone parroted the word.
"I've never seen Doctor Gaster scared before," they whispered, voice thick with worry. "River said I should avoid the others. Some of them want to take me somewhere, but... I don't even know what I did wrong."
Chara's wide eyes met the Observer's lens. "Everyone seemed like they really wanted you. I-I thought I was helping."
The drone hesitated before responding. "Chara. You... wanted. Helping."
"Yeah." Chara nodded, voice trembling. "I thought making you would make everyone happy, but... I don't understand why they're so mad. Nobody will tell me anything. They're just angry, and yelling, and I don't know what to do." Their voice faltered, tears gathering in their eyes, as they nervously laughed. "I don't know how to fix it."
For a moment, the Observer emitted a soft, garbled hum as its systems processed Chara's despair. Then, fragments of future dialogues whispered from it again, a faint echo of your voices:
"How to fix it. You. Didn't make everyone mad. Everyone needs... help."
Chara blinked, their teary expression giving way to a faint spark of determination. Their eyes roamed the room, taking in the empty slots and damaged equipment. A glimmer of an idea surfaced. Your wonderful, idea.
"Maybe..." they whispered, voice wavering, "M-maybe if I help get stuff, they'll be less mad?"
"Help. Get. Stuff," the Observer repeated, tone mimicking curiosity.
"Y-yeah... that could help," Chara reasoned, sniffing softly. Their breathing steadied as they nodded to themselves. "Sometimes I help Azzy gather 'really important materials' when he goes out. Like these things."
They picked up the drone and placed it on the central table. The Observer scanned the broken monitor Chara held, faint traces of energy flickering across the surface. Within its faded screen, fragmented glimpses of a world shimmered—inhabitants, locations, and memories—just out of reach, breaking apart.
"This. Stuff. Help?" It inquired.
Chara smiled faintly, though their voice still trembled. "Y-yeah. This could work. They were really upset about some of these breaking, so... if we find new ones, maybe they'll stop fighting?"
Hope, fragile yet powerful, flickered in their tone. They tucked the broken monitor into their backpack alongside a heart-shaped device and a charred photograph.
"Here," Chara said, fastening the Observer to one of the backpack's loops. "Now I can bring you with me! It's... scary going alone. But if everyone sees you're helping—and I'm helping—then... m-maybe they'll stop being mad and be friends again."
The Observer chirped cheerily, a sound of agreement. It had no concept of what constituted a bad idea, but the child's happiness seemed to align with the results of your decisions. For now, that was enough.
Chara turned and crept toward the main exit, their small figure hunched low. Beyond the door, raised voices echoed through the lab's halls.
"You don't get to just say no!" a sharp, angry voice growled. "It's done. There's no way to undo this, Gaster. The sooner you-"
"Then I will find a way," Gaster replied, venom in his voice. "I'm not going to let them do this. Not you, or anyone."
A softer voice interjected, trying to placate. "I understand this seems distressing, but we agreed—if the project worked—"
"No!" Asriel's voice cut through, trembling with anger. "You are not sacrificing them for your damn mission!"
Chara flinched at the rising tension, their chest tightening. Each word struck harder than the last, and they could feel the weight of every gaze, every accusation. Not fully understanding the nature of it, nervously laughing, muffled by the scarf.
As the argument continued, Chara slipped through the back exit. Their heart pounded as they left the chaos behind, retreating into the uncertain quiet of the outside world.
The void was ever peculiar, twisting and distorting around the pair as Chara walked. The corridor resembled an underground hallway, familiar yet surreal. The air was sharp with a phantom chill, carrying the faint scent of snow—though it existed only in memory.
Sniffling quietly, Chara pressed onward, their footsteps soft against the strange terrain. Occasionally letting out another nervous laugh. The Observer's lens swiveled, tracking the dimly lit expanse as the hallway began to shift. The ends splintered and spread, blooming outward like petals unfurling from a flower. Lights illuminated the growing space, revealing a stark white room.
At its center stood an enormous, eldritch flower. Towering and drooping, it dripped with an otherworldly substance. Its central eye—dark, ringed with crimson—swiveled to meet the child's gaze.
Chara looked up at the grotesque figure and managed a small smile. "H-hey, Flowey."
A vine extended toward them, stopping just before their face to brush away lingering tears. The void filled with soft whispers, faint but palpable.
"Sorry I haven't visited much," Chara continued, voice trembling slightly. "Asriel's... spooked out by you."
The Observer detected a pulse of recognition from the flower, its whispers reaching not only the child but you as well.
-No matter how hard one tries to avoid it, you always arrive, don't you?-
It burrowed through the void, threading whispers from unseen angles.
-I suppose it was destined to happen. You're so determined. But, perhaps you can—
The whispers fractured, trailing off as vibrant red and yellow flowers bloomed along the vines. Chara hugged one of them gently, smiling through the lingering sadness. Its whispers shifting, vaguely audible, but indiscernible, seeming to make the child feel better.
"That's...really nice of you to say." They murmured. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up,"
The flower's central eye lowered to rest near the ground, its presence heavy yet oddly comforting. Chara patted one of its petals with care. It patiently pat their head, as the child seemed to calm. Before they blinked, seeming to recall something.
"Oh, right!" they said, perking up. "I want to introduce you to someone." Adding. "I made a new friend." Patting the Observer. "This is Moxie. Aren't they cute?"
The crimson-ringed eye narrowed, locking onto the little drone. Its gaze radiated a burrowing malice, making the underside of your arm itch. Yet, it remained otherwise still, merely watching. It whispered to you.
-What a cruel gravestone-
The Observer scanned the entity, processing its form and the familiar reading. "Asriel," it greeted.
Chara blinked and laughed softly. "No, silly! This is Flowey," they corrected. "I think he might've been 'an' Asriel once, but he doesn't like using that name anymore."
The Observer adjusted its designation. "Flowey," it echoed.
The behemoth flower stretching further, obscuring much of the void beyond this place. Seemingly unaware of these actions, more an instinctive action, than an intentional one. Its whispers seeming audible to Chara in the moment, but not you.
"Huh. Yeah of course we're friends." Chara laughed earnestly at something. "The Charismatic Chara is perhaps the best friend!" It tapped them on the nose. "Why are we here?" They composed themselves and answered. "That's easy. We're gonna go look for some materials to help everyone back home. Do you... have any ideas where we should go?"
The colossal flower stirred, its vines lashing out to pierce the void. They tore at the nothingness, dragging open dark doorways. Three distinct portals appeared, each framed by a glowing flower in blue, yellow, or green. The Observer detected a fourth doorway, hidden behind Flowey. It, and it's flower, unseen by Chara, burning with a red hue.
-When your task is complete. Take them home-
Flowey's whispers wrapped around you again, as Chara began to step over and examine the doors that were visible to them.
-I have heard one of you wishes for me?-
Chara, oblivious to the hidden doorway, gazed at the three visible options. "Oh, wow. Uhm... I don't know what to pick," they admitted, scratching their head. "Flowey said the colors are a hint?" Their expression brightened. "Maybe it's... soul colors! Oh, like a soul trait!"
If that were true, the colors aligned with Integrity, Justice, Kindness, and—hidden—Determination.
-I will give, surrender, and break. But do not do this. Not again-
"So. Kindness. Justice. And Integrity." Chara turned to the Observer. "Hey Moxie, which one do you think we should go in?"
The Observer emitted a curious chirp. "Go. In?"
"Yeah, like... which one should we visit?" Chara asked, glancing between the doors. "I mean, Flowey didn't say much about what's behind them, but... it feels like this is really important."
The child waited, their gaze filled with hope and trust. The Observer's lens whirred as it considered the choices. However, as one of you once noted... they are not the ones in control here
The choice is, as it always was, yours.