Your decisions and thoughts had reached their conclusions.

Split in various directions, the result was reached narrowly—something Baxter became aware of even as it finished its conversation with The Collector. In the brief moment before materializing beside Chara and Green once more, it noted their backs were turned, both engrossed in some situation.

Quickly, Baxter shifted its appearance back to its previous form, ensuring no evidence remained of its enactment of your will. Its attention fell on the scene before it—a body was kicked toward its direction, hitting the ground before collapsing into nothing but cloth. Nearby, the Devilsknife vanished from the space as Chara noted Baxter's arrival.

"Welcome back, BB," Chara greeted without turning, glancing over her shoulder at a burst of fire heading her way. "One moment."

With a swift motion, she conjured a wave of flames. Her fire coiled around the oncoming blaze, moving faster than its source. The caster—a chess-guard—flinched in surprise as the nearly transparent, white-hot flames bore down on him. Before the fire even reached him, his synthetic skin began to bubble and wither, his body boiling under the intense heat. The flames that neared Chara dissipated just before they touched. The caster burned away, leaving nothing behind but ash.

Nearby, Green dodged a bullet that whizzed past his head. "hopefully the big guy didn't give you too much trouble, pal," he said, patting the drone as he sidestepped another attack. "it'd be cool if we could wrap this up quickly."

Baxter's voice held a tone of surprise and alarm. "What is transpiring?"

"eh, the usual," Green replied casually. "adoring fans."

With a flash of his eye, Green caught another bullet in his magical grasp and sent it flying back at its source. The projectile tore through the assailant, dropping them instantly. A second opponent, wielding a large claymore, charged at Green with a wild swing. Green yawned, raising a hand and flinging the attacker skyward with unsettling speed. Baxter watched as the figure soared upward, never to return to view.

"Aren't these supposed to be disabled?" Baxter inquired.

Chara spun her scythe, cutting through a barrage of bullets fired by a line of chess-guards. With a casual motion, a wave of energy slashed through the air, slicing the entire row in half.

"Yup," she answered curtly, before gesturing at another foe. "Of course, then there's this ass—"

Her words were interrupted by a furious roar. A figure on a nearby rooftop screamed in frustration, drawing their attention. He wore a heavily modified version of the guards' white uniforms, adorned with rows of medals—some blatantly fake or plastic.

The man gestured dramatically at the fallen chess-guards and their abandoned equipment. "Slay that Witch! NOW!"

The two remaining guards charged forward. Chara dismissed her scythe with a snap of her fingers, then pointed at them. Dozens of butterflies appeared—tiny, glowing constructs, bullets. The swarm hurtled toward the enemies, tearing into them with ruthless precision. Their bodies shredded apart under the onslaught, leaving nothing intact.

Green observed with a smirk. "you really have a way of making pretty things scary."

Chara shrugged. "I consider it a summary of my character."

The rooftop figure stomped his feet, his voice dripping with melodrama. "Thou thinkest thou hast had the final jest upon me! Yet I shall return anon to claim mine vengeance, and thou shalt rue this day, ye knavish curs!"

With that, the darkener turned and tried to leap to an adjacent rooftop. His foot slipped on the edge, sending him tumbling into a nearby alleyway with a cacophony of crashing and clattering.

Baxter took in the scene, feeling a bit lost as to what had just transpired.

Baxter noted that the three of them were, at least, next to the elevator now. Still, it had to ask.

"What in the Choir's name just happened?" it asked, scanning the destruction around them.

Chara stepped over the wreckage, stooping to pick up one of the revolvers their opponents had been using. Symbols branded themselves across the metal as she inspected it. She grabbed a holster from the debris, fastening it to her belt before sliding the revolver into place, hiding it beneath her coat.

"That was one of the late King's 'royal lords' or something," she said dismissively. "Rules or something like that. He was… is, pitiful."

Green chuckled. "cut the guy some slack. he really never stood a chance. but hey, he could command the chess guard, so like, he's probably 'kinda strong,' right?"

Chara adjusted the holster, ensuring it sat comfortably before replying. "A puddle to an ocean. Don't give credit to idiots—they'd mistake it for praise."

"eh, fair enough." Green shrugged.

Baxter took a moment to consider this. "Should he be… defeated?" it asked, observing the stranger rushing down one of the nearby alleyways. "He's over there."

"come on, BB, can't believe you'd endorse bullying like that," Green teased, gesturing to the mess of shredded false-bodies, most of which were fading into cloth. "he'll try again, but he ain't got the oomph to make it stick, ya feel me?"

"Why would I feel you?" Baxter asked, pausing before recalling the slang. "Oh. Oh yes, I do indeed understand."

Chara motioned toward the elevator and stepped inside. "By the way, while you were gone, we flipped a coin a few times. We're heading to The Alleyways first."

"This is a fair suggestion," Baxter agreed as the others followed her inside. "Apologies for my absence."

"Not much you could do about it," Chara replied, having already guessed the reason, even if she was incorrect.

The elevator doors slid shut, and the shadows within stretched and shifted. Their presence reached out, cluttering the vision of everyone inside, including yourself. It knew where you were going now, your chorus loud enough for it to hear even the faintest whispers of intent.

And so, they were taken to their destination.

The doorway opened, revealing the labyrinthine streets of The Alleyways.

The space stretched endlessly before them, bathed in the comforting glow of countless lanterns adorned with hiragana and kanji. Their warm orange and red hues painted the cobbled streets and weathered walls with a soft, flickering light. Above, the eternal starry night sky glittered, serene and unchanging, while vibrant neon signs pulsed in contrast. Even the tallest buildings did little to obscure the view.

"damn," Green muttered, stepping out and taking it all in. "ya know, it's funny—I always forget how pretty this floor can be." He remarked casually as Chara wandered ahead, her gaze scanning the surroundings. "though, I can't recall—have you ever been here?"

"No. The… what's she called here… Empress, Red, the..." Chara trailed off, her words failing to comply with her intent.

"ya mean Empress Red?" he prompted.

"Yes, that." She sighed. "Y-you knew what I was trying to say."

"heh, yeah, but I gotta tease ya. It's my job."

"Whatever, you." She rolled her eyes. "She never seemed to be a fan of me the few times we talked." She added quietly, almost to herself, "Didn't like my… profession."

Chara felt a familiar tingling in her eye, a sign that the magic was active. It wasn't the most pleasant sensation, but it beat having only one eye. Though she was still adjusting to that reality, it gave her direction, at least: northwest.

"why's that?" Green asked, raising an eye socket. "doesn't like a carpenter?"

"Carpenter?" She scoffed, chuckling softly. "Being able to fix things isn't the same as being a carpenter. Ask my old end table."

"then what profession was it?" he pressed, curious.

"I figured your former omniscience let you know," she countered.

"not so much. it just gave me vague ideas. I'd wager it has something to do with the occasional brawls or nights drinking," he commented as she glanced away. "you know I ain't gonna judge you, right?"

They continued down the narrow, cluttered street, their steps echoing faintly against the cobblestones. The mingling scents of rice-water rain, grilled meats, spices, and the subtle sweetness of brewing teas filled the air. Baxter silently noted how oddly calm the place felt despite its chaotic aesthetic.

Chara finally answered, her tone plain but laced with a half-lie. "The Collector used me as an enforcer at times, dealing with people who upset him—so as not to spoil his delicate hands." Her words carried a note of hostility and mockery. "Empress Red handles her domain well. She doesn't enjoy interlopers. Finds a purpose for everyone. Or at least, that's what she told me when we met."

"yeah, that tracks," Green replied before adding, "you know, I always thought you'd have made a nice artist."

Chara glanced at him, her expression skeptical.

"seriously," he continued. "some of the shit you draw? amazing."

The earnest compliment drew a small sigh from her. "It was never that great, but… I dunno. Maybe I could have been in a better world."

As they walked, her gaze fell to the shallow puddles scattered along the ground. Each reflected the glowing lanterns and signs, adding a dreamlike quality to the already surreal atmosphere. Despite the beauty around her, the crowds and bustle of the place unsettled her. It felt too cluttered. And with others present, phasing through was out of the question.

Chara thought up a question. "What about you, B.B.?" she asked, her gaze shifting to the drone as it turned toward her. "What do you like doing?"

Baxter responded with its usual straightforward tone. "I enjoy completing my missions and tasks."

"Sure, but like, what are your interests?" she pressed, noting the slight pause in its hum as if it were perplexed. "What do you find fun?"

The drone considered this for a moment before replying. "I enjoy seeing new worlds," it admitted. "I have data on so many, but it is always different to 'observe' them directly. There are things data alone doesn't cover."

Chara continued to lead the way, her stride deliberate and purposeful. Her sharp gaze scanned every shadowed corner and bustling storefront, her posture tense. Green followed close behind, his hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets. His relaxed stance seemed at odds with the subtle alertness in his eyes.

Green chuckled heartily. "you like to travel, huh? nice. I mean, I get it. there's something about seeing a picture of a thing and then seeing it in person that's just..." He trailed off briefly, searching for the words. "it puts it into perspective, right?"

"Yes," Baxter responded. "There is much to learn in the mundane moments—the sometimes contradictory nature of things and people. Their views, perhaps?"

"you know, there's this thing folks do sometimes—people watching," Green offered. "aughta give it a go."

"Is that not what this unit does already?" Baxter inquired.

Chara chimed in with a wry smile. "When we're not forcing you to interact a little, yeah." She waved her hand dismissively. "But as an old pro at it, I can tell you the thousand-yard stare isn't, uh... a healthy sign."

Baxter noted the bustling activity of the night, considering what they'd said. It had to float above them to navigate the space, weaving and wandering through the busy crowd. People moved from open store to open store, and a few disappeared into towering neon-covered buildings, which appeared to be apartments.

"I am an Observer," Baxter stated.

"No, see, you're Bob—Baxter Bob. And, uh... Moxie?" Chara half-asked, trying to recall the name.

Baxter's lens swiveled toward her. "This unit has never been called Moxie."

"That you can remember," Chara replied. "When I was a kid, there was this... doctor... shadowy freak. He tampered with my mind. Made me forget a whole fuckin' world," she explained, her tone darkening. "Maybe someone like that made you forget too?"

Baxter considered this possibility. Given some of your prior suggestions, the idea seemed... plausible. It checked its backup memories—data it had been recording since a temporal misalignment caused by a Temmie. Everything appeared intact. Even so, it made a note to continue this backup process, just in case.

Green broke the tension with a light comment. "hey, no giving the bot an existential crisis, yeah?"

Chara smirked. "Heh, of course. Sorry, B.B. I'm sure it's fine. Maybe it's just a memory you lost when you came crashing in?"

That, too, was possible.

"I will be okay. Thank you for your concern," Baxter responded.

It finally noted the tension in Chara's posture as they continued through the alleys. Noted that Greens eyes betrayed a readiness to act. Floating above them, Baxter observed, its lens swiveling to scan the area, to deduce the reason for this hesitance. The faint hum of its frame blended seamlessly with the ambient noise as it tried to deduce what had them on edge.

"so, we sure this is the right place? like, we're going the right way and all?" Green asked, his tone light but edged with subtle unease. "not doubting you, but this place could hide a whole kingdom's worth of people. probably does." He added, giving a calm nod to workers who waved, trying to beckon him into a nearby izakaya for a drink.

Chara glanced back briefly, her expression unreadable. Adjusting her jacket, she pulled her hood lower, shadowing her face. "I'm positive she's here," she said, her voice steady and clipped, a tone that left no room for argument.

Green shrugged at this. "fair enough. I could charm the locals into spilling details if you want." His grin widened as she shot him a sharp look. "hey, we need all the help we can get, and I've got a way with people, y'know."

A fleeting smile tugged at Chara's lips before vanishing. "Stick to watching my back," she said softly. "I don't want to get... bogged down in anything."

"gotcha, watching your back," Green hummed, falling into step behind her. "well, your ass-ets are great, but your back? ehhh, six out of ten."

Chara let out a chuckle, summoning a phantom hand to playfully shove him aside. "Bet you thought that was sooo clever." Shaking her head, she added with a smirk, "One: You're right—it's great. Two: Pfft, my backs at least a seven out of ten."

"I was being generous." Green shrugged, his grin widening as he returned to her side. "it's maybe a five."

"Shame you can't see things clearly." Her eyes briefly glowed as she used magic to pull his hood down over his face.

"har, har," Green chuckled, adjusting the hood back down.

They passed a bustling izakaya, the rich aroma of grilled beef and brewed teas spilling onto the street. Lanterns adorned its entrance, their warm glow casting inviting pools of light, while laughter and the clinking of cups hinted at a lively crowd inside. They hooked a left, entering a narrower alley that transitioned into an older section dominated by traditional wooden structures. Hiragana-inscribed lanterns lined the path, their softer light creating a serene atmosphere.

Two figures emerged from a side alley: guards dressed in flowing red capes. Their hands rested lightly on the hilts of their katanas, their movements deliberate and mechanical. Though puppet-like in form, they brimmed with lifelike charm. Their eyes, however, betrayed natural caution—and pointed distrust.

"Witch," one guard said sharply, his voice low. "The Empress wishes you to know that your kind isn't welcome here."

Chara chuckled softly. "That's quite a greeting. Guess she never figured out hospitality."

The guards stiffened, their postures rigid with insult.

Green tensed slightly but maintained his playful demeanor. "easy, fellas," he drawled. "we're just passing through. no need for dramatics."

The second guard hesitated, his gaze shifting toward Baxter. The drone tilted slightly, its lens narrowing as if calculating.

"We are here with permission from The Collector," Baxter stated smoothly, its tone neutral but commanding. "We seek a lost child, and nothing more. Surely your Empress would prefer we find her quickly and leave."

Chara added calmly, "Unless you wish to be the reason for his ire falling upon her majesty, you ought to step aside." Her tone grew playful. "Of course, he is known for his mercy, so I'm sure it'd be fine to waste our time."

The thinly veiled threats seemed to have the desired effect. The guards exchanged wary glances that momentarily betrayed their automaton nature. Their grips on their weapons relaxed, though their stances remained tense.

"Be careful," one muttered, his eyes narrowing on Chara. "Empress Red may not have liked the late King Ralsei, but you've stirred trouble, Witch. We're watching you."

"As if that makes you unique," Chara scoffed.

She said nothing more, holding their gaze with cool detachment until they stepped aside. Brushing past one guard, she led the way forward. Green followed, giving the guards a casual half-salute before disappearing into the alley with Baxter floating silently above.

As they moved forward, the alley opened into a vibrant marketplace, alive with color and sound. Stalls overflowed with intricate trinkets, steaming bowls of ramen, and fresh taiyaki. Vendors called out cheerfully, their voices competing with the soft patter of a developing rain. Droplets shimmered as they fell, enhancing the glow of lanterns and neon signs that painted the area in warm, inviting hues.

Green glanced at Baxter. "hey, I never got around to asking. The Collector was the one who whisked you away, right?"

"Yes," Baxter replied simply.

"care to share what it was all about?" Green pressed, curiosity evident in his tone.

Baxter's lens focused momentarily. "He was curious about our progress. They wished to inquire about the steps following the weaving," it explained, tilting slightly toward you before continuing. "The outcome is that no further individuals will be gathered from here, a decision endorsed by him."

"that tracks. I'm impressed he 'offered' anyone at all," Green remarked, his voice carrying a note of mild surprise. "then again, I guess he's got a soft spot for otherworldly beings?"

Chara's tone was calm as she interjected. "He sees himself as their peer."

"you think so?" Green asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know so," Chara replied evenly. "If you were essentially a god, who would you relate to more? The playthings or the players?"

Baxter tilted again, its mechanical voice chiming in. "This may be a fair assessment." As it spoke, its lens adjusted, scanning the surrounding area. "We may be drawing near the child," it announced.

Chara nodded, her focus sharpening. "Seems like it." The faint glow of her directional magic faded, prompting her to glance around. "I think we ought to ask around. See if anyone knows where she is."

Green smirked, already heading toward an open shop that displayed a colorful assortment of candies. "bet she went for the sweets. kids always do."

"Alright," Chara said, pointing. "I'll check that way. Baxter, can you cover that direction?" She motioned to the left and right, respectively.

"Affirmative," Baxter replied, floating off without hesitation.

Their search continued, weaving through the endless streets of The Alleyways—a maze of glowing lights, intricate architecture, and countless hidden stories. Somewhere within its depths, Toriel was waiting. Chara wasn't about to let anyone else find her first.

Your focus first flowed to Green. Though you weren't bound to him, you had been growing stronger. You were aware of his awareness of you as he wandered over to the shop he'd spotted earlier.

Like the others, it was open to the alleyway street. A small space allowed people to walk in, with glass display cases showcasing dozens of sweets—wildly unhealthy but undoubtedly pleasant.

"hey pal," Green greeted you casually before stepping up to the counter. "This place is pretty sweet. Got anything in blue and yellow?"

The shopkeeper appeared to be another version of him—a Sans variant. This one wore glasses, with his casual outfit modified slightly. He had on an apron over a casual shirt and shorts, with pink slippers completing the look.

"why, what's got you feelin' blue?" the shopkeeper asked with a grin.

"some fella called me yellow-bellied," Green replied, leaning on the counter.

"clearly, he was just green with envy," the shopkeeper quipped. Both of them burst into laughter at their dumb jokes. "what'cha need, pal?"

"candy and information," Green said with a grin.

"I can definitely help with the former." Shopkeeper Sans gestured toward the display cases. "but if you want the latter, you'll have to actually buy something first."

"fair enough," Green agreed, scanning the options. "let's see… I'll take two candy ketchup bottles for myself, those chocolate and macadamia muffins for my pal, and those little brick-lookin' hard candies as well."

"friends with a Chara?" the shopkeeper asked casually as he began gathering the items.

"hard sometimes, but yeah. she's going through it right now—part of the reason I'm asking," Green explained.

The shopkeeper's hands paused briefly before he resumed. "yeah? what's got her acting out of Chara-cter?"

Green chuckled at the pun, shaking his head. "actually, it's a kid. this little Toriel, about this big." He held out his hand to demonstrate, and the shopkeeper nodded in recognition. "she was trying to look after her when the kid got teleported away."

"teleportation ain't easy, unless it's the Collector's goons or one of his vassals," the shopkeeper noted, setting the bag down on the counter. "why'd they port her away?"

Green scratched the back of his head and leaned in slightly. "so, you know that, uh…'King' fella? the loan shark from the Dark World?"

The shopkeeper's expression shifted subtly, realizing what Green was implying before he even said it.

"yeah, she dealt with him," Green continued, lying. "a couple of his idiots are pissy about it, so we're trying to make sure the kid's clear of danger, y'know?"

"it may be wiser to just leave her where she is," the shopkeeper suggested with a pointed look. "if your friend is the 'Witch,' you oughta know—folks are whispering. they say she's tangled up in something, keeps having meetings with the Collector."

"yeah, I know," Green said with a shrug. "look, you probably know the kinda guy I am. I'd much rather be at home on the couch, not dealin' with any of this. but Chara? she ain't sayin' it, but I can tell she's real worried about the kid." He leaned in again. "any chance you know who I'm talkin' about?"

The shopkeeper hesitated, clearly weighing his options.

"I'll grab another of each thing if that helps," Green offered with a small smirk.

The shopkeeper sighed tiredly. "I don't wanna get involved in all this, but…yeah, I saw the kid. got a weird soul, nice though. uh…she had a belt sash thing with a stick in the back?"

"that is literally the one I'm askin' about," Green said, his smile turning more earnest.

"came in here the other day asking about Ms. Tasque. lady owned a place down the road a ways," the shopkeeper said, motioning toward the direction. "folks say she did something to upset the Collector and hasn't come back since. no idea what it could've been, but…yeah. gave the kid some sweets and sent her home."

"hey, thanks, pal, honestly," Green said sincerely. "I won't tell a soul I heard anything from you. promise."

"yeah, yeah, okay. good luck," the shopkeeper replied, waving him off.

Green set down some extra G and grabbed the bag. Somehow, he managed to shove the larger package into his notably smaller pocket before heading out. He flashed you a grin and started toward the destination.

Your focus shifted, pulling back from Green to another of the three. Time rewound slightly, splitting your attention to follow someone else and see what they had found—or where they were in that moment.

Your focus flowed and followed Baxter as it ventured down and to the right of the street. It was aware of your presence as it scanned the area, moving from shop to shop and observing the people passing by. There was an odd variety here—beings and items it was unfamiliar with. Vendors cooked with massive pans, tossing and swirling their contents with practiced ease. Others sold fish-flavored cakes and similar delicacies, while some hawked oils and homemade remedies.

A shop nearby displayed an array of games: board games, books, and even video games. Another offered rentals for both gaming systems and television shows, allowing patrons to borrow them for a week at a time. Baxter's observations were methodical, yet detached, until something unusual caught its attention.

There it was—a strange, familiar shop nestled within a side alley. Its structure and appearance were unmistakable, yet odd: blurry and unnoticed by the passersby. Baxter approached, scanning the entrance. It was the same peculiar shop it had seen before, yet this time in a different place.

The door opened, and a tall, sharply defined Spamton stepped out. He held a placemat reading "Welcome" in five different languages, which he shook briskly before setting it down in front of the door. As the mat touched the ground, the shop's blurry edges vanished, suddenly sharp and perceptible to all.

"Good to see you again, oh emissary of hell," Spamton greeted Baxter, his voice a mix of politeness and eccentricity. "May I inquire why you're ALL ALONE IN THE BIG CITY?"

"I am seeking a child on their behalf," Baxter replied, its tone calm and measured. "But I presume you already know this." It extended a mandible, projecting an image. "Have you seen this child?"

"The little Toriel," Spamton said with a soft chuckle. "I have AS SEEN ON TV that child. But you're heading in the wrong direction, pal." He gestured with a flourish. "You ought to have taken a LEFT TURN ON MAIN back there."

"Thank you," Baxter said, retracting the image into code. After a brief pause, it added, "How are you here?"

"I'm wherever I need to be. Wherever the GREAT DEALS AT AFFORDABLE PRICES take me," Spamton replied, offering a theatrical bow. "Honestly, if you ever want to find me, you—or they—need only will it to happen. And you will, OR YOUR MONEY BACK, guaranteed."

Baxter inclined slightly, acknowledging the information. "Understood. Thank you."

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Spamton continued, straightening his posture with a flourish, "I have a few deals to make."

Baxter turned away, heading back in the direction it had come. The encounter with the dealmaker was peculiar, as always. The shop's shifting presence and the strange conditions for finding it were unsettling but potentially useful. This knowledge might prove valuable to its allies, should the need arise.

With that, your focus rewound, returning to the moment you'd last left behind. It was time to see where the next thread of this story led.

Your focus trailed after your Vessel, the connection between you manifesting in the faint rattle of unseen chains. Though she didn't glance directly at you, you knew she felt your presence. Her gaze remained on the occasional guards watching her, their wariness a testament to her growing fame—and infamy.

But their scrutiny wasn't her priority. Her thoughts churned, replaying fragments of the child's words. Certain phrases stood out, even as her attention was drawn to the inviting aroma wafting from an open bar. Sake flowed freely into ceramic cups, mingling with the more familiar scents of aged liquors. Her eyes locked onto one person seated at the bar, and she froze.

Hesitation flickered in her expression as a dozen thoughts swirled in her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself, before fading into an intangible form. Moving through the crowd like a shadow, she passed unnoticed, slipping through walls and evading prying eyes. The guards who had been watching her stirred, scanning the area, but she remained hidden.

Silent as a whisper, she stepped through several individuals, causing them to shiver instinctively. Lifting an object from someone's pocket without breaking her stride, she reached the corner stool at the bar and materialized, taking a seat with an air of nonchalance.

Raising her pointer and middle finger alongside her thumb, she made a simple request.

"Three."

Beside her, a disheveled figure leaned heavily against the counter. The woman's messy brown hair hung long, partially obscuring her face, though her golden eyes glinted faintly in the bar's low light.

Gone was the pristine white uniform she had once worn. In its place was a worn leather vest, a loose checkered bandana, and old jeans paired with a plain brown shirt. The absence of her usual hat made her seem smaller, more vulnerable. Her head turned slightly, her gaze settling on Chara with a mixture of surprise and apprehension.

For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Clover straightened in her seat, staring, but Chara waited until three bottles of something cheap were placed before her. Setting down several G as payment, she turned on her stool to face Clover fully.

Clovers eyes betrayed a storm of emotions—fear, resignation, and a lack of will to resist whatever she believed was coming.

Chara broke the tension, extending one of the bottles.

Clover hesitated, then accepted it with a quiet nod, twisting the cap off with her hand. The two drank in unison, the moment heavy with unspoken history.

For Chara, the taste triggered memories. Of smaller, simpler times. Of the two of them sneaking sodas, beers and the sort from inattentive vendors, enough for their friends and the ones they cared about. Little moments of plotting their next adventure, all while hiding the darker truths of what they had done from one another—until those truths came to light, and their paths diverged.

She thought of Aliza. Of her wife. Of Clover's role in her death, whether intentional or not.

Clover finished her drink first, setting the empty bottle on the counter with trembling hands. Her heart raced, her breathing uneven. A single tear slipped from her eye, but she forced herself to stay calm, giving a stiff nod. Eyes closed, she braced herself for a blow that never came.

"There's a kid lost around here," Chara began, her voice taut with the weight of conflicting emotions. "I'm trying to take her somewhere safe."

Clover opened her eyes, scanning Chara's dark ones in confusion.

"What?"

"A... vessel of some kind. Toriel. She's... a Toriel," Chara clarified, turning to face the bar again. She finished her first drink and moved on to the second. "Don't suppose you've seen her?"

"Chara, I... I didn't—" Clover began, her voice faltering.

Chara cut her off, her tone sharp. "I'm trying very hard not to hurt you. So...don't." Black ink began seeping from her eyes, thick with barely restrained hate. "Clover. Have you seen the girl?"

Clover flinched, her hand twitching instinctively before lowering again.

"The kid... a Toriel... sells flowers and the like?"

"Yeah," Chara replied, the ink began eating into the wood where it had splashed. "That one."

"Lives up the road, I think," Clover stammered. "Old bar. It's closed now."

"That way?" Chara gestured toward the right of the exit. Clover nodded.

"Okay."

Chara stood, finishing the last of her drink in a single long gulp. She set the bottle down harder than she intended, the glass cracking up the sides. Wiping the ink from her face with a sleeve, she turned and walked past Clover without another word.

Clover watched her go, her breathing quick and shallow. After a moment, she downed the nearby shot, rose unsteadily, and followed after her. Stumbling into someone along the way, she muttered an apology before jogging to catch up.

"Chara. Wait. Just... a second," Clover called.

Chara stopped but didn't turn around. "Clover..."

"Do something," Clover pleaded, her voice trembling. "Anything."

"What?" Chara asked, finally turning to look at her.

"Hurt me. Kill me. Cast me into the void. I—I don't care what you do. Just... do something," Clover begged, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes overflowed with stress, regret, and fear. "I'm...I'm-"

"Don't," Chara ordered, her voice cold and unyielding.

"I'm sorry," Clover whispered.

The movement was swift—a revolver pressed against Clover's head. Chara's dark eyes locked onto hers, the weight of her rage and pain palpable. Her finger trembled on the trigger, the urge to pull it overwhelming. The world around them seemed to fade, the attention of concerned onlookers irrelevant.

Clover let out a tired breath, leaning into the barrel. Justice had once been her soul's guiding force, but she had buried that notion long ago. She hadn't known, at first, who Aliza was. She hadn't known what the King would do with her. But here, now, she refused to run from her guilt.

Whatever was to come, she accepted it.

Chara's hand shook, her mind clouded with too many threads—too many desires, impulses, and memories. Her eye twitched as her grip on the weapon wavered.

A decision had to be made. A fate decided.

Who better to make it than you?