The world you entered stood in stark contrast to the others. It was mostly black and white, with darkened hues and shadows stretching across the skyline. Above, stars shimmered faintly, while the moon hung heavy in the sky, parts of it shrouded in shadow or seemingly fading. The city below was massive—towers pierced the sky, apartment complexes stretched for blocks, and wide roads wove between them. Train tracks crisscrossed overhead, while sprawling bridges connected sections of the city. Homes and buildings were coiled with thick, creeping vines, a reminder of the strange decay this world had suffered.
The Observer appeared on the porch of an apartment building, its sensors whirring as it took in the scene. A staircase on the left led downward, and Gaster stood nearby, examining the horizon. He turned slowly toward the shattered door of the apartment.
"Interesting," he muttered, stepping inside. "I had intended to take us to this world's Sans, but it seems we've only reached his home."
The Observer floated behind him, peeking through the broken door. Inside, the apartment was in disarray. Blood smeared across the carpet led to a lump beneath stained sheets. Vines twisted around the furniture, and signs of a struggle were evident—bones jutted from the walls, and a gaping hole marred the side of the building.
"Do me a favor," Gaster said, his voice calm as he knelt to inspect the scene. "Head down to the ground level. I need to examine something here."
The Observer emitted a soft beep of acknowledgment, drifting off the porch and descending toward the street below. Destroyed cars littered the area, one having crashed into the side of a nearby building. A fine layer of dust was carried by the evening wind, and the train tracks overhead loomed silent and still. The Observer scanned the strange metal objects—the cars—unsure of their purpose.
There was a flick of a lighter, and Gaster appeared beside the Observer, his expression dark. He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling up into the air, more tangible than the usual ephemeral wisps he created.
"A fine reminder of flavor," he mused, savoring the taste and storing it in his memory for later use.
His coat shifted, the spiked edges smoothing into the lines of a clean trench coat. Underneath, he now wore a suit and vest, a crimson tie knotted at his throat. With a small flick of his wrist, a fedora materialized atop his head, the red band adding a sharp contrast to the black fabric.
The Observer whirred curiously.
"It's nothing," Gaster said, snapping his fingers. The sky above them rippled, and a light rain began to fall. "It's been a while since I visited one of these worlds. When you have the chance for rain, you take it."
The stars disappeared behind gathering clouds, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Gaster smiled faintly. "I seem to recall the food in these worlds being quite good," he added with a puff of smoke. "Which is fortunate, given we need to retrieve your chef."
As the rain picked up, the Observer floated forward, only to be pulled back by Gaster's voice.
"No need for that," he said. "This world has unique machines."
He placed two fingers to his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. From down the street, something roared to life, and the Observer emitted a startled beep, hiding behind Gaster as a vehicle—a car—came speeding toward them. Water splashed up in waves, though a faint green shield materialized around them, keeping them dry.
Gaster stepped up to the passenger side of the car, leaning his arms on the window as it rolled down. Inside, the figure's face was obscured by the hood of a dark purple trench coat, with a star symbol emblazoned on the front. Beneath the coat, the figure's form was barely discernible, hidden by the fabric.
"Wing Ding," a feminine voice greeted him. "Last time I saw you, it was hauling your carcass to the river."
"My dear Riverperson, I—"
"Riverwoman, now," she corrected sharply. "And you don't get the courtesy of forgetting that, dead man."
"Of course," Gaster replied with a small smile. "My apologies. Forgive my familiar face, but I'm not the man you once knew. I'm here to help."
She chuckled darkly. "You, help? Regardless of who you are now, you're still a terrible liar. But that hardly matters. Get in." She sighed. "No sense having you out of the rain."
Gaster straightened, opened the back door, and gestured for the Observer to enter first. "After you, friend."
The Observer beeped in response, floating into the car and settling down, scanning its surroundings. Gaster climbed in after, shutting the door behind him.
"You show up just as our world begins to die from that flower. Should I assume you're here to reap it?" the Riverwoman asked, her voice low.
Gaster took another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window. "Your world needs no reaper. But are you even aware of what's happening?"
She glanced out the window, watching the rain as it poured down, the moon's faint glow barely visible behind the thick clouds. "Do you mean the fight?" she asked. "Or what will happen when that thing 'succeeds.'? I'm aware of both. Is that why you're here? To watch the last of the line perish in a futile attempt to save this dying place?"
Gaster reached into his coat and pulled out a card, extending it to her. "Yes and no. I'm here to offer second chances. A new life."
"I won't drive you into that conflict," she replied curtly.
"Surely a fresh start is worth a simple drive?" Gaster asked. "Just take me as close as you can, and I'll ensure you're safe."
She hesitated for a moment, the thunder rolling overhead. After a long pause, she took the card from him. "How do I know you'll keep your word? Trusting you hasn't worked out well for others."
"Different me," Gaster said softly, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I'm a changed man."
She scoffed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh? Let me guess. Got married? Bought a house with a white picket fence? Maybe even had a couple of kids?"
Gaster flinched, his smile faded, and he stared out the window. "You don't have to trust me," he said after a moment. "But, honestly… what other choice do you have?"
Silence hung in the air, the rain beating down harder now. The engine rumbled, the only sound between them. Finally, the Riverwoman let out a long sigh.
"No talking while I drive," she ordered.
"Of course, ma'am," Gaster replied, settling back into the seat as the car began to move forward.
The light in the skeleton's eyes dimmed, as if they had closed. He smoked passively, the rumble of the car growing louder as it began to drive, peeling out with a slide before setting off towards its intended destination, kicking up a wave of water in its wake.
As they traveled further, the city around them became increasingly desolate, large buildings and structures torn apart, shredded by the strange vines. The cause of the world's current peril was clear.
The car's headlights illuminated the quiet, broken road. Abandoned vehicles lined the streets, some crashed into buildings, others stranded at odd angles. A massive, thorny vine, as large as the car itself, had burst through a section of concrete. Gaster snapped his fingers, summoning phantom hands outside the car. Yellow beams shot from them, clearing debris, while a green hand smoothed over cracks and holes in the road as they drove.
It took little effort from him. The Observer made a small chirp, nudging him for attention, but Gaster didn't respond, merely adjusting his hat to cast a deeper shadow over his face.
The driver glanced at the Observer in the rearview mirror. "Don't bother, metal thing. He's lost in thought." She paused. "The one I knew used to do the same thing... shell-shock, from the war. Or so he claimed." She added. "Personally, I think it was memories of what he'd done."
The Observer whirred in curiosity but got no further insight. It settled back on the seat, turning to face Gaster.
Gaster, however, was still, reaching out his window as the wind and rain rushed by, flicking ash from his nearly spent cigarette. A faint energy sparked along the cigarette's length, reconstituting it, allowing him to continue smoking in silence.
The Observer, restless, turned to peer out the window as a strange noise became audible, even through the storm—screaming.
It scanned the surroundings, tracing the sound down alleyways consumed by void-like darkness, past buildings without doors or windows, their interiors glitching and steadily vanishing. The echoes of screams lingered, though the people who once made them were long gone.
It seemed no one had told the screaming that the screamers were gone.
The drone's sensors picked up ghostly sounds of footsteps along the sidewalk, parents comforting children—glitches repeating in endless loops, though there was no sign that anyone had ever been there.
Disturbed, the Observer shifted its focus, finding a pouch on the back of the passenger seat. It pulled out a magazine, the cover splashed with bold headlines. There was mention of a mafia war, a traitor suspected of harboring a human, and strange sightings of a flower. There were also reports of people disappearing.
"Gaster," the Riverwoman spoke suddenly. "Claw your way out of the dark. I have a question."
The light in Gaster's eyes flickered back to life, like candles sparking. "Yes, River? How may I assist you?"
"You promised to ferry me away, to someplace new," she said, her tone cautious. "While I've learned never to trust a man who speaks in hands, if you did keep your word… how would that happen?"
Gaster flicked his cigarette into the rain. "You wouldn't need to do anything. I'd displace you, converting you into code for travel."
"Code?" she echoed.
"Yes. Your world runs on an inky, literary type of code. It's more drawn than programmed like some others... but it's still a form of code," he explained. "Fascinating, really, how—"
"Wing Ding," she interrupted, cutting him off. "You know I won't understand that."
Gaster paused, then smiled faintly. "Of course, my apologies. To simplify, I'd convert you into something transportable and move you to a new location. Your body wouldn't survive the journey otherwise."
"The world could be saved," the driver remarked, her tone sharp. "If you cared, you'd stitch its wounds and preserve it."
"I've heard that before," he admitted, manifesting another cigarette. "But tell me, where are the people on the streets?" He lit it, and took a drag. "Where are the other cars on the road?"
Silence followed.
"You hadn't truly noticed until I pointed it out, had you?" Gaster asked.
After a moment, she quietly replied, "No. I hadn't. I knew something was wrong, but..."
"It aches when you try to focus on it, doesn't it? And then it slips away," Gaster added. "You're not meant to notice when a world decays. It helps you cope."
The car's headlights illuminated the quiet, broken road. Abandoned vehicles lined the streets, some crashed into buildings, others stranded at odd angles. A massive, thorny vine, as large as the car itself, had burst through a section of concrete. Gaster snapped his fingers, summoning phantom hands outside the car. Yellow beams shot from them, clearing debris, while a green hand smoothed over cracks and holes in the road as they drove.
It took little effort from him. The Observer made a small chirp, nudging him for attention, but Gaster didn't respond, merely adjusting his hat to cast a deeper shadow over his face.
The driver glanced at the Observer in the rearview mirror. "Don't bother, metal thing. He's lost in thought." She paused. "The one I knew used to do the same thing... shell-shock, from the war. Or so he claimed." She added. "Personally, I think it was memories of what he'd done."
The Observer whirred in curiosity but got no further insight. It settled back on the seat, turning to face Gaster.
Gaster, however, was still, reaching out his window as the wind and rain rushed by, flicking ash from his nearly spent cigarette. A faint energy sparked along the cigarette's length, reconstituting it, allowing him to continue smoking in silence.
The Observer, restless, turned to peer out the window as a strange noise became audible, even through the storm—screaming.
It scanned the surroundings, tracing the sound down alleyways consumed by void-like darkness, past buildings without doors or windows, their interiors glitching and steadily vanishing. The echoes of screams lingered, though the people who once made them were long gone.
It seemed no one had told the screaming that the screamers were gone.
The drone's sensors picked up ghostly sounds of footsteps along the sidewalk, parents comforting children—glitches repeating in endless loops, though there was no sign that anyone had ever been there.
Disturbed, the Observer shifted its focus, finding a pouch on the back of the passenger seat. It pulled out a magazine, the cover splashed with bold headlines. There was mention of a mafia war, a traitor suspected of harboring a human, and strange sightings of a flower. There were also reports of people disappearing.
"Gaster," the Riverwoman spoke suddenly. "Claw your way out of the dark. I have a question."
The light in Gaster's eyes flickered back to life, like candles sparking. "Yes, River? How may I assist you?"
"You promised to ferry me away, to someplace new," she said, her tone cautious. "While I've learned never to trust a man who speaks in hands, if you did keep your word… how would that happen?"
Gaster flicked his cigarette into the rain. "You wouldn't need to do anything. I'd displace you, converting you into code for travel."
"Code?" she echoed.
"Yes. Your world runs on an inky, literary type of code. It's more drawn than programmed like some others... but it's still a form of code," he explained. "Fascinating, really, how—"
"Wing Ding," she interrupted, cutting him off. "You know I won't understand that."
Gaster paused, then smiled faintly. "Of course, my apologies. To simplify, I'd convert you into something transportable and move you to a new location. Your body wouldn't survive the journey otherwise."
"The world could be saved," the driver remarked, her tone sharp. "If you cared, you'd stitch its wounds and preserve it."
"I've heard that before," he admitted, manifesting another cigarette. "But tell me, where are the people on the streets?" He lit it, and took a drag. "Where are the other cars on the road?"
Silence followed.
"You hadn't truly noticed until I pointed it out, had you?" Gaster asked.
After a moment, she quietly replied, "No. I hadn't. I knew something was wrong, but..."
"It aches when you try to focus on it, doesn't it? And then it slips away," Gaster added. "You're not meant to notice when a world decays. It helps you cope."
"By preventing us from acknowledging it?" she muttered, her voice bitter. "What kind of sick freak decided that?"
"I don't know," he admitted, blowing smoke out the window. "But even if I stopped the bleeding and patched the wounds, too much has already been lost." He gestured to the desolate streets. "So many faces, places, and people, all gone. Clinging to a rotting corpse won't save it. Stitching wounds only delays the inevitable."
The driver sighed. "You're such a depressing bastard, Wing Ding. Fitting name." The car began to slow in front of a cathedral. "We're here. I know Sans came here. That thing was after Asgore."
"I know," Gaster replied, stepping out and motioning for the Observer to follow. He leaned down to the driver's window. "River, once I leave, my offer expires. Won't you take a second chance?"
She hesitated, her voice softer now. "Does it matter if I say yes? If I'm right, you're from another world, and I imagine... there are many versions of me. What makes this one different?"
"You were my driver," Gaster said with a faint, playful laugh, offering his hand. "Sorry, my humor isn't the best. In truth, it's just luck. Nothing more."
She hesitated a moment longer before placing her hand in his. "Don't...make me regret this."
"Very good," Gaster said, gently squeezing her hand. "Don't panic. Breathe... before you know it, you'll be somewhere new."
The driver struggled to remain calm as her body began to break apart into swirling code. Slowly, it flowed into Gaster's coat pocket, joining the remnants of Aliza, who had saved your eyes.
The Observer emitted a curious whirr, floating beside him in the rain. The skeletal man lingered for a moment, staring at the empty car before dropping his cigarette into the water below. He sighed and shifted his focus to the cathedral, noticing the drone watching him closely.
"Yes?" he asked, as it whirred again. "Are you asking if I'll keep my word?" He guessed while heading toward the shattered doors. "It doesn't matter. It's no longer my decision. Much like the choice of what to do with that Aliza's code—it's in the hands of our friends now."
They stepped inside the cathedral. Towering walls stretched above them, broken stained glass letting in streams of rain. The cold stone was scattered with debris from a portion of the ceiling, which had been torn apart by the encroaching vines. Gaster glanced at the Observer, then snapped his fingers, conjuring a phantom hand holding an umbrella. The drone chirped happily, and he looked away, lost in thought.
"I made a deal with them, after all," he muttered. "Besides, I had an idea for her code... perhaps she could take my old role." His steps splashed through puddles as he mused. "The Underground will need a Royal Scientist—or, rather, the old one. If River takes the position, maybe she'll fare better than I did. I imagine she'd be kinder to Chara, when they fall than I was." He seemed to shake himself a little. "If not, there are other roles, other options. And if none of those are suitable… I could always use a new keyboard in my lab."
The Observer whirred again, using his words. "River? Riverwoman?"
"Ah. Did I say River?" Gaster mused, walking onto the stage where a door led to a vine-choked hallway. "Slip of the nonexistent tongue. No need to dwell on it. Come along—we've got a future chef to save, haven't we?"
They descended the hidden staircase into a corridor the cathedral had been concealing. It led to this world's 'barrier,' or rather, its weakest point. Gaster found the solution in this world uniquely fascinating.
Monsterkind had constructed their own barrier, enclosing an entire continent—a fortress in a hostile world. To live in peace, or, something like peace. He chuckled, reflecting on the irony. Despite all their efforts, it hadn't been enough.
Their steps echoed through the flooded passage, the splashing sound drowned out by distant crashes and the hum of blaster fire. Sections of the hallway had collapsed or been torn apart. Gaster barely glanced at the destruction, repairing the gaps so they could continue unhindered.
The Observer watched the shaking walls and rattling ceiling lights as they neared a corner. Suddenly, a beam of light blasted past Gaster, who sidestepped it. Ahead, a monstrous, eldritch flower-like creature was tearing through everything, its wide grin twisted and malevolent. Sans dodged its attacks, sliding back as vines burst from the ground and massive bullets rained down around him.
Flowey—grinning like a demon—watched the skeleton's every move, but Sans summoned a line of blasters, the skulls firing beams at the creature. Flowey laughed, unperturbed. Weaving, dodging them.
"Fun fact," a voice said, catching both Gaster and the Observer off guard. "In this world, the young prince was killed when his sibling lost control. Here, 'Determination' is a murderous trait that infects humans."
Flowey looked around, irritated. "Who said that? What do you know about anything, smart guy?"
Gaster continued as if undisturbed. "This ties into a conversation we had about how souls vary between worlds… and how, like that girl and her brother, sometimes entire worlds die because they're infected with something that never should have existed."
Without warning, Flowey's color shifted to green. Rows of phantom hands appeared, accompanied by a swarm of oozing black Gaster Blasters. Flowey, bewildered, tried to sink into the ground and escape, but the green magic rooted him in place.
Sans smirked darkly. "sorry... bud. guess you're out of flower power."
Flowey blinked, rage contorting his face. "I'll tear you—"
The attack was relentless. Gaster's blasters and Sans' bones fired in unison, bombarding Flowey from every direction. The creature screamed, trying to 'LOAD' its file, but found it impossible.
"A dying world has no save slots for you to run to, dear prince," Gaster said mockingly from the shadows.
Flowey barely had time to process the words before he was incinerated, reduced to dust. Gaster stepped out from the darkness beside Sans, dusting off his coat. The Observer hurried over, its whirring applause-like sounds echoing through the ruined hall. It passed the twisted remnants of the creature, now little more than a pile of fading vines.
"No need for applause, scrap heap," Gaster muttered. "Not for 'this' thing."
Sans wore a clean button-up shirt with a loose, unkempt bowtie. His slacks were dirty, his dress shoes worn down. Nearby, a destroyed hat lay on the ground, which he picked up and placed on his head.
"huh. hey G," Sans greeted.
Gaster smirked cockily. "Is that all?" he asked. "I expected a bit more hostility at my appearance."
"thought you were dead," Sans admitted, his voice sharp. "wished you were dead. you'd deserve it after what you did to..." He trailed off, and Gaster's smirk faded. "heh... only the good die young, right?"
There was a unique agony in Sans' words that Gaster rarely heard from him. His eyes fell on the front pocket of Sans' shirt and saw something tucked inside—a smaller, folded red tie with white splotches that seemed too small to fit him. It was white once, he realized, thinking back to the apartment.
"I see," Gaster hummed, glancing toward the remnants of the flower. "It didn't just take your brother, did it?"
"like you care," Sans scoffed. "never gave him a second thought before. why start now?" He took a step forward, then stopped, looking too tired to continue. "not that it matters. given, once this thing—"
"The Flower can't reset," Gaster interrupted, earning a glance from Sans. "Like I told it, you can't reset in a dying world."
A dark expression flickered across Sans' face. "wow. heh. i guess that's it, huh? kills everyone and because of that... we just stop?"
"Yes," Gaster nodded. "Your world is perishing, Sans. That thing—Flowey—was never meant to exist in this reality, and its presence is dragging this place into nothing."
Sans chuckled bitterly. "heh. i'll have to believe you... you ain't the G i knew. he was never sorry for anything."
Suddenly, color flickered back into the world, as the fight seemed to fade from Sans eyes. His faintly blue suit became more visible, as did the bloody tie in his pocket. His worn-down posture stood in contrast to Gaster's red tie and fedora trim against his black suit.
"I am not him. No," Gaster said. "But I came to help."
"help?" Sans echoed, his expression doubtful.
"Yes," Gaster said simply.
"then why didn't you come sooner?" Sans' voice shook with fury. "you said it yourself, that thing was easy for you. you could've... saved Papyrus... saved Lil Pup...s-someone," He slid down the wall, tears slipping from his sockets. "I-I couldn't save anyone. I just..."
Gaster's mind caught on the name 'Lil Pup.' He tapped the air, scanning through this world's data files. It seemed to be a designation for this world's Frisk. Gaster dismissed the file and walked over, removing his hat as he sat beside Sans.
"Smoke?" Gaster offered, producing a few cigarettes.
"yeah," Sans replied, his anger momentarily subdued.
Gaster lit both cigarettes, and they sat in silence, smoking together. The Observer whirred quietly beside them, settling down. Sans glanced at it, hand trembling as he struggled to stay composed.
"what's this thing?" Sans asked.
"The Observer. It tracks information, sorts it, presents it, and stores data," Gaster explained, his tone reciting old memories.
"doesn't seem like a you thing," Sans observed.
Gaster took a long drag. "It wasn't my idea. One of my wards came up with it. I... chastised it at the time," he admitted with a cough. "But now, I'm trying to catalogue what I encounter. To make something new."
"yeah," Sans murmured. He was quiet for a moment before asking, "can you bring them back?"
"I'm sorry, Sans," Gaster said softly. "I've tried before. When the void takes them, there's nothing left to bring back. It's too hard to find the pieces."
"right," Sans whispered, taking another puff. "this where you ask me to be an avenger or somethin'?"
Gaster chuckled. "No. But you don't have to carry this alone," he said, offering his hand. "All I ask is that you let me help. Not because it will take away your loss, but because you deserve more than to be destroyed by it."
Sans sat silently for a long time, smoking and thinking, his hopelessness weighing heavy in the air.
"be honest, G," Sans glanced over. "do you really wanna help me, or is this a con?"
Gaster's voice was steady. "I want to help you, Sans."
Sans hesitated, then asked, "will it hurt?"
"A little," Gaster admitted. "I have to break you into code temporarily... If I don't, you'll shatter across everything, nothing. But I'll put you back together again. I promise."
"why not?" Sans shrugged, a faint smile touching his face. "what've I got to lose?"
His eyes held no light as he extended his hand to Gaster. Slowly, his body began to unravel, peeling away into strands of code. Gaster carefully gathered the pieces, placing them into an interior pocket of his coat before standing up.
The Observer made a sad sound.
"Hmm?" Gaster dusted himself off. "Don't feel bad for him. He won't remember any of his heartache, any of this pain. Trust me. There are those who would take what I'm offering in a heartbeat, and they've suffered far less... This is a mercy."
The Observer asked, "Are. You. Okay?" using Gaster's words.
Gaster stared at it for a moment, at you before turning away. "Come along. We have your restaurant owner now. We still need to grab that cat-dog."
The drone hummed softly and followed him as he stepped past the flower's remains, carving a doorway out.
"By the way, regarding the vote." Gaster asked, almost casually. "I wonder if you all enjoy the structure of limited choices. A reminder: with me, you can vote anyone into the slots we're discussing, as long as they're not already in use."
The Observer made a curious sound.
"Yes. Up for a vote, we have the role that once belonged to Papyrus—I call it the 'Ambitious' role. The other one up for a vote now is... the 'Blind Role,' formerly occupied by Doggo. And finally, whether or not to performing the grafting for Aliza." he mused. "Yes, this demands our focus, I think."
The Observer nudged him again. "Are. You. Okay?"
Gaster looked away, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes. Let's focus on the task at hand," he muttered. "Onward. To our next destination."
The Observer examined the small, bloodstained tie left behind before following Gaster through the newly carved doorway.