Just Cause
An Undertale Fanfiction
Chapter 18: The Only Two I Thought I Had
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Looking For a Bad Time
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories
Chapter 6: Revenge?
Chapter 7: The Person I Was
Chapter 8: Leaving Hope Behind
Chapter 9: Seeking the Source
Chapter 10: Uncertain Friendship
Chapter 11: Dating WTF?!
Chapter 12: I Don't Know How to Feel
Chapter 13: Mutual Protection
Chapter 14: Spear of Torment
Chapter 15: Saved by Fire
Chapter 16: Welcome to the Show
Chapter 17: Nostalgia
Chapter 18: The Only Two I Thought I Had (You are here)
Chapter 1: Looking For a Bad Time
Chapter 2: What The Killer Gave Up
Chapter 3: A Dangerous Path
Chapter 4: Fatal Mistakes
Chapter 5: Surrendered Memories
Chapter 6: Revenge?
Chapter 7: The Person I Was
Chapter 8: Leaving Hope Behind
Chapter 9: Seeking the Source
Chapter 10: Uncertain Friendship
Chapter 11: Dating WTF?!
Chapter 12: I Don't Know How to Feel
Chapter 13: Mutual Protection
Chapter 14: Spear of Torment
Chapter 15: Saved by Fire
Chapter 16: Welcome to the Show
Chapter 17: Nostalgia
Chapter 18: The Only Two I Thought I Had (You are here)
I can’t believe they ate all the nice cream. I mean, it’s great that the royal guards are happy together and they aren’t trying to kill me anymore, but did they HAVE to eat all the food?!
The paltry stash of hot dogs was long gone, as was every other healing item that had once graced their now painfully empty pockets. The guards whose assault had forced them to eat two hot dogs were now standing off to the side, having an amiable but mostly one-sided conversation, and from the look on the nice cream bunny’s face, everyone was happy except for Frisk.
I can’t heal anymore, and the fights have just been getting harder.
If King Asgore is as tough as people say he is, I’m going to die hundreds of times. And that’s assuming Mettaton doesn’t find a way to block those yellow bolts Alphys taught me to shoot from my soul.
If they both fight me together… AUUUUUGGGGHHHH…
Their hand strayed to the punch card in their pocket; even if they’d collected enough of them, there was nothing left for them here.
Nothing, except… “Um… excuse me?”
The vendor’s long ears perked up. “Yes?”
“I was wondering, um… could I borrow a pen?”
“Sure! Are you writing a testimonial to tell your friends about my nice cream?”
Guilt flickered through their chest, and they bit their lip. “Um, no, I… I was actually hoping to write a letter. To a couple of my friends. In case something, uh… stops me from writing again.”
Something like Asgore having a way to stop me from time traveling and steal my soul.
The monster’s smile was far too bright, like a cheerful sun shining in careless disregard for the gloom in their heart. “Sure! It’s always important to stay in touch with the people you care about.” His hand dipped into his pocket, then emerged with a bright yellow and red pen. “Here you go! Feel free to write on the back of your punch card. Promotion and pen pals, all in one!”
“Thanks.” I’m not sure how I’m getting promoted if I don’t even have a job here, but I’m way too tired to argue.
The vendor watched patiently as the child wrote, and a sudden surge of self-consciousness drove them to turn slightly away from him and shield the note with their body. I don’t want him asking. I don’t want to have to explain.
I don’t want to cry in front of someone I barely know.
As they slipped the pen into the monster’s hand, it was everything they could do to keep the forced smile on their face. The bunny’s expression still glowed like an obliviously mocking sun, and with a great effort, they concealed the rain that burned behind their falsely cheerful eyes.
“Thanks for the pen. It really helped.”
“You’re welcome! Have a great day!”
Have a great day.
As Frisk turned away from him, blinking hard, they tried not to think about the grim predictions that rose unbidden in their mind.
It was too late to have a great day. Far, far too late.
In this world of “kill or be killed,” where friends and healing items were scarce and enemies increasingly plentiful, Frisk wasn’t sure they would live long enough to ever have a great day.
~*~*~*~
The feeling of urban familiarity was back, this time accompanied by another familiar sight that almost made their weary knees buckle with relief. The MTT resort stood before them, like a landmark declaring their arrival in one of the big cities movie characters had car chases in.
And far more importantly, in front of it stood an oasis of hope, companionship and relief, in the form of one of the very few people who could exchange more than a few sentences with them without eventually trying to kill them.
“Sans!”
The child broke into a slow, stumbling sprint, their exhausted legs carrying them across the short distance that separated them from their friend. The skeleton’s grin seemed to brighten at their approach – or maybe that was just their racked imagination, showing them what they so desperately needed to see.
Either way, at least he was there, and he still wasn’t trying to kill them.
“Hey,” he greeted them, his face still lit by that ever-present smile. “I heard you’re going to the Core. How about grabbing some dinner with me first?”
OH YES PLEASE. THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE HERE; I WAS STARTING TO WORRY THAT I’D NEVER SEE A FRIENDLY FACE AGAIN BEFORE I POSSIBLY DIED FOREVER. MAYBE THE FOOD HERE HEALS MORE THAN THE FOOD AT GRILLBY’S. I’M SO RELIEVED RIGHT NOW. NO, DON’T CRY DON’T CRY DON’T- “I’d love that. Thanks.”
Either oblivious to their relieved internal rambling, or easygoing enough not to call them on it, Sans winked. “Great. Thanks for treating me.”
A bolt of panic burst through their chest, followed by frantic attempts at self-reassurance. He was joking every other time he wanted me to pay – except for the hot dogs… oh no, what if he expects me to pay this time? “Um, Sans?”
“Yeah?” Two steps into his journey away from the front door, the skeleton glanced back at them. “What, don’t you trust my navigational abilities yet? We’re going the right way.”
“No, uh, it’s not that; you probably have a shortcut, but…” Their fingers coiled around each other, and their gaze strayed briefly to the hotel’s glowing door before returning to their friend. “How much does the food in there cost? I spent almost all my money on hot dogs, and haven’t gotten much since.”
A familiar, mischievous wink flashed across his perpetually grinning face. “Don’t worry, the meals are only 50,000 gold each. But since the look on your face tells me I’ve completely overused that number and you don’t take it seriously anymore, we could just stand around and talk without eating anything.”
“Oh.” I REALLY need some healing items, but… “Okay.”
Even if we don’t eat, it’ll be nice to just spend time with a friend before… whatever is going to happen.
~*~*~*~
It was hardly surprising that all the tables looked like Mettaton. The sight sent a trickle of uneasiness through their gut, but at least the robot had had the restraint not to make everything gray, yellow and red like him. That would have been too many danger signals all in one place.
Instead, the room was a soothing purple, and the soft light of the candles helped to drain some of the tension from their small, beleaguered body.
It felt nice, to be able to almost relax in the presence of another living being.
Across the table from them, Sans was still wearing his perpetual smile, but he seemed slightly more contemplative than usual. Frisk wasn’t sure exactly what made him look that way, but something in his face or stance made it seem like his thoughts were further away than they normally were.
Is he thinking about something sad? I can’t tell.
Maybe the letter I wrote will cheer him up.
“Sans-”
“Well-”
They’d spoken in unison, and Frisk automatically fell silent, knowing better than to misbehave by talking over an adult.
After a moment of mutual silent waiting, Sans cocked his head slightly. “Was there something you wanted to say?”
“Well, um… there was, but… you can go first.” I’m surprised he even offered to let me talk first. Maybe I should’ve. But it would feel weird and kind of dangerous to make a grownup wait for me to finish when they want to talk.
His shoulders rolled in an easy shrug, and Sans briefly closed his eyes. “If you say so. So, as I was saying… your journey’s almost over, huh?”
Is that why he looked so thoughtful? “I guess so. I mean, I think I’m near the castle, right?”
“Yup. You just gotta get through the Core, and you’ll be there.”
“Oh. In that case, yeah, I guess it is.” I’m… not sure how I feel about that.
I want to be out of here. I don’t want to stay stuck in a place where almost everyone wants me dead. And I need to tell the police who killed Dash, so he can’t kill anybody else.
But Papyrus and Sans…
“You must really wanna go home.”
The thought sent a barely-suppressed flinch through them, and they hastily stuffed it down. No. Not there. Never again.
To their relief, Sans seemed not to have noticed; his eyes had strayed to a corner of the room. “Hey. I know the feeling, buddo.”
I really hope you don’t.
You don’t deserve that.
“Though… maybe sometimes it’s better to take what’s given to you.”
The comment snapped Frisk out of their musings, and they looked at him with sudden confusion. This… sounds more serious than Sans normally is. “What do you mean?”
“Well… down here you’ve already got food, drink, friends…”
I have one of those three.
“Is what you have to do… really worth it?”
A sickening flow of blood spread across the view of their mind’s eye, and they forced their thoughts to turn away from the corpse that haunted the edge of their memories. Their head ducked in a trembling nod, and they suddenly found themselves glad that there was no food for them to try to force into their clenching stomach.
As if seeing that he’d upset them, the skeleton looked away, staring at the wall on their right for a few long seconds before turning to face them again, his eyes falling closed in a way that seemed strangely sad and weary. When he opened them again, they were still not looking at Frisk; their focus had strayed to the other side of the room.
“Ah, forget it.” His gaze finally returned to Frisk, and they couldn’t help but feel like his smile felt strained. Like it took more effort than usual to hold it up. “I’m rootin’ for ya, kid.”
For a moment, a flare of much-needed hope rose from the gloom that hung over their heart, and a smile began to blossom on their face.
But then Sans turned away again, and the movement seemed to pull the cheer out of them as if it were tethered to his small, slumped body. Again, he stared at the wall for a moment, but this time when he turned toward them, his eyes were open and fixed on their face. “Hey. Let me tell you a story.”
A story? The child perked up slightly, confusion and curiosity mingling amid the cloud of other emotions that were already jostling for room. Oh, right – I’d forgotten he was the type of adult who tells stories.
He’s so different from what I thought grownups are like.
“So I’m a sentry in Snowdin Forest, right?”
Frisk nodded. “And Waterfall and Hotland.”
“Yeah, I’m a pretty busy guy, sitting out there and watching for humans all day long. Exciting as it sounds, though, it’s actually kind of boring.” His left eye slipped shut in a wink. “Fortunately, deep in the forest, there’s this HUGE locked door. And it’s perfect for practicing knock knock jokes.”
Toriel’s door. The thought sent a twist of longing through Frisk, visions of pie and books and hugs in a cozy little house they could’ve been sitting in right now. With an effort, they hastily pushed it down, forcing themselves to focus on their companion’s words.
“So one day, I’m knocking ‘em out, like usual. I knock on the door and say, ‘Knock knock.’ And suddenly, from the other side, I hear a woman’s voice. ‘Who is there?’”
The imitation wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough to send a jolt of recognition through Frisk. Toriel?!
That sounds like her – the voice, and the way she says “who is” instead of “who’s.” And I don’t think anyone else can reach the door from that side – you’d have to go through her house first, and the other monsters are scared of her.
“So, naturally, I respond,” Sans continued, pulling Frisk out of their thoughts, “‘Dishes.’”
Dishes?
“‘Dishes who?’” the Toriel imitation voice asked. Sans winked, and the one eye that was still open seemed to sparkle a little more than usual. “‘Dishes a very bad joke.’”
It is? Frisk cocked their head slightly, confusion tugging at their brow. I don’t know what counts as a good or bad joke. I guess if people laugh at it?
“Then she just howls with laughter, like it’s the best joke she’s heard in a hundred years.”
It must have been a good joke, then.
Maybe if I hadn’t lost Dash and died over a hundred times today, I’d be laughing, too.
“So I keep ‘em coming,” Sans went on, “and she keeps laughing. She’s the best audience I’ve ever had. Then, after a dozen of ‘em, SHE knocks and says, ‘knock knock!’
“I say, ‘Who’s there?’
“‘Old lady!’
“‘Old lady who?’
“‘Oh! I did not know you could yodel!’
“Wow. Needless to say, this woman was extremely good.”
That’s what yodeling sounds like? Frisk gave a half frown, both intrigued and perplexed. There’s so much I don’t know about. But at least Sans looks happy.
“We kept telling each other jokes for hours,” the skeleton went on. “Eventually, I had to leave. Papyrus gets kind of cranky without his bedtime story.”
The existing wave of confusion collided and mixed with another one. “I thought he was cranky most of the time. At least, when he’s around you.”
“Well, that’s just because I’m an unrepentant tease who thinks it’s funny to make him yell.”
Big people yelling can be funny? I always thought it was terrifying. Things really are different down here. Or maybe it’s just Sans and Papyrus who are different.
“But anyway, she told me to come by again, and so I did. Then I did again. And again. It’s a thing now. Telling bad jokes through the door. It rules.”
So Toriel did have a companion in her small, lonely world. The thought eased a knot of guilt Frisk hadn’t realized they were still holding in their gut, and a bit of the tension drained from their shoulders as they smiled at the cheerful spark in Sans’ eyes.
But then he turned away again, and the movement sent a river of doubt running through their mind. He’s about to stop being happy and start being serious again.
Sure enough, when he returned his stare to them, there was a shade of sober reflection in his once-bright expression. “One day, though, I noticed she wasn’t laughing very much. I asked her what was up. Then she told me something strange.
“‘If a human ever comes through this door… could you please, please promise something?”
Frisk’s breath froze, the trapped air pressing tight against the inside of their lungs, and they leaned forward, listening with rapt, tense attention.
“Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?”
Silence fell in Frisk’s mind, like a blanket of muffling snow covering their thoughts and cushioning their shock. She still cares about me. It felt impossible, yet… strangely believable. She didn’t stop caring when I was bad – when she knew I was going to be bad. She wanted to keep me safe anyway.
I wish… Tears bit the edges of their eyes, and they swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to push down the aching tide. I wish I could have stayed with her. At least for a little while.
“Now, I hate making promises,” Sans continued. “And this woman, I don’t even know her name. But… someone who sincerely likes bad jokes has an integrity you can’t say ‘no’ to.”
Once again, he turned away from them, as if the space between the wall and his contemplative eyes held all the thoughts and memories his secrets still concealed.
The air in the restaurant seemed to grow heavier, and though Sans only looked away for a few brief seconds, the rock that plunged into the pit of Frisk’s stomach made those moments stretch like hours.
Something’s wrong.
The skeleton turned toward them again, and though his smile didn’t seem to have changed, an ominous darkness lurked behind his eye sockets as he glanced off to the side. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
I thought I did, but… The shiver that ran through their body and soul said the truth was far worse than their once-hopeful guess. I thought you were saying she still cares about me, but that look on your face…
His pupils returned to Frisk, and their intense, chilling focus made the child shrink back. “That promise I made to her… you know what would have happened if she hadn’t said anything?”
No. This isn’t happening. I don’t want to know. No, please, no…
His eyes fell closed, and the way he said “Buddy” didn’t sound like the gesture of friendship it once had.
It sounded like what they were used to hearing from grownups.
It sounded like a threat.
No, please, don’t be like them.
Not you. Anyone but you.
Yet again, he turned away, and this time they weren’t sure they wanted him to turn toward them again.
Maybe if I run, I won’t have to hear what he’s going to say next. I want to, but… grownups don’t like it when you run.
The seconds dragged across them like claws, and when Sans finally gave his verdict, he did it with his eyes still facing the wall.
Eyes whose light had disappeared, leaving only cold, dark emptiness as his silent words seeped inexorably into their mind.
“You’d be dead where you stand.”
No.
The inside of their throat twisted into an aching knot, threatening to choke them. This can’t… you can’t have been…
I knew it.
As his words sank through their denial, tears scorched the backs of Frisk’s eyes, and the familiar wrath of their inner voice rained fire on their soul. You really thought he cared about you. You thought he liked you and didn’t want to hurt you.
You thought he was different.
You idiot.
The skeleton turned to face them again, and they made no attempt to hide the way the movement made them flinch. If Sans noticed, he gave no sign; his eyes were closed, and when they opened, they’d once again strayed off to the side.
“Hey, lighten up, bucko!”
So he had seen their expression.
His eyes fell into that familiar wink, and the darkness vanished from his smile. “I’m just joking with you.”
You are? Hope rose toward the surface of their soul, a small, trembling hand reaching for light that was far beyond its grasp. You mean you didn’t want me dead?
That… sounds like you, and not like an adult, but…
His calm, deadly serious tone echoed in their mind, and as their eyes fell to the table, that pleading inner hand went limp. But you really sounded like you meant it. And when grownups say they’ll hurt or kill you, they always end up trying.
“Besides…” Force of habit compelled them to listen, but Sans’ words sounded blurred and distant in the reeling storm of their mind. “Haven’t I done a great job protecting you?”
Confusion pulled their eyes from the table, and their quizzical stare rose to meet his, trying to tell if he was joking again. “What do you mean?” Is he talking about distracting Undyne? That was one time, but most of the time… he wasn’t there. And when he was, he just stood by and watched.
“I mean, look at yourself. You haven’t died a single time.”
What. Their expression flattened, and a flicker of annoyance rose in tandem with their growing confusion. I’ve died lots of times. Why would he think I haven’t?
Well… I guess there’s the fact that I’m still alive, and most people probably wouldn’t be after dying, but…
“Hey, what’s that look supposed to mean?”
As they so often did, Sans’ words snapped Frisk from their thoughts, and their gaze, which had strayed once more to the table, jumped up to fix on him. “Huh?”
“Am I wrong?” Sans asked. He was looking to the side again, but Frisk knew better than to fall for it. They knew he was looking at them.
And they didn’t know how to answer him. Do I want him to know I can time travel?
What if he DOES want me dead, and he’s trying to find out how my power works so he can deactivate it?
I… I can’t risk it.
Their face fell into a silent mask, and Sans once again turned his attention to the wall. “Heh.” This time, he moved toward the point of his focus, padding quietly across the carpet and pausing beside a large potted plant.
Then he swiveled to face them again, winking as he so often did, and the gesture felt hollow. “Well, that’s all. Take care of yourself, kid.”
“I… I will.” The words left their mouth before they could think, and were silently followed by so many more.
I’ll have to. Nobody else will.
Especially people who watched me get attacked after they promised to protect me… maybe because they secretly wanted me dead.
But he wants me to take care of myself, and he said he was rooting for me… I’m confused.
Sans was still speaking, his words falling somewhere far above their head, like rain on a distant roof. “‘Cause someone really cares about you.”
Someone.
The thought of someone caring about them tried to warm their soul, but it was a small, sad spark amid the winter that had fallen across their world.
I want to believe you. But she isn’t here. And she told me not to come back.
And I want to believe that you care about me, but… you said “someone,” not “I.” And when people say they’ll kill me, they usually mean it, even if they don’t do it right away.
I don’t know what to believe.
The soft shff of slippers on carpet began to fade amid the blur that muffled their eyes and ears, and when it came to a stop, they thought Sans had teleported away.
Instead, he spoke. “Whoops – I just remembered.” Frisk’s eyes rose in search of his, and as they met the glance he cast over his shoulder, they struggled to conceal the moisture that threatened to spill onto their face. “You had something you wanted to say, right?”
“Oh – uh, that…”
I was going to say it. I was going to give this to him. A few minutes ago, I meant it with all my heart, but now…
Their hand strayed to the note they’d been clutching through the conversation, its once-smooth paper now wrinkled from the way their fingers had clenched around it in the shock of lonely betrayal.
“It’s…”
The words they had written echoed through their mind, and their teeth pressed desperately on the inside of their cheek as their small, trembling body struggled to hold back tears.
“Sans and Alphys, in case I die before I can tell you this and they find this on my body, thanks for being the only two grownups I could be around for more than a couple minutes without getting attacked. I didn’t think grownups like you existed. Thanks for being my friends, and making me less lonely, and not wanting to hurt me.”
And not wanting to hurt me. I wish I could be sure that’s true, but now I’m scared that it’s…
“It’s…” Hope made a final grasp for the surface, but years of memory swirled together into a vast, spiked boot, stomping down with ruthless force until the feeble, pleading hand was driven back into the dirt.
“It’s nothing. Just… something stupid.”
For a moment, silence hovered in the air, and they could feel the questions weighing tangibly in Sans’ probing stare. His mouth shifted slightly as if he were about to say something, but then his eyes fell away. “If you say so, kiddo. I get the feeling it’s something, but if you don’t wanna talk about it, I won’t push ya.”
He turned away, and as their eyes fell to the table, his voice pushed through the fog one last time. “Take care, buddy. I’ll see you later.”
And then he was gone, and the tears were finally free to escape, sliding across their shaking form and vanishing into the tablecloth.
I want to believe he was telling the truth. I want to believe he was joking, that he doesn’t want to kill me, that… he actually cares.
But I just…
Memories of bone attacks flashed through their mind, undulating amid a hail of spears, fire, and countless other vessels of magical death in an endless, merciless dance.
In a world like this, where almost everybody wants me captured or dead, and the people who want to kill me try so much harder than the people who want me to live, I just… can’t.
~*~*~*~
The sparse supplies they’d been able to purchase from Bratty and Catty were long gone, and life and death were beginning to blur together.
The monsters in the Core were as numerous as they were powerful, those dreaded green bullets had returned, and a fresh layer of dust coated the surface of Frisk’s trembling hands.
And yet, even though they were now at LV 7, Alphys was still trying to help them.
Even as her map of the Core failed her, and even when Frisk’s exhausted desperation drove them to thin the numbers of the killers who claimed to be at peace with their brutal choice in a way the young human could never be, a voice strained by fear and concern still kept trying to guide them through this hellish maze.
In this world of “kill or be killed”, where even those who started out kind eventually found some reason to hurt them, at least there was still one reason not to throw their “thank you” note into the fire pit.
As the blinding white glare that surrounded the bridge gave way to yet another blue room, an ominous weight settled into the pit of Frisk’s stomach.
To their left, a mechanical, spiked wing decoration hung above a door whose flashing frame alternated between chilly white and blood red, its brightness a strange and ominous contrast to the impenetrable blackness beyond. Just past it, near the end of the hall, the clinically cool silver of an elevator beckoned.
And at the hall’s end, the golden respite of a save point offered a flicker of relief. But even as their HP returned to full, Frisk couldn’t shake the tendrils of dread that seemed to reach out from that darkened door and close around their heart.
Their eyes strayed to the elevator, and their fingers tightened around the “thank you” note. That elevator isn’t going to take me to the castle, is it? A quick glance at the buttons confirmed their fear: this elevator only went down.
If there was an elevator that could lift them from this horrible pit, it lay somewhere beyond that darkened door.
For a moment, they thought about calling Alphys again. It would be a comfort to hear her friendly, worried voice one more time, to be reminded that at least one person wanted to protect them as badly as almost everyone else wanted them dead.
But they didn’t know her phone number, and the presence of that door was gnawing at their mind.
I don’t want to go in there. But waiting’s just as bad.
I want to get this over with. Then I’ll give her a call.
~*~*~*~
The world was deep, absolute black, except for the dull blue glow of the walls. The chirping purr of unseen machinery whirred around them, and Frisk silently begged whatever power controlled this place not to let it be the sound of the room itself preparing to mangle them in some horrible trap.
As they silently slunk forward, a familiar grey box on a single wheel came into view, and Frisk no longer had it in them to be frightened or surprised.
They already knew how this would go. The robot would do something weird, Alphys would intervene, and everything would be fine. This ominous atmosphere was just nerves strained to their limit making everything look deadlier than it was.
But Alphys wasn’t here. Her maps hadn’t been working.
And Mettaton’s once-sunny screen was solid, bloody red.
Oh, no.
“Oh, yes. There you are, darling,” his beeping, mechanical voice greeted them. “It’s time to have our little showdown.”
It’s just part of the show. Alphys will call. Alphys will call…
“It’s time to finally stop the ‘malfunctioning’ robot.”
He knows he’s malfunctioning? No, that’s not right – he said the world ‘malfunctioning’ as if…
“…NOT!!!”
The sudden volume of his voice made them flinch, and the thunder of their heartbeat seemed to fill their whole chest, slamming into their throat, ribs and diaphragm with suffocating force.
“Malfunction?” Mettaton continued, as if the very concept was utterly absurd. “Reprogramming? Get real. This was all just a big show. An act. Alphys has been playing you for a fool the whole time.”
A… Alphys? The scientist’s friendly, smiling face flashed through their mind, and their throat began to close. No…
As the robot’s words began to sink in, denial struggled for a hold.
He’s lying. He has to be. She kept on calling me, she was scared for me, I could hear it in her voice – she actually cared if I got hurt-
“As she watched you on the screen, she grew attached to your adventure. She desperately wanted to be a part of it.”
“Watching someone on a screen makes you root for them…” The words echoed in their mind, and they clung to them. If she’s rooting for me, she’s on my side.
“So she decided to insert herself into your story.” The robot was still talking, and they wished he would stop. They didn’t want to know. They didn’t want this crushing betrayal to be real.
But they had to know. Their life could depend on it. So as Mettaton kept talking, they forced themselves to listen. “She reactivated puzzles. She disabled elevators. She enlisted me to torment you.”
ENLISTED?! The word slammed into their gut like a rock, and more of Alphys’ words echoed through their mind.
“He wasn’t supposed to ask that one.”
Invisible boulders lodged themselves in Frisk’s stomach and throat. She knew which questions he would ask.
She knew I would need a rocket pack and a bomb defuser.
SHE KNEW.
“All so she could save you from dangers that didn’t exist.”
But they DID exist. Because of her. Because she trapped me with those monsters.
Because she enlisted Mettaton.
The stone in their throat became jagged, and wet, fiery pressure started to build behind their eyes. Part of them still desperately wanted to deny the robot’s claims, to keep deluding themselves into thinking there was still one person in the world with whom they were safe.
But the evidence was too clear to be ignored. No matter what they wanted to believe, grownups were still grownups, and this world was still this world.
“…All so you would think she’s the great person… that she’s not.” The robot’s voice droned on relentlessly, and the deep, shaking breath that wrenched its way into Frisk’s lungs was almost a sob.
Just for that? Visions of electricity seared through their head, burning with the heat of the lasers Alphys had reactivated, and the lava, bombs and flaming ropes that had scorched their soul as they battled the monsters they could have avoided if the elevators had been working.
All of that… she made me go through all of that… not because I was bad, or because she was mad at me, but just so she could play pretend?
Is this what happens when an adult plays games with a kid? I’ve never done it before today… and now I wish I never had.
Mettaton was still talking, his metallic voice buzzing in the distance beyond their churning thoughts.
“And now, it’s time for her finest hour. At this very moment, Alphys is waiting outside the room. During our ‘battle,’ she will interrupt. She will pretend to ‘deactivate’ me, ‘saving’ you one final time. Finally. She’ll be the heroine of your adventure. You’ll regard her so highly she’ll even be able to convince you not to leave.”
At least I won’t have to go through the whole battle.
“…Or not. You see, I’ve had enough of this predictable charade.”
Oh. I guess I will.
A few hours ago, the thought would have terrified them. Now, there was only dull resignation, the hollowness of a soul that had finally started to break, allowing its last reservoir of hope to start draining through the cracks.
He’s going to kill me. Over and over and over again. He’ll torture me, like they always do. And then, I’ll get past him and move on… and find out who’s going to torture me next.
In this world… I should stop being stupid enough to expect anything else.
On the edge of their hearing, the mechanical voice continued. “I have no desire to harm humans.”
Just like that, hope came back, bursting up from the dirt it had been stamped into and reaching for the sky. “You don’t?”
“Far from it, actually.”
Oh, thank goodness! One of the tears they’d been holding back escaped, tracing a streak of joyous relief down their face. Does this mean we can be friends? Or at least, that you aren’t going to hurt me?
Mettaton’s straight, neutral posture didn’t change, and his featureless face displayed no emotion. “My only desire is to entertain. After all, the audience deserves a good show, don’t they? And what’s a good show… Without a plot twist?”
“A plot twist? What kind of plot?”
Please say it’s an “interspecies friendship” plot, not an action show.
The mechanical purring in the background suddenly went silent, and a WHAM! behind them jolted Frisk into a sharp spinning jump. As their eyes fell on the closed door, their heart tried to slam its way out of their chest, as if it was trying to flee and demanding that they do the same.
There was nowhere to flee to.
Outside the room, an anxious knock was followed by a strained call of “H-hey!!! Wh-wh-what’s going on?! Th-th-the door just locked itself!”
Before Frisk could reply, the floor and walls began to glow red, and Mettaton’s arms emerged to brandish a microphone and wave.
“Sorry, folks! The old program’s been canceled!!! But we’ve got a finale that will drive you wild!!”
The floor suddenly shot upward, almost knocking the child off their feet, and the trembling hand of hope inside Frisk fell limp on the desolate ground.
“Real drama!! Real action!! Real bloodshed!!”
I should have known.
“On our new show... Attack Of The Killer Robot!”
In a world like this… I shouldn’t have expected anything else.
The paltry stash of hot dogs was long gone, as was every other healing item that had once graced their now painfully empty pockets. The guards whose assault had forced them to eat two hot dogs were now standing off to the side, having an amiable but mostly one-sided conversation, and from the look on the nice cream bunny’s face, everyone was happy except for Frisk.
I can’t heal anymore, and the fights have just been getting harder.
If King Asgore is as tough as people say he is, I’m going to die hundreds of times. And that’s assuming Mettaton doesn’t find a way to block those yellow bolts Alphys taught me to shoot from my soul.
If they both fight me together… AUUUUUGGGGHHHH…
Their hand strayed to the punch card in their pocket; even if they’d collected enough of them, there was nothing left for them here.
Nothing, except… “Um… excuse me?”
The vendor’s long ears perked up. “Yes?”
“I was wondering, um… could I borrow a pen?”
“Sure! Are you writing a testimonial to tell your friends about my nice cream?”
Guilt flickered through their chest, and they bit their lip. “Um, no, I… I was actually hoping to write a letter. To a couple of my friends. In case something, uh… stops me from writing again.”
Something like Asgore having a way to stop me from time traveling and steal my soul.
The monster’s smile was far too bright, like a cheerful sun shining in careless disregard for the gloom in their heart. “Sure! It’s always important to stay in touch with the people you care about.” His hand dipped into his pocket, then emerged with a bright yellow and red pen. “Here you go! Feel free to write on the back of your punch card. Promotion and pen pals, all in one!”
“Thanks.” I’m not sure how I’m getting promoted if I don’t even have a job here, but I’m way too tired to argue.
The vendor watched patiently as the child wrote, and a sudden surge of self-consciousness drove them to turn slightly away from him and shield the note with their body. I don’t want him asking. I don’t want to have to explain.
I don’t want to cry in front of someone I barely know.
As they slipped the pen into the monster’s hand, it was everything they could do to keep the forced smile on their face. The bunny’s expression still glowed like an obliviously mocking sun, and with a great effort, they concealed the rain that burned behind their falsely cheerful eyes.
“Thanks for the pen. It really helped.”
“You’re welcome! Have a great day!”
Have a great day.
As Frisk turned away from him, blinking hard, they tried not to think about the grim predictions that rose unbidden in their mind.
It was too late to have a great day. Far, far too late.
In this world of “kill or be killed,” where friends and healing items were scarce and enemies increasingly plentiful, Frisk wasn’t sure they would live long enough to ever have a great day.
~*~*~*~
The feeling of urban familiarity was back, this time accompanied by another familiar sight that almost made their weary knees buckle with relief. The MTT resort stood before them, like a landmark declaring their arrival in one of the big cities movie characters had car chases in.
And far more importantly, in front of it stood an oasis of hope, companionship and relief, in the form of one of the very few people who could exchange more than a few sentences with them without eventually trying to kill them.
“Sans!”
The child broke into a slow, stumbling sprint, their exhausted legs carrying them across the short distance that separated them from their friend. The skeleton’s grin seemed to brighten at their approach – or maybe that was just their racked imagination, showing them what they so desperately needed to see.
Either way, at least he was there, and he still wasn’t trying to kill them.
“Hey,” he greeted them, his face still lit by that ever-present smile. “I heard you’re going to the Core. How about grabbing some dinner with me first?”
OH YES PLEASE. THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE HERE; I WAS STARTING TO WORRY THAT I’D NEVER SEE A FRIENDLY FACE AGAIN BEFORE I POSSIBLY DIED FOREVER. MAYBE THE FOOD HERE HEALS MORE THAN THE FOOD AT GRILLBY’S. I’M SO RELIEVED RIGHT NOW. NO, DON’T CRY DON’T CRY DON’T- “I’d love that. Thanks.”
Either oblivious to their relieved internal rambling, or easygoing enough not to call them on it, Sans winked. “Great. Thanks for treating me.”
A bolt of panic burst through their chest, followed by frantic attempts at self-reassurance. He was joking every other time he wanted me to pay – except for the hot dogs… oh no, what if he expects me to pay this time? “Um, Sans?”
“Yeah?” Two steps into his journey away from the front door, the skeleton glanced back at them. “What, don’t you trust my navigational abilities yet? We’re going the right way.”
“No, uh, it’s not that; you probably have a shortcut, but…” Their fingers coiled around each other, and their gaze strayed briefly to the hotel’s glowing door before returning to their friend. “How much does the food in there cost? I spent almost all my money on hot dogs, and haven’t gotten much since.”
A familiar, mischievous wink flashed across his perpetually grinning face. “Don’t worry, the meals are only 50,000 gold each. But since the look on your face tells me I’ve completely overused that number and you don’t take it seriously anymore, we could just stand around and talk without eating anything.”
“Oh.” I REALLY need some healing items, but… “Okay.”
Even if we don’t eat, it’ll be nice to just spend time with a friend before… whatever is going to happen.
~*~*~*~
It was hardly surprising that all the tables looked like Mettaton. The sight sent a trickle of uneasiness through their gut, but at least the robot had had the restraint not to make everything gray, yellow and red like him. That would have been too many danger signals all in one place.
Instead, the room was a soothing purple, and the soft light of the candles helped to drain some of the tension from their small, beleaguered body.
It felt nice, to be able to almost relax in the presence of another living being.
Across the table from them, Sans was still wearing his perpetual smile, but he seemed slightly more contemplative than usual. Frisk wasn’t sure exactly what made him look that way, but something in his face or stance made it seem like his thoughts were further away than they normally were.
Is he thinking about something sad? I can’t tell.
Maybe the letter I wrote will cheer him up.
“Sans-”
“Well-”
They’d spoken in unison, and Frisk automatically fell silent, knowing better than to misbehave by talking over an adult.
After a moment of mutual silent waiting, Sans cocked his head slightly. “Was there something you wanted to say?”
“Well, um… there was, but… you can go first.” I’m surprised he even offered to let me talk first. Maybe I should’ve. But it would feel weird and kind of dangerous to make a grownup wait for me to finish when they want to talk.
His shoulders rolled in an easy shrug, and Sans briefly closed his eyes. “If you say so. So, as I was saying… your journey’s almost over, huh?”
Is that why he looked so thoughtful? “I guess so. I mean, I think I’m near the castle, right?”
“Yup. You just gotta get through the Core, and you’ll be there.”
“Oh. In that case, yeah, I guess it is.” I’m… not sure how I feel about that.
I want to be out of here. I don’t want to stay stuck in a place where almost everyone wants me dead. And I need to tell the police who killed Dash, so he can’t kill anybody else.
But Papyrus and Sans…
“You must really wanna go home.”
The thought sent a barely-suppressed flinch through them, and they hastily stuffed it down. No. Not there. Never again.
To their relief, Sans seemed not to have noticed; his eyes had strayed to a corner of the room. “Hey. I know the feeling, buddo.”
I really hope you don’t.
You don’t deserve that.
“Though… maybe sometimes it’s better to take what’s given to you.”
The comment snapped Frisk out of their musings, and they looked at him with sudden confusion. This… sounds more serious than Sans normally is. “What do you mean?”
“Well… down here you’ve already got food, drink, friends…”
I have one of those three.
“Is what you have to do… really worth it?”
A sickening flow of blood spread across the view of their mind’s eye, and they forced their thoughts to turn away from the corpse that haunted the edge of their memories. Their head ducked in a trembling nod, and they suddenly found themselves glad that there was no food for them to try to force into their clenching stomach.
As if seeing that he’d upset them, the skeleton looked away, staring at the wall on their right for a few long seconds before turning to face them again, his eyes falling closed in a way that seemed strangely sad and weary. When he opened them again, they were still not looking at Frisk; their focus had strayed to the other side of the room.
“Ah, forget it.” His gaze finally returned to Frisk, and they couldn’t help but feel like his smile felt strained. Like it took more effort than usual to hold it up. “I’m rootin’ for ya, kid.”
For a moment, a flare of much-needed hope rose from the gloom that hung over their heart, and a smile began to blossom on their face.
But then Sans turned away again, and the movement seemed to pull the cheer out of them as if it were tethered to his small, slumped body. Again, he stared at the wall for a moment, but this time when he turned toward them, his eyes were open and fixed on their face. “Hey. Let me tell you a story.”
A story? The child perked up slightly, confusion and curiosity mingling amid the cloud of other emotions that were already jostling for room. Oh, right – I’d forgotten he was the type of adult who tells stories.
He’s so different from what I thought grownups are like.
“So I’m a sentry in Snowdin Forest, right?”
Frisk nodded. “And Waterfall and Hotland.”
“Yeah, I’m a pretty busy guy, sitting out there and watching for humans all day long. Exciting as it sounds, though, it’s actually kind of boring.” His left eye slipped shut in a wink. “Fortunately, deep in the forest, there’s this HUGE locked door. And it’s perfect for practicing knock knock jokes.”
Toriel’s door. The thought sent a twist of longing through Frisk, visions of pie and books and hugs in a cozy little house they could’ve been sitting in right now. With an effort, they hastily pushed it down, forcing themselves to focus on their companion’s words.
“So one day, I’m knocking ‘em out, like usual. I knock on the door and say, ‘Knock knock.’ And suddenly, from the other side, I hear a woman’s voice. ‘Who is there?’”
The imitation wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough to send a jolt of recognition through Frisk. Toriel?!
That sounds like her – the voice, and the way she says “who is” instead of “who’s.” And I don’t think anyone else can reach the door from that side – you’d have to go through her house first, and the other monsters are scared of her.
“So, naturally, I respond,” Sans continued, pulling Frisk out of their thoughts, “‘Dishes.’”
Dishes?
“‘Dishes who?’” the Toriel imitation voice asked. Sans winked, and the one eye that was still open seemed to sparkle a little more than usual. “‘Dishes a very bad joke.’”
It is? Frisk cocked their head slightly, confusion tugging at their brow. I don’t know what counts as a good or bad joke. I guess if people laugh at it?
“Then she just howls with laughter, like it’s the best joke she’s heard in a hundred years.”
It must have been a good joke, then.
Maybe if I hadn’t lost Dash and died over a hundred times today, I’d be laughing, too.
“So I keep ‘em coming,” Sans went on, “and she keeps laughing. She’s the best audience I’ve ever had. Then, after a dozen of ‘em, SHE knocks and says, ‘knock knock!’
“I say, ‘Who’s there?’
“‘Old lady!’
“‘Old lady who?’
“‘Oh! I did not know you could yodel!’
“Wow. Needless to say, this woman was extremely good.”
That’s what yodeling sounds like? Frisk gave a half frown, both intrigued and perplexed. There’s so much I don’t know about. But at least Sans looks happy.
“We kept telling each other jokes for hours,” the skeleton went on. “Eventually, I had to leave. Papyrus gets kind of cranky without his bedtime story.”
The existing wave of confusion collided and mixed with another one. “I thought he was cranky most of the time. At least, when he’s around you.”
“Well, that’s just because I’m an unrepentant tease who thinks it’s funny to make him yell.”
Big people yelling can be funny? I always thought it was terrifying. Things really are different down here. Or maybe it’s just Sans and Papyrus who are different.
“But anyway, she told me to come by again, and so I did. Then I did again. And again. It’s a thing now. Telling bad jokes through the door. It rules.”
So Toriel did have a companion in her small, lonely world. The thought eased a knot of guilt Frisk hadn’t realized they were still holding in their gut, and a bit of the tension drained from their shoulders as they smiled at the cheerful spark in Sans’ eyes.
But then he turned away again, and the movement sent a river of doubt running through their mind. He’s about to stop being happy and start being serious again.
Sure enough, when he returned his stare to them, there was a shade of sober reflection in his once-bright expression. “One day, though, I noticed she wasn’t laughing very much. I asked her what was up. Then she told me something strange.
“‘If a human ever comes through this door… could you please, please promise something?”
Frisk’s breath froze, the trapped air pressing tight against the inside of their lungs, and they leaned forward, listening with rapt, tense attention.
“Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?”
Silence fell in Frisk’s mind, like a blanket of muffling snow covering their thoughts and cushioning their shock. She still cares about me. It felt impossible, yet… strangely believable. She didn’t stop caring when I was bad – when she knew I was going to be bad. She wanted to keep me safe anyway.
I wish… Tears bit the edges of their eyes, and they swallowed hard in a desperate attempt to push down the aching tide. I wish I could have stayed with her. At least for a little while.
“Now, I hate making promises,” Sans continued. “And this woman, I don’t even know her name. But… someone who sincerely likes bad jokes has an integrity you can’t say ‘no’ to.”
Once again, he turned away from them, as if the space between the wall and his contemplative eyes held all the thoughts and memories his secrets still concealed.
The air in the restaurant seemed to grow heavier, and though Sans only looked away for a few brief seconds, the rock that plunged into the pit of Frisk’s stomach made those moments stretch like hours.
Something’s wrong.
The skeleton turned toward them again, and though his smile didn’t seem to have changed, an ominous darkness lurked behind his eye sockets as he glanced off to the side. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
I thought I did, but… The shiver that ran through their body and soul said the truth was far worse than their once-hopeful guess. I thought you were saying she still cares about me, but that look on your face…
His pupils returned to Frisk, and their intense, chilling focus made the child shrink back. “That promise I made to her… you know what would have happened if she hadn’t said anything?”
No. This isn’t happening. I don’t want to know. No, please, no…
His eyes fell closed, and the way he said “Buddy” didn’t sound like the gesture of friendship it once had.
It sounded like what they were used to hearing from grownups.
It sounded like a threat.
No, please, don’t be like them.
Not you. Anyone but you.
Yet again, he turned away, and this time they weren’t sure they wanted him to turn toward them again.
Maybe if I run, I won’t have to hear what he’s going to say next. I want to, but… grownups don’t like it when you run.
The seconds dragged across them like claws, and when Sans finally gave his verdict, he did it with his eyes still facing the wall.
Eyes whose light had disappeared, leaving only cold, dark emptiness as his silent words seeped inexorably into their mind.
“You’d be dead where you stand.”
No.
The inside of their throat twisted into an aching knot, threatening to choke them. This can’t… you can’t have been…
I knew it.
As his words sank through their denial, tears scorched the backs of Frisk’s eyes, and the familiar wrath of their inner voice rained fire on their soul. You really thought he cared about you. You thought he liked you and didn’t want to hurt you.
You thought he was different.
You idiot.
The skeleton turned to face them again, and they made no attempt to hide the way the movement made them flinch. If Sans noticed, he gave no sign; his eyes were closed, and when they opened, they’d once again strayed off to the side.
“Hey, lighten up, bucko!”
So he had seen their expression.
His eyes fell into that familiar wink, and the darkness vanished from his smile. “I’m just joking with you.”
You are? Hope rose toward the surface of their soul, a small, trembling hand reaching for light that was far beyond its grasp. You mean you didn’t want me dead?
That… sounds like you, and not like an adult, but…
His calm, deadly serious tone echoed in their mind, and as their eyes fell to the table, that pleading inner hand went limp. But you really sounded like you meant it. And when grownups say they’ll hurt or kill you, they always end up trying.
“Besides…” Force of habit compelled them to listen, but Sans’ words sounded blurred and distant in the reeling storm of their mind. “Haven’t I done a great job protecting you?”
Confusion pulled their eyes from the table, and their quizzical stare rose to meet his, trying to tell if he was joking again. “What do you mean?” Is he talking about distracting Undyne? That was one time, but most of the time… he wasn’t there. And when he was, he just stood by and watched.
“I mean, look at yourself. You haven’t died a single time.”
What. Their expression flattened, and a flicker of annoyance rose in tandem with their growing confusion. I’ve died lots of times. Why would he think I haven’t?
Well… I guess there’s the fact that I’m still alive, and most people probably wouldn’t be after dying, but…
“Hey, what’s that look supposed to mean?”
As they so often did, Sans’ words snapped Frisk from their thoughts, and their gaze, which had strayed once more to the table, jumped up to fix on him. “Huh?”
“Am I wrong?” Sans asked. He was looking to the side again, but Frisk knew better than to fall for it. They knew he was looking at them.
And they didn’t know how to answer him. Do I want him to know I can time travel?
What if he DOES want me dead, and he’s trying to find out how my power works so he can deactivate it?
I… I can’t risk it.
Their face fell into a silent mask, and Sans once again turned his attention to the wall. “Heh.” This time, he moved toward the point of his focus, padding quietly across the carpet and pausing beside a large potted plant.
Then he swiveled to face them again, winking as he so often did, and the gesture felt hollow. “Well, that’s all. Take care of yourself, kid.”
“I… I will.” The words left their mouth before they could think, and were silently followed by so many more.
I’ll have to. Nobody else will.
Especially people who watched me get attacked after they promised to protect me… maybe because they secretly wanted me dead.
But he wants me to take care of myself, and he said he was rooting for me… I’m confused.
Sans was still speaking, his words falling somewhere far above their head, like rain on a distant roof. “‘Cause someone really cares about you.”
Someone.
The thought of someone caring about them tried to warm their soul, but it was a small, sad spark amid the winter that had fallen across their world.
I want to believe you. But she isn’t here. And she told me not to come back.
And I want to believe that you care about me, but… you said “someone,” not “I.” And when people say they’ll kill me, they usually mean it, even if they don’t do it right away.
I don’t know what to believe.
The soft shff of slippers on carpet began to fade amid the blur that muffled their eyes and ears, and when it came to a stop, they thought Sans had teleported away.
Instead, he spoke. “Whoops – I just remembered.” Frisk’s eyes rose in search of his, and as they met the glance he cast over his shoulder, they struggled to conceal the moisture that threatened to spill onto their face. “You had something you wanted to say, right?”
“Oh – uh, that…”
I was going to say it. I was going to give this to him. A few minutes ago, I meant it with all my heart, but now…
Their hand strayed to the note they’d been clutching through the conversation, its once-smooth paper now wrinkled from the way their fingers had clenched around it in the shock of lonely betrayal.
“It’s…”
The words they had written echoed through their mind, and their teeth pressed desperately on the inside of their cheek as their small, trembling body struggled to hold back tears.
“Sans and Alphys, in case I die before I can tell you this and they find this on my body, thanks for being the only two grownups I could be around for more than a couple minutes without getting attacked. I didn’t think grownups like you existed. Thanks for being my friends, and making me less lonely, and not wanting to hurt me.”
And not wanting to hurt me. I wish I could be sure that’s true, but now I’m scared that it’s…
“It’s…” Hope made a final grasp for the surface, but years of memory swirled together into a vast, spiked boot, stomping down with ruthless force until the feeble, pleading hand was driven back into the dirt.
“It’s nothing. Just… something stupid.”
For a moment, silence hovered in the air, and they could feel the questions weighing tangibly in Sans’ probing stare. His mouth shifted slightly as if he were about to say something, but then his eyes fell away. “If you say so, kiddo. I get the feeling it’s something, but if you don’t wanna talk about it, I won’t push ya.”
He turned away, and as their eyes fell to the table, his voice pushed through the fog one last time. “Take care, buddy. I’ll see you later.”
And then he was gone, and the tears were finally free to escape, sliding across their shaking form and vanishing into the tablecloth.
I want to believe he was telling the truth. I want to believe he was joking, that he doesn’t want to kill me, that… he actually cares.
But I just…
Memories of bone attacks flashed through their mind, undulating amid a hail of spears, fire, and countless other vessels of magical death in an endless, merciless dance.
In a world like this, where almost everybody wants me captured or dead, and the people who want to kill me try so much harder than the people who want me to live, I just… can’t.
~*~*~*~
The sparse supplies they’d been able to purchase from Bratty and Catty were long gone, and life and death were beginning to blur together.
The monsters in the Core were as numerous as they were powerful, those dreaded green bullets had returned, and a fresh layer of dust coated the surface of Frisk’s trembling hands.
And yet, even though they were now at LV 7, Alphys was still trying to help them.
Even as her map of the Core failed her, and even when Frisk’s exhausted desperation drove them to thin the numbers of the killers who claimed to be at peace with their brutal choice in a way the young human could never be, a voice strained by fear and concern still kept trying to guide them through this hellish maze.
In this world of “kill or be killed”, where even those who started out kind eventually found some reason to hurt them, at least there was still one reason not to throw their “thank you” note into the fire pit.
As the blinding white glare that surrounded the bridge gave way to yet another blue room, an ominous weight settled into the pit of Frisk’s stomach.
To their left, a mechanical, spiked wing decoration hung above a door whose flashing frame alternated between chilly white and blood red, its brightness a strange and ominous contrast to the impenetrable blackness beyond. Just past it, near the end of the hall, the clinically cool silver of an elevator beckoned.
And at the hall’s end, the golden respite of a save point offered a flicker of relief. But even as their HP returned to full, Frisk couldn’t shake the tendrils of dread that seemed to reach out from that darkened door and close around their heart.
Their eyes strayed to the elevator, and their fingers tightened around the “thank you” note. That elevator isn’t going to take me to the castle, is it? A quick glance at the buttons confirmed their fear: this elevator only went down.
If there was an elevator that could lift them from this horrible pit, it lay somewhere beyond that darkened door.
For a moment, they thought about calling Alphys again. It would be a comfort to hear her friendly, worried voice one more time, to be reminded that at least one person wanted to protect them as badly as almost everyone else wanted them dead.
But they didn’t know her phone number, and the presence of that door was gnawing at their mind.
I don’t want to go in there. But waiting’s just as bad.
I want to get this over with. Then I’ll give her a call.
~*~*~*~
The world was deep, absolute black, except for the dull blue glow of the walls. The chirping purr of unseen machinery whirred around them, and Frisk silently begged whatever power controlled this place not to let it be the sound of the room itself preparing to mangle them in some horrible trap.
As they silently slunk forward, a familiar grey box on a single wheel came into view, and Frisk no longer had it in them to be frightened or surprised.
They already knew how this would go. The robot would do something weird, Alphys would intervene, and everything would be fine. This ominous atmosphere was just nerves strained to their limit making everything look deadlier than it was.
But Alphys wasn’t here. Her maps hadn’t been working.
And Mettaton’s once-sunny screen was solid, bloody red.
Oh, no.
“Oh, yes. There you are, darling,” his beeping, mechanical voice greeted them. “It’s time to have our little showdown.”
It’s just part of the show. Alphys will call. Alphys will call…
“It’s time to finally stop the ‘malfunctioning’ robot.”
He knows he’s malfunctioning? No, that’s not right – he said the world ‘malfunctioning’ as if…
“…NOT!!!”
The sudden volume of his voice made them flinch, and the thunder of their heartbeat seemed to fill their whole chest, slamming into their throat, ribs and diaphragm with suffocating force.
“Malfunction?” Mettaton continued, as if the very concept was utterly absurd. “Reprogramming? Get real. This was all just a big show. An act. Alphys has been playing you for a fool the whole time.”
A… Alphys? The scientist’s friendly, smiling face flashed through their mind, and their throat began to close. No…
As the robot’s words began to sink in, denial struggled for a hold.
He’s lying. He has to be. She kept on calling me, she was scared for me, I could hear it in her voice – she actually cared if I got hurt-
“As she watched you on the screen, she grew attached to your adventure. She desperately wanted to be a part of it.”
“Watching someone on a screen makes you root for them…” The words echoed in their mind, and they clung to them. If she’s rooting for me, she’s on my side.
“So she decided to insert herself into your story.” The robot was still talking, and they wished he would stop. They didn’t want to know. They didn’t want this crushing betrayal to be real.
But they had to know. Their life could depend on it. So as Mettaton kept talking, they forced themselves to listen. “She reactivated puzzles. She disabled elevators. She enlisted me to torment you.”
ENLISTED?! The word slammed into their gut like a rock, and more of Alphys’ words echoed through their mind.
“He wasn’t supposed to ask that one.”
Invisible boulders lodged themselves in Frisk’s stomach and throat. She knew which questions he would ask.
She knew I would need a rocket pack and a bomb defuser.
SHE KNEW.
“All so she could save you from dangers that didn’t exist.”
But they DID exist. Because of her. Because she trapped me with those monsters.
Because she enlisted Mettaton.
The stone in their throat became jagged, and wet, fiery pressure started to build behind their eyes. Part of them still desperately wanted to deny the robot’s claims, to keep deluding themselves into thinking there was still one person in the world with whom they were safe.
But the evidence was too clear to be ignored. No matter what they wanted to believe, grownups were still grownups, and this world was still this world.
“…All so you would think she’s the great person… that she’s not.” The robot’s voice droned on relentlessly, and the deep, shaking breath that wrenched its way into Frisk’s lungs was almost a sob.
Just for that? Visions of electricity seared through their head, burning with the heat of the lasers Alphys had reactivated, and the lava, bombs and flaming ropes that had scorched their soul as they battled the monsters they could have avoided if the elevators had been working.
All of that… she made me go through all of that… not because I was bad, or because she was mad at me, but just so she could play pretend?
Is this what happens when an adult plays games with a kid? I’ve never done it before today… and now I wish I never had.
Mettaton was still talking, his metallic voice buzzing in the distance beyond their churning thoughts.
“And now, it’s time for her finest hour. At this very moment, Alphys is waiting outside the room. During our ‘battle,’ she will interrupt. She will pretend to ‘deactivate’ me, ‘saving’ you one final time. Finally. She’ll be the heroine of your adventure. You’ll regard her so highly she’ll even be able to convince you not to leave.”
At least I won’t have to go through the whole battle.
“…Or not. You see, I’ve had enough of this predictable charade.”
Oh. I guess I will.
A few hours ago, the thought would have terrified them. Now, there was only dull resignation, the hollowness of a soul that had finally started to break, allowing its last reservoir of hope to start draining through the cracks.
He’s going to kill me. Over and over and over again. He’ll torture me, like they always do. And then, I’ll get past him and move on… and find out who’s going to torture me next.
In this world… I should stop being stupid enough to expect anything else.
On the edge of their hearing, the mechanical voice continued. “I have no desire to harm humans.”
Just like that, hope came back, bursting up from the dirt it had been stamped into and reaching for the sky. “You don’t?”
“Far from it, actually.”
Oh, thank goodness! One of the tears they’d been holding back escaped, tracing a streak of joyous relief down their face. Does this mean we can be friends? Or at least, that you aren’t going to hurt me?
Mettaton’s straight, neutral posture didn’t change, and his featureless face displayed no emotion. “My only desire is to entertain. After all, the audience deserves a good show, don’t they? And what’s a good show… Without a plot twist?”
“A plot twist? What kind of plot?”
Please say it’s an “interspecies friendship” plot, not an action show.
The mechanical purring in the background suddenly went silent, and a WHAM! behind them jolted Frisk into a sharp spinning jump. As their eyes fell on the closed door, their heart tried to slam its way out of their chest, as if it was trying to flee and demanding that they do the same.
There was nowhere to flee to.
Outside the room, an anxious knock was followed by a strained call of “H-hey!!! Wh-wh-what’s going on?! Th-th-the door just locked itself!”
Before Frisk could reply, the floor and walls began to glow red, and Mettaton’s arms emerged to brandish a microphone and wave.
“Sorry, folks! The old program’s been canceled!!! But we’ve got a finale that will drive you wild!!”
The floor suddenly shot upward, almost knocking the child off their feet, and the trembling hand of hope inside Frisk fell limp on the desolate ground.
“Real drama!! Real action!! Real bloodshed!!”
I should have known.
“On our new show... Attack Of The Killer Robot!”
In a world like this… I shouldn’t have expected anything else.
Author's note:
If you want to read my original novels, you can find them here.
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