Chapter Text
Red and white filled her vision as she clutched her sister's body close to her chest, sobbing. What the hell did she just do? She was right there. Frisk could've done anything, a flap of a butterfly's wing might've saved her sister's life.
But no, she didn't listen to what Charlotte had to say, all because she was still miffed at what some gang had to say about her family. And what had that stubbornness cost her?
Charlotte laid there in Frisk's arms, her neck tilted back, the ginger fringes of her hair spilling over one eye, and if Frisk looked hard enough, she could see the red that was beginning to soak into her hair...
Frisk flinched, holding Charlotte tighter to her. She looked like she was sleeping, the red flush of blood in her cheeks making it look like she'd pop up like a cork, laugh, and taunt Frisk for crying over that frog Charlotte'd accidentally killed by the lake that one time, like she'd always do.
But she didn't. Instead, a familiar golden chain slid onto Charlotte's sternum. The gravity of her neck's angle must've dragged it down. Frisk was quick to unhook it and shove it into her pocket as the EMTs gently removed Charlotte's body from her grasp. Since she was rather...unresponsive, they asked Frisk for her name, her age, date of birth.
Frisk gave them the info they asked for. Gee, the street asphalt sure looked interesting.
"Can you tell me what happened, senhorita*?" one of them asked. Frisk looked up, pushing the brown out of her eyes. Charlotte always liked her hair color. Charlotte liked a lot about Frisk.
And now she would carry that guilt for the rest of her life.
"Ela está morta*. I killed her," Frisk said simply, warmth pricking unbidden in the corner of her eyes and then spilling. "Deus me ajude*, I killed her."
It was all her fault.
And then she was up, ignoring the woman's protest and ducking through the crowd of people that'd gathered around (couldn't they mind their own business?) and running.
It was just a couple of words, and she should've known better to upset the Morto—a gang that'd recently set up shop in her part of town. One of their men had a keen eye on Frisk and her sister, often passing by with drunken jokes and rude humor, but directed at Frisk, and only at Frisk. Neither of them liked it, but unless they had an army to fight the gang down there was nothing they could do about it.
And then he made a pass at Charlotte.
Frisk considered herself to be a genuinely nice person, but her sister was everything to her. There was no way she was losing her to some rotten jail break-out.
She told him off with a, ah, colorful vocabulary about how people like him were ruining her home town and that he should go and take his bottle of Caipirinha and shove it down his throat and out his ass before she did it for him.
Little to say, he wasn't happy about that. Not one bit.
Was it bad that Frisk recognized the person driving the car?
She stumbled as she ran through the forest, her feet stirring up clouds of dusty loam. What was she doing? Where was she going? There was something thick and heavy lodged in her throat, and she let out a throaty gasp as she ran, her feet pounding through the forest floor.
There was one place Charlotte loved the most. There was a clearing on Mount Ebbot, the one thing between the rest of the mountain and the huge gaping crater that monsters had surfaced from.
Monsters.
Frisk still couldn't believe it. Monsters surfaced just over one hundred fifty years ago, and according to history, humans hadn't...been the most accepting. But over the years, they chose to stay on Mount Ebbot, their little settlement bordered by a huge stone wall.
Eventually people got used to the fact that monsters were here to stay, but that didn't improve the piss-poor attitude towards them. Frisk itched to get behind the border and understand if the monsters were as bad as people said. Judging by how minorities were treated, Frisk doubted that.
But anyways. Back to Charlotte and her weird obsession with the hole.
Machines that'd been sent down there didn't come back, and their sensors were too damaged to pick up any readings. But despite all that, Charlotte said that the it was her favorite part of the clearing.
"It's the unknown," she had said back when they were kids, back when they hadn't been made aware of the monsters' existence, sitting in their little makeshift treehouse. "There could either be something down there, or nothing at all. Either way, it's still really interesting."
Oh, if only she knew.
Charlotte had an odd way of doing things. Whatever she could be working on, she'd try it multiple times, just to see the outcomes. It was never 'because I should' or 'because I would' it was more like, 'because I can'. Because the things she did were simple and harmless, why couldn't she see where other routes take her?
She was...was there a word to describe an open opportunist? Someone who, didn't take certain paths because they wanted something, someone who just took paths to see where they would take them, with no regard for the ones involved.
She definitely wasn't an opportunist, but she didn't wing things either.
Wasn't.
Wasn't.
Frisk took a deep breath, and collapsed to her knees next to a tree. One little word shouldn't have this much of an impact, but it wasn't the word, it was who it was directed and attached to.
Frisk felt around for the locket, the hairs on her skin raising. She tugged it out of her pocket and gripped it in her hand, staring at it.
Something warm and constricting bloomed in her chest as she twirled it around in her hands.
Just keep breathing. It'll be fine.
Her fingers gripped the clasp on the side, and Frisk ignored the fluttering thrum of her heartbeat, the tattoo of her existence pounding in her ears. She should stop.
But she just. She needed to see Charlotte again. Not her body, anything but her body. It just made it look like Charlotte would open her mouth and start talking to Frisk like nothing happened, she didn't die, she was fine, and while Frisk could dream and hope that she would be alright, that just. Wasn't. Going. To happen.
And she didn't want Charlotte's remains to be a reminder of how hopeless the situation was. She wanted to see Charlotte the way she always was, with a silly grin on her face.
Frisk swallowed, flipping the locket open.
She looked at the picture. Frisk had her arms wrapped around Charlotte, who was eating a chocolate bar and was looking at the camera rather surprised. They had been singing along to one of the songs on the radio, the ones with the faster pace. Frisk could feel herself rocking slightly—not slightly, she was shaking still, and her knees felt like lead.
'Best Friends Forever!'
The greenery of her surroundings faded, blending into the hard familiar staccato of her heartbeat. It was so loud.
Just keep listening, it said, it promised, it soothed. It'll be okay, it said.
Shakily, Frisk got up, clinging to the branches of the tree next to her as she situated herself. There was something foreign inside her stomach, a building pressure just in front of her lungs. She needed to move, feel her blood bumping and get herself under control.
In the midst of her panic, she shook off the feeling of someone watching her.
She hooked the locket around her neck and took off again for the clearing. She just needed to calm down and sit in their old treehouse (was it still there?) and just let the memories of Charlotte flood her surroundings (was it good or bad to remember lost loved ones? didn't matter. just keep moving), right?
She tripped and was sent tumbling to the ground, the treehouse in the far distance. No! She had to keep going, had to keep moving. Had to calm down. Charlotte.
Charlotte was gone, all because of her. All because she couldn't let go of a stupid grudge and now she was gone, she was never coming back, why was Frisk even thinking of hoping that she'd be okay, what was wrong with her?
"N-no!" Great. Now she was talking to herself. Just let the whole forest in on her existential crisis, why don't you?
Frisk coughed as she began to quake, a feeling similar to when she reached the peak of a roller coaster but never going over the wave, always suspended on the crest without warning of when or how she'd go over it. Would she coast over or slam and crash? Would she scream or close her eyes in quiet acceptance? Who was on the ride with her? Was there anyone at the control station?
Frisk felt her body curl in on herself, trembling like she had a fever. She hissed, stretching herself out of her cocoon and got back up to her feet. If she kept moving, her body wouldn't find places to shake.
The bushed behind her were rustling. She picked up her pace.
She stumbled as she ran, often nearly dropping to the ground when her body felt as if it burn itself out. She just had to keep running. Everything was a work of transfer. Transfer the shaking in her legs to her arms so she could run, transfer the heat in her core to the outside air so she could breathe.
If she kept breathing, she could keep running. If she kept running, she could get to the clearing.
She gasped in relief when her fingertips met the cool wood of the treehouse. Already the incessant tantrum her heart was throwing began to quell, and the fog clouding around her head began to clear. This was their feel-good place. Nothing but feel-good memories and the occasional Tupperware box lived here.
Frisk was the quieter girl, with Charlotte being the more ostentatious of the two. At some point, Frisk adopted ASL with the help of her deaf neighbor. Sometimes it was easier to say things if they weren't actually said, and Charlotte got that. The only problem was the learning barrier. Their mother wasn't happy with her daughter going from talking to sign language to talking again and then back to sign language, insisting that a girl like her would never go far if she didn't speak. And it got difficult to control the movements with her hands—the first couple of weeks of signing left her hands sore and the positions out of place (whenever she'd spell, her h's would look like g's and her p's looked like k's).
Frisk took a deep breath, still trembling, but the shaking was progressively getting shorter and less violent. She laid on the cool damp grass and stared up at the stars, the brown of her hair splaying over her right eye. She wondered how Charlotte would fair if Frisk was the one who got shoved in front of—
"Well, well, well. Who do we 'ave here?"
She froze, the icy anxiety sinking into her bloodstream. She took deep breaths as she stood up. She recognized that voice.
The smug bastard that'd caused her misery.
"You monster."
"Heh heh heh. C'mon, boneca*. Don't you know how to greet a friend? Turn 'round 'n shake my hand."
"Vai-te foder*," Frisk hissed. She didn't look behind her to know that there were more of them.
She really did not want to deal with this right now. She's still reeling from her little trip down Guilt Lane. Trying to get around the fact that her sister and best friend was gone really didn't match with getting beat up by the people that killed her in the first place.
The man behind her tsked like she was a child who got her hand stuck where it wasn't supposed to. She heard footsteps.
"Y'see, menina*, I really didn't take well to what ya told me few days ago, 'n now look what happened. 'S a shame what happened to your sister, really. Then again, it makes ya wonder what'd happen if it was you who was got, eh?"
Stop.
Frisk felt herself mull over it, much to her dismay. Would Charlotte be crying? Feel as guilty as Frisk did?
Please.
Charlotte was never much of crier, but she never hid from her problems. Why put off something tomorrow that could be done today, right? If something happened, it happened. Best to see what you could make out of it.
That said, Charlotte was defensive, especially over the things she cared about. If you talked shit, you got hit.
The air was clear out here. The forest floor had that light growth of grass—not the thick unruly meant-for-summer kind, the wispy strands that were still cool to the touch, the last remains of winter, thin but firm, difficult to uproot.
"What do you want from me?" Frisk asked to the open air, hands in front of her so the man couldn't see how much she was shaking. The heard another rustle to her left, accompanied by on just to her right.
The men inside them lunged for her at the same time, and she ducked, tucked inside herself, and rolled forward, smirking when she heard them collide into each other. Idiots.
Frisk gently ran her hand just above the grass, letting the tips tickle her palm. Unfortunately, rolling meant she could see the man's face, and she bristled when she caught him smiling at her.
"Aw, lookit that," he teased, flicking the ash off of the cigarette he was holding. "The little gatinho* got spitfire. That's what I like about you."
He'd get a lot more if he wouldn't shut his fucking mouth.
"What do. You want from me?"
He smirked. "An apology."
Frisk shoved away her momentary surprise. "Fine. Sorry for damaging your fragile masculinity, maldito*—"
Frisk hissed as she was met with a swift punch to her abdomen and lurched backwards, snarling when the men from before grabbed her from both sides. She squirmed in their grasp. She refused to go down like this.
"Menina má*," the man growled, and began walking up her to her. He stopped, just short of in front of her, and looked her over, yanking her hair (to which Frisk replied with a startled yelp) and examining the rest of her, thankfully refraining from touching her further (although Frisk could see the look in eyes, what he would do to her if he had his way, and it sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine).
"Think she'll do, boss?" asked the man on her right. Charlotte's killer chuckled darkly, reaching over to tweak her nose and he cupped her face.
"She'll do fine," he said, and Frisk whipped her head and bit down, hard on his hand. The man yelped, drawing his hand back, and Frisk was satisfied to see blood where she bit down.
Serves him fucking right.
A punch to her right cheek sent her reeling, and she hung her head automatically, wincing when he roughly grabbed her by the chin and brought her up to his line of sight.
"Listen here 'n listen good, ya bitch," he growled. "I ain't got no patience for your type, so imma'na letcha off with a warning. Não me provoques*." He let go of her chin, and Frisk dropped her head again.
To hell with the shaking. She wasn't even being held up by her own legs anymore, so she retreated into herself.
Charlotte wasn't infallible. She had her moments. Frisk recalled finding her bent over a wilting buttercup, hiding her face behind her hands.
"I tried to save it," she had whispered. "I really did."
She seized up. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?
There were yellow flowers near the gaping maw. Were they buttercups?
Frisk stood up. Why was it suddenly so hard to see?
She coughed, hopefully dislodging the lump in her throat. Charlotte loved hanging out by the hole. Frisk never understood why. Charlotte was always so indecisive, skirting in front of the hole and then back to safety.
"One of these days you're going to fall in," Frisk had said.
"I'd like to see you get me out when that happens," Charlotte readily replied. She'd approach the bottomless crater and would sit in front of it on her knees, her hands on either side of her body, gripping the grass and holding her afloat. Charlotte would hold herself there and peer into the hole, craning her neck this way and that as if something would suddenly shoot up from who knows how many feet in the ground.
Frisk gulped, wishing she could reach for the locket. But if she closed her eyes...
She could feel it beating.
Shuddering, and vehemently ignoring the men talking, she hung her head and softly began to cry for her sister. For her mother. For her family.
What would they do to her? She'd heard of all the people disappearing around the city. Maybe she would...die? Is that the word she's looking for? Is that what she wanted?
No, no, she didn't want to die, per se, she just wanted to disappear. Stop existing. If she weren't here, Charlotte would probably be at home, pretending that she wasn't in the middle of knitting a sweater. Her mother wouldn't be so disappointed. Besides, she'd hurt people even more if she were killed.
The man noticed her silent breakdown, the tears streaming down her face, and smiled at her. She hated him for it.
"Aw, come now, querida*, don't be like that. Everything's gonna be just fine," he soothed, and then snapped his fist back in an aim to strike.
Frisk closed her eyes, allowing herself to pretend for one moment that she wasn't there.
Just thinking about the barrier hurt Alphys' head.
There was just something off about the colors swirling on the surface. They were unnatural. Seeing the color red on anything else—literally anything else—shouldn't make her want to run for the hills. But on the semi-reflective surface, the color twisted and turned in ways it wasn't made for, and something coiled deep in her stomach whenever she envisioned it.
Thank goodness it's gone now.
The eight human that fell broke the barrier, and the Monsters were free to roam the surface. The only problem being that humans didn't take so kindly to change. The first few months were tough, negotiating trades and deals to increase their curiosity and ward off hostility. Asgore always said that them being curious was always better than having them threaten the very ground they walked on, and while Alphys did want to stand by her king and her people...
Alphys sighed, rubbing her temples to ward off the thought. It was already so late at night, and the fallen barrier should be the last thing on her mind, especially with the day she had.
There had been another human trade.
Alphys hated it. People would magically vanish from their homes overnight only to appear for the trade, drugged, gagged, and bound, all because humans wanted a taste of the magic they no longer had.
Don't get Alphys wrong, it's not like the humans had shitty conditions, it's just...what's the word for it? Inhumane?
Well, whatever it is, Alphys didn't like it. Not one bit.
It was a grotesque picture when Alphys and Gaster arrived where Asgore and Toriel had found them. The dealers always 'roughed up' the humans they captured, if you could call 'rough up' next to killing. Sometimes the amount of damage varied between the human's skin color or religion or even what they were wearing.
Alphys didn't get it. They were all human, right? And what they wore or how they looked or what they believed in shouldn't be reason to nearly maim them, right?
How could humans hate each other so much? Alphys heard the stories, of the cheated minorities and the crimes when humans'd go missing and yet never appear at the Monsters' doorstep. It made her scared. If they had such a capacity to kill, Alphys could only imagine what their LV and EXP looked like.
They human girl they'd been given was in awful condition.
Her skull was cracked and spine heavily damaged with an awfully bruised lung, judging by how much blood she was coughing up. She stretched over Tori's arms like a limp noodle, cold and lifeless.
The boss monster barely managed to conceal her disgust as she handed over the cartons full of magic.
It had taken a great bit of healing (it turns out that despite the fact that humans no longer have magic, their bodies still know what to do with it in their system) just to cover the major injuries. Then came the matter of stunting the lacerations on her arms and legs. The poor thing barely made it with them back to New Ebbot.
It was absolute chaos in the lab. Students, doctors, and trainees were all running amok, as they usually did when a new trade was initiated. Toriel had managed to nab the spine and cracked skull, but little magic had reached her lung, causing her chest to seize as air began to collect between the lung tissue and the chest cavity.
They did the basics, remove her clothing, hook them up to the ventilator and undergo an unorthodox mix of surgery and healing magic, etcetera. Her lung was still weak, most likely still recoiling from the lack of oxygen.
How would she be able to breathe on her own? Magic only did so much, it just accelerated the speed of the cells replicating, and Alphys read that quick recuperation of cells lead to mutations. When cells replicate, the DNA is replicated in turn, and doing something like that in quick succession is prone make a few mistakes.
The girl was on a mattress in Alphys' office. She was still hooked to the ventilator, covered in bandages from head to toe, mostly on her arms and legs, not to mention the gash on her stomach. But with the blanket pulled up to her neck and the machine behind the headboard, she was a near spitting image of normalcy.
She'd wake up at any second. What was Alphys going to say to her? 'Oh, hey, you've been betrayed by your race and sold to us for the foreseeable future and have almost no chance of getting out. Nice to meetcha!'
"Oh, w-who am I k-kidding?" Alphys mumbled sullenly, resting her head in her hands. "I'm not a people's person, I c-can't even ask G-gaster what kind of c-coffee he wants in the morning..."
She sighed, running her hands over her head. Welp. The human was stable so far, time to check and see what kind of SOUL color she had. What color would they get this time? They already had so many run-ins with Perseverance, next to Justice, with a couple of Patience and Integrity's here and there. Kindness and Bravery were rare.
Carefully, Alphys approached the bed, gently pushing the blanket aside to reach the human's sternum. Closing her eyes, she ran the tips of her fingers over the skin in a circular motion, concentrating on what rested inside, and called to it, coaxing the SOUL out into the open.
The room was bathed in red light.
Alphys stared, flabbergasted, at the red beating soul hovering above her hands. Holy shit. They did it? They actually found it? The one thing they were looking for?
Determination was one of the rarest type of SOULs. Only one had fallen, the first human, back when it was just Gaster running the labs. They were sickly, and had died within the decade. There hadn't been a single determined soul since.
But Alphys was excited. Back with the first human, Gaster was able to extract some of their determination and inject it into himself, and he found out that while Determ was absolutely not for monsters, it was a perfect conduit for magic.
But humans wouldn't be pleased if they found out that only Determined SOULs could wield monster magic, but who said that Determination couldn't be injected into other human SOULs? They already had about twenty or so humans in the lab. There had to be a way to share the Determination somehow. If it didn't work on monsters, it could work on humans, right?
Hypothetically, but Alphys tossed that thought down the mental equivalent of a drain. She had to remain positive! There was a chance that humans could share their traits, there had to be!
Alphys smiled at the little cartoony heart. Oh, if only past-her could see her now. Maybe it'd get her to stop thinking about that god forsaken barrier.
Alphys could already feel the impending headache that came with thinking about it, and quickly tucked the SOUL back inside its owner. Best not to taint the girl with any malicious intent.
How were they going to keep her alive? Her lung was still recovering and Alphys couldn't keep her on the ventilator forever if she wanted to get the most determination out of her.
The human groaned in her sleep, wincing when the blanket rubbed against her bandages. Alphys stepped away from their bedside, hastily snatched her phone from her desk and ducked out of the room, keeping the door closed to a crack before pulling up a familiar number. He wouldn't be awake at this hour, so she opted to text him, her fingers flying over the keys.
Gasta Blasta Masta: 2:37a.m.
You will NOT BELIVE THIS!!
COME TO THE LABS RIGHT AWAY!!!
Alphys bit her lip. Would that be enough? They had emergencies at the lab beforehand. She added one last text before returning to her office.
Gasta Blasta Masta: 2:38a.m.
one word: DETERMINATION
"Are they okay?"
"How's she doing?"
"Is she still on the ventilator?"
"What color is her SOUL?"
"A-alright, alright," Alphys hastened to say. The morning had come and with it brought the students, scientists, and trainees Gaster had enlisted to help with the experiments. Naturally, seeing that it was the first human to be traded with such a terrible condition in a long time, they were eager to know is she was okay.
But they had to wait.
"T-those of you that h-have human partners, go back and s-start with your morning procedures," Alphys announced, ignoring the chorus of groans and complaints sent her way. They knew the rules. She had to talk to Gaster first.
"Aw, c'mon!" one bunny monster—Amaryllis—protested. "You've done this every time a human's been traded in—"
"Only because it's protocol—"
"—and we just wanna know if they're okay. Is that too much to ask for?"
"More like you just wanna know if you lost the bet!" piped a Whimsum in passing. Alphys snickered behind her hand and Amaryllis bristled, a red blush covering her face.
"I-it's okay, Amari," Alphys said, patting the bunny monster's shoulder. "But rules are rules. I talk to Gaster and then we talk to you. Okay?"
Amaryllis sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Fine," she said, then shuffled off, muttering something about the color purple. Alphys headed back inside her office. Coffee sounded just about good right now, Gaster hadn't checked in, and the human would be awake soon enough...
She shrugged her lab coat on and popped her head back outside, asking one of the nearby students to watch her door while she headed over to the cafeteria.
Her steps were quick and brisk. She needed to one, get some coffee for both her and G, seeing as it was going to be a long morning, and two, see if she could borrow Toriel for a while, seeing as she was the most diplomatic, second to Asgore. Honestly, given her nature and sweet disposition, Toriel could pass for queen if it wasn't for her easy friendship with Asgore.
There was a set of elevators when she reached the end of the hall. The doors opened, she stepped inside, and punched in the number for the first floor in the labs. If Gaster was coming in today, she would meet him there.
She sighed, tapping her index finger against her snout. Today should be a good day. They found the human with the SOUL trait they needed. Technically, since human SOULs share the same biology, sharing the trait shouldn't be too difficult. They all had a spark of Determination, it's what made up the framework of the entire SOUL. But that's just it; Determination is just a base, so it's puzzling to imagine the base building up onto itself.
And just the word—Determination. It's so open, unlike the other traits where one word primarily decides what the human'd act on. Bravery? More likely to jump into the underground than fall. Kindness would be on the defense of a fight rather than offense. And Perseverance, well, speaks for itself.
Determination is up to interpretation, it's what's supposed to fuel a trait, not be one. Determined to be Kind, Determined to be Brave, Determined to Persevere. Not just. Determined to be Determined. That literally opens the door to anything else. This human could be Determined to do anything, and that's what scares her.
Alphys briefly wondered if the mages even understood that Determination was a trait when the elevator pinged, settling on the first floor. Alphys stepped out of the elevator and hopped into the line of the cafeteria. She already knew what she would get; a mocha latte with cream and a stick of cinnamon to stir it with.
What would Gaster get? It's usually random from him, just as long as it's good. Something black with a metric fuckton of cream and sugar, probably.
"Morning, Alphys!" the Froggit at the counter chirped. "Just the usual?"
"Uh, y-yeah," Alphys stammered, adjusting her glasses. "And for Gaster, just—"
"Black, with whipped cream. Like, a bunch of it," said a voice from behind Alphys, lilted and smooth. "Toss in a cherry on top just because."
"G-gaster!" Alphys squeaked, and the Froggit dissolved into laughter. "You n-need to stop doing that!"
Gaster chuckled, patting Alphys on the shoulder and giving her a lopsided smile when she gave him a pout. "Sorry, Alph," he says, reaching over her to pay and grab for their drinks. He gestured with his shoulder for her to follow him, and together they made their way to the elevators.
"Sooooo," Gaster began conversationally, handing Alphys her latte and pressing the blank button sandwiched between the up and down buttons on the panel, "how was your night?"
"Gee, I-I dunno." Alphys took a sip of her coffee. "I w-watched over the human with the answers to pretty much all of our problems. How was yours?"
Gaster laughed, ushering her inside the elevator once the doors opened, and his demeanor changed when they closed.
He swirled the up in his hand, looking amused at the amount of whipped cream the Froggit had given him, and then popped the cherry into his mouth. "What were they wearing during the trade?"
Alphys blinked. "What?"
"They'll ask for their clothes when they wake," he answers casually.
"O-oh, right. Um..." Most of her clothes were scuffed and ripped in places, likely because of her handling. "She was wearing a striped sweater, blue shorts, and brown boots. O-oh! And a golden locket."
Gaster nodded. They were on the third floor. "How is she?"
"She's fine, I u-unhooked her from the O-two. Her spine and skull are coming along nicely, and we m-managed to patch up her l-lung. All she's got left now are the lacerations and the wounds, b-but I'm sure with time they'll fade."
His hand stopped moving. "And, her soul's trait...?"
"D-determination."
Gaster smiled, sipping his coffee. The elevator settled on the last floor with a ping! and Alphys squeaked when the doors opened.
"Well, c'mon then. We shouldn't keep her waiting."
Glassy brown eyes opened up to the room above them. Then immediately winced.
Jesus Christ. Where the hell was she? What happened? She groaned at the dull ache at the back of her head. When she moved her arm to touch it she was met with another spark of pain and heard quick beeping.
There were bandages on her arm.
Horrified, she sat up, pulled the blankets down and gawked at herself. She was wearing pale blue shorts and a tank top with a pulse oximeter on her left index finger, and was dotted with cuts. There was a thick bandage wrapped around her stomach, her right thigh, her left ankle and right forearm. There rest of her was surprisingly devoid of bruises, making the tinier cuts—probably too small for a bandage—stand out against her tanned skin.
She took stock of her surroundings. Grey walls, a printer in the corner, and desktop computer to its side, along with a couple of stickers on the monitor and what looked like some weird Vocaloid figurine on the desk.
She turned back to her wounds. Were these intentional? She searched her memory, but all that came up was her sister and her locket. Her sister! Where was she? They were just on their way home. Frisk hoped she was okay.
She had to find a way out of here. Whoever patched her up must've known what happened to her right? Was she mugged? Her thoughts came back to that sleazy gang member, and she shivered. She hoped she wouldn't have to see him again.
The door clicked, and then opened.
The two of them headed back to her office, dismissing the student on-watch of the door, then opened it and walked inside.
There was a gasp, and the human girl's eyes flicked up to meet them. She was awake.
Awake and terrified would be Alphys' words, but awake nonetheless. The steady little beeps on the pulse monitor heightened, and Alphys couldn't help but shrink into her coat. She could only hope this wouldn't end badly. But if she woke up on a bed in a place she didn't recognize and humans were the ones who answered the door, how would she react?
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Gaster drawled, sporting a hand on his hip. Alphys knew what he was doing; being oblivious to obvious social cues for the sake f being casual. Gaster wasn't much of a people's person either, but that was something he could sweep under a rug.
Alphys, however, did not have that luxury, and could only give the human a nervous smile.
The human blinked, then flushed, slowly raising her hands.
*Sorry, she signed. *Never got to meet Monsters before.
"I-it's okay," Alphys soothed, reminding herself to kick Gaster in the shin. There weren't any monsters past the border, she should be glad that the human wasn't outright trying to kill them right now. "Would you like some water?"
She nodded, slowly. *Please.
"Gaster would you mind getting the human something to drink?" Alphys asked sweetly. She frowned when he pouted. "Oh, go on, we both know how you get with the new ones. I'll talk to her."
Gaster sighed dramatically before leaving the room, his steps heard from behind the door.
Alphys turned back to the human, who looked less tense now that Gaster was out of the room. Well she didn't exactly look less tense, just really tired, sagging forward on her mattress, fiddling with the bandages on her forearm.
"U-uh, sorry about that. He can be a bit of a stickler whenever new humans are traded in."
*...Traded?
"Oh, r-right, you ah, h-have questions, don't you? W-well, uh, allow me to explain."
When Frisk woke up this morning she didn't think she'd add being exchanged to monsters like she was some fucking token. And Alphys was some sort of orange-yellow dinosaur monster with owl-rimmed glasses and a dip in confidence. Oh, and don't get started with Frisk on fucking Skeletor in a lab coat and skinny jeans over there (how the hell was his skull so malleable?). If she was dreaming this was a good time to wake up.
Monsters, at least, the two she had just met, were big. Alphys reached up to about Frisk's height, and while Frisk considered herself small for her age, Alphys could easily surpass her if she stood a little straighter. And the other one, whatever his name was. Frisk had to look up just to look at him.
She never really got a good look at his face, but thought it was odd that the little pin pricks of light in his eye (sockets??) didn't illuminate the rest of his skull. She had a feeling that even without them she still wouldn't see into them. They were just. Dark.
Darker, and yet so much darker. It made her shiver, so she pulled the blanket around her shoulders.
She really shouldn't be rude. She's not supposed to judge a book by its cover, nor a person by how they look, and If she did she'd be no better than the humans in the city. She already did enough by staring at them like she had no manners, but they were just so new. And kind of anti-climactic in a way, although Frisk never really had anything to base their looks off of.
But what the actual fuck.
The only reason people were disappearing was because they were being exchanged for? The hell?
Where did she even get all these injuries—did anyone even know how and why the monsters were doing this? And was Frisk really supposed to trust that these injuries weren't from them? Frisk curled into herself, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. When she searched her memory, nothing came up, except for a faint feeling of panic settling in her bones.
Something bad must've happened.
Alphys told her of her bruised lung, cracked skull and trauma to her spine. Apparently the group they were working with had to make it so the humans were injured before the monsters took them in. Frisk paled. She was supposed to be dead.
*Then how am I alive? Frisk signed. Better to get her questions answered now and find a way out of here.
"Magic. N-no, really, I'm serious. Healing magic. It took a lot in order to get your spine and skull out of the way. You were seriously injured."
Frisk gaped. She heard of monsters being magical but anyone she would ask would either scrunch their face in disgust or change the subject. Now magic exists? It's been existing this whole time? Great. Fucking perfect. Everything Frisk ever knew was thrown out of the window. For all she cared the sky could be purple and there was air in space.
"W-well, what do you know about monsters?" Alphys suggested. "Maybe that way I-I'll know which q-questions to answer."
*There was a war. That's all I know.
Alphys frowned. "R-really? That's it?" She sighed. "I take it that humans still aren't comfortable with us?"
Frisk nodded.
"After all this time?" asked Alphys. "It's been a century and a half, how long does it take for people to adjust to change?"
Frisk snorted, gaining a surprised look from Alphys. *There was a time when humans used each other as slaves, Frisk explained, not oblivious to the look of horror on Alphys face. It's illegal now, but people like me are treated differently because of how dark their skin is.
Alphys looked confused. "That doesn't make any sense. I mean, you're all human, right? And darker skin is just an increase in melanin, which doesn't cause harm to you, so..."
Frisk's opinion of Alphys brightened considerably. *Yeah. I don't get it either. But that was centuries ago, and people still haven't changed.
"Geez, with all that why do humans think we're out to get them?"
The look Frisk gave her was nonplussed and Alphys flushed a light pink. *Gee, wonder why.
Frisk sighed. *...Why was there a war?
"Why do humans go to war?" Alphys asked, gently reaching over to remove the pulse oximeter from Frisk's finger. Frisk let her. Alphys was scaly and warm, something akin to a snake, but less rigid.
*Stupid stuff.
Alphys nodded. "Stupid stuff. It wasn't even a war; there were no human casualties. They just slaughtered a bunch of us and shoved the rest under the mountain with a barrier in place so that we couldn't get out."
Frisk ignored the red flags going off in her head and gripped Alphys' hand. *I'm so sorry, she spelled out with her other. *Haven't known you too long, but you seem real nice.
Alphys smiled. "Thank you, human. Y-you don't seem too bad yourself."
Frisk didn't exactly trust Alphys yet, and with her situation, doubted she would (they had just met, after all, and all of this could be a ruse) but Alphys was shy, and sweet. Frisk could trust that.
*You can call me Frisk, she signed, and inwardly smiled when Alphys beamed.
"Now it's your turn, Frisk," said Alphys excitedly. "Do you have any questions?"
Oh, did she.
*Lots. Why am I here? Who was that man? Have you seen my sister? She looks like me but—
"One at a time, one a time!" Alphys said hastily. "Y-you're the result of our recent trade, and we want to learn if humans are able to use monster magic."
If humans are able to use what now?
*What? Her hands were urgent in their signing. *Monster magic? Me? Why?
"T-that's classified information," Alphys said, and Frisk frowned. "My partner, Gaster, hang on a sec—Gas' you can come on in! I know you're out there!—he's the one running everything. You'll have to ask him."
Frisk tensed as the door knob wiggled, and then turned, and in walked the man that looked like he belonged in a nightmare. He was a skeleton with a long jagged crack running up from his crescent-shaped left eye and a similar one running down his right, ending on the corner of his crooked smile.
He looked perpetually amused.
"You rang?" he drawled, and passed the cup to Alphys, who promptly passed it to Frisk. She eyed it warily, and Gaster scoffed.
"It's not poisoned, Miss Frisk. I mean, what do you take me for, some sort of monster?"
Alphys groaned, and Frisk found herself snorting, and then giggling, the water churning inside the cup she held.
While she knew that she shouldn't be laughing amicably at what her captors said, she couldn't help it, he sounded so offended.
Gaster, evidently pleased with both of their reactions, rolled his shoulders and snapped his wrist forward to adjust the cuffs of his lab coat. Frisk pretended not to notice the holes in his hands or how malleable his face seemed to be.
"Now, I heard you have questions, my dear?"
Frisk took a sip of the water, noted that nothing tasted out of order, and then cleared her throat. "Yeah," she said, and Alphys face contorted into a look of surprise. "A ton."
"A skele-ton?"
What.
"Gaster no," groaned Alphys, resting her head in her hands.
"Gaster yes."
Frisk couldn't help but let out another giggle. "Is he always like this?"
"Unfortunately, yes," said Alphys, glowering him down. Her glare held no venom though, and Gaster laughed, melodious and booming.
"She loves it though." He grinned, and affectionately gave her a noogie to her dismay.
"Anyways." Gaster steeped his bony fingers and turned back to Frisk. "Your questions?"
"Well, for starters, what's all this about monsters and magic and what do I have to do with it?"
"Well, Miss Frisk, I've been...morbidly curious on the effects of monster magic on human SOULs, since human SOUL traits rise an...unexpected reaction when monsters come into contact with them."
*Human soul traits?
Gaster blinked in surprise. "Alphys, you didn't tell her about SOULs?"
"I thought she already knew?"
Frisk glanced between the two. "What're souls?"
"Well this'll be fun," Gaster muttered under his breath. "Your SOUL is the embodiment of all that you are, and the culmination of your entire being."
"What?" asked Frisk, absolutely confused. She's always heard of people having souls, but never something that was really talked about. And they had traits? She groaned inwardly. It was probably something else humans tried to hide from the rest of the world.
But still. She had a soul. What would it look like?
"We can show you yours, if you'd like," Gaster added calmly, as if he'd read her thoughts. Or probably her face. His right hand was behind his back, his left outstretched in front of her. Alphys suddenly looked alarmed, raising red flags in Frisk's head.
"I can see it?"
"But of course," said Gaster, and Alphys chose that moment to speak up.
"Gas', a-are you sure? You haven't seen a Determined SOUL since—"
"I'll be fine, Alph," Gaster reassured, and Frisk belatedly took notice of how softly he spoke with Alphys compared to the slight edge of caution to his voice when he spoke with her.
It was kinda cute.
"You ready?" Frisk blinked back to awareness, Gaster with a brow bone (raised.
"Y-yeah," she stuttered. Alphys covered her face with her hands.
"Alright then." Gaster's left hand, the one that was outstretched, twitched.
And Frisk was frozen place, paralyzed. She couldn't move from where she sat on the bed, and panic began to lace into her bloodstream, quickening the pace of her heart. She closed her eyes. This was it, she was gonna die, she wasn't ever going to see her sister again or even figure out why she couldn't remember how she got into this mess in the first place...
Frisk opened her eyes and belatedly noticed the colors around her fade to black when something blisteringly warm woke up in her chest just as his hand gripped the air and tugged.