Chapter Text
It has become tradition that, every year, the captain of the royal guard holds a big party around Gyftmas time. All the guards, sentries, and their families are invited to swap presents and stories, to celebrate the approaching end of the year. Many other monsters not affiliated with the guard drop off presents ahead of time, gifts to express their gratitude for all the hard work these monsters do to keep them safe.
The theme of the party varies from year to year. When Undyne first became captain, she half-jokingly designed a nautically themed party. She has strived to make each year markedly different from the previous. Last year had been anime-themed, and Alphys helped her make sure everything was as historically accurate as possible. This year’s theme is a costume party, mainly because Undyne is curious to see what everyone will choose to dress up as.
Ever since the MTT Resort was built, they’ve taken to renting out a floor of the complex for the party. Undyne personally prefers the old field they used to use in Waterfall—though some complained about the marshy footing and the humidity—but since Asgore foots the bill, he’s the one who gets the final say on the location.
Thus Undyne finds herself shoving her way into an elevator crammed full of other partygoers. Dogamy and Dogaressa are wedged in beside her.
Undyne arches an eyebrow at them. “You know you were supposed to dress up, right?”
To her surprise, Dogamy titters at her. “You see, hubby? I told you it would work!”
Dogaressa leans in for a quick nuzzle. “Quite right, my sweet.”
A lightbulb flicks on in Undyne’s brain. “You’re dressed as each other.”
“Correct!” Dogaressa—the real Dogaressa—confirms. Upon closer scrutiny, Undyne can see the fake thick eyebrows (rectangles of black construction paper) taped onto her real ones.
The Dogi crouch down slightly, sniffing her.
“And what are you, captain?” Asks Dogaressa.
Dogamy takes a big whiff by the top of Undyne’s head. “Smells like…instant noodles?”
“Alphys helped sew the lettering on on the back.” Undyne twists as well as she’s able in the cramped space, showing off the back of her orange gi. “You like it?”
The two dogs bark in the affirmative—even though they clearly do not understand who she’s dressed as—as the elevator doors open. As they walk down the hall, the sounds of the party permeate the walls.
When Undyne reaches the door she kicks it open; the door’s rebound off the wall has several heads turning. Members of the guard near the door give a short cheer at her arrival, raising their cups of punch in greeting.
Everything in the room is MTT themed, the boxy robot plastered everywhere, from the wallpaper to the chandeliers. Music thumps in the background, but not so loudly that the gathered monsters can’t hear each other speak.
The Dogi move towards the buffet table, undoubtedly in search of dog treats, leaving Undyne alone to mingle. She snags some punch for herself and meanders through the crowd, taking some time to just observe. Undyne sips at her drink and smirks—the party has barely begun, and someone has already spiked the punch. Leave it to her guard.
“Undyne!” A loud voice cuts through the general chatter. She turns to see Papyrus moving through the swarm of monsters to reach her. She takes in his costume: clunky red snow boots, blue briefs cinched to his skeletal frame by a golden belt, scrap metal spray-painted white and bent into the shape of a breastplate, topped off with the tattered red scarf he always seemed to be wearing. Undyne can’t help it—despite herself, she bursts out laughing.
“What are you even wearing, you dweeb?”
As usual, Papyrus turns a deaf ear to her ribbing tone. He strikes a dramatic pose, one she saw Mettaton do on one of his shows last week.
“Ah, Undyne. You cannot help but be confounded by my brand new battle body!”
“Battle…body?” She parrots, incredulous.
“I know you are jealous that you did not think of such an amazing costume yourself. Instead, you were left with no ideas save for an outfit from your dumb baby shows.”
Undyne lets the insults to her beloved anime go without comment. She does not know why, but Papyrus has convinced himself that anime is awful without ever actually giving it a chance.
“I think this will be the armor I wear when I become a royal guard.” Declares Papyrus. Undyne’s lips quirk upwards with mirth as Papyrus uses a miniscule amount of magic to make his scarf flap majestically.
Undyne sets her drink on a nearby table and then slings an arm around Papyrus’ shoulders, and noogies the crown of his skull with her free hand.
“You are such a dork!” She’s in too good a mood to feel guilty right now. In fact, she’s feeling charitable, even optimistic. Who knows—maybe one day he will get into the royal guard. Somehow.
Papyrus flails in her grip.
“Do not noogie the skeleton!”
She releases him with a laugh, and Papyrus diligently straightens out his battle body again.
“Sans actually worked very hard for once in his life to help me with my outfit.” A sudden thought dawns on him. “Oh my goodness—we’ve been dear companions all this time, and you’ve never even met my brother, have you?”
It’s true. Papyrus usually comes over to her house to train and cook, and the few times she’s visited him in Snowdin, his brother is either at Grillby’s or locked in his room.
“This cannot do!” Papyrus grabs her hand in a strong grip and leads her through the crowd to a corner of the room. “To not even meet one of my super cool friends—that is a new level of laziness, even for him!”
Undyne is brought before the hulking form of Greater Dog and a skeleton who can only be Sans. He looks somewhat as she’s expected—Papyrus has gone on at length about his brother. Multiple times. Sans is a squat skeleton. His choice of slippers, loose gym shorts, and an overly-large hoodie suggest his lazy nature. A pair of Groucho Glasses are on his face, the arms attached to his skull with bits of tape.
“Sans!” Exclaims Papyrus.
“Sup, bro?”
Papyrus gestures to his captain. “This is Undyne!”
The lights in Sans’ eye sockets slide over to Undyne. His perpetual grin somewhat unnerves her.
“Ah. Sup, Undyne?”
“Nice to finally meet you, Sans.” She extends her hand out for a shake. She’s still marveling over how different Sans is from Papyrus—the latter is fit to bursting with energy and enthusiasm, while the former doesn’t feel like he could be bothered to get a pizza that has been delivered to the door.
Sans’ eyes glimmer as he shakes her hand. A sharp buzzing sensation erupts on her palm, and she yanks her hand back. In Sans’ skeletal palm is a hand buzzer.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to shock you.”
“Ugh, Sans!” Papyrus shoves himself between them and turns to Undyne, apologetic. “Please excuse my brother. He thinks the best way to make friends is through silly pranks.”
Sans shrugs, not denying it.
After a bit more banter, they leave Sans to his conversation with Greater Dog, and circle around to the buffet table. Undyne watches with amusement as Papyrus picks the MTT toothpick garnishes off of the sandwiches and stows them away.
“Oh my god, dude, really?”
“What?” Papyrus looks affronted. “They will add another star to my already five-star meals.”
Undyne rolls her eyes. She loads up a plate full of carbs and sugar, letting loose for the day. Papyrus, on the other hand, primly pulls pineapple chunks from the array around a chocolate fountain, returning ones that have so much as a speck of chocolate on them.
Before they leave the table, she sees him sneak a few MTT-brand napkins into his pocket as well.
They walk around the room for a time, chatting with different monsters. Papyrus rarely strays from her side; he’s not yet as popular as he wishes to be. They enjoy their snacks and discard their plates in one of the overflowing trashcans. Papyrus gets a gleam in his eye that suggests he wants to clean, so Undyne quickly steers him away from the garbage.
“Oh, before I forget—” Undyne fishes around in her pocket and pulls out an envelope. She hands it to Papyrus. “This is for you; an early Gyftmas present.”
“For me? Wowie!” Eyes sparkling with glee, Papyrus opens up the envelope. Two tickets to Mettaton’s Cooking with a Killer Robot show are inside. Papyrus gasps softly, cradling the two slips of pink paper with reverence. He then squeals loud and high enough that only the dog monsters turn their heads towards him.
“I figured your brother might want to go too? So I got tickets for the both of you—”
“Thank you!” Papyrus launches himself at her, squeezing her in a tight hug. “Thank you, I love it.”
Undyne hugs him back, hard enough that the breastplate of his battle body creaks a little.
Papyrus separates from her.
“Wait, wait, I need to give you your present too.”
The skeleton reaches a hand under his breastplate, producing a small wrapped package.
“The coolest gift, for the coolest friend!” He beams at her. Undyne is always baffled by his ability to be so self-involved and loving of others in the same breath.
Undyne shreds the wrapping easily with her pointed claws. It’s a Mew Mew Kissy Cutie figurine. Papyrus must have found it in the dump—the plastic circles of her eyes are curling slightly, but the paint job is superbly done, bordering on manic. Papyrus must have repainted the figure himself. One of its arms seems to have broken off, but the arm from a robot toy has been glued on to replace the missing limb. It’s a true labor of love.
“God, Paps—this is awesome!”
“You like it? I just knew you would!”
Undyne slips the figure into her pocket carefully.
“Now let’s grab a drink! All these sappy emotions are making me thirsty.” And she’s long since lost track of her initial cup of punch.
Papyrus heads for the buffet table.
“I’ll get us some punch!” He says. Too late, Undyne realizes what she’s done.
“Wait—don’t drink the punch, Papyrus!”
“Papyrus is a grown bones! He does what he wants!”
Papyrus turns out to be a happy drunk, and soon stumbles his way onto the dance floor with several other monsters, all in various stages of inebriation at this point. Undyne watches from the sidelines as Papyrus tries to imitate Mettaton’s infamous, twitchy dance moves. Other monsters give him a wide berth as his gangly limbs start flailing all over the place. Undyne films the whole thing on her phone—though Papyrus cannot be touched by embarrassment, it’ll make her laugh, regardless.
“Looks like he’s having fun.” A voice comes from her side. Undyne looks over—Sans has joined her in watching Papyrus “dance”.
“Yeah. It’s good for the big guy to loosen up every now and then and think about something other than being a guard, you know?” Undyne blames the punch for the way she chatters on.
Sans glances up at her, eyes sharp beneath the goofy frames of his glasses.
“Papyrus is strong. But he’ll never hurt someone else if he thinks there’s another solution.” Oh God. Undyne is neither too drunk nor too sober for this conversation.
“I know.” His kind-hearted nature alone has prevented Undyne from swearing him into the guard. No members of the guard are unnecessarily cruel, but they will take forcible action when the situation calls for it. Papyrus always wants to talk everything out. “But I can’t seem to just tell him no.”
Papyrus would be crushed. What kind of great hero of the Underground would she be, if she made one of her closest friends cry? She keeps meaning to tell him, but tomorrow becomes a week, next month, after Gyftmas. She can’t bring herself to do it.
A salsa tune starts up. A few more Hotland monsters jump in to dance. Papyrus is a surprisingly good salsa dancer.
“Papyrus has really brightened up since you started training him. Thanks, for that.” Sans’ gaze cuts back to his brother. “We all need something to want.”
“What about you? What do you want?” Undyne blurts. Papyrus is an open book, while Sans seems to be a coded message.
“That’s easy enough.” Sans whistles as Papyrus pulls off a difficult dance move, made more impressive by his drunken state. “I just want him to be happy.”
~*~
Undyne oh-so graciously gives Papyrus a few days to sleep off any lingering effects of the party and to get back into his sentry routines before she calls him to come in for training the following day. Papyrus is ecstatic over the line, declaring he has a new spaghetti-making technique that will blow her mind.
Undyne waits for their meeting time—10 a.m. sharp—by playing a few songs on her piano. It had been salvaged from the dump some years ago; some keys are out of tune, and others stick down when pressed, but it carries a tune well enough. She becomes lost in her music, and when she glances up at the clock again she’s alarmed to see that it’s already 11:30.
Where’s Papyrus? He’s never late.
Undyne walks over to her door. Perhaps he heard her playing, and didn’t want to interrupt. That would be just like him—
But when she opens the door, there’s no friendly skeleton waiting outside to be let in.
Frowning, Undyne dials Papyrus’ number on her phone. The call rings and rings and rings, until she hears Papyrus’ voicemail message for the first time.
“Nyeh heh heh! The Great Papyrus has important, heroic, guardsman-like errands to attend to at the moment. Leave a message!”
The phone beeps, and Undyne fumbles out a message. “Uh, Paps—you didn’t come to practice today. Did you forget, you bonehead? Call me back!”
Undyne hangs up. Her insides feel cold. Papyrus always answers his phone. She’s about to call again when her phone buzzes.
“Papyrus?” She shouts.
“O-Oh, um, n-no, it’s—it’s Alphys.” Undyne hadn’t bothered to check the caller ID before she picked up.
“What’s up, Alph?” It’s odd that she’s calling. Alphys hates speaking over the phone, much preferring to text. And her urgent tone puts Undyne on high alert.
“H-Have you heard the news?”
“What news?”
“T-There’s a human, they—they came from the R-Ruins—”
Undyne nearly crushes her cellphone in her hand.
“Where are they now?” Alphys takes a moment too long to answer. “Alphys, where are they—”
“They—They’re almost through Snowdin n-n-now! But Un-Undyne, you, you have to wait—!”
Undyne hangs up. She rushes back inside, fastening her armor on in record time. It would be faster to slough it all off, to swim through the deeper marshes, but she needs all the defense she can get.
Undyne sets off through Waterfall at a quick jog, armor shifting and creaking with every plodding step. She’ll get there in time. The guards have probably captured the human already. That’s why Papyrus didn’t respond to her call—he’s occupied with the human. Everything is fine.
Undyne is so focused on running forward that she nearly trips over a temmie by her feet.
Undyne stops a moment, crouching by the vibrating temmie.
“Are you alright?”
“Tem iz fine.”
The temmie clan have an odd dialect, but Undyne has long since grown used to it.
“Listen to me. I need you to tell everyone to stay in their homes today. There’s a human in the Underground.”
The small monster’s eyes bug out.
“Hooman?”
“You need to let everyone know it’s not safe to be outside.” Undyne presses. “Please.”
The temmie stands at attention. “Tem make U prouds!”
The temmie scampers off through the reeds to warn other monsters. Undyne can only hope her authority as captain will deter those curious enough to risk seeing the human up close and personal.
By the time Undyne reaches the edge of Snowdin she is panting for breath, skin slimy with sweat beneath her armor.
She’s about to cross over into Snowdin when she gets another phone call—from Alphys, again.
“What?” She snaps out.
“Th-The human has already left Snowdin—”
“What? How?”
“They m-must’ve slipped by you. I save them p-pass by one of the cameras I h-had in a waterfall.”
“Shit. And where are they now?”
“I-I’m not sure.” Undyne actually growls in frustration, and Alphys is quick to add: “They keep m-moving in and out of m-my cameras’ ranges. But—But I know they’re in Waterfall. For sure.”
“I’ll keep looking.” Says Undyne. “Call me if you notice anything else.”
She hangs up, and is about to put her phone away when she stops short. She dials Papyrus’ number again. It rings and rings.
“Nyeh heh heh! Papyrus must be—”
Undyne hangs up. All the clues are pointing towards a reality she does not want to face.
There’s a sudden rustling in the nearby sea grass. Undyne summons a spear to illuminate the area, but the grass is still, silent. Nothing, then.
Undyne lets the spear dissipate and starts moving back, deeper into Waterfall. She needs to find the human before they have the chance to hurt anyone else.
~*~
After an exhausting chase, at last she has the human cornered in the cavern that leads to Hotland. Monster Kid is on his way back to his no-doubt anxious parents; the human can’t use him as their shield any longer.
Undyne takes a deep breath. This is the moment she has trained for her entire life. Her hair whips in the howling wind. She had removed her helmet during the chase; it impeded the range of her sight too much.
“Seven. Seven human souls, and King Asgore will become a god. Six. That’s how many we have collected thus far. Understand? Through your seventh and final soul, this world will be transformed.”
The rest of her thoroughly planned and practiced speech dries up in her mind. The human has a small toy knife in their hands. Undyne can’t tell from this high up if dust clings to it or not. But in her heart, she knows it’s been used.
“…Just forget it. Look. Papyrus didn’t come to his meeting today. Say what you want about him. He’s weird, he’s naïve, he’s self-absorbed—but Papyrus has never missed a meeting. And no matter what time you call him on the phone—night, day, afternoon, morning—he always answers within the first two rings.” She stares down at the human. “What did you do to him?”
The human simply stares back up at her, eyes flat discs of apathy.
“What did you do to him?” She roars.
Again, there’s no response. Undyne points a spear at her enemy.
“Prepare however you want. But when you step forward, I will kill you.”
The human reaffirms their grip on their knife, and takes that single step forward.
Undyne jumps down to land before them, legs jarred only slightly by the jump. She rises from her crouch to her full height. She towers over the human, in her gleaming black armor. She should inspire fear. And yet, the human’s face remains an impassive mask.
It’s really getting on her nerves.
Undyne pulls the human into battle and wastes no time in turning their soul green. In a normal duel, she would take the time to explain her magic’s effects on the soul to someone unfamiliar. Undyne’s teeth grind together. The human doesn’t deserve even this small mercy.
A flicker of surprise crosses the human’s face as they realize their movements have been restricted. Undyne throws a volley of spears at them. The human narrowly dodges most of them, but one attack lands, embedding itself in the human’s shoulder.
The human hisses in pain. They grab the shaft of the spear and roughly yank it free. Blood trickles down their arm to splatter on the cavern floor.
Undyne throws another wave of magic at them, but to her frustration, the human uses the spear they were struck with to block the barrage of attacks.
“Think you’re clever, do you?” Undyne snarls. “All you’re doing is delaying the inevitable.”
The human grits their teeth, hunching in on themselves. Then, they surge towards Undyne with surprising speed, the green magic placed on their soul nearly swallowed up by a blazing red.
Taken by surprise, the human gets in one slice across the breastplate of her armor. She staggers back from the human, pushing a hand to the seeping wound. This one attack, by a small plastic knife, has gouged a line through her armor, has stripped away a chunk of her HP. What the hell even are humans?
With the injury, Undyne’s hold over the human dissolves. They take this opportunity to try to escape, spinning on their heel and running back the way they came from.
“Hey! Get back here!” Undyne charges towards their retreating form. “Come back and fight, coward!”
Undyne launches spears at the human’s feet, but they nimbly dance around the magical weapons.
Undyne finally catches up to them halfway across the bridge. The bridge sways with their combined weight, but holds. The human turns around, brandishing the knife, but Undyne will not be intimidated.
“You think I’d let you just walk away after what you’ve done?”
The human says nothing as Undyne attacks once again. With so little room to dodge, several of the energy spears graze the human’s flesh, drawing thin lines of blood.
Then the human darts forward and sinks their knife into the meat of Undyne’s thigh, with enough force behind it that the plastic handle snaps off in their hand.
Undyne buckles under the burst of pain. Blood dribbles down her leg as she tries to prize the knife out.
The child steps around her, running back towards the edge of Waterfall. Undyne reaches out, snatching at the human’s ankles, but just barely missing them. She flings forth her green magic, but the human is too swift, already out of range.
“Come back here!” Undyne starts to drag herself towards the human, leaving smears of blood over the planks of wood. “Human! I’ll…I’ll…”
She trails off as she sees what they’re about to do. Their small hands are prying up one of the stakes that keeps the bridge in place.
“Don’t…!”
The human smiles fiendishly.
“You idiot.”
The human yanks out the supports. Undyne scrambles to hold on as the bridge slips sideways. Several planks tumble off into the chasm below. Undyne herself clings to the trembling rope that only tenuously holds her weight. Undyne watches helplessly as the human rips out the other support.
“Goodbye.” They say, as Undyne starts to fall.
Undyne struggles to form magic to act as a cushion, to slow her down, to do something, but her magic is too sluggish to respond, impeded by the haze of pain and panic. She hurtles down, down, down, the human’s face disappearing from view—
~*~
Undyne cracks open her eyes. A reedy whine is all her bruised lungs can manage. Gingerly, she sits up. Undyne cranes her neck upwards, and only the faintest spot of light shines down from above. How far has she fallen?
Undyne reaches into her pocket, pulling out her cell phone. The screen has cracks spiderwebbing out across it, but it’s still functional, glowing weakly up at her. She nearly weeps with relief.
She uses the feeble glow of the phone to check over her body. Her armor is ruined, only barely holding together. Undyne regretfully shimmies out of it, leaving her in only an undershirt and shorts. She inspects the wound in her thigh. The toy knife is still lodged inside. She pulls at the edge of the injured skin, about to pull it out, but reconsiders. She’ll probably have to climb her way back out of here. That will be hard enough as she is now; the difficulty would be compounded if she was bleeding heavily from her leg as well. Best to leave it, for now.
Undyne tears a strip of cloth from the bottom of her shirt and ties it around the wound. She grimaces. There’s a good chance she’ll get an infection from this. Who knows how long she’s been lying in this murky water. Wait—how long has she been down here?
Undyne checks her phone.
“Fuck,” She croaks out. She’s been down here for almost five hours. And the human is up there, running loose, doing god knows what.
Undyne has innumerable missed calls and messages from Alphys. Undyne calls her; the other monster picks up almost immediately.
“OhmygodUndyne!” Alphys doesn’t pause to so much as breathe. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Well—” She glances down at her battered body, her mangled armor. “—fine enough.”
“Thank god,” Alphys gasps, and Undyne’s soul twists as she hears the lizard monster stifle her sobs. “I thought—I thought—”
“Alphys, I’m okay. I’m fine.” Undyne assures her. “Now tell me about the human. Tell me about you. Are you safe?”’
“I e-evacuated everyone in Hotland. The guards refused t-to leave, though. They wanted to f-f-fight for you.”
“Damn it, those guys…” Undyne stares up, towards the patch of light. “I’m going to kill that human.”
“Undyne, please don’t. You won’t be able to fight in Hotland, I—I don’t want you to get hurt any more!”
“Al, it’s me.” She infuses her voice with confidence she doesn’t feel. “I’ll be fine.”
“Undyne…”
“I’ll see you later. Stay safe.”
Undyne hangs up. She tucks her phone into her pocket, but keeps the light on to give her a little something to work with. She hobbles over to the nearest wall. The rock shelf has been eroded by time and water. There are enough uneven breaks and cracks for her to be able to climb up.
A flicker of doubt passes through her. She couldn’t stand a chance against the human at full strength. What hope could she possibly have against them now?
Undyne smacks herself across the face. Get it together, Undyne! She’s Undyne! She’s the hero of the Underground! She has no limit to what she’s capable of!
Pulling from a newfound well of willpower, Undyne places her hands and feet into small footholds and begins her laborious climb. Every slight shift of her limbs is a new agony, as her injured and sore body protests the movement. She just grits her teeth and powers through the pain.
During the climb up here are a few dicey moments, where one or both of her feet lose purchase on the craggy rock, but she manages to keep her hold on the wall and not fall again.
At last, she heaves herself back up to the top.
Undyne lays there for a moment, panting for breath, her overworked muscles twitching and trembling. Her whole body is slick with sweat, and the wound on her chest has reopened, trickling a small but steady stream. Thank god she’s on the right side of the chasm; if she had to go the long way around to reach Hotland, she might miss the human. Hell, she might not retain the strength to pursue them.
Undyne allows herself a moment more to recuperate, then staggers upright. She plumbs the depths of her magic reserve to make a spear. She leans her weight heavily upon it, and limps her way towards Hotland.
She makes her way through the connecting cavern, and grimaces as a wave of heat rolls over her. Undyne presses on, squinting as she stumbles into the brightness of Hotland proper. Too bright, too warm. Papyrus always complains about the conveyer belts—
Complained. Past tense.
Undyne tightens her grip on her spear. She continues on. The magma below belches forth heat and the acrid fumes of sulfur. Her skin is starting to dry out. She doesn’t care.
Undyne catches a hint of movement, just up ahead. Is that them?
“Human!” She bellows.
Undyne begins pursuit, but her body has had enough. She starts to list to the side, leaning more and more heavily on the spear. The weak summoned magic can’t maintain itself any longer. It gives out, and with her support gone, Undyne crumples to the ground.
Tears of bitter frustration sting her eyes. Is this really all she can do?
Undyne struggles to continue forward, but sinks into unconsciousness once more.
~*~
When Undyne awakens again, it’s to the faint whirs and beeps of machinery. She rubs at her eyelids, crusted over from a long sleep. She’s got a minty-green hospital gown on, an IV drip connected to her soul. Undyne pulls up the sheet, revealing the leg that had been stabbed. It’s bound in thick bandages; she assumes the knife has been removed. Beneath is probably another scar to add to the collection.
There’s a huddled form by the foot of her bed.
“Alphys…?” Undyne whispers, hoarsely. It’s not enough to wake her up. Undyne lightly nudges her friend with her leg. Alphys jerks awake with a snort, automatically pushing up the glasses that slip down her nose. She perks up as she realizes Undyne is awake.
“Undyne!” She winces at the lizard monster’s volume, and Alphys lowers her voice instantly, a bashful blush spreading across her face. “How are you feeling?”
Undyne assess herself. She gives her legs an experimental flex. Aside from the rasping sandpaper feeling of her throat, she feels totally normal—maybe even better than normal.
“…Pretty good, actually.” Her voice still sounds like shit, though.
“O-Oh, give me a second!” Alphys bustles around the room, filling up a paper cup and handing it to her. Undyne sips gratefully at the cool water. “I’m g-glad you’re not in any pain. The doctors put you on a l-lot of drugs, and said you wouldn’t f-feel anything, but I wasn’t t-totally sure until you woke up, you know?”
Awareness of the situation at hand suddenly floods through Undyne, snapping her out of her pleasant, hazy state. She sets aside the cup and rounds on Alphys.
“What happened with the human?” Her voice is still a bit gravelly. Alphys fidgets. “Asgore got their soul, didn’t he?”
Alphys says nothing, her tail swishing anxiously behind her. She can’t meet Undyne’s gaze.
“Alphys.”
When she speaks, her voice is small and soft.
“D-Do I have to be the one to tell you?”
Undyne levels a near-desperate look at her, and Alphys crumbles.
“You’re i-in a hospital in N-New Home. Some guards, they, uh. Found you in Hotland a-and brought you here. You’ve been—you were sick, you were sleeping for almost f-five days now. I was so worried…” Alphys fiddles with the hospital blanket, an output for her nerves. “The human. They m-made it to Asgore, and they…” Alphys swallows. “Asgore is dead. The human killed him.”
Undyne sits, stunned. Then, a wavering cackle spills from her mouth. Alphys flinches back, alarmed.
“You shouldn’t joke like that.” Asgore, the king of all monsters, defeated by a little punk like that? No way.
But Alphys stares at her, sadly.
“Al, I’m serious. Knock it off.”
“I’m sorry, Undyne. I wish I could’ve done more.”
Undyne tries to stand, to go and check for herself, but bars of electricity crackle into being before her, blocking her way.
“It’s over, Undyne.” Alphys’ voice shakes. “There’s nothing you can do now.”
Undyne slumps back into the bed, head swimming. Once Alphys is sure Undyne is not going to try leaping out of bed again, she dissipates her magic.
Alphys gathers her courage and climbs into the bed with Undyne. She reaches out for a hug, and Undyne clings to her tightly, drawing comfort from the embrace.
In a little more than a week’s time, the very foundation of the Underground has been shaken to its core.
“The human….where are they now?”
“They took h-his soul and—and crossed the barrier. They’re gone.” Alphys nestles her head in the crook of Undyne’s neck. “The six s-souls are gone too. Some of the guards are o-out looking for Queen T-Toriel.”
“How did this happen?” How could one human trounce them so thoroughly? How could they defeat Asgore, the most powerful boss monster? How could they defeat her, when she dedicated her life to fighting humans? How could they defeat Papyrus, who probably didn’t even put up a fight? Sweet, gentle Papyrus. How could anyone hurt him?
A sudden, horrific thought dawns on her. Undyne pulls apart from Alphys slightly.
“Al, has anyone spoken to or seen Sans?”
“S-Sans? I don’t—I’m not sure.”
“Do you have his number?”
“Yes—here—” Alphys fumbles through her pockets until she locates her cellphone. She pulls up Sans’ contact information and hands it over.
Undyne listens to it ring. She knows how desperately important Papyrus is—was—to Sans. Let her not be too late. Let her do one god damn thing right.
The phone is picked up on the other end.
“Sans? Sans, is that you?”
Undyne hears a faint hitch of breath.