by GR Griffin
"Quick heads up though," Flowey interjected, stopping Fleck. "You're not going to like what you see…"
Fleck edged the tips of their fingers closer, half excited and held frightened at what would happen. The petal caught the brim of their fingernail, and that was all it needed.
The world of timber surrounding Fleck, Flowey, and Brute, dissolved. The trees shrank and faded from existence, along with each individual plank, rope, and nail from the walkways. The horizon it paved its way to was nothing but emptiness. Endless sky and ocean separated by the divide in the centre. From afar, a cube appeared and zoomed up, stopping just short of all three of them.
The cube was a room, and Fleck was spectating it from the outside through an invisible window.
Within the square room stood themself before Toriel, who blocked the way to a large door behind her: the exit to the ruins. This was the Underground, and this was their fight with the person who would later become their foster mother. Fleck remembered that fight all too well: how much her fire attacks burned; how much her desperation and loneliness had consumed her. Toriel launched a volley of fireballs at the human child with a majority of them missing, mainly trying to frighten them away and mostly because she knew what was best for them. Fleck's past self caught a blast to the cheek, the present self instinctively touched their own, almost feeling the pain themself.
As they looked at their younger self, something about them was… different, wrong somehow. The look in their eyes. The toy knife clutched in their hand. They remember that hunk of moulded plastic they found, the one with the serrated edge and combat grip – available on the surface for anywhere less than five dollars.
However, they didn't remember it being so… dusty.
The fire ebbing in Toriel's hands died. She dropped them, sadness lining her face. "Pathetic, is it not?" Toriel turned away, unable to look at the child. Her words rang familiar in Fleck's ears. "I cannot save even a single child."
Past Fleck stood their ground through the scorching pain, determined to pass Toriel. The Fleck watching thought they knew how it was going to play out. Again and again, they shouted that they would not fight her. No matter how much she hurt them, they would never hurt her back, not after everything she had done for them.
All of a sudden, their former self lunged, leading with the commando toy. Toriel had no time to react and neither did the Fleck watching. What were they doing? Past Fleck jumped and slashed, catching Toriel across the face, under the eye. She gasped, shocked. Fleck brought the knife back across, slashing deep into her torso. Toriel stumbled back, slammed their back against the door, and then went still.
The look on Toriel's face chilled the present Fleck to the bone. Her eyes wide. She struggled for breath. A faint grin formed on the lips of the child who hurt her, almost like it were a game and they were having fun.
"You… at my most vulnerable moment…" Toriel uttered, clutching her stomach. No blood. "To think I was worried you wouldn't fit in our there…" Through the pain, through knowing that she only had seconds left to live, she smiled and laughed a raspy laugh while sliding down to the floor. "You really are no different than them!"
Fleck could do nothing but watch dismayed with an agape mouth and a numb heart as the woman who showed them love, who gave them a home when they had none, who accepted them as family despite their differences, collapsed onto her side, laughing out her last breath. Her body crumbled into dust, her soul quivered before shattering into pieces.
Toriel…
The human child had witnessed their foster mother die… by their own hand. Fleck, paralysed with shock, watched as their counterpart took one look at the remains, then stepped through it like it was nothing, leaving a dusty trail behind them that lasted for three steps past the door – a trail of Toriel's remains.
That never happened, yet it felt like it could have. The murderer had Fleck's face, their hair, their eyes, mouth, exact same clothing; it was them and wasn't them at the same time.
"This, Fleck…" Flowey whispered in their ear, startling Fleck who forgot he was there. "This is a different path you could've taken. Believe it or not, there's thousands, millions of alternate universes where you did this. You've killed them all, Fleck…"
The light of the ruins faded to white, into the snows of Snowdin where it was winter every day. A grey mist obscured all, except for two figures, facing each other, one short and podgy and the other tall and thin.
"I see you are approaching. Are you offering a hug of acceptance?"
Fleck gasped. Papyrus…
"Wowie!" boomed Papyrus. "My lessons are already working!"
Fleck watched as Papyrus, kneeling down in the snow, outstretched his bony arms to accept the human's mercy. The human approached, dust had accumulated over the tough glove, especially around the knuckles.
"I, Papyrus, welcome you with open arms!"
All of Fleck's senses made them scream at the goofy skeleton, bang against the glass to tell him to run, to save himself. Sadly, Fleck's voice fell on deaf ears as Papyrus, in his naïve ways and oblivious to the danger he was in, held down his guard as the human crunched closer.
It looked like Fleck was going to accept their hug when, suddenly, at the last second, they punched Papyrus square in the jaw, knocking his skull off his neck. As his head rolled and came to a stop three paces away, the rest of him rattled to the ground and shattered into atoms.
"W-well, that's not what I expected…" Papyrus, what was left of him, stammered helplessly as the human approached, stepping over the remains that used to be his body. "But… st… still! I believe in you!" His words bore hesitation with an outline of hope. "You can do a little better! Even if you don't think so!"
The child placed the bottom of their boot against his head and applied pressure, sinking him deeper into the snow. The skull lowered a couple of inches before resting on solid ground. Fleck could merely watch, dismayed how anyone, even themself, could be so heartless.
"I… I promise…" Those were Papyrus's last words before the boot cracked his skull, smashing it into nothing. With the hopeful for the Royal Guard nothing but a stain on their sole, the killer pressed on without so much as a nod. It was as if they had no idea what they were doing was evil.
The scene darkened into the dim, watery caves of Waterfall. The shapes materialised. A bridge and two short figures facing each other.
"Yo… Why won't you answer me?"
Monster Kid…?
"A… a… and what's with that weird expression…?" the armless boy asked, leaning over to glance at the other's face.
The murderer had a creepy grin as they glared at Monster Kid, then suddenly advanced on them, pushing him back three paces. The notepad they held was still, dust had gotten stuck in the spiral binding.
No. No. Monster Kid was their friend, they could never hurt them – Fleck couldn't even work up an insult when asked to do so. Fleck tried to fight off the terrible scenes by remembering what really happened. The kid tripped on the bridge, managing to bite into the wood to stop themself from falling. As Undyne's menacing frame appeared on the opposite side, along with the danger she possessed, Fleck selflessly rushed over and pulled Monster Kid up. The two had been buddies ever since.
Monster Kid faced the human who killed Toriel, Papyrus, and many others in their path, trembling from head to toe. It spread to his voice. "Yo… Y-you'd b-better st-stop r-right where you are…" he stuttered, making a pathetic attempt at acting tough. "Cause if you w-wanna hurt anyone else… you're… you're gonna have to get through me, first."
This version of Fleck – no, whatever it was – gripped the notepad tighter. It looked like Fleck on the outside, but it was not Fleck on the inside.
The monster's words were barely coming out. "A… and… and…"
Without warning, it lashed out at Monster Kid. His face twisted with horror as the notebook spine drew near. At the last possible second, Undyne leapt from nowhere, pushed the kid out the way and took the blow herself.
The wad of paper and illegible notes sliced through her armour like it was nothing.
Her sternum had literally been sliced in half, but she managed to act like it was nothing before telling Monster Kid to get out of there.
Undyne…
The scene changed before it could continue, leaving Fleck wondering what happened next. It was quickly forgotten under the blaring lights, as bright as those back in Haze's hideout. Music so loud that Fleck could not hear themself think. Standing amidst it all was the robot in his natural habitat.
Mettaton…
Except he wasn't the Mettaton Fleck fought in the same spot nor was he the one who strutted his stuff all over his own television shows. This Mettaton looked remarkably different: his long hair spiked out to one side; one hand had been replaced with a blaster; and he had two wings on his back. His poise consisted of his legs spread far apart and his arms out, exposing his body. His was ready to save the world and look fabulous while doing it.
The killer raised the antique revolver and, despite it being empty, fired a round into Mettaton's metal chest. One shot was enough as it punched a clean hole straight through. He stumbled backward as fragments of his inners escaped the fresh cavity.
After wincing, he regained his grin and coughed out, "Gh… Guess you don't wanna join my fan club…?" Then went out with a bang, literally. There was nothing left but worthless junk littering the stage.
The lights spread out, turning into the windows of the judgement hall. The entire room down to its walls, floor and pillars were all golden in the light of dawn.
The monster murderer was running, now a real knife in their possession. The unblemished edge caught the light. They jumped to the side to dodge a beam, then to the other as another missed them by inches, blasting a crater in the floor tiles. The hall's hollowness reverberated all sounds from the energy blasts to the killer's dashing footsteps and demented breathing.
Fleck watched as their merciless counterpart approached their next victim.
Sans…
The laidback skeleton remained smiling, hands deep within pockets as his opponent neared. Sweat glistened on his bald head. Fleck knew it by now. Sans had lost everything. There was nothing left for him to fight for. No feasible way he could defeat this foe and yet he fought anyway. He fought because he had to.
One step away, the human slashed twice; Sans dodged both attacks. Before it could swing again, Sans's left eye flared blue. He pulled his hand from his pocket and held it toward the killer, shrouding them in a blue aura that pushed them back. Suddenly, he threw his hand to the side, tossing the killer into one of the many pillars that lined the hall.
White spots materialised on the pillar around the killer. Before bones could impale them, the figure leapt away, coming into contact with the ground as the bones shot out.
Sans gave their opponent no time as they formed another skull that roared an energy beam from its maw, striking them in the shoulder. The vile creature span around from the force of the blow, their shoulder a smouldering mess. Just as they looked about to breakdown and cry, they lunged, bent on plunging their knife into that ribcage if it were the last thing they would ever do.
Sans uprooted more bones in the creature's path. They went over and under them as if they had done it a hundred times. Sans conjured two more skulls by his sides and launched two more blasts, one after the other. The first, the creature avoided. The second, the child disappeared in the blast.
For one moment, Sans get his guard down, and that was all the killer needed. They leapt out from around the beam's blindside and slashed, knocking Sans down with a single blow.
The fighting ended the moment red liquid poured from exposed ribs, through the slice in Sans's shirt. The killer caught their breath, grinning as the red leaked down their weapon and dripped onto the floor.
Sans coughed and a trickle escaped through the gaps in his teeth. "So… guess that's it, huh?" He said that like he expected it all along, as if he knew this was how the skirmish was going to end. "Just… don't say I didn't warn you."
Even though he was smiling, he was so… sad. He had failed, and now, there was truly nothing left to fight for.
Sans stood up, battling the pain. "Welp," he said, shrugging, revealing his hand slimed red with his own inners, "I'm going to Grillby's."
Wounded, dying, clutching his chest, Sans limped down the hall. The creature watched with their smirk tenacious on their face, proud of what they've done, having enjoyed it so.
How anyone could enjoy this was just… sick.
Sans got hallway down the hall when he faltered. "Papyrus…" he murmured, reaching out with soaked hand. "Do you want anything?"
The next step was his last. He fell to the ground and then he was no more. His last thoughts, even as he faced the end, were of his brother, and how he still looked out for Papyrus even after he was long gone.
Brute's giant hand churned before Fleck's eyes. Hanging from the edge of his palm was a tiny, neatly folded handkerchief. Unused as evidenced by its cleanliness. The letter E was knitted with black thread in the corner.
"Dry eyes," he said, offering it.
Fleck proclaimed in a cracked voice that he was talking garbage. They brought their fingers up to their cheeks to prove to themself they weren't crying, not at all.
Yes, they were. Their cheeks were saturated in warm tears. Fleck had been rendered so dead by the senseless suffering of their friends that they had no idea. As soon as they realised it, it got worse. They snatched the tissue and buried their eyes in it, fumbling the sword hilt into their pocket. Fleck thanked Brute between sharp breaths and quivering lips.
"You're welcome…" replied Brute.
"I'd cry too," said Flowey, "if I could…"
Fleck dried their eyes just enough to make out what happened next, and all it did was induce more tears.
Asgore…
Their foster father was just as oblivious as Papyrus, sensing no impending danger from the small creature who was so warped and twisted that he did not recognise them as human. That… thing… could not be called a part of humanity by now, having long abandoned what it meant to be human.
Asgore had no idea… The death this creature had left behind, including his wife, and the captain of the Royal Guard. He hadn't the darnedest clue that he was alone.
After Asgore suggested to the creature a friendly discussion over a cup of tea, it responded by plunging the knife into his chest. As the king of the Underground fell to his knees, Flowey finished the job, destroying his body and soul.
Flowey emerged from the flowers.
And then there were two…
Two monsters left in the entire Underground: a soulless, ruthless, emotionless killer, and Flowey.
The flower pleaded with it, begging to be spared the same fate as all the rest. His face contorted into the face of Asriel Dreemurr: their best friend. It was a frantic gamble, a desperately bid to reach whatever sane thought – if there were any – the murderer still had.
If his best friend was still there, hear him now.
"Please don't kill me," Asriel begged with tears in his eyes.
And then, the most surprising thing happened. The killer paused. It looked down at the crying flower and, for one second, their expression softened as it recalled memories from a better time. Its fingers loosened around the knife handle. Its arms went slack at its sides, losing all desire to kill.
For one second, it actually looked remorseful. Regretful of its actions.
Right before it happened, the Flowey on Brute's palm looked away.
"…Hate this part…"
It jumped on Asriel, seizing him by his stem neck. He screamed a gurgled screech as his best friend stabbed his face.
It stabbed him again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again…
It didn't stop until there was nothing left to stab.
There was nothing left of Flowey. There was nothing left of anybody. There was nothing left of a
nything. No light. No ground.
Dead. All dead. The same people who stood beside Fleck as the sun rested on the horizon, all gone. Toriel. Papyrus. Undyne. Alphys. Mettaton. Sans. Asgore. Flowey. Gone.
The killer rose in the surrounding darkness, then went as still as a statue. The knife slipped from its fingers and sank into the nothingness below. All that was left was this thing, standing in an abyss.
It happened too slowly for Fleck to notice at first, but this excuse of a human being began changing. The blue in its shirt turned green. The purple stripes transformed into a pale shade of yellow. The blue shorts darkened into the colour of hickory. The hair lightened to ash brown. The skin turned a couple octaves paler.
It turned around. Fleck saw its face. Two wide eyes. Two rosy cheeks. One big smile.
It looked straight through them.
"Greetings," it said in a low and innocent voice. "I am Chara."
Chara. The name Asriel kept calling them in that godly battle. The true name of the one who fell first, who became best friends with the prince before poisoning themself with buttercups in some risky gambit to free the Underground.
Fleck saw Chara return to life… in them.
Fleck blinked their red eyes. Mercilessly, they were back in the Forest, among the trees of giants and the paths of mice. Chara was gone and so was the twisted retelling of their adventure through the Underground.
"I'm sorry you had to see that, but it was the only way to get you to believe," Flowey said apologetically. Brute, through his stoicism, posed in a way that presented the flower as deeply sorrowful and deadly serious. "On that one stormy night, when you sat awake in bed and gazed upon the option to reset, this is what could've happened, Fleck. This is the power your Determination granted you. You may think what you saw just now wasn't real, but I must assure you that it was. That has happened, many, many times in many, many timelines.
"Imagine it, Fleck. Thousands of versions of you. Thousands of versions of me. Of Sans. Papyrus. Toriel. Asgore. Alphys. Undyne. Each different, constructed from a different hand, and yet all drawn from the same blueprint. There're versions of yourself who have reset once, twice, ten times, fifty, a hundred, thousands of times. Versions of yourself who have appeased everyone once, twice, ten, fifty, a hundred, thousands of times. Versions of yourself who have killed everyone once, twice, ten, fifty, a hundred, thousands of times. Done everything the Underground had to offer and everything before and after the Underground.