Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

[determinate]

Who: Frisk and OPEN
What: Come bother Frisk at work!
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: Pizza Planet

[A]

Pizza Planet is a big, kid-themed pizza chain, popular for birthday parties. The Vista City location where Frisk works is attached to the mall, and as such is particularly large and extravagant. There's singing animatronics, sure, but the main attraction is the games.

Frisk's job, today, is to restock all the machines with tickets. They're pretty small for a worker. If not for their employee uniform, complete with a little hat, they could easily blend in with the children shouting joyfully and running from game to game. But for the most part they ignore them, focusing on their work. As fun as that would be, making good friends with any kids from here would cause too many problems. They're not sure they could contain themself, if the topic of music ever came up...

They go quietly from machine to machine, opening up a panel on each with a key and loading in a new roll of tickets. Out on the game floor like this, it's not unusual to get approached by customers.

Honestly, it's not entirely unusual for Frisk to just hand some kids a few tickets here and there either. It's against the rules, but it's not like anyone notices. And it makes people so happy!

[B]

They get a break for lunch, but Frisk doesn't really need the full time. They're used to scarfing down their meals fast, and it's a habit that's never fully faded. So they can be found in their street clothes for part of the afternoon, playing Dance Dance Revolution alone in the corner.

As it happens, they are utterly killing it.

The easier songs have long since ceased to be fun, so now they're working their way down from the hardest options. Some kids stop to watch from time to time, but they're largely heedless of any silent onlookers. Their mind is elsewhere.

Comments

[determinate]

Frisk winds their own fingers together, chewing uneasily on their bottom lip as Sans takes the news. Should they say something? The way his hand curls into a fist scares them a little, and they know full well that monsters can hurt themselves just the same, if they want it. And they remember the way he talked when they were inside Asriel. Everybody else said things they expected, things that made sense to them, but Sans...

Whatever it is, he pushes it down again. Is that new? Or just something they never saw?

They make a short gesture towards his hand as it's uncovered - if Sans doesn't move, they'll take it carefully in both their own to examine it. It looks the same as normal. Feels the same. This is good. They can't quite get up to feeling happy again right now, but it is progress.

"It's not very fair," they acknowledge. Humans can easily outclass monsters in a fight; they never had a chance in war, without getting any souls. "But monsters can use magic, and we can't." Except for ancient barrier-making wizards, apparently? Frisk doesn't know much about all that. They do know that whatever magic Sans may have now won't be enough to beat the bosses. Toriel couldn't fight them off.

"Who hurt you?" they ask quietly.

[exhumerus]

He's been remembering a lot about magic, lately. It's probably one of the things he remembers about his real life most completely. Various arcane concepts, miscellaneous formula...he does't think he could recreate a lot of it in this environment, because it's like learning to walk all over again. Back home, though, he knew his shit. He's only just managed to figure out teleporting again, and a little bit of questionable summoning.

Something about still having that, at least, is comforting. He lets Frisk look over his hand as much as they see fit.

"Just got into a bit of a disagreement with someone from over at Pride," he says, discussing it much more casually than it probably warrants. "It wasn't any of the bosses...except maybe in a really roundabout kinda way."

Technically it had been Blanche's call to mind control everyone into fighting people, which is where the rage had come from, so it was sort of his fault.

[determinate]

Another musician? Well, that's...Frisk isn't sure how angry you can really get at someone whose mind isn't working right anyway. They've forgiven Flowey a lot more than a hurt arm.

"It all is." None of them would have to be here, if it weren't for those two. They're not human or monster; whatever they are, they seem more like a monster with human souls. Gods. "They're not human either," Frisk says, with the air of someone acknowledging something entirely obvious. "You can't fight them. And you can't run away right now. They put chips in everybody's brains."

Apparently satisfied with his hand, they curl their fingers around his once more before letting it drop. "But if your skull turns back and it comes out, you need to leave before they see."

[exhumerus]

Sans isn't exactly holding a grudge either - not against Artolo, anyway. He did stab the guy, after all. Against the system that caused it, though? Yeah. A grudge is probably a thing.

As Frisk releases his hand, he can't help but immediately reach upwards, feeling the back of his neck gingerly. In his brain? In his brain. Another surge of panic hits him, which he has to fight to keep at bay. He's always guessed something like this might be the case, but the confirmation brings it to the front of his mind - have they already noticed him using his abilities? Are they only hiding their awareness for the sake of fooling him?

His teeth clench, grinding ever so subtly with the fear inside of him. So, he has a chip in his brain until the day that his face melts off and then...well what else is he supposed to do, but run? If he can even survive that long.

"You gotta fess up with me. What kind of infrastructure have you got around here? It's...it's not good, kid. Maybe worse than you've seen, from the outside." His gaze settles on them - he can't believe he's putting so much dependence into a child. "I've got people I need to get out of there, but I don't even know where home is from here. I have ways of making it happen but they need somewhere to go."

[determinate]

Frisk was expecting some panic at that one, honestly. Brain surgery's never good.

"Not much." It's a lot of weight, but they're used to standing up under heavy expectations. They can handle it. "We just got here a little before that concert. There were more of us, but some disappeared." A faint frown creases their brow; they're trying not to worry too much about that, but it's hard. At least none of the others have shown up onstage.

"Silver's going to make a machine to get the chips. If you get out with them, the bosses will just teleport to you and get you again. But he says after it's done we can start trying to get you all out." Should they be telling him this much? Well, they're doing it. They should at least take a few precautions though. "Some of you are getting music magic, and that makes the brainwashing worse. He's afraid of spies. But I guess once we can get the chips, you can get on the spaceship and go back home."

They think that's a good idea, at least. The musicians are too recognizable around here - they'd be safer if they just got out. Frisk intends to stay until they're all out, though, and presumably until the bosses are dealt with. Just rescuing their friends and leaving won't help the real problem.

[exhumerus]

Music magic. Greg.

Sans's eyes widen in clear sight. Has it really been making his situation worse this whole time? Sans had no idea. This whole time he'd thought it was something that would be a boon to them, and advantage, and now...how far along is he? Has Greg already been compromised in ways he didn't expect?

Greg, the person that he's been showing all his exciting new deformities and taking on late night roadtrips to Pride? He can't believe that. It can't be that simple.

His breath comes uneasily. In moments like this it's almost like he can't remember how, like it's not something that's really a priority. He breathes in deep and exhales, trying to get himself together.

"So, what's the ETA on the machine?" he asks. The panic is mostly kept from his voice, in ever sense besides a subtle cutting edge of intensity. His left eye itches for some reason.

[determinate]

"Dunno. We've gotta rob a hospital or...someplace." What are the places that take people's kidneys, exactly?

Whatever they're going to rob, Frisk isn't sure if they have concrete plans about that yet. They got more into the talks about the robots. "Some people are gonna take one of the managers soon. I dunno if it'll be yours. They're all robots, so it's not..." Well, they hope it's not an ethical nightmare. "We'll see what they know."

They fall silent, tilting their head slightly as they look Sans over. There's no reason anyone in the world would take any of this news well, really. Still. "We don't know there's spies. Silver and Gold just say there might be. They worry." About things like, say, making contact with the musicians this early. Oooooops?

Maybe they need a little added urgency. Frisk would go take care of it themself, but...honestly, there's only so much high-end medical equipment they can even carry in one go. "What's happening inside?"

[exhumerus]

Now people are robots? Oh god. Sans thinks about his own manager, how she constantly told him about her cats...were the cats even real? If so, why did she have them? Did a soulless robot even need something like that? Were they just for show?

Way too many things feel like they are melting down around him, right now. His entire conception of reality has been officially blown. Yet, for the purpose of this conversation, he soldiers on. He doesn't want to let the degree this is shaking him up show. He swallows, trying to smooth his dry throat.

"A bunch of people...staged some kind of subvertive action against the labels. A group on both sides. I don't know what they did, exactly...it mighta involved freeing someone or something. But they got caught, and the hammer came down hard.

"They all got tortured, and...I guess more brainwashed than before. Some of 'em are just kids." Like you, he thinks, with an unexpected swell of fondness that he wasn't expecting, nor can he find a place for. For a moment...Frisk felt like they must be something important to him, but he doesn't know how, beyond a few rare memories. He shakes his head to himself, trying to ignore the feeling for now. He just had to keep going.

"In December, a bunch of us in Virgo got mind controlled into trying to murder Pride members at a party. Revenge for that mighta been the source of the 'disagreement' I mentioned earlier."

He hadn't actually accomplished anything, but the merciless sensation of it still haunted him sometimes - as well as the memory he has of what he did to Frisk. He still doesn't understand, and he finds himself momentarily incapable of keeping eye contact. He stares at his feet, his hands tucked in his pockets.

[determinate]

Honestly, Frisk doesn't know what to say to that. Their instinct is always to fix things - but sometimes, you just can't. Even if they pulled out all the stops, they just weren't here in December.

They unconsciously imitate Sans's posture, slipping their own hands into their pockets. "I'll tell them." It's vague, but that might be best. Some of the rescuers might be angry at the ones who sorta accidentally tried to kill their friends. Of course, it might not be new information to everybody. They wonder if Silver and Gold know exactly how bad things are.

Their first priority has to be the machine. Maybe they can help get the stuff somehow after all.

"We're not leaving anyone here," they say carefully, because they are and they want Sans to know that. "We're going to get everybody out."

[exhumerus]

It is a comfort, deep down, even if Sans doesn't know if he's going to make it that far. This conversation makes getting taken out seem less acceptable - he'd kind of hate to disappoint in that regard, especially when they came all this way to try to help him.

He just feels like everything is starting to slip through his fingers. It's helplessness to a depth that he's not really comfortable discussing.

Hopeful assurances aside, though his thoughts about that night at Naomi's still linger. The memories of Frisk that he still can't place or explain, from everything he's witnessed. He resolutely stares at the floor.

"...Say, kid," he says, without ever directly acknowledging that promise. "...How to put this. Did I ever...when you knew me, did I..." Kill. Repeatedly. Without remorse. "...Hurt you?"

And did they ever do the same?

[determinate]

"No." It can't be entirely comforting how easily they respond, though. Not at all shocked, as one might react to an outlandish idea. Frisk sounds like that's a natural question among friends.

They dealt with that possibility a long time ago, after their very first dinner with Sans. It was scary then; it had all seemed so strange and awful, right when they were starting to feel really comfortable with monsters. They called Papyrus afterwards, just to hear him speak normally to them, and never told him why.

But of everybody, Sans is the only one who's never hurt them at all. Even Alphys set up that whole thing with Mettaton, but him? All he's ever done is be creepy sometimes. Deep down, they do believe that he'd have killed them without Toriel's promise. He's always seemed more than just simply lazy to them. But why worry about something that never happened anyway? Whatever lies have been put into his mind, they know it never did.

"It was your job to help capture me, but you didn't." They smile, thinking of convenient lamps. "You helped me instead."

[exhumerus]

Sans isn't entirely against the idea of it being some kind of fabrication - something made up to mess with him. Yet, at the same time...those memories had been some of the earliest he ever remembered, before the labels had ever clued in to how much any of them new. How could he kill someone like Frisk?

How could someone like Frisk kill so many other?

The answer doesn't seem to console him, regardless of how easy the answer comes. He still doesn't look at them.

"Don't know why, but...that's not how I remember it."

If it had been his job to capture them, he'd sure done a shitty job.

[determinate]

"I don't know either." Obviously they've got some theories. They know it must have been the bosses. But Frisk can't really explain why they'd bother to put fake memories like that in if they were just going to erase everything anyway. Maybe it's for the same reason they took Sans instead of Mettaton, whatever that is.

Will it help if they tell him stories? It's easy to talk about their first meeting. That was more or less the same every time. They weren't always the same, but what happened was.

"You were a sentry in Snowdin, outside the door to the Ruins. There's nothing else out there. It's just a big dark forest and a door. When I came through, you snuck up behind me and did your creepy voice." Hopefully Sans is aware of his creepy voice.

[exhumerus]

Creepy voice? He has to think about that for a minute. Does he have a creepy voice? Not just a creepy voice that he uses all the time, but the creepy voice from the way Frisk is describing it. How creepy are they talking?

He thinks about this for longer than it probably warrants.

"How creepy are we talkin'?" he asks. "Seems important to set up the scene right."

[determinate]

Frisk smiles reflexively. It's nicer to talk about something a little less intense. "Pretty creepy. I can't do it. Plus I heard you following me the whole time, but I could never turn around fast enough to see you. It was freaky." Yeah, there was a carefully-crafted atmosphere of terror going on here. The creepy voice was just the cherry atop the sundae.

"I stopped at the bridge gate and you came up and went _human." Yeah, they can't really do the voice, but they can give it a shot. "I'm not sure if you did the creepy eyes too. Sometimes your eyes go out and it's just empty!"

[exhumerus]

Sans finds himself smiling with genuine mirth at the kid's story, especially them attempting to recreate his 'creepy voice'. Yeah. He could see himself doing that, especially if it was for a gag. Though, from what they're saying, it may have also been an intimidation game, which...he could see himself doing as well, under those circumstances.

Still, though, it's kind of cute. He's obviously enjoying talking about this so lightly, too.

"Not sure if I can pull it off right now, either," he says. "Having nothing knocking around in here must give a guy some pretty interesting acoustics." He taps the side of his head indicatively.

[determinate]

"You do sound different," Frisk remarks, watching the gesture curiously. They hadn't thought about that; they just figured it was because he has real vocal cords now, instead of whatever he was doing before. "Just kinda. Like if you were doing a new voice instead of talking normal, maybe. I never heard you sing before either."

All in all, Sans being human is probably a lot stranger for them than it is for him. Which makes sense. Maybe someday the two of them can commiserate about it.

"But you always played the trombone." So, you know. There's that. "Not a lot, but you could." They honestly suspect he just learned those few notes on it to screw with Papyrus.

[exhumerus]

It's weird to think about, even now that he's had a few moments to put some distance between himself and the reality of it all. Sounding different. Looking different. Having this whole different life. He wishes he understood why his memories are so different in places from what factually seems to be the case.

Frisk says they never fought him, and it doesn't seem like they're lying. Unless they are some kind of master manipulator - who also saw fit to risk themselves by coming to help him - he can't see how this kid could be the same one he saw gutting that fish lady or staring him down with a killer's eyes.

"I don't do much singing here, either. Not for a while, anyway."

He says it, so casually, and then the realization hits him: he hasn't, not ever. Nothing he remembers before coming to Virgo is real. His gut twists, the depth of that violation striking him full force. It shows a little on his face. When he speaks again, his voice seems to wheeze slightly, as if he's just been winded.

"How...Hey, how long have I been here? Time...kinda got away with me."

[determinate]

"A few months?" Frisk frowns, looking at their feet. They know you can't go from planet to planet (universe to universe?) just like that, but they don't like how long it took. Even less, to think about how everyone back home just woke up to find them and Toriel and Sans gone without a trace. "Since October. I left the same time you got taken, but it took us longer to get here. I guess it might take us that long to go back too..."

That last part is more pensieve. There's no real need to worry about that now, when there aren't even any plans for getting their chips out yet. But what must everyone else think?

"I didn't have time to tell anybody I was going. And they took Toriel too, so no one would know until they came to our house to look. But Papyrus would've noticed you were gone right away. He's your brother. You live together."

They remember, of course, that Sans doesn't remember that particular part of his life at all. Honestly, Frisk isn't looking forward to hearing how little he thinks of the idea again. But it's important; they aren't going to join him in pretending Papyrus doesn't exist.

[exhumerus]

All of that actually sounds pretty sensible to Sans, theoretically speaking. In fact, it sounds pretty fascinating. Weird time stuff is one of this interests, he thinks, and space is another. He's remembered all sorts of stuff about that, even besides what he 'remembers' from going to school in New York.

He looks a little uneasy but largely intrigued - that is, until Frisk mentions Papyrus, and his expression suddenly falls. He doesn't ignore it outright this time, at least.

He turtles into his jacket just a little, withdrawing his gaze. That...sounds weird. Everything inside of him is saying he shouldn't believe it, not matter how irrational that might be.

"That...sounds made up, but okay," he says, his shoulders lifted and defensive. His mind abruptly switches focus. "Toriel...yeah, she...she's not around anymore."

He doesn't really want to think about that either. It kind of makes him just want to disappear.

[determinate]

Frisk's brow furrows, and for a moment they look hurt. They were right, they were so right not to try to bring Papyrus along on this quest. But it's not as if Sans is doing it on purpose, and they don't know that they can just smash through the brainwashing by getting in an argument over it. That would probably do more harm than good.

"I know," they say finally - not entirely certain that they want to change the subject, but knowing that this is important too. "But Silver says they keep them. They don't let anyone go, even when they aren't playing anymore. That's part of what we hope the managers might know."

[exhumerus]

Sans eyes Frisk carefully, obviously pretty invested in knowing the answer to this question. His expression is searching, and also fairly introspective. Where could they be keeping these people? What are they doing with them...?

"So...this Silver person doesn't know what they do with them...once they're on the out and out." It's not really a question because he assumes that Frisk would have said so if they knew. This is a heavy weight on his shoulders, and he sinks down accordingly.

"I don't think Toriel is the only one from home, actually...there was this woman named Undyne in Tori's band while she was here. I think I remember seeing her as a blue person at some point."

He's been less sentimental about that one since his only memory of her is as his nagging boss, but...it still bothers him at night, all the same.

[determinate]

Frisk's eyes go wide, their expression abruptly dropping. It looks like Sans has managed to turn the tables. "Undyne's here?"

Oh, no. Alphys.

They believe Papyrus can carry on even during this. But Alphys...Frisk worries about Alphys. People try to speak lightly around them, since they're a kid, but they're not blind. They know she's not exactly okay. It hasn't bothered them as much since coming up. She's seemed a lot better lately! The surface has been good for everyone.

But losing so many people so suddenly won't be easy on any of the ones left behind. Before they'd been mostly concerned about Asgore - they've seen him die so many times that they sort of always are a little - but now Alphys is living all alone again.

Frisk sits down on the nearest box of cheap plastic prizes.

"Okay," they say half to themself, running their palms along their pant legs. "That's okay. We'll just get her back too."

[exhumerus]

He's never felt like more of a stranger to this kid than he does in that moment. He doesn't understand the reaction. Sure, it's bad and all to have had anyone else taken, but this seems above and beyond. Was Undyne a big deal to them? He hadn't even realized.

He feels sort of like an asshole. He can't connect on that level about it, even if he should. Undyne could be his own fucking mom and he'd still feel the same way. Which is...not feeling much of anything, besides ill ease and a near constant undercurrent of frustration. And, already, the mention of having a brother has more or less completely slipped his mind.

"...Is Undyne a big deal around home?" he asks, after an awkward silence. "I don't really remember. Pretty sure she was my boss or something, but I wasn't exactly a model employee..."

Some things never change.

[determinate]

Frisk shrugs. It's a bit of a disconsolate gesture, but they're already working to pack that away. It won't help Alphys or Undyne to get upset; they just need to keep going. "She was the Captain of the Royal Guard. You and Papyrus both worked for her. But it was kinda his thing." They're not even all that sure why Sans became a sentry, if not to spend more time with his brother.

"He wanted to join the Royal Guard," they continue. They don't want to think about Undyne and Alphys and home anymore; it's Papyrus time now. "So he trained with her all the time. She lived with you guys for a little bit after we burned down her house."