interstellar5555 | Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

Entry tags:

Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

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.

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"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?"

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.

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."

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?

"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."

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.

Edited 2016-02-25 05:47 (UTC)

"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.

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."

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!"

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.

"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.

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."

"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.

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.

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."

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.

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."

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.

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."

Sans couldn't tell them, either. The sentry job seemed like a pain from how he remembered it - and from the way he's thinking about it, he's clearly missing the point. Watch as his mind fixates on exactly the wrong part of that explanation.

"We...burned down her house?"

That is kind of a weird thing to have thrown in, though, honestly.

"Not you and me. Me and her."

Maybe. But it's an incident that kinda stands out in Frisk's mind. Anyway, it's somehow better than the time Undyne moved in with Papyrus and Sans just because she lost her job.

"She was giving me Papyrus's cooking lesson and she wanted the stovetop to symbolize our passion." They shrug. They'd had an inkling it was a bad idea at the time, but she was pretty insistent...anyway, it's really hard not to get caught up in Undyne's excitement. "But it was okay. She wasn't upset, and everyone had to move later anyway. I think it might still be on fire down there."

"Ah," he says. "Yeah, that...fits pretty much everything I saw of her here, too."

Still, it's weird imagining her crashing on his couch. Around here, he got the impression she considered him only tier above sewer water. Sans visibly looks a little unbalanced by the whole concept. Not least because they keep talking about this Papyrus guy.

"Dunno why, but...almost everything I've remembered revolves around you, kid."

Really? Frisk looks thoughtful about this.

"I haven't known you as long as them. But a lot happened since then." It feels longer for them, of course, but that shouldn't matter to Sans. But it was a pretty important and memorable series of events for everybody, even the people who just had one of them. And maybe, since they aren't quite as vital as Papyrus, the bosses just put less time into erasing Frisk from the equation.

Or maybe it's that he's had to remember them once before?

Well, it doesn't matter. It's kinda lucky in its way. They are the one here now. "All the monsters escaped from the Underground," they explain, since they know what they said was kinda vague. "We've been setting everyone up on the surface for a while."

And that's when some aliens decided to kidnap him? Typical. The idea feels heavy in his chest, with a heavy dose of resentment on the side. That heaviness shows on Sans's face in the subtle ways that come from him being human, hard to read by human standards but compared to his regular face, it's all clear as day.

He hates this. He's starting to feel really tired from it all.

"Haven't we been here before?" he asks. He feels like he needs to check - if the fighting wasn't real, then what is? Memories of snow and boring jobs and magic. "The first thing I ever remembered...was about not being able to remember something. You were there, and I had no clue who you were...until suddenly I did."

He falls quiet for a moment, and then speaks up again.

"That sound familiar?"

Yeah, Frisk's not too pleased about the timing either. Things were supposed to finally be okay.

They lift their head at the question, looking at Sans with wide eyes. Is he talking about...but none of them remembered that! They'd have said something if they did, right? "Um...was it...just sort of black?" they ask, hesitantly. Frisk can't imagine any other time that Sans could mean, but they feel like they have to confirm anyway.

Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

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