interstellar5555 | 'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

Entry tags:

'Cause I'm Lonely and I'm Blue

Who: Frisk, Connie, Greg, Papyrus, and Sans
What: Rescuers rescue the kidnapped rescuer of kidnapped
When: April 20
Where: Wave Boulevard Mall, Spooky Virgo Torture Dungeon
Warnings: mention of serious violence at the least

It's been a week since Sans smuggled his fellow musicians from Virgo, contacted allies to let them know he was leaving... and then evidently vanished altogether. It's been two days since articles surfaced talking about his wild bender that ended him up in rehab, and isn't it a shame, let's all keep him in our thoughts.

Sans didn't ever have a whole lot of fans. The guy kept to himself, rarely made appearances, and generally only performed just well enough to justify being in the band in the first place. His legacy would likely be the toc-tic pun memes that would go around for a couple weeks, then fade out into obscurity. People wouldn't miss him.

It's pretty much all that's been on Greg's mind. His friend made a heroic effort, and paid for it. It's his fault. But life goes on, right?

So here he is. Buying flowers for his bedroom. To liven the place up, you know? Add some color, to contrast the blackened char left behind by giant laser blasts. It'll really brighten things up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Frisk nods and starts off in that direction, still looking at the phone. Can they scroll back through the previous texts and see what the conversation was like? Because if they can tell what needs verified, they may well just do it.

For whatever reason, there are only 4 exchanges visible with Juno on this phone, and all of them are from the last hour. Maybe the phones don’t hold memory between days, or something like that. It makes reading up on it easy, at least.

Tech 16:
Passive trials are underway but we can’t attempt any merges at serious risk of decorporalizaton.
I think we are approaching a dead end.

Juno:
That is an acceptable risk in this case.

Tech 16:
Evidence suggests it’s a universe specific phenomenon, so there is only one certain match that we know of based on the information we were given. One of the offworlders.

Juno:
I will need all that data compiled.
Are we certain that’s the only one?

And then, five minutes later:

Juno:
Please verify.

Meanwhile, the scientist that was demanding they leave only a moment ago doesn’t seem to have been slowed down yet. She tries to tear at the vines (and fails), all while following Greg with and intense glare.

“She’s already coming here!” she insists. “Nothing you do can stop that, it’s on the schedule!”

Edited 2016-04-22 19:16 (UTC)

Merges?

Oh god this is just like the underground lab

Frisk considers the scientist for a moment, then types out Yes, we're certain. and hits send. Maybe she's coming anyway, and a five-minute delay is already a little suspicious, but a longer one might prompt her to come faster than she would've. At the very least, she might respond with something interesting.

To the others, they ask in a quiet voice, "Can phones be tracked too?" It seems like there could be information or something on this, something they could find if they brought it back to Silver or someone else with more technical knowledge. Plus, a petty part of them just doesn't want to give the scientist back their phone. They anticipate that they won't like the answer, though, so they're already paging through any other apps or things.

"How punctual and reliable of her!" Papyrus calls back to the angry scientist, "But we're not here to stop her from doing anything! So that's okay."

He glances at the surprisingly-familiar looking phone in Frisk's hands. He really would have thought that, with the neat communicators and holograms and everything else that they had, the potentially-evil scientists would have more advanced technology too. Huh. Maybe they put all their funding into building an ominous basement puzzle and playing surgeon on peoples' brothers.

"If they can put chips in brains, why not in phones?" He offers, no more sure than his friend. But phones could be taken apart more easily than people.

Armed with Rose's sword, Connie has been staying on Lion's back while everyone else has been doing things like capturing scientists and rifling through their phones. Mostly she's just been checking over the giant pink fluff monstrosity to make sure he's doing alright. After all, even Lion can get tired.

The news about the schedule, however? That makes her head snap up in alarm.

Leaping off, she confirms, "I'm pretty sure you can put tracking things into them!" However, her attention is more on the scientists. She goes for the one who didn't drop the phone and takes a breath. Time to practice her 'overthrow the bourgeoisie' voice.

"Tell us exactly where the skeleton is! No one will know you did it, but if you don't-" She uses her most convincing voice. "I'll feed you to the lion."

Lion yawns. On one hand, it's a yawn. On the other hand, there's a lot of teeth in there. Connie isn't sure if he's just tired from carrying two kids, Greg, and a Skeleton, or if he's helping her out. Cats are a mystery.

Edited 2016-04-22 21:39 (UTC)

The phone Frisk has seems pretty bare bones, otherwise. The only apps available on the screen besides the texting function is one of the Virgo unicorn symbol that leads to a login page that's lacking a password, and then one more symbol that looks like a speaker.

Under the texting history there is only one other brief conversation with someone labelled "Tech 23".

Tech 23:
Ugh why does it sweat
Why does it have to be so gross?

Tech 16:
Maybe u should take a break :\

Meanwhile, the angry scientist is finally given a moment to look somewhat horrified at Papyrus addressing her, recoiling back, and then falling silent. Lion being near her doesn't put her any more at ease. Connie's demands, of course, make both scientists look like they're not quite sure what to think.

They cast each other glances like they are daring each other to be the one who does it. Both of them seem really nervous, both at the prospect of being eaten and at the prospect of willingly giving up information because a twelve year old threatened them.

"Uh, it's...it's that way," the angry one says, pointing back the direction everyone came from.

Greg likes Papyrus' attitude, but... "No, really, you want to be gone before she gets here." The scientist could be lying, but it's not worth the risk.

Speaking of. He glances back the way they came, frowns, and sighs. "Really did not want a lion maiming on the list of stuff I saw today." They didn't actually have time for that, either. He steps over, continuing down the way they'd been heading.

Papyrus glances back the way they came, then back at the scientists. "Hmmm... No, that doesn't sound right. Sans can't turn invisible."

Not unless the weird music magic or some creepy science experiment gave him that power. They can do weird things like turning skeletons into humans, there's no sense in ruling it out. But are the scientists confused, or is this one of those logic puzzles where one person only tells the truth, and the other lies?

Greg seems to have solved the puzzle already, leading them further into the mysterious science catacombs. Papyrus follows after, bubbling enthusiasm. "Oho! So the angry one is the lying one? You're really quick at solving riddles!"

Sweating? Does Sans sweat?

Either way, Frisk knows they're talking about him, and they don't appreciate him being called an "it". Kids used to call them that sometimes, when they couldn't decide whether to label them a boy or a girl. The phone doesn't even look like it has anything useful on it other than the texts.

Jogging after the others, they hand the phone off to Papyrus. "Can you put this in water?" That done, they take off full tilt down the hall. Let's hurry and try to get there before Papyrus!

Sweat, slime, what's the difference? They're both liquids grossly glistening on people's bodies.

He takes the phone, since that's just what you do when someone gives you something and asks you to do something with it. It's not like it's a Frisk-specific chore. But... how's he going to do that when he doesn't have any water with him?

Well, it can wait. He pockets the phone and follows after them, determined not to be left behind.

Based on the directions Luce had given, it isn't much further, especially when they have an inclination to rush. They don't encounter anyone else on the rest of the way there, and for the most part the labs seem inactive, besides a few special sections of it. They'll pass through a dimmed hallway of closed doors with dark insides, and then back into the light. And that's where they'll see it.

There are three large devices, like dentist chairs crossed with high tech medical beds - another set clearly made to restrain and manipulate humanoids. Only one of them is currently in use. His frame seems almost too small for the machine he's latched into, white bones draped over whiter surfaces, his hands shackled high above his head and his feet down below, held at a diagonal incline with various straps for easier access. He's not wearing any clothes, and his bones are wet with stress born perspiration.

A thick strip of black material blinds his eyes, fitted to the dips of his sockets, with a metallic device spearing into the eye on his left side, and plugged into more metal further up his skull, sensors built into the slab, and a technologically dense looking collar around his neck. His head is strapped back, which is probably the only thing keeping it from dipping forward. The most notable piece, however, is the device that's been clasped into his ribs from the inside. Several almost spider-like metal appendages bind it tightly to his sternum, some kind of central capacitor device alight with a frail, flickering white glow.

The front of his ribcage is laced with fractures, as is his skull around his left eye, and the bones of his right knee. Sans is fragile, even by monster standards, and his body is visibly at the limits of what it can endure. He doesn't move, or breathe. The only way it's obvious that he's alive is that he hasn't yet turned to dust.

The only other activity in the room is a row of metal settings on a nearby table, each of them loaded with a fist-sized crystal of various colours. Each of them is glowing with an eerily unreal quality, and are apparently being monitored for data with unknown intent.

Oh.

Oh god.

There's only one purpose all this could be for. All he'd known was the word--seeing it was a different terror altogether.

"Sans--is he--?!" Greg sucks in a breath. How do hou check if a skeleton is alive?

His mouth is dry as he checks around the room. His eyes fall on those crystals, and the urge to smash them rises up inside him. It takes considerable effort to instead focus instead on the rest; he needs to get all this off of Sans, before he does anything that could potentially hurt him further.

"Okay. Oookay I'm gonna--I'm gonna get you out of there, pal, I--I just need a sec to... to think..."

Greg's eyes squeeze shut, breath straining to stay even. He has to calm down. He needs a song, he won't be able to think clearly enough to make this work otherwise.

From somewhere behind Greg, there's a quiet horrified noise.

Unlike him, she hadn't even really known the word. She hadn't known how bad it would get. All her idly annoyed thoughts of the scientists trying to trick them- they fly right out the window as she comes into the room. Somehow, the fact that he's just a skeleton makes everything more horrifying. All his cracks and stillness make her go cold.

Behind her, Lion gives a low displeased rumble.

The way it shakes her down to her bones snaps Connie out of it. "Is- is he okay!?"

A torture chamber.

That's what they walked into. There was no other way around it.

Sure, it didn't look like the point was inflicting harm for the sake of inflicting harm. Sans still had his hands, his feet. All his fingers and toes. He was full of sciency-looking things, not stuffed in an iron maiden.

But those fractures in his ribs... his knee, his eyesocket... Somebody here sure didn't avoid hurting him.

"H-he is still alive," Papyrus confirms. But... how much longer could he handle being like this? Their blue attacks didn't do anything for healing people. And Sans never had much stamina to begin with.

"He's still alive! And we just need to get this stuff out of him... without hurting him, any further. Then... We must be able to figure something out. There's ways of healing hurt people!"

Frisk expected this.

Not exactly this, maybe, but something about this bad. Monsters are so breakable. Alphys did terrible things to them without even meaning it, and the people here do mean it. Even more than Frisk themself ever did.

They've never seen cracked bones before, not their own and certainly never their friends'. They've seen Sans's soul broken more than his body. That was worse in its way, but much less ugly, and they make a low distressed sound in the back of their throat, glancing sharply up at Papyrus before turning away again.

Their words have left them, drowned out by the growing pit in their chest. Frisk just purses their lips and whistles between their teeth for attention. Reaching for their food stash is an instinctual action, and this time they go as deep in as they can, appearing to dip their arm into their phone nearly to the shoulder before pulling out...an intact slice of pie on a plate? They tilt it, examining, before holding it up to Papyrus. That's the best food they have: it helped them a lot when they fought Dad.

Meanwhile Mr. Universe is making his best effort to keep focused on one thing at a time: Frisk and Papyrus are going to know better how to heal him, so he needs to work on how to get him out of this death trap.

"When the skeleton suffers an awful fright,
When the skeleton suffers an awful fright,
When the..."

At first it's a faint mutter, as if Greg's trying to jog his memory. The dim lights attached to Sans begin pulsing in rhythm, slow and wary.

"I'm working to get you free,
How's the safest way to get you free...?
Tell the Universe what you need
Tell the Universe how he can get you free...."

Thr last word extends to a whining pitch, metal bonds popping loose from Sans' ribs one by one.

Edited 2016-04-23 05:03 (UTC)

The device drops free from his ribs, the white light suddenly flaring and then fading out a moment later, the energy within seeming to disperse back into his body. Sans tenses with a sudden urgency, his wrists jerking against their bonds with his first real sign of life. There is a shocked shudder through his bones, something soft like a whimper being the only sound he makes.

Papyrus looks around them at Frisk's whistle, thinking it's a heads up that somebody's coming. But no, they're still the only people in the room. And there's no footsteps that he can hear. Then he sees the offered food and he understands. "Oh! Frisk! You still had one of those 'pie' things? Sans loves those, that will surely help!"

But before he takes it, to break pieces off and feed to Sans' unconscious and definitely not dead body, Sans starts to move.

"Sans! Are you awake? Here, Frisk brought some food, and," Papyrus notices the tugging on the restraints. Right. If he woke up restrained in a strange dark place after being hurt, he might not want anybody else feeding him either. He'd want to be freed to feed himself. And a few good bone barrages could break the table and restraints enough to get Sans moving.

But... With those fractures... his brother is already a little too fragile-looking. He might not even have a full hp left. "I know you're still trapped, but don't fear! We're getting you free! But... it might help if you eat something first."

Even though he is apparently at least semi-conscious, Sans doesn't seem to react to Greg's song or Papyrus's voice - only the physical sensation it had on his body. Though his joints stay tense, he stops moving again shortly after started, holding still in the way someone does when anticipating something to hurt. It seems possible that whatever is going on with the headset they have him wearing is blocking out more than just his sight.

That thing on his skull next. Let Sans see what's happening, let him know he's not alone, get whatever they're doing out of his head.

"I'm just making sure
They can't hurt you no more
I'll just be a moment
I'll just be an instant..."

His hands are working, miming little motions pulling plugs and wires and bindings loose from their lodging in Sans' head. It's halting, moving in little stops and starts while Greg's head throbs to his imagined beat.

He's running low on energy, sweat running in his eyes. But this song isn't over until Sans is free.

"That's IT!"

Greg makes a yanking motion, and the rod jammed through Sans' socket releases its hold.

"And they got you pie here!
We gotta get you out."

Everything comes as a shock. Sans isn't thinking coherently, or anything close to it, but up until now he's at least been assuming what is happening around him to an instinctive degree. It's not as if it's the first time that an unseen and unheard someone, or multiple someones, have moved him around or adjusted his restraints - either to add something new or to take him somewhere else and do...something worse.

That's exactly what he's anticipating this time too, though something deep down is reasoning hopefully that there's no way he'll survive something like what cracked his ribs again. There are two options: one, it's something that will hurt less, or two, they are going to kill him, intentionally or by accident, and he couldn't be more relieved. He'd asked as much of them days ago, or what feels like could have been weeks so far as his skewed inner clock understands. He'd tried to do it himself, with contemptible amounts of failure.

'It's still happening' and 'when is it going to end?' are the only two thoughts he's been capable of independently having in a while, but the feeling of having the headpiece pulled off suddenly raises a hundred new ones that seems to crash together and fall into a pile of useless clutter.

It is so very bright, and so incredibly loud. It hurts - but everything does.

The rod pulling out brings a mess of smaller probes out with it, tearing out of the magical field of his consciousness in a way that is thoroughly discombobulating. He doesn't see shapes or images, just light or dark, and sockets remain empty as his eye focuses struggle to reform functionally. He clenches his teeth so tight he feels like they might break, and finds that his head is capable of moving a small amount.

It's overstimulating to an impossible degree and the sensory information pools formlessly into his mind as he shuts his eyes and shakes his head in a confused panic.

Edited 2016-04-23 22:26 (UTC)

Fortunately, Frisk still has the pie. It doesn't seem like Sans is willing to eat any, being too upset to realize they're there yet. But there's a clear pattern going on here. The more Greg sings his song, the more he pulls all those things off, the better Sans is getting. Already he's starting to move again, instead of that awful stillness.

So, clearly, the next step is getting more of that crap off. Quickly.

Hurting people is one thing, and no good if it's not a fair fight where they have the chance to fight back. Breaking an awful table/bed thing, with arm restraints and leg restraints and a collar around his brother's neck? That's something else entirely. The right and fair thing to do here is to break it all so Sans can move again.

Papyrus summons a swarm of bones, directing them in a barrage to smash and shatter the table near Sans' arms. He directs them closer to the restraints themselves, breaking them so they come loose.

"Sans! Can you answer us yet?"

With the fragile state Sans is in... it's too dangerous, even for the great Papyrus, to break it all in one go. He really needs to eat something, get himself healing sooner.

With all of Greg's magic and Papyrus' impressive use of bone swarms, there's not much for a tiny swordsgirl to do. You can't fight post traumatic stress disorder with a sword. So, instead, as everyone hustles about, Connie whirls around on her heel to grab Lion's fur.

"Lion! Be our sentry, okay? She's coming and we need to know when!" And hopefully, while more noticeable, a giant pink lion will fare better against this mystery woman while the rest of them are busy. As he settles into place, Connie quickly sweeps her eyes around the rest of the lab. She hadn't been able to take in the rest of it- Sans' horrific situation had knocked her off balance. Now, however, she quickly hurries over to the strange crystals. Focusing on other things will help keep her from being so shaken up.

What are these? Who knows! But they seem too important to let Virgo keep. Slipping off a sneaker and flipping open her messenger bag, Connie starts knocking the crystals into her bag with the shoe.

What? You don't touch strange mystical artifacts with your bare skin.

Oh, that's much worse.

The overstimulated panic of before is shoved to the wayside in favour of absolute mental pandemonium. Despite having been eager to embrace death in a general sense, instincts still manage to get in the way when a situation so violently demands fight or flight. He'd been incapable of connecting the dots of the situation before - he hadn't realized what had changed. But now, whether or not he understands it is irrelevant, because the deepest parts of him are reaching out for the only way he knows how to save himself from more pain.

And with that crushing weight off of his chest, and his soul, his magic is capable of answering this time - but not without its costs.

Sans vanishes from the machine, only to be wrenched out of his shortcut a mere moment later, collapsing into a pile of fragile, shaking bones several feet away. He's taken the collar with him, and its disruption comes in the form of a sickening amount of pain all throughout his spine and his skull. A pair of fingers end up slipped around the collar, frivolously trying to pull it away from himself as if to reduce its effect, while his other arm folds around his chest like he's just trying to hold himself together.

He curls on the floor, making a wretched sound through his teeth. The back of the collar has an extension that looks as if it's been set into the spaces between his cervical vertebrae.

One minute, Papyrus is still working on breaking the table to break Sans free of those bonds. The next minute, Sans isn't even there anymore. At least it proves Papyrus' theory that getting all that crap off his brother is more helpful than harmful, if Sans reached the point of being able to move like that.

But it's also terrible, because how can they rescue someone who teleported away? He whirls around, knowing Sans might have gone anywhere. What if he's out of sight in another part of the labs, or in another building altogether? Lion's not a dog, he might not be able to track by scent---there Sans is.

Curled up on the ground. Making the worst sound he's ever heard his brother make. This... this can't go on.

Papyrus crouches beside him, And no wonder, he wasn't quite free yet! That collar was still there, and somehow rooted into his spine? These music scientists are the worst. "Okay, this looks bad... but we just need to get this collar off of you. And that other thing out from under it. And then you'll be free of all that stuff!"

Does the collar have an obvious locking mechanism, like a number pad, or card reader, or keyhole, or something? Papyrus could surely break it with another volley of bones, but Sans just looks so fragile that he'd rather make that his second plan.

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CW: suicidal ideation

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