The Missing Piece

No matter the cost.

You wiped the trail of blood from the corner of your mouth, wincing at the metallic taste that flooded your senses as the tip of your tongue brushed against the hot liquid. It was a comfort, almost, the way that your blood provided some form of warmth against the startling coldness that had begun to seep through your limbs since the start of the battle, the same type of warmth that often settled into the limbs of those that had begun their descent into the clutches of death, where the walls between reality blurred and the afterlife, whatever realm lay beyond this existence, emerged.

You knew that this was a fight that you could and would not win from the moment you had taken charge, decided to confront the demonic entity that was so intent on ripping your soul from your corporeal form and using the depths of your magic that were trapped inside your mind to unleash havoc and chaos upon the rest of the world that you had not yet known.

Why had you fought a losing battle?

Perhaps it had been out of spite and hatred, hatred for the scientist whom you fought against now. Even though the mind of the scientist no longer controlled his vessel, it was still the same deformed pair of hands whom crafted the magic, the same narrowed pair of eyes that glinted at you through the cracked pair of spectacles on his face. So even if you were not fighting the scientist himself, perhaps this was your sadistic way of exacting your revenge, to perhaps make the feeble ghost of a consciousness that still existed inside his mind to feel the same pain that you and the two skeletons had felt every time you had been strapped on that damn metal table, screaming as bolt after bolt of electricity snaked its way down your spine, numbing all your senses until you felt nothing but pain, pain, pain!

Or perhaps it was for the skeletons themselves, the two skeletons that you had finally accepted as living creatures rather than inanimate objects, things that you had tried to distance yourself from in the fear that they might wither into dust at the slightest touch, that they might one day crumble into ash on the operating table and you would find yourself alone once more.

Because you were always alone, were you not? You were always the one who had watched generation after generation of test subjects wander through these walls, test subjects you had allowed yourself to grow attached to, form relationships with only to have them die right before your very eyes. So you had distanced yourself, kept your mind and heart closed from every living thing around you, to numb out the pain and disappointment as the experiments descended into their own blubbering insanity, internal systems collapsing as the result of some faulty wiring.

But Sans and Papyrus had been different.

They had lived where others had died, lived the longest out of all the experiments that had come and gone in your lifetime. And so the faint inkling of hope had manifested inside your mind, the flare of determination and wonder that perhaps you wouldn't be alone after all, that these would live, that you wouldn't have to watch as the scientist carried away their ashes and thrown them away into flame, no memory that they had ever existed apart from the ghost of the memories that existed within your mind.

You had allowed them to become people that you cared for and you were determined to not let another person close to you die. So yes, that was why you were fighting, even when the odds were not in your favour, why you were fighting against an entity who had the power of immortals on their side.

"And yet you have failed at even that," Kris sighed as if reading your innermost thoughts, a prospect that greatly unnerved you. For the mind of man was often one's last sanctuary and if that was violated, where then could you hide? The daemon took a step closer to you and knelt in front of your crumpled form, tilting your chin upwards so that the two of you stated eye to eye.

"The two that you consider to be part of your wayward family," Kris nodded towards Sans and Papyrus' withered form, whose blank eyesockets stared into the light of the world they could not see. "You think that it is your duty to protect them, that the burden and duty of care falls upon your shoulders because you have allowed them into your thoughts, consider them living things rather than creatures. But even now you have failed at that, even if you refuse to admit it. Papyrus is gone, his soul has ceased into the Void and never will return."

You didn't reply, staring at the ground as you clenched your jaw. "You have failed and yet you continue this crusade of yours. You know that I will win in the end, that I will claim your vessel as my own and use your very hands to clamp around the windpipe of the comedian that you so care for, step on his ashes and emerge as god amongst the monsters of this world and the humans of the Surface."

"You won't win," you spat at the daemon's feet. "As long as there is life, as long as there is at least one breath or a ghost of something with a mind that you cannot control, you will never have won. You may kill me, but we will live on through those that will rebel against you."

"So much hope," Kris mused, humoured by the fading resilience that struggled to stay aflame within your mind. "But cannot you grasp how hopeless, how hapless your situation is? Perhaps I will show you now, how utterly powerless you and your friends are, that there is no escape from this hell that you are in, that I am and always will be one step ahead of you."

Kris stepped over your trembling from and took a step towards Sans who was still sitting next to the hunched lifeless vessel of his brother, hatred evident in his gaze as he stared at the daemon. "Rise," Kris spat and took hold of Sans' soul, lifting his several feet above the ground. You attempted to stand but found yourself held in place, whatever magic Kris was using to hold Sans at bay also holding claim on your soul as well.

Kris' left hand began to glow a deep crimson, red electricity dancing down the base of their palm and across the tips of their fingers. The daemon placed their hand against the skeleton's skull, the electricity snaking from their fingers and into the skeleton's skull. Sans let loose an agonised scream as the energy began to eat away at his bones, the first flakes of dust falling to the ground.

There was nothing you could do but watch in silence, watch as the last of the two skeletons whom you had failed to protect wither into dust, settle into the clutches of a cold and unsettling grave. They were just two more in the long line of skeletons whom had walked through these green walls, skeletons that you had allowed yourself, foolish as you were, to befriend and watch in horror as they died right before your very eyes.

But not only could you watch, but you could also think. For the mind was man's last sanctuary, the last place of refuge that you could find yourself in.

You found yourself thinking how unfair this was, how the die had been cast so that you would end up in a world such as the one that you were in now, a world that had been anything but kind, a world where skeletons untold had too been subjected to a short and cruel life, birthed into agony and died in flame.

How unfair it was that this creature, the human who was not a human, should find themselves the rightful ruler of this fleeting existence, that they contained power untold that no mortal could hope to rival, that after they killed Sans and took over your corporeal form, they would wreak havoc upon the living, those who had no clue of the battle that currently waged underneath their feet, those that would be subjected to the same death as you were about to face. How could it be fair that one could have so much power, what gave them the right?

You were not sure what emotion was running through your mind or if there was any word or phrase in the language of your native tongue that could describe what was racing through you. There was a phrase, you thought, that seemed to summarise everything that went through you, every thought, every emotion that was blazing through you at this very moment.

It was a phrase that seemed to extend beyond this lifetime, a phrase you wondered if you had said before in a different lifetime but you dismissed that as the revelries of a mad man for no mortal could live another life besides the one they were given.

Your right hand burst into white flame, a colour that represented this emotion that could not be fit into words besides the two that left your tongue. You weren't even sure what language this phrased belonged to or why it seemed to fit where all other combinations of sounds and noises failed.

Kris seemed to sense the shift in your attitude and they removed their hand from the base of Sans' skull, watching in horror as you got to your feet, bypassing their hold on your soul as you flashed them a knowing smile, raising your left hand above your head, the tips of your fingers alive with white flame.

"Avar Hivaeken!"

The daemon let loose a scream as you released the stream of magic channeled through these strange words, the white flame wrapping around their limbs, eating away at the scientist's vessel. Kris began to convulse as the magic not only destroyed their physical form but rather their coding as well.

You were not sure the extent of the magic that you had unleashed, but there was a strange film that was beginning to cover your thoughts, making it harder to recollect certain memories. These green walls were not as familiar as they had once seem nor did the name of any of the two skeletons nearest to you come to mind. What were you even doing here?

The screaming entity to your left began to let loose a giggle, an eerie contrast to the screams that had been leaving their mouth only seconds ago. The daemon raised a trembling arm and touched the skull of one of the skeletons, the tallest you noted, before crumbling into dust. The tallest skeleton who had once been immobile began to move though you weren't sure if this was a bad thing or not. The fading reservoir of memories within your mind was making reality harder to distinguish from fiction.

"Get out of here," you muttered to the skeletons, not sure what was going on, why it was so hard to remember even what you had been doing only seconds ago. But if there was one thing for sure, one instinct that blazed itself into your subconsciousness, it was that you had to leave this green catacombs, to escape this hell that had more nightmares than pleasant memories.

The shortest of the two skeletons seemed just as dazed as you were, though the tallest seemed rather calm, nodding slightly and following after you. Your connection, however you were related to these two monsters, was beginning to fade from the depths of your mind.

For you did not know, but not only had you eradicated Kris and the scientist's joined consciousness from the vessel they had possessed, your magic had removed their coding, any living memory of either the scientist or the daemon. For you and the skeletons, that meant your entire identity, gone in an instant, for had your entire existence revolved around the very scientist whom you could remember no longer?

The rest was a blur, a collecting of fading memories as you stumbled through green hallways, eventually into a land of liquid fire, through a marshland where stars shone on the ravines above and finally in a world of snow, where the last of your energy and the skeletons' ceased and the three of you collapsed in the snow. For when you would awake, you would remember nothing, nothing of the horrors you had endured nor of the fact that Papyrus was not and could not be alive, conscious as he was. For there was something very, very wrong with that. But you would know not of that.

Until now.

The Present

You tore from your memories with a gasp, shuddering not from the cold of the world around you but rather from the flow of memories as they returned to your mind, memories of the experiments and horrors you had been through, recalling each and every painful detail of your life that you thought would have been best kept hidden in the dark.

"Why bother showing me any of this?" You spat in anger as Kris stood in front of you. Or was this creature even really Kris anymore? It was now some sadistic fusion of the scientist's consciousness along with the daemon's. "If you're just going to kill me or possess me or whatever, why don't you just do it now?"

"Because," Kris shrugged, a knowing smiling spreading across their features, "We have no need for taking over your vessel now. We have taken over the form of another human, harnessed their reserves of determination and magic to enhance our own. Instead, we want to watch you suffer, to watch us tear and blaze through this world, killing everyone you've ever known or loved. And then we shall meet for the last time in the hall of judgement and your fate shall be decided there. Besides, we want our puppet to play with you first before we have the delight of ending your life once and for all."

Your mind thought back to Papyrus, to how Kris had used the last of their dying breath to reanimate the lifeless skeleton. But Papyrus wasn't alive, not really. His old self, his soul, that had been scooped out and burned a long time ago. Whatever was powering him now, whatever acted as his makeshift soul, it must be a part of...

"Little old us!" The daemon exclaimed, cackling in delight. "Have you figured it out now, how that skeleton of yours is alive and kicking? A part of our soul, our consciousness is still living inside him, keeping a watch on you all this time that we've been away. And oh, look at that! You've made the mistake of leaving that comedian home alone with him!"

Horror clawed its way through your stomach as you turned on your heels and began to run through the burning town of Snowden, blood roaring in your ears as you passed by the burning diner where the screams of the monsters trapped inside had long since been quite, ignoring the piles of dust that were drifting through the streets, looking very much like snow.

The daemon's laughter continued to echo in your mind as the creature disappeared into the darkness, into their world of shadow. You knew that the next time you would be seeing them would be in the hall of judgement, with the red and gold that had come to you in the dream that had not been a dream. And how foolish of you to have thought that this dream, this glimpse into a future outside your green tomb, was a promise into a future that harboured no pain, no suffering!

You arrived in front of your home, trembling at the silence as you slammed your shoulder against the door and burst into the living room. The first thing you made out was the hunched form of Papyrus who clutched a silver knife in his hand, laughing maniacally as he turned around to face you, a crimson glint in his empty eyesockets.

"Would you look who's back!" Papyrus shrieked in sadistic delight, brandishing the tip of the dusted blade. "I thought you would never join in on the fun!"

You did not reply as your gaze fell down to a lone pile of dust, the sign that came with a finality that you had failed, failed to protect these two skeletons that you had allowed into your life, thought of them as living creatures rather than inanimate objects in the hope that there might have been a better future for the three of you.

"Oh, are you looking for Sans?" Papyrus looked down at the dusted remains of his brother. "I hate to inform you, but he's pasta away!" And on those words he sprang at you, the knife outstretched, ready to slit your throat.

It was unnerving how easily the deed was done as you tapped into your reserve of magic, the tip of your palm glowing a deep crimson as you shot a bolt of flame at Papyrus, hitting him square in the chest. "What fun!" The skeleton giggled as he hit the wall, his skull cracking as he withered into ash.

You did not bother to fight back the wave of hysteria that bubbled up in your chest, a fresh wave of sobs escaping your lips. In the midst of your frustration, you shot a fire bolt where Papyrus' remains lay and once where Sans' dusted corpse sat as well, hating the reminders of the failure you were, how you had let everything crumble in less than an hour out of the result of a foolish mistake!

The living room was ablaze with flame but you did not care, feeling oddly numb. As you walked out of the door, embarking on the path where you would once more meet the human in the hall of judgement where the final outcome would be decided for the last time, you quenched the fire in your path but left the rest to burn.