Just me and my serial killers

Chapter 5

(Not edited, sorry if it stinks rip)

The first time you wake up to a reset is weird. It's deja vu, really. A disorienting experience that leaves a foul taste in your mouth. You don't understand, not at first. Not unless told about it previously.

You roam. You're confused and a bit scared. And then it hits you, after you see certain events play out once more according to your previous experience. Ah. You've went back in time. So clearly - clearly this is centered around you. You're the only one who can remember. You're the main character.

Then the resets happen. Again. And again. And you realize that no, you aren't the main character. Just because you can remember them doesn't mean you have much influence. You don't hold the reset button.

So, basically, you don't matter.

Ben has been alive for several years. Not as long as Sally, heavens knew that girl was at least twice his age if they were still counting (they were). He's only had the pleasure of experiencing three people who could reset.

There was a... system, in place for those who could remember resets. They kept in touch somewhat. Ben had his hands in a lot of circles. He was a boy of the internet, after all. No where was safe from his reach if he had the time. Sometimes firewalls were annoying, and Slenderman was - well, he was Slenderman, but most of the time Ben could find whoever he wanted. So it wasn't too difficult to hunt down others that could recall time loops. Especially since most CreepyPasta knew about them, and a good chunk of those CreepyPasta remembered. Like minded individuals.

The first person was a frail old thing. A human with curly hair and a scar from the war. They actually had been quite pleasant when Ben met with them to get answers. They only reset because someone robbed them of their prized jewelry box a few months, and they wanted to figure out who. They were one of the few people Ben left alive after stalking. They answered his questions well enough, patient but clearly disinterested. The person did mention a monster friend from the days of the war who had been working up towards being able to reset. But that friend, they claimed, had been lost in the battle. So Ben didn't think of another taking that persons place after they died from old age. The one thing a reset couldn't save you from. They accepted it with grace, not a single reset scouring the land.

Then resets picked up again a few years back. And Ben couldn't find out who for the life of him. No one could. Either the person was good at hiding, from an obscure location, or they were Underground. The one place no one could reach. So everyone mutually agreed to simply deal with the resets, no matter how persistent they were. Waited for them to pass before moving on with their lives. Some took advantage of the rewound time and killed the same victims over and over again, to quench their sadistic needs.

Then resets happened again. Not spread out. Not like the other two. The same two days, repeated over and over again. Monsters would escape. A reset. Monsters would escape again. And then a reset. Monsters wouldn't escape and yet, a reset. At that point, everyone realized it was a human Underground doing it. So there was nothing they could do to stop the brat but wait.

Then, one time, monsters escaped and time continued.

Then there was the new human in charge of resets. Frisk Dreemurr. A child of gleaming yellow eyes and a glint to their face of knowledge. The controller of time. Owning the most determination in the world. And resets stopped after they escaped, so no one approached them. CreepyPasta were keen to keep knowledge of their existence... withheld. If a kid like that found out about them, well - simply put, it didn't sound good. So everyone moved on with their lives again.

Ben didn't think much of Sans when he first met him. He wasn't the first ever to allow CreepyPasta into his home without the cops on dial. He was a sad, pathetic man wrapped in a blanket under the Slender sickness. A poor victim that some others took pity on.