SEVEN HUMAN SOULS

Justice

[19:31:20] Astronaut Richardson: the seven humans fic has come back

[19:31:23] Astronaut Richardson: it wants revenge

[19:31:27] Astronaut Richardson: it wants closure

[19:32:03] Astronaut Richardson: 'you can't bring back frisk by killing me!' I cry as the fic holds a gun to my head

[19:32:15] Astronaut Richardson: 'i know.' it replies. it pulls the trigger.

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Chiming bells and golden light meets the humans before it does Not-Frisk. Pat breathes in the clean smell, the smell of grass and warm air and Brav basks in the golden light, and suddenly their bones and their skin are warm, eyes full of the light.

Not-Frisk skids through into the hall behind them, dust scattering behind them in the speed.

Stood in the shadows of the golden pillars is a dark figure, completely still.

Laughter echoes through the hall, and the humans turn to see Frisk, mouth hanging open like a loose rag, showing yellow teeth and gaps. Their skin writhed with rotten muscle as they crawled a thumb over the blade of their knife.

'So you finally made it.' They whisper.

Pat is struck with the true realisation that this is really not Frisk anymore.

The figure stays still, then chuckles. He looks up, skull glinting yellow in the gleams of light. Two pinpricks of light embedded in his skull. A grin plastered to his face that never seemed to leave.

'The end of your journey is at hand.' Sans murmurs.

Not-Frisk takes a step forward.

'In a few moments, you'll meet... Well.' Sans trails off as Not-Frisk takes two more steps forward. He seems preoccupied, but the stars of light in his sockets won't leave Not Frisk's hand. 'You're not going to be meeting anyone, I guess.'

'That's then.' Not-Frisk prompts.

'Now.' Sans continues. 'you will be judged. You will be judged for your every action.'

Not-Frisk almost doesn't notice the twitch of his wrist, but just out the corner of their eye they see it. And then they hear it.

It's an alarm in their ears, a practised noise that they could mimic if they wanted to. A single second of noise; a warning for them to run - or to just move slightly to the left.

They pick the latter.

The beam of light streaks through the air, snapping the silence in half and the other humans jump.

'EXP, ATK, DEF, HP, LV... You don't really care about those, do you?' He asks.

There's another alarm noise; this one significantly closer, and Not-Frisk leaps effortlessly away from it, eyes on the prize.

'They're just numbers, just symbols in a sea of code.' Sans adds, his voice empty.

'Like you, I guess.' Not-Frisk bites back.

This time, the beams of light shook the ground as they split the room into four triangles, that Not-Frisk barely managed to avoid. The ground simmered with the intensity of the beams.

'Am I, though?' He asks. 'Am I really? What is it you call me - the anomoly?'

'The nickname's mutual.' Not-Frisk humours.

Silence fills the room.

It's overwhelming.

It's so cold, suddenly.