Control {[An Undertale AU]}

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ENTRY NUMBER 9: things aren't going well. none of the bodies have turned into dust, so i can't get the SOULs. i told the families that i would give them the dust back for the funerals. people are starting to ask me what's happening. what do i do?

Alphys was pacing back and forth in the underground office, her hands behind her back. She honestly didn't know what to do.

ENTRY NUMBER 10: experiments on the vessel are a failure. it doesn't seem to be any different from the control cases. whatever. they're a hassle to work with anyway. the seeds just stick to you, and won't let go...

It felt like everything had come to a sudden halt, like she had rammed headfirst into a brick wall.

ENTRY NUMBER 11: I only received two calls today, thank god, but I think they were from two people I didn't need to talk to. Mettaton called to ask about his body, again, and Gaster, well, he's as curious as everyone else.

Her glasses were lopsided, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep, her lab coat grubbier than usual.

ENTRY NUMBER 12: nothing is happening. i don't know what to do. i'll just keep injecting everything with "determination." i want this to work.

It had been so exciting, so thrilling when she started. But now? Everyone was just to close, pushing her too hard, she couldn't do it. Her conscious was already weighing down her shoulders before the experiments began, this, this she couldn't take.

Her cellphone was sitting on the desk, not even two feet away. She could ask for help. One call and it wouldn't be her problem, she could let go of it.

But no, she couldn't, she wouldn't. Imagine the horrible looks everyone would give her for giving up. It was ironic, when you think about it: she was experimenting with DETERMINATION, and yet she couldn't stay determined enough to see this to the end.

Pitiful.

The lizard reached for her cell phone, her thumbs shaking as she dialled the all too familiar number. She had no idea what time it was, but she didn't care, and she hoped he didn't either.

Two holographic hands popped up in front of her. Alphys? Why are you still up? And why haven't you been returning my calls? The hands didn't stop moving, but they were going too fast and asking too many questions for Alphys's tired eyes to keep up with.

"Look, Gaster," she interrupted, her hand on the desk. "I need your help."