Book 2: The First Fallen Human

Bittersweet Ending

It was quiet in the Save Screen. Only a red, glowing pool remained of what had happened there earlier. It bubbled quietly.

Slowly, but surely, it REFUSED. The red liquid pulling bits of the shattered soul back together until it was a bright, spiderwebbed SOUL. Slowly, the pool began to move upwards around it, forming a silhouette. It was Scooter. But at the same time, those delirious red eyes eyes couldn't have been her. Neither could that glowing smile. The figure had long, dripping red hair and her clothes. A red leather jacket and skinny jeans with combat boots. Simple T-shirt. But it wasn't her.

There was no rope around her neck. There was nothing. It had her facial features. But it wasn't her. It gave a delirious grin. Its SOUL was held together through the red liquid. It was missing large chunks. The SOUL was wracked with black bits. No longer shattered. But twisted. The shape stood, pushing itself up. It glowed brightly.

Ink and Error had left the Save Screen to move back to the Omega Timeline. The silhouette tipped its head, wondering why it had been left. It waited quietly for someone to come along. But first, the thing tried walking.

The shape was not good at walking. It stumbled along with a sickening squishing noise. It moved slowly and uncertainly. It wanted to walk as well as its owner had. It hummed and gurgled to itself. Finally, after several minutes, the shape seemed to be able to hold itself up and walk around.

The shape wondered why it was in a pitch-black space. Even with this darkness, the shape was able to make out the trail it had left of glowing liquid. It tipped its head.

The shape lifted its hands and watched as its dripping lumps slowly formed into fingers. It wiggled its fingers quietly. One at a time, to make sure they were working properly. The thing tipped back its head and slowly, its hands and hair seemed to stiffen. They hardened and became light. Not just in weight.

Its hair glowed with the same intensity of its eyes and smile, its fingers doing the same. Its hair lifted and drifted around its head quietly. The shape hummed to itself in approval. It tipped its head. Could it still...? It lifted a hand and millions of glowing bullets lit up the dark space. It could. The thing's grin widened and it lowered its hand, allowing the bullets to dissipate.

What would it do now? Its owner was dead and it was free to roam. What could it do? It had no idea. At least with its owner, there'd been some end goal. Something that would need... DETERMINATION. It settled down quietly into a crisscross position. As it waited, it became aware of a noise. A faint song. It sounded happy and cheerful. Celebratory. The shape tipped its head, listening.

What could be playing that song? Why was it so muffled? It sat quietly, tapping its glowing fingers nervously. The song became louder and more upbeat. It was a song of joy. Of happiness and celebration. That was as much as the shape understood.

Something about the song made the shape feel bad. Not guilty. But sick. The song made it want to vomit or freak out. But it didn't. It waited and listened. Then, it struck the shape. It was for its owner. Because she'd finally gotten the one thing she'd been after. Death. It was for Scooter, an immortal who just wanted to die. She'd achieved it.

The shape knew it should've probably been happy. But why? It didn't care about Scooter. Why would it? She'd been its creator and its owner, but the shape owed nothing to her. It twitched. The song just made it uncomfortable. It hated it. It wanted the song to stop.

The shape trembled and covered its ears as red, glowing liquid began to twist out from it in roots. It scowled and gurgled, growling lowly. It didn't want to be Scooter. It wanted to be something different. But this was the only appearance it knew. It didn't want to be a skeleton, like Sans. Or a goat, like Toriel. It wanted to be a human.

The shape growled again and twitched, going into a full body shudder. Its body bubbled. The shape tipped its head back and let out a screechy noise. Something akin to metal scraping against metal. A horrible sound.

The shape wanted to live. It inhaled quietly, slowly, but surely, teaching itself how to breathe. It stared down at its red-tinted skin and appearance. Slowly, its pants and boots became black with gold buckles, while its red jacket became actual leather and a black shirt appeared on it. It was almost there.

The shape screwed its eyes shut but couldn't do it and released its focus, forcing its clothes to become part of its body once more. A dull red liquid. The shape scowled. It didn't want to look like this. It didn't want to be a shape. It wanted to be a human. It wanted to be alive. It continued to draw in and exhale careful breaths.

The shape blinked. It nodded and waited a few moments before blinking again. It would have to know how to do that too. It breathed. It blinked. Wait a few moments. Breathe. Blink. The shape nodded. Its hair continued to drift around its face.

The shape began to pace, practicing its walking. It stumbled around awkwardly, humming and gurgling to itself. It continued to breathe. Breathe and blink. Breathe and blink. It tipped its head as its feet hardened, so it wouldn't leave behind any more of the red liquid footprints.

Once it was convinced it had itself controlled, the shape began to look around. It wondered if it could leave. The shape knelt down and drew a circle on the ground. The shape paused and watched quietly as the circle began to fill in with bright, white light, revealing the Omega Timeline.

The shape glanced back at the emptiness of the Save Screen before slipping through the hole. As soon as its last hair tip cleared the edge, the hole shut with a loud snap. Like a rubber band. There was nothing left in the Save Screen, save for those few glowing red footprints.