Chapter Text
It’s dark, you know that much. Everytime you tilt your head, or think , bright bubbles of pain wrack your skull, like a razor sharp knife slipping home. The air was punched silently from your lungs, nausea rolling to the top of your throat. The fact that you were laying down didn’t really help.
You pry your mouth open, taking in a gasp of stale, hot air.
The temperature, despite it being warm where you lived, is what clued you in that something is wrong . It’s October, isn’t it?
No, no. November. It’s your birthday. You just turned seventeen.
Where are you?
Your head hurts too much to lift it, so you tap your fingertips around. You quickly find your wrist is restrained. You try your left hand, and come to the same conclusion. Your brow furrows, and you wince at the ache it brings.
You school your expression back into something calm, taking a deep breath and twisting your wrist around to feel what's holding you.
Metal cuffs?
..What?
It was your birthday. You were supposed to be at the hotel right now. You had.. Plans? The escape room. You wanted to do an escape room for your birthday. You loved puzzles.
Maybe this was part of it?
No, that didn’t make sense.
Why did your head hurt so much?
Did you get.. Like.. roofied or something? You didn’t drink anything alcoholic, that isn’t something you’re into, and you were with your friends all day. What happened?
Moving your feet around and pointing your toes, you realize your ankles are strapped down, too. Your mouth feels weird , simultaneously like it’s been stuffed with cotton then microwaved, and pressure washed. You force a soft groan to bubble from your throat, as if to test that you could speak.
Your voice sounds different. A little rougher, a little louder?
You didn’t.. You didn’t party or anything? You went to eat at a sushi restaurant. You.. You worked there, didn’t you? Yeah. You’re a hostess. Host.
…Why can’t you remember your gender?
What the fuck??
You force your mouth open again, unlocking your voice. “...Mom?”
Your voice sounded foreign, but it was definitely you that said that. You don’t really have a sore throat, other than it feeling dry, so you weren’t sure why you sounded like that.
You sit in silence for a while, waiting for her to respond. She was in the room with you, wasn’t she? She was sleeping on the couch across from the bed. Wasn’t she?
“.....Mom?”
Nothing. You didn’t want to, but you could feel that you were alone.
Tears burn in your eyes. Something is wrong.
You tap at the bed again, wishing you were hearing soft fabric instead of hard metal. A cot with no padding. It was cold.
An involuntary sob reaches the top of your throat.
You’re scared.
You’re strapped to a metal cot. Your head hurts. It’s hot and cold and dry and you’re alone. You don’t know where your mom is. You’re seventeen.
Something in your heart tells you that you’ll never see her again.
You slowly crack your eyes open, wincing at the influx of light, but relaxing quickly. It’s pretty dim in the room. Fear sheaths its claws into your throat as you look around the room. A hospital?
Did something happen? There was a weak spot on the floor of your hotel room. Did it… fall or something? That was… kind of a terrifying thought. You’ve always been scared of heights. Maybe you hit your head on the way down?
But that didn’t explain why you were strapped down..? They only did that to crazy people. You aren’t crazy.
(Crazy? I was crazy once. They put me in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. The rats made me crazy. Crazy?-)
Okay, shut up.
It also didn’t explain why your chest hurt. You didn’t really notice it at first, but now that you’re like.. conscious?? Ow.
Maybe you landed on something on the way down?
…Now that you think of it, you remember a loud noise. Something bright? Or.. fast, maybe?
Why can’t you remember anything?
…You can’t remember your name.
You take a deep, steadying breath. That’s okay. You’ll ask the doctor. You can hear footsteps coming close anyway.
Wait, that’s not a good thing.
You slump back down, steadying your breaths and relaxing. You had plenty of practice pretending to be asleep to avoid your mom yelling at you. You’re fine. Everything would be okay. A distant part of you wants to draw the cross over your chest.
(You weren’t even Catholic. Your mom used to be, but you were raised Christian. God would protect you, wouldn’t he?)
You clench your fists to calm yourself, preparing for someone to walk in. You just know it’s a man. You’re terrified. You send a silent prayer. You can’t remember your life, but you feel like you’re a good person. You can’t have been that bad. You’re only seventeen. You’d been taught your whole life that if you had faith, God would protect you.
(Lord, please protect me.)
You tighten your fist again and notice that there’s no give. You’d… you’d gotten your nails done, didn’t you? But..?
The steps were getting ever closer, but you can’t help it. You crack open one eye to peak at your hand.
Bone.
Bone-
The door of the room slides open mechanically, and you startle. Shit.
Shit.
Your fear bursts in your chest and you feel your heart rate pick up. You faintly remembered owning a rabbit in that moment, holding her in your hands and feeling her little heart race under her ribs. Suddenly, you were the rabbit, staring down a… a monster.
Tall and gaunt with too long arms and empty sockets. It doesn’t have skin. (Granted, neither did you. ……WHAT THE FUCK.)
A reaper?
A reaper.. In a lab coat?
It stared at you for a moment, tilting its skull like a giant, decayed bird. The cracks ripping down its eye sockets don’t exactly make it look friendly.
Wait.
Cracks?
You look closer, squinting at it. You…. Did you wear glasses? You kind of think you were supposed to be wearing glasses. Your face feels a little naked. Maybe because you don’t have skin.
Where is my skin, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. You are being far too casual about this MADE OF BONE THING.
Oh yeah, you’re distracted because of the creature in the room with you.
That’s… That’s Gaster.
Holy shit. You would know, your birthday party was Undertale themed. You dressed as Papyrus and everything. One of the cake toppers was.. Gaster.
Gaster.
You’re made of bone.. In a lab… with Gaster.
Holy shit. You got isekai-ed.
(Okay, God, when I said I didn’t want to be around anymore, this is not what I meant.)
Gaster taking a step forward startles you from your thoughts, shifting backwards. It- He? They tilt their head the other way, slipping a hand into their pocket and pulling out something small and rectangular. You can’t see what it was from the distance and the odd shape of Gaster’s hand, but the tell-tale click and soft buzzing noise clues you in on it being a recorder of some kind.
“Subject P-2 is awake. Similar reaction to S-1, but less violent. Seems fearful. Hasn’t spoken.”
Gaster stepped closer, and you realized he had little circles in his sockets. You hesitate, not sure if you should reveal you could speak or not. Are you.. Supposed to be able to speak? Are you supposed to understand him right now?
He hums and moves closer still until he’s at your side, staring down at you. Your heart beats a tattoo against your chest. You wish your brother had taught you how to fight more recently. You can’t.. You can’t remember his name.
Fresh tears burn at your eyes. Fuck.
That was the one thing you promised yourself. You wouldn’t forget him.
Now look at you.
You barely have time to flinch before Gaster grabs your face, pinching the back of your jaw and forcing your mouth open. A terrified whine catches in your throat as Gaster studies you intently. This close, you can see a scar on his cervical vertebrae. Three shallow claw marks. Small, like a cat scratched him.
“Subject is… crying. Much more emotional than Subject S-1. Disappointing that it will not speak, but I have suspicion that it’s simply fear response. Perhaps meeting the other subject will correct this. It seems the subject can understand me, know doubt from receiving a portion of my intelligence through the magic transfer, like S-1.”
Okay, so you were supposed to understand him.
Okay.
S-1 and P-2.
Sans and Papyrus.
You were Papyrus.
(...You called it, at least. This is what you get for cosplaying in public.)
…That’s actually sick as fuck though, you were so down to be Papyrus. At least skeletons probably couldn’t get raped, which was your main fear.
…. You’re actually fucked in the head.
At least you’re not fucked elsewhere!
Oh, yeah. You’re an optimist.
Pause, back to being scared.
Gaster lifts his hand, grabbing your cheek bones and forcing you to look at him. “Hello, P-2. Assuming you can understand me, which you should, this will be your one and only warning. You are replaceable. Do you understand?”
Your chest hurts. Your head aches. You’re scared, you’re seventeen, you’re powerless, and you’re completely alone.
You force your voice into action as always, even with the foreign accent and increased volume that came with literally turning into a monster , your words were soft and weak. “...Yes, sir.”
Gaster grinned, “...Good. This experiment will prove to be very, very, interesting.”
You felt your hope slip away, dread filling the void in your chest as the light of your future grew darker, yet darker.
You always had a feeling your dreams were never meant to be.