HAZE

Mystery Man's Plans for the Future

They'd been there a thousand times.

Stumbling through the Underground, head bowed, arms wrapped around themselves, Frisk walked along a path in Waterfall, lost to themselves. Their limbs numb, eyes focusing on nothing, they rocked back and forth, their balance unsteady. Their clothes were dirtied and torn, though they weren't sure if it was the dust or the blood that bothered them more.

What number were they on, now? Was this their second run? Their third? Fifth? Tenth? Who knows. Their head cluttered with thoughts, their very soul pounding with disgust as their "determination" led them on a leash.

Why am I doing this? They wondered. Why am I here?

Shadows cowered away from their stalking form, clearing a way for them to walk. The Underground remained quiet; not offering a single answer to their questions.

Frisk tripped to a stop, leaning against the wall. Water fell around them, on them, washing away some of the dust. Some—but not all.

They checked their stats.

LV 7.

Not bad, they thought. Could be higher, but not bad.

...Sans is gonna kill me.

But no, of course he wouldn't. Sans never fought them—ever. Even when they killed his brother—even when they taunted him and tore that stupid red scarf in half in front of his furious little face—he merely gave them a lecture and moved on. Always letting things slide off his back...

But that's fine. I'll find what makes him tick soon enough.

The skin on their back tingled, but they ignored it and continued on—

What?

—walking into the next room.

The hall stretched on endlessly, the room beyond shrouded in darkness. Blue, florescent flowers were the first things to be found, blooming all around them and climbing the walls, bathing the hall with their light. They surrounded a dull, grey door, which hung loosely on its hinges, cracked open.

This... The child fumbled with their hands, eyebrows furrowed together, this was never here before. What—what is this?

Frisk inspected the flowers closer, listening.

Nothing but static.

Strange...

They stepped away, eyes falling on the door. Hands hovering over the stick at their waist, they walked over to it, steps tentative.

They reached forward, steadying their breath. Their arm shook.

Alright, they thought. Let's see what's been hiding from me, shall we?

The moment their hand fell on the doorknob, wind blew them back, push them away. Frisk yelped in surprise, digging their heels into the dirt. "Hey—"

The door burst open, the gust of wind pressing them against the opposite wall. It howled in their ears, screeching—screaming—unrelenting. The flowers guarding it went out, wilting, their colors mimicking that of the monochromatic door.

Frisk set their jaw, waiting for it to pass. I have to get in there...

Pressing their palms against the wall, gritting their teeth, they pushed themselves off from it, reaching out. Their hands grabbed onto the doorknob, holding onto either end, keeping themselves from flying back.