A/N
So in A Name to Remember, I mentioned that the origins of Gaster's scarf wasn't what I originally wanted, but my first plan just didn't fit with the story. Here's what I originally planned!
(Also, Gaster is somewhere outside the city. For some reason. I don't know.)
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It had to be near sunset when I found them. A human encampment, probably military, going off the weapons. Lucky for me, I think they were all drunk, or at least lazy, as I spotted them long before they saw me, and the meager guard of a single sober, underage boy never sounded the alarm.
For a while, I just watched as they sat around their campfire laughing and drinking. I debated lunging in and attacking, but even if they were drunk, that didn't mean I would be able to take them all on at once.
Eventually, the man with the badges marking him as captain got up and headed into the woods. I don't know where he was going or what he was doing, but I saw my opportunity, and took it. As soon as he was a distance where the others at the camp wouldn't notice him, I lunged at him from behind.
He went down quickly. I don't know if he lived or died in the long run, but I know I didn't stop punching him until I heard his ribs crack and he started coughing up blood. I supposed he must have died, then, drowned on his own blood.
When he fell silent, I sat there, still for a long moment. I had just killed a human, with my bare hands. His blood was drying between the bones of my hands.
He deserved it.
Eventually, I rose, and turned to go, but then I saw it. A red scarf, adorning the captain's shoulders.
I don't know what possessed me to take it. It was a human garment, filthy and disgusting as the race.
Perhaps I wanted it as a trophy.
Nonetheless, I pulled the strip of red fabric from the human's neck, and wrapped it around my own. Then I walked away.
As I neared the human encampment, it seemed its occupants were looking for me, or, perhaps more likely, their captain. When they saw me, I must have been but a silhouette on the edge of the firelight. And, I suppose I must have been a near enough height to their captain; that or they were too drunk to tell. Regardless, they saw me, and shouted.
"Captain?" One man slurred. "Izz'at you?"
I just grinned, and stepped forward, enjoying the moment despite the danger. "Not quite."
I'm not... entirely sure what happened after that. I remember a blur of fighting, and staggering, exhausted but pleased, back home, my newest wardrobe addition still settled on my shoulders.
From then on during the war, it was rare to see me without my prize, bought with human blood, draped over the blue jacket I nearly never took off.
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A/N
So there ya go. Alternate story of how Gaster acquired the scarf. This one just didn't fit so well as the version that's actually in the story, as Firhaur's response would have been much different, and Gaster needed the scarf before Firhaur died. Nonetheless, this was one of the original concept ideas I had for ANtR.
