Frankenstein Complex First Public Draft

Frankenstein Complex
First Public Draft

---1---
	For the fourth time, Chujin Ketsukane adjusted his goggles. He had, multiple times over already, checked that every button on his lab coat was affixed, that his collar was straight, his clothes were un-creased, and his pants were tucked into his work boots. His hair was in order, his posture rigid, and his expression as phlegmatic as he could muster given the circumstance.
	He told himself things would be fine if not better than; intellectually, he had no reason to suspect anything less than an acknowledgement of his deed and, optimistically, a few words of praise, before he was given permission to leave. As the minutes passed at the large hall, the farthest a monster may enter without a satisfactory rank, or an escort by one with such rank, it got just a little harder for Chujin to distract himself from his own instinct for self-preservation, an instinct unassuaged by logic, intent to remind him what even his daughter of five knew by heart: one does not see the King.
	For the fifth time, Chujin Ketsukane adjusted his goggles. He pulled out a watch from his pocket. Flipping it open his brow furrowed; two minutes past the hour. Chujin had worried about the prospect of his own tardiness and arrived early to be safe, but could not have predicted someone close enough to work directly with the King to be so unprofessional as to leave him waiting. What kind of—
	As if to answer, a small hiss jolted Chujin from his introspection. “What are you doing? Get in here, you ass!” Before he had gotten a good look, the small monster immediately scuttled away, back in the direction of the throne room. He wanted to call out and ask for the identity of the messenger, but he or she—Chujin couldn’t tell from his one half-glance—waved an impatient arm before passing the corner out of sight. He suppressed the lump in his throat and strode toward the throne room, the most hallowed ground of the Underground… and toward him.
	There was no door, and there were no guards. Neither was necessary, for only the suicidal would risk trespassing, and there were quicker and less unpleasant ways to go out at that. Chujin was surprised by the lack of ‘aura’ as he approached the Underground’s Beginning and End, where monsterkind first entered and where they will forever depart. The great halls looked no different than the rest of New Home; cracked, rusted, worn down, relinquished to the forces of entropy.
	He hesitated at the final archway. Something grabbed his arm and pulled him in.
--------------------------------
	“Dr. Ketsukane! I’m so pleased you could make it!” the scuttler greeted in her nasally voice. It definitely was a woman, standing on her toes in an attempt to fill out her too-long dress, gloved fingers tapping against one another in a restless motion. Chujin couldn’t see her eyes through her thick, almost opaque lenses, but her manic grin told enough of her emotional state. Her yellowed, unbutton jacket struck him as peculiar, but then he considered how someone like her could gain access to this place, and it all came to him.
	Before she had the chance to introduce herself, Chujin took the opportunity from her. “Royal Scientist Dr. Alphys, I presume?”
	“Y-Y-Yes!” Alphys squeaked, shrinking for a moment before re-aligning herself. “Have you read my work?”
	Chujin had not, but nodded anyway and turned the conversation to the one thing he knew quite well about her. The thing that had served as a roadblock for him on more than one occasion. “Is your Human Eradication Device progressing well?”
	“Very much so!” the doctor beamed. “Oh, you should have seen our most recent performance in Hotland. Now I wouldn’t take all the credit for this, except for the fact that I built him of course. The things we’ve gotten the press to say...!”
	Chujin maintained eye contact, occasionally nodded slightly, and let her prattle on. Despite not knowing her papers, he and the rest of the Underground had been barraged by ballyhoo surrounding the development of the HED. It sang, it danced, it sang and danced at the same time… Alphys’s publicity tour advertised practically all of its features except for its actual combat utility. Against all odds and setbacks it seemed Chujin Ketsukane’s model cornered that market first. He kept his smirk on the inside.
	There’s only so much attention a monster can pretend to give, and when Chujin felt confident Alphys was sufficiently engrossed in self-aggrandization, his eyes surveyed the rest of the room. Though the walls and floor were as gray as any corner of New Home, the center of the floor abruptly bloomed into a bed of golden petals, better-cared-for than even the sakura planted by his ancestors upon monsterkind’s exile. He could scarcely believe something could grow so prosperous down here, let alone in these urban ruins. At the very center of the bed sat a throne—
	Chujin’s heart stopped.
	He had been so distracted by the royal scientist that he failed to notice the most important monster alive was a member of their inane conversation.
	King Asgore.
	The King’s heavy, labored breathing was obvious now, and Chujin felt foolish for ignoring even that. Long, sinewy limbs fell nearly limp in the armrests of the chair and the King stood motionless besides the heaving of his barrel chest with each wheeze for air. It didn’t resemble anything Chujin had imagined the savior of monsterkind to look or sound; depictions of the King were prohibited and it was considered taboo to speak even his name, though it was common knowledge yet that he was a large, horned Boss Monster. That much was true, but the apparent state of his health discredited the belief that he could cleave any man or monster with one swing of his trident. It didn’t seem like the King, certainly once as great as the hushed legends portrayed, had even the capacity to stand now.
	But then, unthinkingly, Chujin made eye contact with the King and could not look away. His eyes were barely visible, white pinpricks underneath a wild, matted mane of muddy yellow hair, but their expression pierced Chujin without the need for interpretation. It was alien, pained, but one thing shone through it all: a hatred, for humanity. For all they’ve done. To himself. To monsterkind.
	Chujin saw his reflection.
	“…but I really should stop. You probably know almost as much about robotics as I do at this point! And I-I…”
	Alphys became aware that she had, at some point, become the only participant in the conversation, and the room became silent. After a pause, the doctor rose a finger in preparation to recapture Chujin’s attention; a sharp inhale from the King turned her to stone. A second later, choking through gravel, he ordered: “Step out.” Alphys did not wait for clarification and scurried out to the hallway. Chujin’s eyes remained locked.
	He drew more breath. “You are talented.”
	Chujin did not respond.
	“I want you to work.” He couldn’t go more than a few words without gasping for more air. “For monsterkind.”
	Chujin kept his composure at this offer. The next sentence, though, took him aback, and he flinched.
	“I accept any terms.”
--------------------------------
	Dr. Alphys, for the second time, adjusted her glasses. She had expected a bargaining position for the meeting she had suggested in the first place, and now she was exiled from the discussion. Her wiretap sat uselessly in one of her pockets; she could have easily dropped it if she had known this would happen. A golden opportunity fell right into her scaly hands and she let it all go to fate.
	She was nibbling on her nails when Chujin Ketsukane stolidly stepped out of the chamber. Alphys quickly replaced her glove, unhunched her back best as she could, and choked on her second greeting. “Y-Y-You were i-in there for a w-w-while!” She cleared her throat and got her stutter in order. “Did He tell you about…?”
	“I’ve accepted the position.” Chujin nodded.
	“A-Already? I mean that’s great! And you start?”
	“I’ll… have to talk with my wife about that. Shouldn’t be longer than a week.”
	“Ohthankgod— I-I mean, take all the time you need, of course. I know you’ll probably need to tend to your family, with the, yeah after it, given, when,” Alphys bumbled before trailing off completely. The two were now on their way, together, to the elevator. “It’s not that I need that much help of course but, the whole ‘portable high-grade explosives’ concept has been more of an art than a science for me thus far. I’ll get there, I will, but if having you and your Axle model can save me from a few extra holes in the floor I’m grateful.”
	“AXS.”
	“Huh?”
	“My model line is AXS,” Chujin repeated. “Or Axis, if you will.”
	“Right, right, I’ll have all the schematics sent from your employer now that we have an agreement.”
	The lift came to a stop and the pair entered.  As the doors closed Alphys sighed and, from Chujin’s perspective, her entire body appeared to deflate. He watched her remove her tinted lenses and pull out a cloth to wipe them. She seemed tired.
	“These things are real handy,” she said without looking up. “The big man scares the pants off me, but I can pretend to look at him without having to, you know, look at him. I don’t know if this is a permanent gig but, just in case, I’d look into getting something that can hide your eyes.”
	“I’ll… make a note of that.” Chujin nodded thoughtfully.
	Alphys extended a hand upward and Chujin politely took it. “As I said, I’m Dr. Alphys. On UnderNet it’s just ALPHYS, all caps. Not ‘DocterAlphys,’ that’s some troll pretending to be me. I would NEVER say those things. If you want, Dr. Ketsukane, I c-could add you.”
	“I don’t have an UnderNet account, and—“
	“It’s real easy! Just let me set one up for you.”
	“—and,” he stressed, “I’m not a doctor. Chujin Ketsukane, P.E., or Mr. Chujin Ketsukane.”
	“Oh I-I-I didn’t know it was a surname, I’m so sorry!” Alphys blushed.
	“I understand. It’s not common to have one in the Underground.”
	“Right, I only know about Asgore’s.” Alphys realized she had used his name out loud and muttered, “I’m sorry.” Chujin nodded, understanding the mistake even if he never would have made it.
	A moment passed before Alphys drummed the conversation back up. “So, uh, Chujin?” Chujin wasn’t quite comfortable with the sudden informality, but recognized her uncharacteristic timidity and allowed her to continue. “Ketsukane is a, uh, pretty interesting name. Is it related to ‘kitsune?’”
	He tilted his head. He was so used to being called a ‘fox,’ at this point that he had stopped correcting others over it. “Yes, I am a kitsune, actually. How do you know that?”
	“W-Well I mean, they come from a special place! It really makes me wonder. A-Are you, f-f-from…?” she babbled something unintelligible for a moment then added softly, “or Nippon?”
	Now he was interested. “I’ve inherited a lot of writing, and I would have to check but I’m sure I’ve heard that place mentioned.” He waited for a response, and Alphys was happy to continue.
	“I-I have a lot of questions actually! We talk about it all the time on the UnderNet but, y-you, you might have some of the source material!”
	Chujin’s brow furrowed. “The… source material?”
	“The source? You know, the ‘sauce?’ You know? Don’t you…?”
	Alphys gestured toward herself. With some trepidation, Chujin leaned down and Alphys began to whisper.
	“You do k-know about… anime, right?”
	Chujin’s iron expression cracked into a grimace.


---2---


	The sandstorms of the Dunes were less abrasive on that day than it could have been. This was not to say the high velocity, low temperature winds were pleasant, nor that the flying sand particles did anything good for one’s lungs or gills. The storms were simply a fact of life for any monster living in the cold, arid wastes, and anyone who had not abandoned the Dunes or died within had grown used to the barrages and could tell when it was time to seek shelter.
	Chujin had inherited his plot of land from his parents, who had inherited it from his grandparents, who had inherited it from his great-grandparents and so forth until the origin of the Ketsukanes being granted the land was lost. At one point, or so it was often said among the denizens of the Dunes, the acres of land his ancestors first settled at belonged to a great meadow, but at the time of Chujin’s birth the greenery had already withered from the incessant heat of the swelterstone. He recalled a thin patch of meadow at the border of the Dunes—his parents had taken him there at least once, when he was very young—but it was gone when Chujin first met his wife.
	He looked up at where he remembered the swelterstone had been. Fourteen years, or maybe more than that. They never explained what the guard wanted with it. People had thought, maybe, the rushing rivers would flow once more and flowers would again bloom like it had before the mining operations.
	It didn’t. The ecological damage of an eternal sun—or monsters would say the sun was similar to it—would not be undone by simply “turning it off.” The land did not become more fertile, nor did the vegetation find reason to sprout once more. It just got cold. Ironically, the remaining plantlife had grown dependent on the heat and began to wither, leaving the land more barren than ever, and this only hastened the erosion of any workable soil.
	Anyone smart would have left; Chujin wondered what that meant for him. The sakura gave him resolve; despite everything it thrived, as it always had. The watchful blessings of his ancestors, he was taught; maintain the family rituals and traditions and fortune will smile upon you, and the sakura will bloom eternal.
	Or, at least he tried to believe it. He wasn’t certain, but it hadn’t been wrong yet, and it wasn’t the type of thing you could—nor should—try to test empirically. Even in the unlikely case it was all superstition, how many monsters could boast being able to date their lineage back to before the war?
	Asgore could. Though he was an outlier, to say the least.
	Chujin shook the sand from his boots and entered his home. The fireplace he had built crackled softly and there was an inviting aroma wafting from the kitchen. He had already begun peeling off the layers of his work clothes, eager to rid himself of Hotland’s soot. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally sat upon the bathroom stool and began fiddling with the shower.
	Then, from behind, a set of claws suddenly gripped his shoulder.
	“Somebody survived his execution.”
	Chujin craned his neck upward. “If you think you’re disappointed, imagine how I feel. I walked all that way and they didn’t even have the gallows set up. Underground’s going straight to hell.”
	“Oh, shut up,” and Chujin was enveloped by his wife. One arm reached over his shoulder; the other hugged his waist tightly. Ceroba Ketsukane, bent to Chujin’s level, rested her long muzzle on his other shoulder.
	Chujin stroked her hair gently and said, “If you stay here you’re going to get wet.” He waited for the next playful lash of her tongue; Ceroba just stood there, breathing softly. “Is something the matter?” he asked.
	“We got mail,” Ceroba said in a low voice.
	“I would have expected the strike to last longer.” It had only been a week or so since the mail whales flew out of their offices. Labor strikes in the Underground usually ended with guard intervention, and it never was pretty; that the whales weren’t forced back onto their routes at knifepoint bucked recent trends.
	“Got what they wanted. They can rhyme ‘silver’ with ‘pilfer’ and all the other near-rhymes. Asgore must’ve been in a pretty good mood.” Ceroba was the only monster Chujin knew who wasn’t afraid of the taboo regarding the King’s name. She felt the blessings of the Ketsukane family would ward off any misfortune from it; Chujin tried not to take any chances. Curses are one thing but most monsters have ears as well as mouths, and it spready rather quickly when someone defied custom.
	“How about we talk once I’m done in here? I can’t read it without my lenses, after all.”
	Ceroba drew a long breath, rose and left Chujin to his business.
--------------------------------
	He could not help but laugh; holding the pink parchment in one hand, utensil in the other, Chujin felt positively joyful. If he had gotten this when he was meant to it would have been radically different, but now it felt like a punchline to a master-class joke.
	Ceroba was baffled as she watched her husband’s reaction to the news. She tried to focus on her meal, and stave off her impulse to ask him; several minutes passed without an explanation, and finally she spoke up. “What exactly is so funny?”
	“Bastards have been gunning for this for months now.” He looked up, canines visible in his smile. “I’ve been canned.”
	“I know.” Ceroba offered a pause for reply, and when Chujin refrained she added, “And what exactly is so funny about that?”
	“The King is indeed in a pretty good mood.” Chujin took another bite of his wife’s excellent cooking, and continued. “Officially it is only temporary, but I expect it to last indefinitely, if I’m not quickly promoted to something more key.”
	“He gave you a job?!” Ceroba said with a start.
	He enunciated the five words in a pleasant cadence; “Assistant to the Royal Scientist. She needs help with that human obliteration device that keeps finding its way into the tabloids.”
	“That’s really something… She?”
	Chujin caught her gaze, and then laughed even harder. “My love, if you saw her you would not be glaring. There is nothing to be jealous of. But we won’t be eating snails while I’m tinkering with her pet project. It’s… taken a load off me, to know we’re going to be taken care of.”
	His attention drifted to the cabinets across the room. Made with his craftsmanship, kept clean and polished by his wife—and almost completely bare. They didn’t have the money such a large house would imply; they did get by, but if Chujin stopped working their meager savings wouldn’t carry them through the year. That notice in his hand could have turned him to dust, had it shown up only a day or two ago.
	“You don’t seem too happy that we’re not going to starve.”
	Ceroba shifted slightly, curling her lip a bit. “Well I mean, first you didn’t hang, now we’re not going to starve. Next thing you’ll tell me I actually did get my GED and my tail has been right behind me all this time. I was looking for some tragedy today, and you’ve delivered nothing but disappointment on that front.”
	“Come on.”
	“Alright,” she sighed. “It’s great news, really. But that lab is in Hotland. You’re going to leave early and come home late, traveling all the way there every day. Regardless of how things turned out with the Steamworks, it’s close. I liked that.”
	“I’m sure you’ll agree the positives outweigh the negatives once things get settled. Maybe even, if this becomes a more permanent position, the guard will—”
	He stopped, and shifted his attention. “Kanako, dearie, don’t you want to eat your supper?”
	It was the first time Chujin had spoken to his daughter since coming home. He regretted that, and got up to try and make up for it.
	Kanako sat stiffly in her chair, poking at her almost untouched plate. Her face was expressionless, as it had been almost the entire time since the rescue. Her wide, blank eyes looked up at her father and she said, almost inaudible, “I’m sorry.”
	“Don’t be sorry, sweetie.” Chujin gently laid his hands on her shoulders and said soothingly, “We just want to make you comfy. Things are going to get better real soon. We’ll be able to buy you some nice toys, and we’ll even go to—”
	Snowdin? No, he can’t bring her back there so soon after what happened.
	Waterfall? Probably not ever, now.
	The surface?
	Not yet.
	Chujin thought hard about how to finish his sentence, when Kanako tugged at his sleeve. She looked through him, rather than at him.
	“Is it ‘cause she died?”
	“No, no.” Chujin immediately lifted her into his arms, shushing her. “Shh, that’s all over now. You don’t have to think about any of that ever again.” Rocking Kanako back and forth, he looked to his wife for some help; but, she wouldn’t even turn to his direction.
	A minute later he put Kanako down and scratched at her ears. “We can put your food in the fridge if you’re not hungry.”
	“I’m hungry,” she whispered and climbed back up into her seat. She took several bites, but clearly wasn’t enjoying it. Not even a week ago Kanako would be bouncing out of her seat, jabbering about her day; the magic she practiced with her mother; how excited she was to start going to school; wanting to head east and visit Startlo, to spend the evening with Dalv while Chujin ran errands in Snowdin, to play with Sadie and to meet new people; prating about her drawings and crafts and toys and games and hopes and dreams—
	It just wasn’t there. Kanako wasn’t physically hurt when Chujin scooped her up and wiped the viscera off her, but she was hurt nonetheless. The things that made Kanako, Kanako, up and ran at the sight of that human, and they weren’t close to retrieving them yet.
	He thought of those eyes. Asgore’s.
	For a time nobody spoke. Chujin ruminated, Ceroba worried, and Kanako was there.
	“I’m going to have to see Dr. Alphys tomorrow, Ceroba,” Chujin eventually said to break the silence.
	Ceroba looked indignant for a moment, then shook her head. “Tell her to give you a week.”
	“She strongly insisted upon it during our meeting.” Chujin felt bile in his throat, but kept his expression calm. “It shouldn’t be an all-day thing. I’ll see her ever-advertised robot, Alphys will take a look at Ax— at my Model 014,” he quickly corrected at a tag of his sleeve from his wife, “and I’ll hopefully be back by afternoon.”
	“I don’t think that’s what’s best for this family.”
	“I know it’s unpleasant, Ceroba, but making a good impression while I have a foot in the door is,” he began, but stopped. His wife, glowering, mouthed the words: She needs you. He didn’t have a rebuttal, and the room fell silent once more.
	Kanako had finished her plate, or as much as she was going to eat of it, and left for her room with nothing more than an “I’m tired.”
	“Kanako…” Chujin called with concern, then caught up to her at the doorway. “Why don’t you sleep in mommy and daddy’s bed tonight? And then tomorrow mommy might take you to see Uncle Starlo. Does that sound good?”
	He saw a little bit of life in her eyes at that, though all she said was a mostly flat “Okay.”
	“Go clean your teeth, then put on your pajamas.” With a pat on the back her sent her off. He turned to Ceroba, who had already begun cleaning off the table, and said, “I didn’t mean to volunteer you like that. It just came to mind.”
	“No,” Ceroba said with a bit of admiration, “that’s a good idea. Starlo can really get her going, that might be what she needs.”
	“You’ve said you wanted to be there,” Chujin dwelled—and both of them knew what the ‘there’ was in this context—“but I don’t think there’s a monster on earth who deserves to see that sight. I’ve seen a few grisly accidents at the works, but I don’t think anyone could learn to stomach it. Probably not even the King, and he…” Chujin pivoted to, “we need to get Kanako’s mind off it. Lord knows it’s hard for me. If there’s any little thing you think of, do it, even if you think we can’t afford it. And also… we already talked about putting it off, but I think she really needs to go to school this year. Please hear me out, it’s to keep her occupied, and I’m sure being in the same class as Sadie will—"
	“She’ll get bullied if we just… throw her in the deep end like that, before she’s recovered,” Ceroba insisted. “Kids are like that.”
	“Well, if they do pick on her, they’ll have to deal with her scary mom.” He finally caught a smile from his wife, and that made his smile return.
	“You know there are only so many times I can threaten to punch a child before they throw Kanako out.”
	“We’re in the government now, what can they really do?”
	At that, Ceroba erupted into throaty laughter. “Well in that case, why don’t we line ‘em up so we can set the tone? Just have that pardon on hand first.”
	“We could probably start a side hustle with this.” The laughter was contagious. “Ketsukane Disciplinary Academy.”
	“Why even do it ourselves? We could sell the shovels instead. ‘Tired of having to get out of your chair and walk across the room to discipline your child? Not enough trees in the Dunes to make them pick their switch? Our crested staffs provide the means to deliver tough love from the comfort of your seat, and the bell at the tip will condition even the vilest brat to flinch at the mere lifting of the staff, saving you even more energy!’”
	“I hope you’re writing that down. I’ve got a meeting with a telemarketer with allegedly dozens of followers. If you hand me a pitch package before I leave tomorrow we could get this on the air by—”
	“Oh, shut up!” and a forceful palm pushed against Chujin’s cheek. The two of them were in a fit, Ceroba actually doubling over and taking her husband with her to the floor. Chujin winced at the heavy slamming of his wife’s hand across his chest, her uproarious howling drowning out his more restrained laugh, and she was unable to calm herself for minutes. Once her pent-up energy had finally been released Ceroba told him, “You’re awful, knowing just how to get me started. I love you.”
	“I love you.”
	A murmur: “Love you more.” Kanako was standing there, ready for bed. Groaning, a hand at his aching back, Chujin got himself to a sitting position on the floor. With a gentle nudge he moved his daughter between her parents, and the three embraced.
	Ceroba helped lift Chujin and he grunted, “I think we’re all about ready for bed now. It should be a busy day for all of us tomorrow, so we’ll need rest.” He hoisted Kanako onto the king-sized mattress they had inherited from his parents, well-worn with use, and as Ceroba finished her business in the kitchen he whispered, once again, “things will get better real soon. Write down your dreams in the morning for me, won’t you?” He watched for her nod, hung up his robe and settled in. By the time Ceroba turned off the bedroom light, Kanako was already fast asleep. Ceroba’s rumbling snore filled the room soon after, leaving Chujin alone with his thoughts.
	He couldn’t say things were too good to be true; the cost of this job opportunity was so steep that he wasn’t certain he had even broken even. But he hoped what he said wouldn’t become a lie.
	Hopes were all you had in the Underground.