"Do you know who you are?"

You stared out the window of the building, looking down at the traffic that hustled about several stories down. People wandered the streets without a care in the world, oblivious to the thought of how insignificant they were, how funny it was that they considered themselves to be the most important things in the world when in all reality, no one but a small circle of people knew their name and in a century when they had ceased from the planet, no one would remember their name. The thought made you giggle aloud, ignoring the concerned glance you earned from the woman who was so intent on talking with you.

You did not know why this woman was so fascinated with you, why she was determined to ask you a bunch of different questions when you didn't want to give the answers. Answers were boring, something that humans often wasted their lives trying to find. And you were not a human, you were sure of it. The knife had birthed you into something new, something so much more than the old you that had once walked this earth. You had been blessed, gifted, chosen at random for this revelation and you were determined not to let this woman take it away.

Instead you focused your gaze back on the humans and heard the beats of their hearts echoing inside your mind. You didn't like the sound, the way it was a constant annoyance in the back of your mind. You understood why Dust was so determined on eradicating humans from the face of the planet, they were very much of a nuisance.

You hadn't seen Dust since the apartment complex and the thought made you feel sad. You missed the room of darkness and the knife and the chair that you had been tied to for quite some time. After you had been sedated and carted off away from the apartment complex, you had been transferred to a hospital where needles and syringes were stuck into you. It reminded you of the knife and the pain that had come with it, though the pain that came from the needles was not as hot, not as cold. It did not sharpen your senses the way the knife had when it had carved you into a new person.

Instead this woman had visited you every day for the last few days, asking you questions. You had begun to realise that these people were trying to help you as this woman had put it and you did not want to be helped. You did not want to be made human again, to be made weak and to have your senses dulled. You liked the way that Dust had made you and he had spent so much time carving you into the person you were now. You were the product of intricate effort and detail, nothing would strip that away from you.

"(Y/n)," the woman sighed and leaned forward, pushing down her glasses as if that would give her a better view of you. You did not know why this woman was saying the word (Y/n) before, you had never heard such a strange word before ever in your life. "I understand that what you have gone through is hard, the most intense pain that even I cannot fathom. You were gone for a month, one month of the hardest pain that would leave not one person unharmed and I am determined to help you on the road to healing.

"However." She paused as you let loose a fit of laughter. That was the funny thing with humans, there was always something more that they wanted. They could never be satisfied with just one thing, it always had to be something more! Once you had quieted did she continue, not addressing your bit of hysteria, "When you were found, your captor - "

"Dust," you replied, the only word that had left your lips all day. He was not your captor, not your enslaver, not some mad man that had held you hostage and tortured you. They were getting it all wrong! Dust was his name, though he had never actually told you the one he had went by. But for you, Dust was the name that fit him, the name that described the person, the comedian that had carved you anew, who was a master in the skill of the blade and should be commemorated for it.

"Dust," the woman replied and scribbled something down onto a notepad. "Is that a nickname that he went by?"

"It is his true name," you snarled and let your voice go flat, indicating that you were going to offer nothing more on the subject. Besides, how could you expect a human to understand what you had been through? There minds were weak whereas yours had been sharpened, focused enough to the point where you could hear the dust sing all around you.

"As you are aware of, he is not human," she continued, voice shaking as if even she could not come to terms with the fact that there was a living, breathing skeleton that existed. "His composition is of a completely different species, an intelligent race as the test results show. We believe that he is responsible for the murders, though we cannot put him on trial as you are well aware. The revelation of his existence would send the entire world into turmoil."

You smiled slightly, remembering how Dust had depicted his plan to you of bringing down the entirety of human civilization by merely wiping out the infrastructure of New York City. You didn't understand why you had been so sickened, so repulsed by his plan before. It was a good plan, one that could only be cooked up through the mind of a genius. Your amusement quickly soured at the thought of him being locked away, tested on like some sort of rat.

"That's why," the woman continued, writing down more and more notes onto a sheet of paper. You wished that you could drive the pencil into her neck, to silence her permanently. It was a thought that was new to you. When you had been with Dust, the thought of murder had never occurred to you because he had been all you had ever known, but the temptations were certainly flooding your mind when you had once more been brought into the false empire of the humans. "That's why we were hoping we could get answers, that is, if you have any to help us with the investigation."

You lunged forward from your seat, determined to kill her right then and there, but snarled as the restraints that bound your hands and feet to the floor left you motionless. You sunk back down into your chair, a growl rising in the back of your throat as you continued to watch the woman, hatred festering inside your mind. "I don't give answers," you rasped, your voice oddly sour. "Answers are for the weak, for the humans. I was given a gift, raised to something more than you will ever understand. I will not let you break that down, waste such a blessing granted upon me!"

There was a profound sorrow in the woman's eyes as she gazed upon you, a sorrow that you really did not understand. What was there to be sad about? If anything, you felt very angry at the moment and would have happily given her something to cry about right then and there if you weren't bound in chains.

"I'm so sorry for all that you have been through (Y/n)," she whispered, taking your hand in her own. Her blue eyes gazed into yours and seemed to stir something inside you, awakening a part of yourself that was masked underneath the fear and the insanity that clouded your mind and senses. You did not understand what the word (Y/n) meant, but it seemed to resonate with an inner part of yourself that was hidden away, struggling to break free.

But then the insanity was back, snapping you out of your trance. This is what they wanted, what they wanted you to become! Some soft-ridden human who cried over material things, who destroyed the world and did not feel sorry for it!

With all the strength that you could muster, you clamped your hand around the woman's in an iron-tight grip, a deathly thin smile spreading across your face as she gazed upon you in horror, struggling to get her hand free. Your chiseled fingernails that were still covered in a layer of dirt began to dig into her skin, small pinpricks of blood arising from the contact point. You stared at the blood in fascination, transfixed by the idea that humans were so fragile.

"Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing as you dug even harder, feeling your nails sink into flesh. With a loud scream, she managed to call a guard who burst into the room, a needle in his hand. Skilled precision guided his aim as he plunged the syringe into the base of your neck.

You felt your senses relax and limbs go numb as if you had been running for a very long time and had not bothered to rest. The woman managed to tear her hand away from your grasp, clutching her bleeding flesh with drops of scarlet that had stained the white chair she sat upon. You flashed her a toothy grin before the sedative took you under.

When the comedian awoke to a series of bright lights, he was immediately angry. He did not like light, the humans should have known that! Why else did he keep the human in the dark, having them slumber during the day only to awaken at night?

Night was the time where shadows came out to play, where monsters and other creatures of the night could frolic unseen and claim those stupid enough to wander to far from the false lights that they had set up for themselves to guide them when the world was dark. The lightbulbs that hung above the comedian were like miniature suns, mocking him and all that he stood for.

Humans were very ignoring and this whole ordeal made the comedian even more determined to break free from his prison cell and set the world aflame. He had been halted too early, but this was only a minor detail.

His first instinct was to summon forth his blasters and their magic of blue flame, but felt an odd mental block inside his mind, as if an invisible wall had been constructed that prevented him from summoning forth the energy needed to access his powers. His attention was diverted, however, as a rather foul looking human entered his metal prison.

"I see you've awaken," the human nodded, adjusting his white coat as he sat down in front of the comedian. "I'm Dr. Len by the way." There was a slight pause as he waited for the comedian to say his name but when it became obvious that the skeleton was not going to reply, Dr. Len nodded and began to read off a piece of paper.

"I'm sure as you already know, we have disrupted the frequencies of your brain patterns to ensure that you do not have access to your abilities," he explained, reading off the results of some strange looking chart. "This is a safety measure as I'm sure you understand, just to ensure that we can chat in relative peace."

The comedian did not comment as the human doctor continued. "You have thirty-two counts of murder tied to your name, which would translate to a two-hundred and three prison year sentence should you be tried to the fullest extent of the law. However," he chuckled and resumed speaking, "these are not normal circumstances. And arguably since you are not of the same species or of country status, you are therefore not entitled to due process which is why you are here, in a laboratory rather than a cold prison cell."

Dr. Len removed his glasses as he leaned closer to the comedian. "The international scientific community is scrambling right now, trying to understand how a skeleton can function as an organism, how you can walk and I would presume talk, though you haven't uttered a word since they brought you in. Are there more of you? Where did you come from?"

The comedian did not answer and instead looked over at the floating head of his brother who had bene following him since the moment the comedian had left the Underground. "I don't think I like him that much," Papyrus muttered, floating next to the doctor. Dr. Len remained unmoved by Papyrus' presence as if he did not notice the flying skeleton head at all.

All humans are rather annoying, the comedian relayed the mental message to his brother. He did not dare utter the sentence aloud in order to deprive the scientist the luxury of hearing him speak.

"What happened to our plan?" Papyrus moaned, looking rather bored. "We were supposed to bring down the whole of human civilization to its knees and yet here we are, strapped down to a table fifty feet below ground without a clue where we are."

I'm going to get us out of here, Sans replied. He flexed his wrist, testing the strength of the cuffs that held him hostage. Much to the human's arrogance, they had not realized that while they had managed to disrupt his ability to wield magic, the comedian was still capable of feats of strength, something that did not require magic.

Of course when the comedian did break free and scatter this human's guts across the room like Christmas decorations, there was the matter of finding his experiment. He had not finished working on the human, there was still so much to be done! There was still a shard of sanity that resonated inside their mind, a fragment of their old self that the humans would no doubt try to exploit, try to make his experiment 'normal' again.

Finally the comedian replied, "I came from a world not like this one." Dr. Len leaned in closer, scribbling down every word that the comedian uttered. "There were more like me, some skeletons and some other monsters as well."

"Monsters?" Dr. Len raised an eyebrow.

"There were talking flowers, talking dogs, the whole lot," the comedian nodded in reply.

"And where could we find them?" Dr. Len asked, though it seemed as if he did not quite believe the skeleton, even though he was literally talking to a monster as he wrote this down.

"You can't," the comedian chuckled, a fit of hysteria rising in the back of his throat. "Because I took a knife from my brother's kitchen and slaughtered each and every one of them. You think a body count of thirty-two humans is bad, worthy of two hundred years in your prisons? I have the dust of millions upon my hands. Do you want to know how I did it?"

Dr. Len looked at the comedian as if anticipating an answer.

In a fluid motion, mustering up his strength, the comedian jerked his fist into the air, shattering the restraints that held him hostage. The metal cuffs broke into fine shards that he caught as they fell to the ground, clutching the biggest piece in his hand.

Before the doctor could do anything, before he could even register what had happened and shout for help, the comedian rushed forward and slammed the tip of the metal shard into the human's throat, watching as he gurgled on their own blood and finally slumped down as their soul departed from their corporeal form, ascending into the hell that awaited all dead things past this life.

The comedian flexed his wrist and stepped over the corpse. It was funny how these humans thought that they could restrain him, keep him hostage and perform experiments upon him like he was some sort of caged animal that they could all gawk at. This world was his, and it was a world he was determined to damn into hellfire.

Papyrus floated happily towards his brother, joining him as the two left the metal cage side by side. The ghost of a skeleton looked back at the corpse of Dr. Len and then back to the comedian, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Make that thirty-three," he replied cheerfully.

The comedian spotted a group of guards that were patrolling past, guns in hand. A wry smile crept its way across his features as he readjusted his grip on the metal shard, determined to slaughter his way through an entire army of humans if it meant getting his experiment back. He still had work to do with them.

"Make that thirty-seven."