intro to my undertale au idk dktale or something like that dik …. frankie is like my oc/the player, don’t question it … i wrote this in march something too, leave me alone …im gonna rewrite when i feel like it
The Fall
Every day was a party. Teens using substances, getting drunk, hoping they weren't pregnant or dealing with an STI, all while keeping up the facade of being their parents' golden child. As if sneaking out, drinking, and doing drugs weren't part of the persona.
"Not my Francine!" her mother placed a hand on her chest, turning her face away from the computer.
Her father patted his wife's back. "How did we not see this?" He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. "Check her location..." He hesitated. He'd never had to track Francine's whereabouts before, not now, not ever.
But, alas, Francine's mother complied and searched.
"She's at the Milton's Manor!" she exclaimed, her voice rising. Her husband rushed to put on his coat.
"W-wait! Darren!" Margaret stumbled out of the chair and grabbed her coat just as Darren opened the door, only to be met with a blast of freezing cold wind and three feet of snow pouring into the rug.
Francine's mother blinked once, then twice, as her husband shut the door.
"...Let's just pray she's safe, Margaret," Darren muttered, taking off his coat and hanging it back up in the storage closet.
Margaret looked up at the window, her sigh heavy with concern. "Yeah..." she murmured, slowly sliding off her coat as Darren walked back to the dining table.
—-
"Whoo! Now that's the stuff!" a voice huffed in satisfaction as she set the glass bottle down onto the table.
"Damn, Frankie! All in one go?" A girl next to her laughed.
Frankie laughed along, moving wild strands of her hair to the side. A silvery streak invaded her strands—a birth defect, if you will. She kept telling herself she looked like Elizabeth Lavenza, just with darker skin and not murdered by her fiancée's creation.
This was probably one of the reasons why she liked Frankenstein's monster so much.
Another girl leaned against Frankie, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. "I'll give you 50 bucks if you can drink this all in under three minutes." She winked.
"Try giving me a challenge." Frankie winked back, grabbed the bottle, and popped off the cap. She tilted her head back and chugged the clear liquid. Warmth crept up her neck as she rested her free hand on the girl's hip.
"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the teens chanted, their voices growing fainter as the music blared louder. The more they cheered, the less Frankie could hear. All she could focus on was the buzz—the way it made her feel alive.
It was something she couldn't get from doing homework or taking a morning jog. Somehow, drinking made her feel free. It numbed her brain to criticism, doubt, and fear.
"Bwah!" she gasped as the bottle emptied. "She drank it all in two minutes! How is that possible?!" a boy with a camera shouted, pointing at Frankie.
"Get that camera outta my face, Milo," she slurred, clumsily setting the bottle down on the coffee table.
"No way! This is comedy gold!" Milo laughed, shoving the bright light into her face. Frankie groaned and pushed him back, reaching into her pocket to grab her phone. The blue lightning charm dangled and sometimes clinked against her well-manicured nails.
"Shit... my parents," she mumbled. Frankie stood up abruptly, startling the girl out of her grasp. "I'm gonna take a call..." she slurred, stumbling toward the front door.
In this part of town, there wasn't much snow to block the door. She dialed her mom's number as she walked down the street.
"Hello?" Her mom's voice came through, full of concern. Frankie tried to sound as sober as possible but was quickly failing.
"Oh my goodness—Francine! Are you okay?? Are you at a party right now?" Her mother bombarded her with questions, making Frankie's head throb.
"I'm fineee, don't worry, Mom!" she laughed forcefully, trying to seem okay as she turned the wrong corner, leading up to Mt. Ebott. "And no, I'm not at a party... because I just left!" she continued, sounding like a first grader lying for the first time.
On the other end, there was talking, followed by muffled movements.
"Francine! You better bet your ass you aren't drunk by the time you get here!" her dad raged. Frankie straightened her posture, this time sounding a lot more sober.
"I'm not drunk!" she lied, continuing down the path toward the hole. "Get here soon," her dad said, his voice sharp. He handed the phone back to her mom.
"Did you at least have fun?" her mom sighed.
"Yeah, I did..." Frankie trailed off, narrowing her eyes toward the pitch-black hole up ahead. "What the...?" she murmured.
"What is it, sweetheart?" her mom's voice rang, sounding worried by the minute.
"It's nothing," she replied, glancing down at the hole. The blizzard was picking up, the wind blowing her closer.
"Ah!" she grunted as her eyes started to water from the force of the wind. That was the tip of the iceberg. She slipped on an ice sheet and fell onto her side. Frankie groaned in pain as she hit her hip.
"Francine!" her mom yelled over the phone. Frankie tried to climb back up, but the wind had other plans.
Her phone slipped out of her grasp and fell.
"Mom!" she shouted, glancing at the fallen phone. She rested one hand on her hip, but moving it caused her ribs to ache even more. And then, she couldn't hold on any longer.
Frankie gasped as she fell backward into the pit.
At that moment, she couldn't even scream. All the alcohol had blocked out everything. "So, this is how I die, huh?" she murmured, clutching her side.
.
.
.
Crunch!
A sickening sound echoed through the pit. Frankie's body was a disturbing sight—her knee twisted in places it shouldn't have, her neck bent at an unnatural angle. She was impaled on a large metal pole, still alive but barely breathing.
Yet, the strangest thing was her face—completely calm, as if she'd been expecting this to happen. Blood from her stomach dripped down her face, hands, and sides. It was all too much.
Large footsteps thumped in the darkness, drawing ever closer.
"Oh my!" A feminine voice gasped. Despite the near-total darkness, the woman still managed to see Frankie.
She stepped closer to check if Frankie was alive. "Barely breathing..." she muttered, slowly lifting Frankie off the pole. The movement made the girl let out a weak, pitiful whimper.
"Hush now, child. I will heal you," the woman said, her furry hands gently setting Frankie down.
Her red eyes raked over Frankie's bloodied form. The woman's furry paws hovered over the girl, a green light shining as Frankie's good eye opened to stare at the brightness.
"No... no light..." Frankie gurgled, the blood loss from her stomach traveling up her throat, making her cough up more blood.
"Shh... I'm trying to help you," the woman soothed.
Frankie's organs mended themselves, her bones retracting and snapping back into place under her skin. Her neck twisted back into position, and the hole in her stomach began to close—not fully, though. It would still need stitches.
Though her body was mostly back to normal, there were still parts that needed stitching, and she was in excruciating pain. The woman got up, plucked the pole from the ground like it was a weed in her garden, then picked up Frankie in her arms and disappeared into the dark.
—
Gasp!
Frankie clutched her chest, right where her heart should be. Her breathing grew rapid and shallow. She should be dead, shouldn't she? So why was she alive?
Panicked, she patted herself down, searching for her phone, only to spot it resting on a metal table nearby. Her eyes trailed down to her clothes—her skinny jeans were ripped at the knees, her teal-blue shirt had a gaping hole, and her belly button ring was gone. Her boots were stained with blood.
She shivered slightly. Where was her coat?
"Ah, so you're awake," a monotone, feminine voice spoke from the darkness, startling the curly-haired girl.
"Where the fuck am I?" Frankie huffed, pulling her knees to her chest.
"You're in Hotland—my lab, to be specific." A short, yellow lizard stepped into view, pushing up her glasses.
"Hotland? You mean like hell? Oh my God, am I dead?!" Frankie shrieked.
"Calm down," the lizard deadpanned. "My name is Dr. Alphys. You can call me Doctor."
Frankie eyed her warily. The lizard—Alphys—wore a worn-out lab coat over a black dress. One lens of her glasses was cracked.
"Um... Frankie," she responded hesitantly, sizing up the monster before her.
"To answer your earlier question, you're not dead. You're in the Underground—specifically, one of the areas called Hotland," Alphys explained vaguely.
"The Underground? Like that old legend my parents told me?" Frankie's muscles tensed slightly, though she was beginning to ease up.
"Yes." Alphys nodded, then cast a glance at Frankie's phone. "What year is it now?" Her voice softened slightly, losing some of its previous indifference.
"2016..." Frankie answered slowly. Then her brows furrowed. "If I fell down a hole, how did I get here?"
Alphys picked up Frankie's phone, inspecting it like it could either be a potential threat or a new piece of tech to study. The screen was shattered, cracks splintering in a million directions, and the once-bright blue lightning charm was covered in dirt.
"You were handed off," Alphys said, her response short and vague.
Frankie took note of her tone—detached, uninterested.
"How old are you?" Alphys asked, turning to eye the white streak in Frankie's hair.
"Seventeen... if that makes any sense to you," Frankie muttered, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.
"Hm." Alphys let out a small hum before saying, "Follow me." Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Frankie's phone and pressed her hand against a sleek black panel. A soft beep sounded as it scanned her palm.
Frankie scrambled off the bed, but the moment her feet hit the ground, a sharp jolt of pain shot through her body.
"Ugh!" she groaned, collapsing to her knees, clutching her side.
Alphys barely spared her a glance. "If you can't walk, I'll leave you here until you can." She turned to leave.
"N-no! I can walk!" Frankie gasped, forcing herself to her feet. As she moved, her stitches tore, sending fresh pain rippling through her body. A small, pained groan escaped her lips.
Alphys watched her struggle but said nothing.
Slowly, Frankie trudged toward her, shoulders hunched, blood seeping through her side. Each step felt like a chore, and by the time she reached the lizard, she was leaning heavily against the wall, breath ragged.
Alphys continued walking, unfazed. Around them, assistants and scientists stopped what they were doing, staring at the living corpse trailing behind the lizard.
Frankie's vision swam, her legs unsteady as she struggled to keep up.
"W-wait... slow down a bit..." she muttered, clutching her side as blood dripped more furiously from the torn stitches.
Alphys didn't respond, didn't even slow her pace.
Frankie barely made it a few more steps before her body gave out. She collapsed onto the cold floor with a pained gasp. Only then did Alphys turn around and sigh.
"Get me the medical kit and a bed!" she barked, her voice commanding.
The monsters jolted from their awestruck daze, scrambling around the lab, working themselves high and dry to fulfill her request.
Alphys stepped closer, standing over Frankie's trembling form. "Get up."
Frankie weakly turned her head, looking up at Alphys with half-lidded eyes. She let out a shaky breath, then glanced down at the open wound in her side.
Her vision blurred further, and the muffled sounds of voices and machinery faded into nothingness.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
