The streets were darker than usual tonight, shadows stretching long across cracked pavement and flickering streetlights. I was just hanging around, keeping an eye on the usual corners, when I heard it — the sharp, frantic footsteps pounding behind me. I turned, and there she was: Frisk, darting through the alleys, eyes wide with panic, heart racing like a drum. Behind her, a gang of humans pushed forward, faces twisted with anger and fear, shouting curses and threats. They blamed her—her—for everything. For breaking the barrier, for mixing monsters with humans, for upsetting their fragile world. She looked back once, desperate, and shouted,

“Help! Somebody, please! Anyone!”

But the silence that answered was deafening. No backup, no heroes coming to save her this time. It was just her, and the angry mob closing in fast.