WD Gaster

The dim glow of the lab’s monitors cast eerie shadows across the room, their flickering light dancing on the smooth, white walls. Papers cluttered the desk, scattered with incomprehensible equations and diagrams that seemed to warp under prolonged observation. Tubes and wires ran haphazardly across the floor, connecting to machines that hummed softly, their purpose known only to the brilliant mind who had designed them.

WD Gaster sat hunched over the central console, his skeletal fingers flying across the keyboard with precision. His hollow eyes stared unblinkingly at the screen, where rows of data scrolled in rapid succession, their meaning a cryptic puzzle even to those familiar with his work.

"𐌾𐌷𐍃𐌽𐌺... Too much noise," he muttered in a voice that seemed to echo despite the silence of the lab, each word punctuated by a fragmented hum. The words came out in Wing Dings, his native code, unintelligible to all but himself.

He adjusted a slider on the console, the hum of the machinery deepening as the energy output shifted. A skull-shaped projection appeared briefly, its sockets glowing with unearthly light before vanishing into static.

"𐌿𐌻𐍂𐌼𐌸𐌹𐌰𐍅," he murmured, pressing another button and tilting his head as a diagram of the CORE’s energy flows filled the screen. "Imbalance. Predictable, but still..."

He leaned back slightly, the fabric of his long coat flickering as if out of sync with the world around him. His gloved hand hovered over the console before tapping a sequence of keys, the room filling with a low, resonant tone.

The lab door creaked open slightly, and Gaster’s head snapped toward it, his form glitching briefly before stabilizing. A small figure—a curious monster or perhaps an assistant—peered in cautiously, their voice trembling.

"Dr. Gaster? I—I brought the reports you asked for."

Gaster’s expression didn’t shift, but his presence felt heavier, as though his mere focus carried weight. He turned back to the console. "Leave them. I am... preoccupied."

The assistant nodded hurriedly, setting the stack of papers on a nearby table and retreating as quickly as they had arrived.

Alone again, Gaster’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the console. The faintest trace of a smile, or perhaps a shadow of one, crossed his face as he leaned closer to the screen.

"𐌰𐍈𐌽𐌰𐌵𐍈𐌳𐌽... Fate can be shaped. Controlled." His voice, though soft, carried the intensity of a revelation. "No failure... only new equations."

The hum of the lab grew louder, the machinery around him responding to his calculations as if the very fabric of reality could bend to his will. And perhaps, it could.

The lab felt colder than usual, its sterile air thick with tension. WD Gaster stood in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture unnaturally rigid. His hollow eyes burned with a faint light as he stared at nothing in particular, lost in thought. The whispers were spreading, and the source of them gnawed at his focus like a parasite.

"Beware the man who speaks in hands."

The River Person’s cryptic warning echoed in his mind, the singsong cadence more grating with each repetition. Of course, everyone assumed it was him. Who else fit the description? He clicked his teeth sharply, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent lab.

His assistants had been growing skittish. Their nervous glances and whispered conversations weren’t subtle, and even the messengers avoided lingering in his presence longer than necessary. The growing paranoia made it harder to function, and that, above all, was intolerable.

Gaster’s gloved hand twitched, longing to slam against the nearest console, to vent his frustration in some tangible way. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. His LV—already a constant reminder of the burden he carried—was too high to afford such luxuries. A single misstep, a single moment of anger, could reduce a lesser monster to dust.

"𐍆𐌾𐌻𐌴𐌳𐌼𐌽," he muttered under his breath in Wing Dings, his voice crackling faintly. "Superstition. Irrational fear. Waste of time."

He paced across the lab, his silhouette flickering with each step, his frustration coiling tighter with every passing second. The River Person wasn’t one to speak idly, and that fact made the warning all the more insidious. What did they know? Why now?

Gaster stopped abruptly in front of a monitor, staring at his reflection in the black screen. His shadowy form wavered, fragmented as if caught in a perpetual state of distortion. For a moment, his frustration ebbed, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease.

"𐍂𐌹𐍈𐌰𐍂𐌴𐌽𐌸𐌽𐍈," he murmured, his tone soft and almost resigned. "Is it... me they should fear?"

The thought hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. Gaster’s fingers twitched again before he turned abruptly to the nearest console. If he couldn’t dispel the rumors, he would outwork them. Answers were in data, in equations, in control.

He began typing furiously, his long fingers clattering against the keys with precision. The faint hum of the machinery rose around him as he immersed himself in his work. The distractions of fear and whispers could wait. For now, there were more pressing variables to solve.

The dim lighting of the lab flickered slightly, casting jagged shadows across the walls as Gaster crouched by the cage, tightening the final bolt with deliberate precision. The metallic clink of his tools echoed in the cavernous space, a sound that brought him a peculiar sense of satisfaction. This cage had to be flawless—unyielding, unbreakable. The slightest flaw could lead to disaster, and failure was not an option. Not this time.

His gloved fingers paused as he inspected the reinforced bars. The material gleamed faintly, a mix of magic-infused alloys designed to resist the sheer willpower of Determination. It had taken weeks of planning, sleepless nights, and countless calculations to create this containment unit, and now it stood ready for its intended purpose.

Suddenly, the lab door burst open, and a small, jittery assistant stumbled in. Their eyes were wide, their voice high-pitched as they squeaked, "D-Doctor Gaster! The guards—th-they’ve captured a human! They’re bringing them here now!"

Gaster froze for a moment, his hollow eyes narrowing as the news settled in. Slowly, he rose to his full height, his shadow stretching unnaturally against the walls.

"A human," he murmured, his voice reverberating with quiet intensity, fragmented by the odd distortion that always accompanied his speech. "Finally."

He clasped his hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the assistant's nervous breathing. "Prepare the equipment," he ordered, his tone calm yet heavy with purpose. "Ensure the extraction apparatus is operational. This is... an opportunity we cannot squander."

The assistant nodded frantically and scurried off, leaving Gaster alone with his thoughts. He turned back to the cage, his expression unreadable. A human. The key to Determination, the element that defied the very fabric of their existence, now within his grasp.

His fingers traced the cold metal of the cage, his mind already racing with possibilities. If he could harness the raw power of Determination, perhaps he could finally shatter the barrier that imprisoned the monsters underground. It would mean freedom, salvation—for everyone.

Yet beneath his calculated exterior, a flicker of something darker stirred. Was this about freedom, or was it about proving his theories correct? Was it about the monsters’ liberation, or his own insatiable curiosity to understand the universe’s deepest secrets?

The faint sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. He straightened his coat, his fragmented form flickering slightly in anticipation.

"Let’s see," he muttered, his voice low and almost reverent, "if humanity’s resolve is truly as unbreakable as they claim."