Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
Before we begin, I just want to say a few words: A big thanks to GoldeRuby and RaphaelFrog on AO3 for getting me back into Undertale through their crossover fanfiction, @toomp here on Tumblr for being the first person to follow the Tumblr blog, @undertalethingems for encouraging me to write this story, Alex Hirsch for inspiring the secrets hidden in this story, @askfriskandcompany for inspiring the format of the story, Toby Fox for making Undertale in the first place, and my high-school friends Benjamin and Marcus for introducing me to Undertale. (I miss you both!)
To quote a friend of mine, "Inspiration is just adding your own ideas to the ones you've stolen, but you should at least thank them."
So, to all of you who have inspired me, THANKYOU.
MULTIVER SOLUTIONS OFFICE OF INTERNAL AFFAIRS
SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVEL 8 REQUIRED TO VIEW
Case File: Mt. Ebbott Exclusion Zone ā Personnel Review
Class: Supplemental Recording - Interview with Subject
Interviewee: Private Ross Stonewall, 69th āFlagbearersā Regiment, MultiVer Private Security
Location: Interview Room 2B, [REDACTED], Georgia
ā
Interviewer: Please state your full name, rank, and unit for the record.
Stonewall: Private Ross Ellis Stonewall. 69th āFlagbearersā Regiment, Mt. Ebbott Exclusion Zone security detail.
Interviewer: How long were you assigned to the Mount Ebbott Exclusion Zone prior to the incident?
Stonewall: Eighteen months, sir. Just over.
Interviewer: During your time assigned to the Exclusion Zone, were there any security incidents?
Stonewall: No serious ones, sir.
Interviewer: Please clarify.
Stonewall: We had civilians approach the outer perimeter. Hikers ignoring signage. Locals trying to get a look at the fence. A couple of teenagers once tried to film something for social media. But no one breached the Zone, so we never really had to do much, just ask them to back off.
Interviewer: To your knowledge, had there been any successful breaches prior to your arrival?
Stonewall: We were briefed that some people had gone missing in the past, but that was before the exclusion zone was set up in 1994, and there had been no recorded incidents since then.
Interviewer: And that record had remained intact up to the incident on March 14th, 2016?
Stonewall: Yes, sir.
Interviewer: You can confirm this was, to your knowledge, the first breach since the Zoneās establishment?
Stonewall: Yes, sir.
Interviewer: Interesting. Walk me through what happened leading up to the event.
~
Ross shifted in his chair, the coarse canvas of the ranger outpost seat scraping against his uniform. Rain hammered against the corrugated roof, punctuated by distant rumbles of thunder that made the wooden walls tremble. He glanced over at Marcus Todd, who sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against a crate with an expectant grin.
āAlright,ā the fellow private said, arms crossed over his chest, āwhich would you rather fight: a goat with the mind of a human, or a human with the mind of a goat?ā
Ross rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a long, weary sigh. āMarcusā¦ youāve got to be close to asking questions like that two dozen times since we ducked in here from this storm.ā
Marcus winced, like heād been caught in the act. āYeahā¦ sorry. Iām justā¦ bored, I guess. I shouldnāt have wished for an easy assignment.ā He let the words hang in the air, a mix of regret and helplessness.
Ross leaned back, feeling the damp chill in the room seep through his uniform. āEasy assignment, huh?ā he muttered, eyes tracking the shadows the flickering lantern cast along the walls. āBoredom will get you talking about goats and humans in ways thatāll make your head spin.ā
Marcus chuckled, sheepish. āGuess itās better than facing the real thing out there, huh?ā
Ross didnāt answer, just shook his head slowly and stared at the darkened storm outside, not daring to wish that something would happen.
But something happened, anyway.
The crackle of the radio cut through the low rumble of thunder, making Ross jerk upright in his seat. Marcus froze, eyes widening. Ross snatched the handset.
āPrivate Stonewall, Station Twelve,ā he said, keeping his voice steady over the static.
āStation Twelve, this is Perimeter Post Three,ā came the urgent voice of the guard. āA tree fell and knocked part of the fence down, and someoneās through the perimeter. Weāre seeing footprints in the mud, heading toward your zone. Repeat: someone has breached the perimeter, headed for your zone.ā
Rossās jaw tightened. āCopy that, Post Three. Weāll begin pursuit immediately.ā
He slammed the handset down, spinning to Marcus. āTime to move.ā
Marcus scrambled to his feet, fumbling with his helmet. āFinally! Something interesting!ā
Ross shot him a glare, but didnāt wait for a reply. They swung their helmets on and buckled the chinstraps tight, the rain already soaking through the edges. Outside, the storm had reduced visibility to a blur of gray and green, and the wind clawed at their faces as they mounted the quad.
Ross revved the engine, the machineās growl almost swallowed by the thunder overhead. āHang on,ā he barked over the roar as they sped off. The mud-slicked trail to the summit stretched ahead, carved with rivulets of rainwater and dotted with footprints too small for him to identify at a glance.
Marcus grinned behind his visor, excitement mixing with apprehension. āThis is what I get for wishing for an easy assignment, huh?ā
Ross didnāt answer, keeping his eyes forward. Every jolt over the rocks and roots of the mountain trail sent the quad bouncing. Rain plastered their hair to their helmets as Ross and Marcus crested the summit. The storm had carved the mountain into slick rivulets, and mud clung to the tires of their quad. But what they saw ahead froze them both.
A small figure stood at the edge of a jagged sinkhole, no more than ten years old. Their striped shirt was barely visible through the mist and driving rain. Ross pumped the brake handle, and the quad skidded in the mud, throwing up spray.
āHey!ā Ross shouted over the storm. āStop! Donāt get any closer!ā
The child froze, then slowly turned to face them. Rossās heart sank as his boots found unstable groundā¦ the mud slowly slid from under the childās shoes. āHeyā¦ whatās your name?ā he asked, crouching slightly, hands raised in a non-threatening gesture.
The kidās hands moved, deliberate and precise. Ross caught the letters: F-R-I-S-K.
āFrisk,ā he said aloud. āNice to meet you. Iām Ross, and this is Marcus.ā He gestured to Marcus, who gave a tight nod and a wave. āWe just want to make sure youāre safe. Can you walk toward usā¦ slowly?ā
Frisk nodded, taking tiny, careful steps toward them. Ross kept his eyes on the mud, every instinct screaming that the ground wouldnāt hold.
And then it gave way.
Ross lunged without thinking, grabbing Friskās striped shirt and yanking them back with all his strength. He shoved them toward Marcus, who caught the child in a firm, panicked hug.
āMarcus! Get them to the Command Center!ā Ross yelled, his voice nearly drowned by the storm.
Marcus' eyes went wide as the sinkhole widened beneath Ross. āRoss!ā he shouted, preparing to take a step forward.
āGet back! Iāll be fine! Get a rescue team up here!ā Ross called down, already sliding into the yawning dark. The wind roared in his ears as the mud and rock swallowed him, and then he was gone from the summit.
Marcus crouched over Frisk, whispering calm words into the rain. āRoss will be fine. Weāll get a rescue team out here. Weāll get him out.ā He quickly pulled a radio beacon from his pack and dropped it into the mud to mark the location. Then, holding Frisk tight, he vaulted onto the quad.
The tires bit into the wet trail, and they sped down the slope. Behind them, the sinkhole began to close, soil and rock settling with an almost deliberate speed, as though the mountain itself had swallowed the evidence of its claim. By the time they were gone, there was no trace left but the radio beacon.
Mount Ebott had taken another human.
~
Ross tumbled through darkness, the wind whipping past his helmet as the walls of the shaft blurred into streaks of rock and soil. His hands clawed at whatever he could, scraping against the slick stone, but there was nothing to slow his fall.
āCommand! Command!ā he shouted into his radio, his voice echoing off the stone like it had fallen into a cave. āThis is Private Stonewall! Sinkhole breach atāat the summit! Private Todd is bringing the child to Station One! IāmāIām falling into aāā
The words cut off abruptly when his helmet slammed against a jutting outcrop of rock. Pain exploded through him, sharp and blinding, and the radio clattered from his grasp, tumbling downward into the black.
His body went limp, the world tilting and spinning as darkness swallowed him whole. The echoes of his own voice lingered, distorted and fading, until there was nothing but silence.
Unconscious, Ross fell down the shaft, the storm and the mountain above fading from his awareness.
~
MULTIVER SOLUTIONS OFFICE OF INTERNAL AFFAIRS
SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVEL 7 REQUIRED TO VIEW
Case File: Mt. Ebbott Exclusion Zone ā Personnel Review
Terrapin: For the record, Private Stonewallās account matches the prior statements from the child and Private Todd?
Pekan: Yes. Blow by blow in all the places that matter. He confirms there was a sinkhole at the summit and that he fell into it after pushing the child clear.
Terrapin: And Todd?
Pekan: He says the ground gave way under Stonewall. He marked the site with a radio beacon before escorting the child back down the mountain.
Terrapin: Rescue response?
Pekan: Immediate. Teams reached the beacon within twenty minutes.
Terrapin: And?
Pekan: Nothing. No sinkhole. No disturbed earth beyond the storm damage. The radio beacon was exactly where Todd said he dropped it.
Terrapin: Drone sweep?
Pekan: Negative.
Terrapin: Ground-penetrating radar?
Pekan: Negative.
Terrapin: Subsurface anomaly of any kind?
Pekan: None detected. No cavities, no voids, no unstable shelf. According to every instrument we had, that summit was solid rock beneath the soil.
Terrapin: Yet three independent witnesses place a sinkhole there.
Pekan: Yes.
Terrapin: That contradicts what we've seen.
Pekan: I think itās statistically improbable that a seven-year-old child, a private with no disciplinary record, and another private with commendations would fabricate or collectively hallucinate a geological event during a thunderstorm.
Terrapin: Soā¦
Pekan: So I doubt theyāre lying. Or mistaken. Which suggestsā¦ an anomalous explanation.
Terrapin: Given everything else thatās happened this week, I'll admit thatās probably the case.
(Silence.)
Terrapin: What happened to the child?
Pekan: Private Todd delivered them safely to Station One. Identified as Frisk Torres. Age seven.
Terrapin: Condition at time of arrival?
Pekan: Physically unharmed. Mild shock, which is to be expected. They are selectively mute forā¦ well, reasons we suspect are mostly unrelated to this incident. Communicates exclusively through American Sign Language.
Terrapin: ā¦and thatās why it's mandatory for MVPS agents to know American Sign Language.
Pekan: That it is. The debrief team had no communication barrier, fortunately.
Terrapin: Why was Frisk Torres on Mt. Ebbott in the first place?
Pekan: Thatāsā¦ complicated.
Terrapin: Try me.
Pekan: Wellā¦ Officially, the Exclusion Zone exists because of a rare insect species discovered in 1994. MultiVer Private Security officers protect the habitat from civilian interference.
Terrapin: You canāt be serious.
Pekan: Of course not, Iām Agent Pekan. Agent Sirius is our contact in MultiVerās Finance department.
(Exasperated sigh from Agent Terrapin)
Terrapin: Continue.
Pekan: Unofficially, there have always been rumors about Mt. Ebbott. People who reach the summit donāt return. Been that way since long before we got there.
Terrapin: And Frisk Torres?
Pekan: Child Protective Services has been called to the Torres residence multiple times. Unsafe conditions. Neglect. Emotional abuse is strongly suspected.
Terrapin: That explains the selective mutism?
Pekan: Likely a trauma response. Preliminary assessments suggest prolonged psychological stress in early childhood.
Terrapin: Youāre suggesting the child climbed a restricted mountain in the middle of a thunderstormā
Pekan: āpossibly as a suicide attempt, yes.
(Silence.)
Terrapin: Seven years old.
Pekan: It can happen to anyone. Trauma doesnāt wait for someone to be old enough.
(Silence.)
Terrapin: I hope thereās good news?
Pekan: Yes. Private Todd had a few conversations with young Frisk through sign, and reported information to local law enforcement. The courts reviewed the Torres household. Based on prior CPS reports and the information Todd provided, the parents were deemed unfit.
Terrapin: Custody?
Pekan: Revoked. Frisk Torres is now a ward of the state. Theyāve already been referred to a licensed therapist.
Terrapin: Thatās good.
Pekan: Thereās more.
Terrapin: Go on.
Pekan: Private Todd has expressed interest in adopting the child. And Frisk has indicated, quite clearly, that they would like to be adopted by him and his wife.
Terrapin: Hm. Mr. and Mrs. Todd have been attempting to adopt for years. Given Friskās current status and the established bond, I see no reason we shouldnāt assist in facilitating the process.
Pekan: Agreed. Marcus is a good man.
Terrapin: He is.
Pekan: And the child deserves better than what they had.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
Another sensation layered over the pain in his chest, the feeling of the flowers beneath him, the sensation of having the breath knocked out of his lungs, the taste of copper in his mouth.
Ross blinked slowly.
The pounding in his skull continued its steady rhythm.
He swallowed again, smaller this time.
āā¦I think I broke a rib,ā he muttered hoarsely.
It took him a second to realize he was answering something.
Ross became aware of pain before he became aware of himself.
It was everywhere, a deep, crushing ache across his back, sharp and hot along one side of his ribs, and a pounding, rhythmic pressure at the base of his skull that seemed to pulse with every heartbeat. He tried to breathe.
The attempt ended in a thin, broken wheeze.
Air wouldnāt come in properly. His chest spasmed. For a moment, a long, animal moment, panic flared. His lungs felt empty and locked at the same time.
He tried again.
A shallow inhale. It caught halfway, jagged against bruised muscle and a rib that protested the expansion. The sound that escaped him was small and strained, barely more than a faint whistle in the still cavern air.
He didnāt know where he was.
He didnāt remember falling.
There was only the stone beneath him ā cold and unyielding ā pressing into his shoulder blades. His helmet dug into the rock at an awkward angle. Something inside it shifted faintly, foam compressed and cracked.
He tried to move his arm.
His body responded a second too late.
His fingers twitched weakly against the ground.
The world tilted, though he hadnāt moved. His vision was a smear of shadow and dim, ambient light ā golden, maybe. Or that could have been his brain misfiring.
He swallowed.
The motion sent a spike of pain through the back of his head. Nausea rose immediately in response. He made another small, involuntary wheezing sound as his diaphragm seized.
He was aware, distantly, that he should be doing something.
Radio.
Assessment.
Training.
Instead, he lay there, stunned and crooked against the cavern floor, drawing shallow, uneven breaths that rasped faintly in his throat.
His thoughts wouldnāt line up.
Something had happened.
Storm.
Marcus.
Friskā
The memory fractured before it could finish forming.
He tried to sit up.
The world lurched violently sideways and nausea surged up so fast he thought he might vomit inside the helmet. He made a low, broken sound and collapsed back down, clutching at his side.
Soft.
It registered faintly.
The surface under him wasnāt jagged. It wasnāt stone.
It yielded slightly under his weight.
He blinked again. Forced his eyes to focus. The gold resolved, slowly, into shapes.
Petals.
Hundreds of them.
He was lying in a dense bed of small golden flowers, their stems bent but not broken beneath him. They smelled faintly sweetālike something sun-warmed, like late summer.
That didnāt make sense either.
The impact of collapsing forced a sharper exhale from him, not quite a groan, not quite a gasp.
