Chapter Text
---------- Geno ----------
Geno jerked awake at the sound of a loud clang. He flailed around for a second until he remembered that he was no longer a skeleton. Once he was done with that, he stiffened and did a scan of his surroundings. He was in a cell of some sort. It had three wooden walls with a small barred window at the top of the middle wall, which was slightly curved. Opposite of the wall with the window was a huge door kinda like that of a garage door, but instead of a flimsy sheet of wood, it was a metal grate on hinges. Beyond that, he could see a wooden hall seemingly filled to the brim with cells.
He began examining the materials. The metal seemed kinda crude compared to what Geno knew humans could do, but it and the wood were all thick and strong. He tried to identify weak points, but the best he could come up with was the myriad of joints. There was painting along the beams, but it was mostly just an artistic depiction of a closed fist, likely a symbol for this ship's flock. Group? Fleet? Probably belonged to a group or company. Either it belonged to the people who built the ship or the people who were using it to transport the dragons.
A burly human walked past the cell, carrying something wrapped in leather. Geno slowly inched toward the edge of the cell and watched him. The human disappeared into a decorated door at the end of the hall. Maybe captain’s quarters or something. Geno was a bit fuzzy on his knowledge of ships. Neither the Underground nor the Save Screen had any need for large water vehicles. He only ever learned about ships from trash that fell into the dump in Waterfall. The direction the human had come from must have been the entrance. He looked, and, sure enough, there was a set of stairs leading to a large trap door.
Geno looked at the colorful door again and waited for the human to come back out. It didn’t take long, and Geno was rewarded with a view of the other side. He caught a glimpse of a desk with papers and carvings on it, but he couldn’t see if there was anyone sitting at the desk. Too much was in the way.
Most of the cells were filled with dragons of all sorts. The variety was interesting. There was one with two heads, another that was silvery, and a few that were very spiky and stood on two legs instead of four. He couldn’t spot any chains on the dragons. These cages must be well tested. The dragons did have a band around their jaws. Geno tried to open his mouth but found that his jaws were tied shut like the rest.
He crossed his eyes trying to look at it; it glittered dully in the half light of the belly of the ship. He decided it was some kind of metal. A loud clang on the bars of his cell distracted him. One of the human goons tossed a bucket of water through the bars. Geno eyed it as it clattered on the wood floor. Water sprayed over the side as it wobbled across the floor. The human grunted something at him and moved on to throw buckets into other cages.
Geno thought about turning it down. Then his newly fleshy body reminded him that he needed hydration. His tongue in particular felt like sandpaper.
I never realized how uncomfortable being fleshy could be. Geno thought, mentally categorizing all the bruises and muscle aches he had accrued over the day. He tried sticking his tongue through the slight opening between his jaws, but the tongue caught some of his teeth. So he retracted his tongue. He felt around his gums to map out where his teeth were and nearly jumped out of his skin when his tongue hit air on the underside of his jaw.
He felt around again, and he realized that his lower jaw split down the middle. A gaster blaster’s jaw split in the middle. He wondered how much like his gaster blasters he looked. He tried to look at the surface of the water in hopes of seeing his reflection. Unfortunately he couldn’t catch his image.
Maybe I can find a mirror later. Geno thought. He took a good look at the door again. The letter said I could change back into a monster. But would that work? No, those bars would still be a tight squeeze. The letter mentioned that the deity was searching for him. I should stay like this. There’s a lot of oafs, but I’ll take my chances. It’s looking for me. I’m in the middle of the ocean. It’s safer to wait.
He'd gotten good at waiting over the years.
The debate over, Geno lowered his jaw to the bucket. He managed to drink a fair amount through the split in his jaw. More splattered the floor around him. He was new at this! Cut him some slack.
Well while he was waiting, he could at least try to figure out how he ended up here. He closed his eyes and cast his mind back to the Save Screen. He had been sitting in there. Like always. There were three viewing screens around him–quiet, static, flickering. Something had gotten his attention. It had pulled at the back of his skull as if someone had stood mere inches behind him. He had looked over his shoulder. But there was no one. Not Reaper. Not that weird malevolent Gaster incarnation that loved to torment him. And then. . .
(* * *)
A crash and a number of squawks distracted him from his thoughts. He couldn't see what was happening, but he could tell that someone was upset.
He tried to refocus, but the sound of the unsettled dragons, the boots stomping above him, the creaks of shifting wood, and the gentle splashing of waves was getting too loud. Everything else started hitting him all at once as well. The light bouncing off of the wood and glinting off of the metal was becoming painfully bright. Geno closed his eyes and covered his ears as best he could (he didn't actually know where his ears were, so he made his best guess.)
That only helped momentarily. After he'd cut off the light and muffled the sound, he became aware of his other senses. Worst was his sense of feeling. He could feel every particle of the floor and the metal band touching him. Every new muscle and other new bits twitched incessantly. Every breath of air that brushed his body sent more signals to his overloaded brain. Next was the smell. Ocean and wood and human and dragon mixed with sweat and desperation to make something terribly unpleasant for his nose. As a skeleton, he only smelled when he wanted to smell. Now he smelled whether he liked it or not. And he suspected his nose was a bit stronger than it had been as a monster. Thankfully he couldn't taste much other than salt and his own saliva. It still wasn't pleasant.
It was all becoming too much. He should have known this was coming. He knew what sensory deprivation was. He knew he was sensory deprived. He'd nearly gone insane– more insane– before he'd found those screens to the living timeline because he couldn't handle the lack of everything.
Geno was losing the battle. He was completely overwhelmed. And he didn't know how to fix it other than exposure therapy. That was supposed to be with Reaper and Error present and the option to go back to the Save Screen when he couldn't handle it anymore.
An idea presented itself to Geno. It was stupid, but a drowning man did not choose what he grabbed hold of to stay alive. Geno settled himself into a position that was less likely to leave him with sore bones, and shut himself down. It wasn't like a gentle sleep. It was like turning off a computer. On one moment, off the next.