Chapter Text
Flowey the Flower, Agent of Chaos
Part One
While humans falling into the Underground clearly wasn’t unheard of, Flowey had never seen anything quite like this. He wasn’t great at telling the ages of humans- their lives were so short that they died of old age by the time a monster would have barely entered their adolescence- he was fairly sure that this specific one was an adult. The woman (at least, he was pretty sure this one was female, assuming that humans worked more or less the same way that mammalian monsters did) was wearing some sort of uniform, with a strange package on her back, and she’d landed on her feet, rather than on her face.
It wasn’t often that Flowey felt fear- after all, even if he was badly injured, he could always reset time and go back to before he’d been hurt. But there was something about this woman that simply screamed “scary.” Hidden under a pile of leaf litter, the flower watched this interloper look around at the entrance to the Underground with cold, calculating eyes. He held his breath as the woman’s eyes widened, listened as he heard her speak.
“It’s true- this place is absolutely crawling with anomalies! I’m sure I’ll be able to find him here.”
Thinking quickly, Flowey made a decision. If he could take the soul of an adult, maybe he’d at least be able to get his old body back. Was that how that worked? Adult souls had to be stronger than the souls of children, right? So he made his decision.
Popping up out of the leaves, he loudly introduced himself. “Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower! You look like you’re new around here!” The woman looked at him flatly.
“A talking flower…” she mused. “Strange.” Then, her eyes widened to an almost comical degree. “Mr. Dreemurr? Asriel Dreemurr?”
That was… unexpected.
“How do you know that name!?” Flowey demanded. The woman shrugged.
“Your late sister- her name was Chara Baxter, wasn’t it?”
“How do you know her name!?”
“You’d be surprised what the organization I work for can find out,” came the response. “In fact… didn’t you ever wonder why she wanted to kill everyone? You must have wondered about her reasoning, right?”
Flowey felt as though his insides had turned to ice. Not only did this woman seem to know Chara’s true name, she knew about his sister’s hatred, her fury, her motivations. Things she’d never told even him, while she was alive. “Of course I wondered,” he replied slowly, not sure how much he wanted to reveal. “But I felt that it was probably best if I didn’t pry- she was touchy about her past, about what led her to throw herself down here.”
“So you knew she attempted suicide,” the woman mused. Flowey nodded.
“It was obvious- humans avoid this place, because of the old stories. When she fell down here, and I woke her up, the first thing she said was ‘damn, I’m not dead.’” The woman looked a little bit surprised, but nodded thoughtfully. “Do you… know something about her?” Flowey asked.
“I…” the woman started, then cut herself off. “No, you’re right, you deserve to know.” A pause. Then, “before she escaped and threw herself down here, your sister was known as SCP-5003. The organization I am now ashamed to admit I worked for likes to, shall we say… collect things that are supernatural and ‘contain’ them- basically meaning that they lock them in a box. If the thing is alive, they’ll either wait for it to die or try to kill it themselves.”
“That’s horrible...” Flowey replied, looking about as disturbed as it was possible for a flower to look. The woman shrugged.
“That’s life, young man. But as I was saying, eventually, there was what they call a ‘containment breach,’ which is when one of the things they’ve locked up escapes. Some items are a little more… violent… than others, and a bit more proactive about escaping. While all of the site’s staff was busy trying to prevent the more dangerous objects from getting loose, nobody was paying attention to the Euclid-class humanoid containment wing and 5003 escaped. Euclid-class objects, while unpredictable, usually don’t try to eat people. So your sister fled, came here, and you know the rest of the story from there.”
The flower shuddered, hoping that the human wasn’t able to see it for what it was. He had known Chara hadn’t had a good life on the surface, but he never knew how bad she’d had it. No wonder she’d wanted to die, and then later wanted to kill her own people. But there was one thing that was bothering him.
“So why are you telling me about this?” he asked. “It’s done. There’s nothing I can do about it now.” The woman’s face split into a truly terrifying grin.
“Because I can offer you the chance to finish what 5003- what your sister- started. I told you before I used to work for the Foundation, and technically, I still do. But three years ago, I defected to an offshoot of it called the Chaos Insurgency. One of our goals is to free all humanoid SCP objects. Too many of them are simply normal people who happen to belong to a minority religion, or who simply had an interest in the occult and read the wrong book. Even the dangerous ones are still essentially people, and they don’t deserve to be locked in a box. If you agree to come with me, I’ll show you how to break their cells.”
“And if I refuse?” Flowey asked- without any real intention of refusal. Really, the woman had his attention from the first time she’d said Chara’s true name. But he very nearly changed his mind after seeing the woman’s grin widen into something more resembling a rictus than a real smile.
“Then I’d have to kill you.”
“I’ll do it,” Flowey said quickly. The woman clapped her hands and hopped in place excitedly.
“EXCELLENT!” Seemingly out of nowhere, she produced a flowerpot and a small shovel. Flowey looked at her, face carefully blank.
“What is that.” It wasn’t a question.
“I have to get you out of here somehow, don’t I? Don’t worry, I’ll let you down as soon as we’re through that barrier. You won’t be able to do anything if you’re in a pot, after all.” It was a logical conclusion, so with some trepidation, Flowey allowed her to dig him up and carefully place him into the terracotta container. The woman was surprisingly careful with him, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. “This part might be somewhat uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.” Before Flowey could ask what she meant, the woman pressed the pot into her hip, and grabbed a cord hanging from the side of the strange backpack. The pack roared to life with a ripping sound, and the two of them started lifting off of the ground.
“Jetpack,” the woman answered the flower’s unspoken question. “We’ll get up through the hole that way.”
And just like that, for the first time in a hundred years, a monster had gone through the barrier. Just like that, Flowey’s new life had begun as an agent of the Chaos Insurgency.
To Be Completed