Chapter Text
The wind is howling. It’s making all the rickety windows shake and creak from the pressure, threatening to break the frail glass. The rain is beating down on the metal roof of the warehouse. Every raindrop, every single little pitter patter, is coming together to create one steady and deafening roar. An overpowering rumble which drowned out the sound of what just transpired here…
Some of the overhead lights are flickering, trying their hardest to fight the storm. Meanwhile the shadows dance along erratically, making sure the tension in the atmosphere never settles. The air pushing through the cracks in the walls and ceiling are whistling an eerie tune. A haunting melody so fitting for this situation.
“what did you say your name was again? Simon, yeah?”
The human is sitting on the concrete floor with his hands outstretched in surrender. All his friends lay lifeless around him. Their bodies have been completely mangled and ripped to shreds. They hardly resemble the men they were just a few minutes ago.
There’s blood everywhere . Gradually trickling down the shelf walls, pooling around the corpses, inching its way toward the drainage pipe in the floor… Slowly dripping from the sharp bone in the skeleton monster’s hand…
“…Y-yes, sir,” Simon says meekly, his voice wavering slightly.
Oh this poor lad. He looks to only be in his mid twenties or something like that. Fear is running hot through his veins, making his whole body shake in anticipation as he looks up and into pitch black sockets… How unfortunate, to walk down this path so young only to notice that it ends this abruptly. Suppose they had to start recruiting ‘em a little young to spare the higher ups. What a cold strategy, and one so very tragic in the present moment. This one was never bound to last.
Dressed to the nines in a finely pressed striped suit, Sans is the spitting image of a high class mobster. Stepping in and putting an end to this poor excuse of an operation definitely wasn’t on his agenda today. His clothes are beyond ruined.
His previously white cuffs and black jacket sleeves have been completely soaked. Catch him in the right light and you’d even be able to spot the bloody shimmer embedded in the dark fabric. His collar is loose, slightly unbuttoned and exposing the top part of his ribs. A crimson red has been splattered across his chest, seeping into his shirt and sticking to his bones. It’s even clinging onto the side of his jaw, the blood a stark contrast to his skull. Despite everything, the fact that these stains will never come out, he’s not that troubled by it.
The last remaining human has backed himself up against one of the support beams, pressed between the iron flaps jutting out on either side of him. It’s satisfying, seeing someone so utterly helpless… At his complete mercy…
He’s got himself virtually trapped, and with every languid step Sans takes towards him, the snare around his throat tightens. Ensuring his fate. Sure, he could try to run, but he wouldn’t get very far. Not when Sans’ focus is solely on him.
Making his eyelights reignite in his sockets, Simon jumps in shock, inhaling a shaky breath. His eyelights form into sharp pinpricks, practically holding the human’s eyes hostage. Even his pupils are quivering, not daring to look away.
“oh, buddy, there’s no need to get so stiff with me now. i’m not much for formality, least of all with friends.
Letting his true intentions shine through, the smile stretching across his skull as he finishes his sentence is downright vicious. The vice-like grip he has on this situation, on this man’s life, it’s absolutely intoxicating. His soul is screaming out in panic, and the pure horror reflecting in his eyes is quite the sight to behold. The heavy dread hanging in the air is almost palpable.
Simon just nods slowly. Tense, sort of robotic. As if any sudden movement will set Sans off. He’s trying his best to breathe, to calm down, but his chest stutters with every inhale. He’s fighting to simply stay conscious at this point.
Not that long ago, Sans would’ve been beyond ashamed of himself for getting such a high out of something like this. To thrive on others suffering. But now, after everything that’s happened, it’s liberating, and so god damn addicting…
Crouching down in front of the human, he raises the bloody bone in his hand and gently presses the pointed end to the man’s neck. But he flinches from the contact, jerking his head to the side. Too busy trying to swallow back his heart from jumping out his throat, he doesn’t notice the twitch in Sans’ smile. Try as he might, Simon can’t back up any more than he already has. There’s no way he’s getting away from Sans now. Running isn’t an option anymore.
Swiftly reaching out and grabbing the back of his head, Sans digs the sharp tips of his phalanges into the man’s scalp. Roughly yanking his hair back, forcing him to look up as his head is held in place and Sans adjusts his grip on the bone. Settling the sharp edge right underneath Simon’s jaw.
He lets out a pathetic whimper and squeezes his eyes shut. His breathing is becoming more and more uneven as the seconds tick by. Looking back up and meeting Sans’ eyelights, his pinpricks flare with a twisted sort of giddiness. This might as well just be a fun little game to him. He’s winning and he loves it.
“i’m sure us pals can come to some sort of an agreement,” his satisfaction is so evident in his voice it’s practically dripping with it.
“ you give me the information i need, and i’ll let you off the hook easy, alright?” he adds slowly.
The human’s eyes go wide as Sans’ words sink in and he quickly shakes his head, careful not to cut himself.
“I- …I can’t- …I don’t know. I swear I don’t know, I promise!” he exclaims. His frayed nerves getting the better of him, causing him to trip over his words.
Sans’ smile falters and the glee that previously colored his expression melts off his face. His pinpricks begin to dilate and contract wildly as he stares at the man in front of him, like a camera trying to find its focus, until they finally calm. Now seemingly staring right through Simon, well past his body.
“heh… you promise?”
Despite the chuckle escaping him, there’s no actual humor in his voice. His tone is flat, void of any emotion but a twinge of disappointment. He’s fighting the scowl that’s now tugging at the corners of his mouth. His emotions are trying to break through his facade, to take back control. And the human seems to notice his soured mood, giving him a strained ‘mhm’ to his question.
“…what a shame.”
In the blink of an eye, Simon’s throat has been sliced wide open. Bone scrapes against bone as Sans sinks his weapon all the way into the human’s neck, connecting with his spine. Warm blood oozes from the wound, coating the skeleton’s hands further as the man chokes while trying to draw in breath. Desperately tugging on Sans’ arm to get away, it doesn’t take long before he goes limp. His eyes go blank as the fight leaves his body.
Promptly standing up and taking a step back, Sans lets the bone slip out of his phalanges and it evaporates into a blue mist right as it’s about to hit the ground. Fishing out a rag from one of his pockets, he begins wiping his hands, trying to soak up as much of the blood as possible. Scrubbing the side of his face, the color won’t come off easily. A glaring red line the lower left side of his vision. Adamantly clinging to his skull like an eternal reminder of what he’s done.
you humans sure are some disgusting fucking creatures. why do you always have to leave such a damn mess to clean up…
These surprise attacks keep happening. It first became a thing around six or so months ago when a delivery truck was set on fire and blown up in the middle of the city. Ruining much of the street and nearby buildings, as well as taking a few unfortunate lives who weren’t quick enough to vacate the premises. The media didn’t waste any time trying to find the culprit, with the blame naturally being placed on monsters.
Since then, the Dreemurr family’s profits have taken a massive hit, and the attacks don’t seem to be stopping any time soon. In fact, they’ve become a regular occurrence. So much so that they can often be predicted and prepared for.
These Murphy Boys better come up with a new shtick quick or there’ll be nothing more than a few lonely street rats left. Bet it doesn’t feel too nice losin’ so many of your men in one night.
They mostly go after cargo. Either stealing it for themselves or destroying it in hopes of ruining deals or setting the family back. If it’s not precious supplies meant to aid monsters in need, or other valuable goods to sell, then it’s narcotics giving the gang an upper hand against the humans who seek to make themselves a general problem.
Monsters are being hunted for fucking sport in this city. Harassment and abuse is rampant, verging a hefty divide between the two species, with the government doing little to combat it. And all of this mayhem is nothing new, it’s been this way for years. Pretty much from the very start, right after the barrier fell. The local population apparently couldn’t wait to pick sides, with many joining protests and groups swearing to protect the human race from ‘the savage hellspawns from the mountain’.
Of course there was a glimmer of hope at the start. With most big changes there usually is. It was before their curiosity had turned into fear, and then their fear into anger…
At this point, Sans doesn’t want anything to do with the animals, unless he gets to send them off that is. That’s the sort of enthusiasm that earned him his rather unsavory title… The butcher … Well, if the shoe fits, might as well walk with pride. After all, a scared human is a good human, but a dead one is even better…
“Sans!”
Snapping out of the daze he’d accidentally slipped into, his vision clears and the outline of his stained hands become sharp again. He’s balled them into fists and his claws are painfully piercing his metacarpals.
Bracing himself and taking a deep breath, he relaxes his face, trying to reset his appearance. Doing his best to conceal the anger bubbling right beneath the surface, to appear calm and in control.
Unfurling his hands and letting his arms drop to his sides, he lazily looks over his shoulder and at his friend in the doorway, giving her a simple ‘yeah?’ in response.
“…What the hell happened here?” she asks, unimpressed.
If it weren’t for all the carnage surrounding him, and coating him, she’d have a hard time telling that something’s wrong with how easily he masks his emotions. Guess there’s just no helping it today. Turning and stuffing his hands in his pockets, he strolls over towards Undyne.
“how about we get outa here and i’ll tell you all about it when we see the boss.”
“…Sure. You alright?” Her words are measured, testing the waters.
Raising her arm out in front of him as he’s about to pass her, he stops to look up at her. Tilting his skull slightly to the side, he raises one of his brow bones in question.
Unlike his mental state, it’s impossible to hide the creeping tiredness that’s etched itself into his features. The dark circles under his sockets are even more evident in the bright moonlight as it’s falling on his face through the massive warehouse doors. The storm outside has calmed and the rain has turned into a patchy drizzle.
She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing him, “I called your name multiple times. You seemed kinda out of it…”
There’s a clear touch of concern in her voice, an underlying kindness she seldom shares. At least not with just anyone, or without a valid reason. But there’s also a hint of hesitation, the faintest change in tone. It’s sweet of her to worry, and smart of her to be cautious… Sans isn’t the most stable of individuals. Far removed from the patient and collected monster that he once was, this isn’t the first time that she’s seen him like this, and it likely won’t be the last.
Huffing out a laugh, he brushes past her, “yeah, course i’m alright. you worry too much. cmon now, i want to get this over with.”
All that’s left to do is to notify Asgore of what happened, send in a cleanup crew and then take stock. Gotta check what those vermins managed to get their filthy hands on before he intervened. After that he can finally get some well earned rest. Or rather, he can try to get some rest. Sleep doesn’t come easy nowadays. Not unless he’s gotten himself blackout drunk or he’s literally used up all of his energy. On those days he usually collapses with one foot through the door, and then waking up to another scolding from Papyrus the morning after.
Thankfully, tomorrow’s supposed to be an uneventful one. The Murphys should be busy licking their wounds, so they’re unlikely to cause any unforeseen trouble for a while. Some breathing room between gang fights is always appreciated.
Only real errand Sans has on his to-do list is to check in on an old acquaintance. Just to quickly stop by her shop and talk to her new employee. Her human employee… Apparently they’ve been working under her for quite some time now, a month give or take.
The thing is, humans don’t simply get to worm their way into monster owned businesses. No, they have to be approved and monitored. So if this one turns out to be an unwanted pest, Sans has to chase them off, or get rid of them, depending on what they know. He’s not usually sent on these kinda jobs, given that even a rookie could manage to spook a human. It’s a great way to test their capabilities, to see if they’re really able to handle this line of work. In this instance though, he’d prefer to investigate the situation himself.
~
As predicted, getting some sleep that night is a hard earned fight. So when Sans finally stumbles into Giselle’s corner shop, it’s already late in the afternoon.
The café is pretty cozy. Ceiling high windows line the outer walls, letting in the soft sunlight. Cute round tables are scattered about, decorating the open space. The long counter at the back holds a display filled with a wide assortment of baked goods. Various types of freshly baked bread have been filed and stashed on the shelves hanging on the gray brick wall behind the register.
Soft pastels meet earthy tones. Turquoise, pink and white. She’s really made this place her own in the few years she’s been open. The only thing out of the ordinary are the numerous plants now also decorating the space. Lining the window sills and covering the room’s corners, it’s almost to the point that the café could be mistaken for a flower shop at first glance. Guess Giselle’s picked up an interest in plant propagation? It’s surprising, she never seemed like the type.
A good few monsters are seated at the tables, and it’s surprisingly busy for this time of day. They’re talking to one another, enjoying their treats, reading the newspaper. The atmosphere is serene and welcoming.
This shop has always served as a safe haven for anyone in need of a break from the bustling city. It’s a calm spot nestled right in the middle of all the chaos, which has somehow stayed unaffected and unbreached. A place where you’re allowed to simply hide for a moment, or to rest and heal . All the more reason to keep humans at bay…
However, when all the patrons glance up to see who’s just entered the establishment, the chatter instantly dies down to a quiet murmur. In a split second, the air in the room has changed. Now noticeably colder. Charged with a certain uneasiness.
Some carefully slide out of their seats, getting up to leave. Others stare. Their worried eyes follow the skeleton as he saunters up to the counter and taps the bell. It almost feels as if the chime goes on for far too long. Getting drawn out as it cuts through the tension. The sound registering much louder than it actually is… And a few seconds later, the back door opens and the human in question appears.
Right away, the sense that something’s amiss washes over Sans. Creeping down his spine and putting him on high alert. It’s a woman who looks to be in her early twenties. You’re dressed in a modest short-sleeved dress. A muted green covered with tiny white flowers. A matching darker ribbon is tightly wrapped around your middle, showing off your figure.
Giving Sans a shy smile and running your hands down your clothes, you approach him, “Hello, sir. How can I help you?”
Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, coming out soft and sweet. Short hair frames your face. It’s natural and loose, reaching your shoulders just about. In general, you look very timid and unassuming — and maybe that’s exactly it.
Most women your age are dressed to impress, with their hair styled in big curls and their face painted to perfection. Walking around embodying their own personally tailored image, there’s a certain energy you simply lack in comparison. You look like summer, uprooted and trapped in an industrial world. Like you’re just not quite right for this setting and scene… And why are your ears covered in tiny little holes?
Leaning onto the counter, he gives you one of his practiced smiles, “…well if you don’t mind, i’d like some of your time, please.”
You blink in surprise, furrowing your brows, “Um… Some of my time, sir?”
He can’t help but chuckle. Oh it’s no wonder why Giselle fell for this one. You’re adorable, and that’s the trouble. You humans can look so dastardly sweet on the outside, and still harbor the most vile of intentions on the inside. It’ll be fun watching you eventually crack and reveal your true colors.
“don’t worry, i’m a friend of your boss. i’ve just got a few questions for ya, won’t take long, so how about we head on out back?”
“A friend of- …of Miss Giselle?” You’re starting to tense up, shrinking and trying to make yourself smaller, “Right, of course, just… um, give me one sec…”
Backing up towards the door, your arm is stretched back and reaching for the handle. You’re not even attempting to conceal your fear, it’s written all over your face.
Dropping his own mask, Sans’ calm smile turns into a scowl. Your unwillingness to play along has his patience already running dangerously thin. Just humor him for a moment and let this harmless act finish its piece. Don’t ruin the buildup before you’ve even started.
“easy now, girly… like i said, i just want to talk. let’s not make a scene,” he states, voice coming out icy cold.
Straightening back up, he lets the sharp tips of his phalanges scrape against the countertop and they effortlessly scar the wood. Your eyes flick down, catching the motion. Looking back up, your breath hitches as you’re greeted by his sharp pinpricks, flaring in irritation. The warning couldn’t have been made any more obvious, now get in line.
The back door suddenly flies open and you spin around, coming face to face with an angry looking cat monster. She’s towering over you, an imposing figure even to their own kind. Crossing her arms, she stares Sans down.
“Sans Serif… I wasn’t expecting you…” Her voice is stern, low and cutting.
Giselle’s as elegant as ever. Her black fur is short and swirled, looking like her body is covered in tiny roses. A pair of bone white horns emerge right behind her perked ears. They’re tall, bending slightly backwards and then up again in gentle swoops. The dark magenta dress she’s wearing compliments her golden eyes, making them shine even brighter than normal. And right now it feels like she’s burning holes through Sans’ skull. Her scowl rivals his own.
Breathing out a sigh, he flashes her a grin instead, “didn’t know i had to make an appointment to swing by a friend.”
Pushing past the shaken human, she stands protectively in front of you, “y/n, could you be a dear and go take stock of the vitals?”
Her words are slow and methodical, eyes never breaking away from Sans. You respond with a quiet ‘yes’ and quickly disappear into the back room. As soon as you’re gone, Giselle strides forward and grips the countertop with her hands, sinking her claws in. It will definitely have to get replaced after this.
“Leave,” she breathes out through gritted teeth. If looks could kill, Sans would’ve been a pile of dust on the floor right then and there.
“i know you’ve always had a soft spot for the creatures, Giselle, but there’s a protocol for a reason…”
“Stay the hell away from her, Sans. She’s innocent,” she threatens, her fury coming out in full force as bright sparks glint in the corners of her eyes.
Whatever this girl is to the cat monster, she sure as hell means a lot more to Giselle than her familial bond with Sans. The realization brings with it a searing sting, but the pain’s easily discarded and tucked away for later. Now’s not the time, and besides — it’s not that surprising. The two of them haven’t been on the best of terms for a while now.
“i think i’ll be the judge of that.”
Her pupils turn into slits when she understands what he’s about to do, and her hand shoots out to grab onto him. But right as she’s about to rip into his sleeve, he’s already teleported away.
Appearing in the alleyway right behind the building, he immediately takes in his surroundings, scanning for the runaway human. When he spots you, his sockets go wide in shock.
Further down the path, you’re seen scaling a building. Throwing your leg over the side of the roof and standing up on top of the ledge. In your hand is what appears to be some sort of a vaulting pole. A sleek staff made out of a dark metal. Seeing it from a distance, it sort of looks like the material is moving. As if it’s alive and breathing. Shifting this way and that, chunks break apart and slot into place. Like it’s trying to sort itself out. Hopelessly attempting to find a satisfying arrangement. The top of the pole is curved like a fishing hook. It’s no doubt what you used to climb up there.
a magic user, huh? oh, Giselle, you know we can’t have that…
Warily looking around in case he’d followed you, you catch sight of him down in the alley and your hands fly up to your chest. Trying in vain to calm your rushing heartbeat.
Spinning around, you hop off the ledge and make a break for it, running across the roof as fast as you can.
Refusing to let this become a chase, Sans teleports to the top of the roof. You’ve somehow already made it to the neighbouring building and you’re about to cross onto the next. Preparing to leap over the gap, he quickly blinks into existence right next to you and latches onto your arm.
Yanking you back through the void, a distorted clinking sound washes over the two of you. Like glass shattering into a million little shards, followed by its shrill echo, until you’re spit out on the other end of town and are met with the gentle swooshing of wind.
Sans really wasn’t expecting to expend this much of his magic today, and definitely not this fast. Teleporting in quick succession when you’re ready for it is one thing, but doing it at a moment’s notice has left him feeling extremely dizzy. The world’s spinning as he stumbles away from you, steadying himself against a tree.
You’ve landed in one of the many parks scattered across the city, with this one being right in the center of their turf. Oracle Park it’s called. Famous for its beauty and the significance the place holds. He’d seriously rather be anywhere but here right now. Whenever he has to pass through it, it always feels like the giant angel statue that’s peeking through the trees is judging him for his sins. From here, they’re just a hop and a skip away from where most of the higher ups live, including himself and Pap. Dragging you to one of their main locations probably won’t be easy, but interrogating you out here in the open is an even worse idea.
Thinking about it, there is a place close by that might work. It’s something of a temporary holding cell. An old wine cellar the gang refurbished and now uses for anyone who’s not worth hauling over to base. The building is just across the street. So long as they don’t make too much noise getting there, they shouldn’t draw any unwanted attention to themselves.
Luckily no one seems to be walking around the park at this hour. The muffled sound of cars can be heard all around, most of the city’s inhabitants must be on their way home right around now. The sun’s starting to set and the warm orange light is casting a soft glow on everything. Birds are happily singing away overhead. Oblivious and unaffected by their surprise appearance.
You're sitting hunched over in the grass with one arm supporting your body, knuckles white from the tight grip you have on the ground, while the other is pressed to your stomach. Looking up at him, your face is pale and you're breathing like you’ve just run a mile. Seems like you didn’t handle the jump all that well. What a pity...
Walking over and crouching down in front of you, he grabs your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.
“i ain’t in the mood for games, human. try that shit again and it won’t end pretty for you,” he growls out and you flinch, instinctively trying to get out of his hold, but the attempt only makes him dig his claws into your cheeks.
He flashes his sharp canines with a sadistic looking grin, “so let’s try this again, shall we?”
His hand swiftly slides down to your throat and his phalanges encircle your neck loosely. Meanwhile his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you up with him. You’re a bit shorter than him, just about reaching his jaw, and so you have to loll your head back to keep the eye contact.
“listen very closely now… we are going on a short walk, over to a more… secluded place, where we can finish our little chat,” as he speaks, Sans can feel himself falling back into his happy place.
“and if you make as much as a squeak,” stretching out the hand resting on your waist, he slowly drags his claws across your stomach, lightly ripping the fabric, making you gasp and screw your eyes shut, “i’ll make sure the whole city hears you scream, capiche?”
He can feel you swallowing nervously as his thumb lazily strokes your throat. You nod and open your eyes. They’re shining with unshed tears.
“good,” he removes the hand around your neck and presses you to his side. Holding onto you like you’re just an ordinary couple out on a nice evening stroll.
“smile, sweetheart. wouldn’t want anyone thinking something’s amiss, hm?” he adds, looking down at you from the corner of his eyes, his smile absolutely wolfish as you begin the short trek to the cellar.