How long had he been sleeping?
It’s a tranquil moment that felt like eternity, yet not.
Slow.
Relaxing.
Distant.
That is, until a familiar boom in the air yelled for his name.
“SAAAAAAAAAANS!!!”
Music to his ears. When Sans opened his eyes, he witnessed not the glitter of gems… but face of The Great Scientist, Papyrus.
Face wise, he looks just the same. Though his clothes were a different story. Doctor Gaster’s sense of ‘proper fashion’ had bled over.
Not that Sans would complain: suits look gorgeous on Papyrus.
Haha, he still has mom’s red scarf.
“Hi,” said Sans.
Papyrus frowned. “I HAVE TOLD YOU MANY TIMES TO NOT ABUSE YOUR FLEXI-HOUR PRIVILEGES FOR EXCESSIVE BREAKS! YES, I KNOW YOU CAN TELEPORT AND THUS TRAVEL TIME IS NOT AN ISSUE BUT STILL! HAVE SOME INTEGRITY, FOR GOODNESS SAKE.”
“AND WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING SO CLOSE TO THE FRONT ENTRANCE? I KNOW YOU HAVE PEOPLE ON THE PAYROLL. BUT IT SETS NOT A GOOD EXAMPLE FOR YOUR EMPLOYEES. ALTHOUGH, EVERYONE KNOWS ABOUT YOUR ODD HABITS ANYWAY.”
Some things don’t change. Sans chuckled.
“It’s the best spot, bro. Hey, why don’t you lie down for a moment too?”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? MOM AND DAD DRAGGED UNCLE GASTER OUT OF HIS LAB FOR OUR WEEKEND DINNER! BY THE COLLAR! I’LL BE DAMNED IF I LET YOU RUIN THE OCCASION WITH YOUR INFECTIOUS LACK OF ENTHUSIASM.”
“Wow. They managed to bust the workaholic doc out of his own prison?”
Papyrus smiled. “YOU BET! AFTER ALL, THEY’RE OUR SUPER AWESOME COOL PARENTS. BEING A PAIR OF HANDS WON’T STOP THEM FROM GIVING UNCLE GASTER A MUCH NEEDED BREAK.”
The tall brother began to rub his chin. “NOW, IF ONLY I CAN BUILD A MACHINE TO EQUALIZE YOUR WORK HABITS. HE NEEDS TO CHILL, WHILE YOU NEED TO GET HEATED UP.”
“No way. ‘Lukewarm’ is the worst, yo. Ever tried drinking something that’s neither hot nor cold? It sucks. You really don't wanna be just warm like Luke.”
Papyrus groaned. “SAVE YOUR WORD SHENANIGANS AFTER WE FINISH OUR INGREDIENT FETCH QUEST. YOU GOT THE WATERDOGS DAD WANTED?”
“Yup. Best of the crop.” Sans dragged the wicker basket and balanced it on his chest.
“THEN WHY ARE YOU LOLLYGAGGING ABOUT FOR? C’MON, LET’S GO!”
I’m right in front of the waterworks, huh? I wanna see how it turned out. Detouring a little bit won’t hurt since I can teleport and all.
I think I’ll tell Paps to go ahead.
“Welp. If I have to.” said Sans. “Don’t wanna keep everyone waiting.”
Huh? Why… why did I say that?
Nevermind. I’ll see it soon enough.
* * *
It’s another fine workday.
The water refinement facility came out better than expected. It had everything Sans wanted and more.
It turned out to be a wetter version of ‘The Core’. It had the same swappable flooring, plus a fully customizable pipe system on top of that. The usual human plumbing problems don't exist here.
The Waterworks consisted of three main sections: processing, distribution, and wastewater management.
The heart of the facility was none other than a massive drill-pump, made entirely out of Gaster-approved steel. Since the quake didn’t happen in this timeline, the forges remained wholly intact.
Every day, this massive pillar draws out enough water to supply the entire Underground for centuries to come. The raw resources go straight into refinement filters, removing any sediment and excess minerals, while a massive network of pipes distributes the end product to the end consumers. The old system that linked to Waterfall’s polluted rivers had long been decommissioned.
As for the waste? It’s no longer unceremoniously dumped. Instead, it all flows back neatly through the sewers.
From there, the process involves a ton of automated Karma in a simple concept of expedited decay. Meshes of Purple-magic serve to break down everything into harmless non-toxic compounds. These would then be deposited into settlement tanks. Sludge sinks to the bottom, leaving behind reasonably purified liquids to help cool The Core.
In short, the Underground was never healthier.
Since Sans was the one who thought up the idea, he wound up as the boss of sorts, with relatives in key positions. His family didn’t have a surname, though, so they had to come up with a term that unified them all.
And thus, ‘The Font Family Waterworks’ was born.
Though, Doctor Gaster’s real name was ‘Wendell Dominic’. Not ‘Wingdings’ as most assumed. He played along anyway.
As for housing arrangements… Gaster insisted that the brothers move into his mansion. No blame on the old man: he had a vast library that’s too good to be neglected.
Also, Papyrus insisted that his lab should be situated far from Hotland and closer to home. Which, turned out to be one of the mansion’s secret rooms.
Sans finished reading the monthly accounts. Everything checked out, from profits to repair costs.
“And done. Phew. That’s quite something.”
The office walls rumbled with the excited thumping of a certain energetic brother.
“Huh. Wonder what’s up with Paps?”
Papyrus slammed the door wide open with telekinesis. Busted it down hard. He had his hands hidden behind his back.
“SHE’S HOME!!!”
“Uh, who? Queen Toriel?”
Why did I ask about Tori?
After one big groan, Papyrus replied: “NO! UNDYNE! SHE’S BACK FROM HER LATEST MISSION!!!”
Mission?
Sans raised his brows. “Ooh boy, it’s already one month? Time sure flies. So, did she manage to get that sweet limited edition miniature car collector’s set?”
Papyrus pulled out the clean, unopened box.
Both brothers squealed in delight.
“ISN’T IT AWESOME!?!?!? I’M FINALLY CAUGHT UP TO DATE!”
“Toooo cool! I really hope she didn’t smash the shop windows to get that.”
“OF COURSE NOT!” The tall skeleton struck a heroic pose. “THE GREAT PAPYRUS SUPPLIED HER WITH ENOUGH FUNDS. HE WILL HAVE NO BUSINESS WITH NEEDLESS SHOP VANDALISMS!”
“OH. AND ONE MORE THING, SANS: SHE WANTS TO MEET YOU AT GRILLBY’S. MIDNIGHT. SOUNDS LIKE SERIOUS BUSINESS.”
Ah. So I still hang out there even though we didn’t move to Snowdin?
“Right,” Sans nodded. “Thanks for passing along the message.”
Papyrus crossed his arms, unsatisfied over something.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“…Why are you giving me that look, bro?”
“I’VE BEEN HEARING UNSAVOURY STORIES ABOUT YOU LATELY. I WONDER IF UNDYNE IS FINALLY GOING TO CONFRONT YOUR FANFICTION FUEL!”
“Pardon wha--?”
“OH DON’T PLAY IGNORANT WITH ME, SANS! IT’S ABOUT KING ASGORE’S FEMALE CLONE. I MEAN QUEEN TORIEL!”
“Okay…?”
“METTATON’S LATEST GOSSIP CORNER IS SPREADING JUICY RUMOURS THAT YOU’RE THE SOLE REASON SHE RETURNED FROM HER LENGTHY-SELF EXILE! DOCTOR ALPHYS WON’T STOP WRITING ABOUT HER ONE TRUE PAIRING TO COUNTER THE SPECULATION!”
“Surely I'm not the ‘SOUL’ reason.” The short skeleton shrugged. “But so what if that’s the case? She’s back on her throne, King Asgore is happy, and everyone’s a nation again.”
“Isn’t that the most important detail?”
“OH MY GOD!” Papyrus fumed. “I CAN’T BELIEVE MY BROTHER JUST BRUSHED OFF SOMETHING MORE SCANDALOUS THAN SOCKS! SHE’S A MARRIED WOMAN, FOR GOODNESS SAKE!”
“Whoa man. Why are you so uptight about it? Did Gaster drill his standards of an ideal marriage into you or something? Not everyone is like Mom and Dad.”
“UGH SANS, AT LEAST HE HAS GOOD TASTE. YOU'RE BEING A THIRD PAIR OF WHEELS ON A CAR! NOTE THAT I DID NOT SAY 'A THIRD WHEEL’ TO PREVENT YOU FROM GLORIFYING A TRICYCLE.”
Papyrus took a deep breath to calm down. When he did, his vast energy sapped into sorrow.
“KING ASGORE ISN’T AS HAPPY AS YOU THINK.” he admitted, “THEY’RE TOGETHER, BUT THEY’RE NOT TALKING. QUEEN TORIEL WOULD RATHER HANG OUT WITH YOU.”
“That…” Sans paused for a moment.
“That depends on her. I’d only end up as a cruel friend if I push her away now.”
…She can’t seem to get over the past.
I guess at the same time… I can’t let her go either.
* * *
Sans zipped to Snowdin’s lone bar.
Whoa. I guess he caught up with the new building standards too.
It’s classier than he remembered. The old Grillby’s had an aged, worn-down feeling. Rustic in a way. This? He had brand-new bricks and windows in the front. Then there’s the sparkling fresh-cut signboard…
I have a feeling Grillby didn’t voluntarily renovate this place. Maybe the patrons got too excited and demolished the front entrance?
Sans stepped in. Waved hello to his fellow barmates. Tossed a pun or two.
The red bird and the spinny-eyed rabbit were there too. Some things really don’t change.
“Hey, Snasss!” greeted the bird. “How’s the bosslife?”
“Eh, busy.” Sans replied. “Wassup. Doing well?”
“Yep! I finally got these human ‘oreos’.”
They showed the bag; “Captain Undyne said the Surface was reviving early 21st century classics. Especially for the Halloween season. This is one of them. Want some?”
“Sure.”
The red bird gave him a black-and-white cream sandwich cookie.
“Love them dunked in milk.” they said.
Sans took a bite.
“Dang, these are good. I give it like two months before Mettaton releases his own MTT-brand knockoff, complete with his MTT-brand face plastered on ‘em.”
“Heh. More for us monsters! Oh, and about the Captain. She’s waiting for you upstairs. Private room number 3.”
Odd. Grillby should be the one passing such information to me.
He turned towards the fiery bartender. Grillby was quite a stoic one, therefore few understood his real emotions.
But Sans knew him long enough to pick up on the subtle cues: Grillby wasn’t happy. Anxious. Maybe even angry. Whatever it was, he refused to directly talk to him.
Uh… Wonder what his deal is. Maybe I can suss it out later. Don’t want to keep the fish waiting.
The second floor led to Grillby’s living quarters and four private VIP lounges. Sans went to the one with the correct number. Opened it.
There’s Undyne with her hair down. Looking tired too. It was a long, long day. Welcome-back celebrations to attend, reports to write, news to catch up…
And the way she glared at him… that long, long day is about to get longer.
“‘Sup? Why’d you call me out at the sleepy hours?”
Undyne growled. “I had a super fine day throwing candy at kids, then I come back home only to get that scandalous article pressed right in my face. Really, Sans. You and Queen Toriel reeeeeally need to work something out.”
“C’mon. You know I can’t do anything about that.”
“But I CAN. If you do ONE thing for me--”
“Denied.”
Undyne yelled, “I didn’t even get to say anything!”
“Because I know what you want to ask.” Sans replied. “The Deep Ocean Colony Development Project. I’m the last board member preventing you from getting unanimous approval.”
She bared her teeth. “Fine. Saves me half the explanation. C’mon Sans! Have you SEEN the ocean?! It’s fucking HUGE! There’s unlimited real estate space down there and I’m sure as hell Alphys will be able to build whatever shit we need to solve the pressure problem!”
“And it’s also super unsafe.” Sans darkened his sockets. “Humans have the tech to explore deep oceans. All it takes is one rogue scientist to bump into our New New Home, and the secret is out. Next thing we know, Gungnir will launch an extermination campaign against us.”
Not to mention that there’s an abomination hiding under there.
“How are you so certain about that?” The fish questioned. “It’s almost as if you know the future.”
“The Chronograph exists for a reason.”
“No. It’s not that.”
Undyne stood up. Walked over the low table as though it’s just a small step in her way. In a single straight line, she made a beeline towards Sans and towered right over his head.
It’s rather imposing. More so when she’s a little taller than Papyrus.
Glaring down with her one eye, she said: “You know too damn fucking much.”
“Example?” Sans asked back.
“GUNGNIR. Their organizational tree. The PERSONA system. CRAZY HUMAN SOUL MAGIC and all that jazz! Your newest thesis blew the minds of the nation’s scientific greats. No fucking way you assessed all that from scouting report and the Chronograph alone!”
“Ugh, Undyne. Pipe down. The walls have ears.”
“DON’T CARE!!!” she raged. “Sans, come clean! Did you plagiarize someone’s work?!”
Pause.
Sans burst into laughter. After all of that tension, that was her conclusion?
The continued laughter made Undyne fume between her ears. Magic steam already wafted from the side.
“This is no joking matter!! Your credibility as Tactician is SUPER at stake!”
Finally Sans spoke. “I’m just really good at processing intel. Don’t worry. I didn’t steal anyone’s credit. Among monsterkind, that is.”
“Are you fucking sure your sources are purely human?”
Undyne grabbed a knapsack out from under the table. She unzipped it right in front of Sans and poured its contents onto the flat surface.
The skeleton stopped breathing when he saw what fell out of it.
They were wanted posters of ‘The Sky Witch’.
Lucidia of House Berendin.
Undyne tossed the bag aside. “You wanna know why Grillby’s acting weird? You’re looking right at it. He’s been DREAMING about HER!”
She sorted through the pile and pulled out a coloured drawing. It’s not the most accurate of references, but it gave Undyne enough idea who to look for.
“It’s always the same dream!” she said, “He’d be falling from the sky and this woman in blue… she’d swoop in to save him. Night after night after night. I thought he was going crazy until I saw these posters!”
“Explain to me, how the hell GRILLBY of all people is dreaming about someone he has never met! WHO IS ALSO APPARENTLY REAL! Isn’t that vision shit a Seer thing?”
Sans tried to come up with an explanation. She did have a point; Grillbz’s shouldn’t be remembering any of these. It’s too clear.
“I think he needs more rest,” he said. “Maybe work’s got the better of him.”
Undyne saw that dismissal coming from a mile away. “Fine. You got an excuse for that. As expected. Then what about me? I actually RECOGNIZE that lady! Somehow…”
Oh god, Undyne too?
Does this have anything to do with their elevated levels of DT?
Hmm. I do recall something about these ‘Champion Level’ monsters having more Determination than usual.
He began to worry about Papyrus. His brother should have a permanent, watertight seal on his Eye now. Gaster made the appropriate adjustments. …Right?
She continued her rant: “Blue dress, black hair with huge curls, and dual coloured glowing eyes! OBVIOUSLY A SKELETON! At first, I thought I’m suffering from an anime overdose. She’s totally the ojou-sama type, y’know! Then I saw those wanted posters.”
“You are hiding something. I know it.”
Sans didn’t want to be in this room anymore. Instead, he said: “Welp, too bad for you. I intend to take my secrets with my dust. Anything else?”
Undyne’s fist trembled. He expected her to smash it into the nearest punchable object in the vicinity: either the table or the wall. Something that can’t dodge. Knowing her, she’d prefer to sock it square in his face.
Yet… none of that happened.
“Fine,” Undyne huffed. “Have it your way.”
Quietly seething, she turned her back on an old friend.
* * *
I should have paid more attention.
It’s been two weeks since Undyne’s accusation. Grillby’s mood did not improve. Whenever Sans tried to strike a conversation, he’d let the red-feathered patron be his mouthpiece.
Then one early morning, the bar’s lights were left turned off. His usual customers crowded at the entrance in confused muttering.
There’s a notice pasted on the door.
It’s going to be closed for an unknown length of time. Maybe permanent.
The Snowdin Innkeeper told Sans that Grillby had donated all the leftover kitchen supplies to her a few hours ago. That was the last time anyone saw him.
Sans warped into Grillby’s apartment to investigate. Scanned every nook and cranny with his Eye for clues of his whereabouts.
The cupboard was almost devoid of clothes. Fridge, also emptied. Any edible items were cleaned out too, raising more red flags for a prolonged absence.
Then he found the final piece of the puzzle. Inside the trash bin lay a half-burnt piece of a terrain map.
Sans blitzed all the way to The Core, which housed the sole exit to the Surface world: the Wormhole Gram.
He knew exactly where to go. Except, beyond the main gateway it's too dangerous to make a straight cut through space-time.
There, a blockade also prevented any form of manual entry. Before him stood none other than Captain Undyne of the Royal Guard.
Sans glared at her. “Out of the way.”
Undyne showed him a letter with Asgore’s royal stamp. “You gotta do better than THAT!”
“When the hell--?!”
The Captain grinned ear to ear. “Section D3 of Special Ops states that both the Tactician AND the Captain of the Royal Guard have the right to authorize special agents at their own discretion. With the permission of the King, of course.”
Sans said, “And I bet King Asgore placed his seal without reading through the details.”
“Well, sucks for you that Queen Toriel isn’t even home. Maybe she’s out in the Underground somewhere inspecting construction. Or baking pies for children. How would I know? That's your thing.”
The Dreemurr’s poor marital state bit him in the pelvis so hard.
He can’t challenge Undyne without causing more ruckus on the Queen’s reputation.
Not to mention that he’s no longer some rogue loafer without a penny to his name. He owned a business. Papyrus and his parents depended on him to keep it running.
In other words, he had responsibilities. They chained his options.
I can’t do anything against a legal backing.
Sans heard the mechanisms of the wormhole charging up.
“Why Grillby?” he asked. “He’s a civilian. You shouldn’t involve him at all.”
“Hey. He’s got the right physique. Humanoid, average height, and lacking extra appendages. As long as he keeps his flames under literal wraps he can blend into human society no problem!”
That explains why he emptied out his wardrobe. Bet he purchased a ton of linen bandages too.
“And here I thought I’m the comedian. Welp.”
The captain crossed her arms. Glanced to the side.
“Sans. I don’t know the reason… but that dream about The Sky Witch kept haunting him.”
“You can see it in his eyes. Determined. Almost like a madman. He would have attempted to leave on his own if I didn’t help. You really don’t want unauthorized leave.”
Fully charged, the wormhole chamber rumbled.
Then… silence.
Grillby was well on his way to the land under the sky.
“I just hope he’ll be back soon…” said Undyne.