How does this go again?
Maybe, just maybe, you should have told Tsunderjudge that you don’t recall enough of your custody-battle timeline to run a real court. Memories of that darn nutty lawyer game series were a bajillion times clearer.
But then, your friends only had fiction as a reference point. This court will get up-ended no matter what. It’s all a matter of how and when.
You requested the prosecution to make their opening statement.
Sans -- the defense -- then asked: “Who’s the prosecutor anyway?”
Before you could reply, Undyne slammed her hands on the table and yelled: “ALL OF US!”
Ah. Yes. Classic move. You steeled your heart for the inevitable turnabout-fest.
“…Wow,” Nonchalant with a hint of smug. Sans was clearly not impressed by your ragtag crew. “I’m surprised that old grump on the vampire throne even allowed that.”
Undyne refused to let the statement get to her. “Hah! Don’t laugh just yet. We’ll take you down before you can crack another dumb joke!”
“Tall order. But, there’s a tiny problem: only one person can go at a time. So, Judge Frisk… got any preferences?”
It’s clear to see how Sans already attempted to grab onto the steering wheel. But, he did have a point: the prosecution DOES need to take turns. It will be a complete mess otherwise.
You nominate Undyne to lead her team.
She’s more than happy to oblige. “YEAH! Great choice, Your Honour! I won’t let you down. Mwahaha! Justice!”
Back, straightened. Arms, crossed. Chin, lifted. Undyne in all her Undynity then made her opening statement, radiating confidence with a vengeance…
“Your Honour, I ask the court: ‘who’ is Sans Serif? In the Prosecution’s opinion, he’s the most annoying, insufferable, snarky, antisocial genius we’ve ever met! As such, we have established a giant laundry list of BEEF with this guy!”
Undyne whipped out a sheet of printing paper: the same one that you had compiled together with the rest of the gang. While tapping it with the back of her hand, she read the contents out loud.
“Unrelenting Laziness. Aggravated Wordplay, Dereliction of Duty, Breach of Verbal Contract, Threatening a Minor, Selling Unlicensed Food, Littering, Failure to disclose critical facts as Tactician, Hazardous Environmental Neglect, Illegal Spacetime Experiments, Overdue Payment, Fraud--”
Sans raised his brow. “Hold it! That doesn’t match Their Honour’s initial list. I thought we’re talking about my Void misadventures? That sounds more like our Underground days.”
“That’s the whole point!” Undyne pointed an accusatory finger at him. “These are trends that extend way, way back, and we’re in absolute hot trouble because of them. Because YOU never tell the truth! YOU always try to do everything alone! And YOU have zero integrity! The only place fit for YOU is PRISON!!!”
Sans… took it cool. He shrugged. “Not like your qualifications are any better, Undyne. I mean, let’s be frank. Who was the one who went on about becoming a villain if that serves it’s justification? ‘You’.”
Undyne slammed the table with both hands. “OBJECTION!!! Your Honour, that’s totally an assault against my character. It has no place in the court of law!”
Objection sustained. You frowned at Sans. C’mon, what’s with the antagonism today? First Grillby, and now Undyne?
“Your Honour, I ain’t dissing for insult’s sake. I genuinely don't consider her capable. But I guess it’s fine if this becomes a kangaroo court. After all, in many points of history spectacle mattered more than truth. Appeasing the masses and whatnot. ‘Justice’ hinges on popular agreement, right?”
A water spear stabbed the corner of Sans’ stand. Undyne fumed so hard, there’s magical steam coming out of her ear fins.
Oh no. It has already begun.
Her singular eye narrowed at Sans. “Don’t. You. Dare. Your cynical tripe has no place here! Stay on topic!!!”
“Heh. As far as I can tell, you’re the one who’s going off-topic with violence. I guess it fits you, huh? Overpowering others when things don’t go your way. And if that doesn’t work, you chicken out.”
“If we want to bring up the Underground, why don’t we talk about your treatment of Their Honour? Once upon a time Prosecutor Undyne -- then Captain of the Royal Guard -- justified the extermination of a child by blaming the long-dead humans of the Sealing War. Meanwhile she lied to Papyrus about--”
Here comes the rain of rage. You instinctively ducked behind your desk to escape the torrent. See, if your kick could land a hit, so could Undyne’s spears. And they WILL hurt.
“Heh,” you heard Sans say. “Lost all that character development already? What a waste. Guess you’re nothing without that fancy armour and that cybernetic eye.”
Enough is enough. You summoned your shining Mark and lifted it high above your head.
LOAD SAVE
The court was de-wrecked thanks to the power of time travel. Hmm, how far back did you go?
Sans -- the defense -- asked: “Who’s the prosecutor anyway?”
Cue Undyne slamming the table. “ALL OF US!”
It appears that you had subconsciously made a SAVE after the boot to the chin, and before the proceedings began. How odd…
Could it be an autosave function? The complexity of your SAVE system has apparently scaled with your magical proficiency. Convenient.
“…Wow. I’m surprised that old grump on the vampire throne even allowed that.”
“Hah! Don’t laugh just yet. We’ll take you down before you can crack another dumb joke!”
“Tall order. But, there’s a tiny problem: only one person can go at a time. So, Judge Frisk… got any preferences?”
All eyes locked on you. The pressure increased. Who else could you choose that’s NOT Undyne?
…Your silent pondering must have gotten noticeable, because she just raised her hand to volunteer. “I’ll do it!”
You shook your head. Not for the opening. We’ve been down that road before.
Despite the initial struggle, the mighty fish swallowed her pride. “Okay. I get it. We’re dealing with Sans after all.”
Thanks for understanding. And, sorry.
A particular limelight-loving glambot soon started waving at you with all his pink, glittery enthusiasm. How opportunistic. You were hoping to ask for Mom’s help, but…
…Hmm. Why not? If Sans wants a spectacle, you'll give him a spectacle. Besides, showbiz is quite the cutthroat field to begin with. Maybe that savy cunning could fish out something useful? No pun intended.
If anything does go wrong you could just LOAD your SAVE again.
Alright. You nominate Mettaton.
“Splendid choice, Your Honour! Alphys-darling, please flip the switch~~ Oh yes!”
Just like that, Mettaton puffed into his glamorous android form. He came prepared with a nice pink coat: one of the suits he had worn for a talk-show interview.
When did he manage to prepare that outfit? Not important. It’s showtime!
Mettaton rested his hand on his hip. “Sansy darling, what a mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Yup,” said Sans. “Biggest ever. Don’t think anything could top this in the future.”
With a teasing tone, Mettaton wagged his finger at Sans: “Oh no no. Don’t declare safety too soon, you sly criminal. That’s a jinx on its own.”
He continued, “You see Sansy darling, you’ve gathered quite a list of grievances. Shocking really.“
“Yeah!” Undyne lifted up her sheet of paper. “Here’s your list of BEEF!”
She tried tapping it with the back of her hand again… but Mettaton snatched the paper out of her grip.
“Hey!!!” she protested.
Ignoring her, the bot read out the contents: “‘Unrelenting Laziness’, ‘Aggravated Wordplay’, ‘Dereliction of Duty’… oh my, you even have ‘Threatening a Minor’ in there! Tsk, tsk, tsk. What terrible terribleness.”
“Heh,” said Sans. “Old news for me.”
Undyne yanked the paper back with a slight grumble.
Mettaton carried on without an apology to his teammate. “Something doesn’t make sense, though. If you’re such an unentertaining piece of lazy refuse… you wouldn’t be here at all. Indeed, baby. Your very presence in court is a walking contradiction!”
So far, so good. Mettaton’s competence was a pleasant surprise. It’s hard to believe that he’s the same guy who -- by some manner of questionable monster resource management skills -- once installed a faulty fountain in his hotel.
You watched the bot twirl towards the Tsunderjudge.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Judge Thyme darling. According to your briefing, we’re not here to confirm any wrongdoings. Am I right?”
Mezil Thyme on his vampire throne answered: “Correct. We’re not here in the Crimson Hall to question the existence of a crime. Rather, it’s to ascertain the heart of the accused.”
Huh. So Undyne was right? Imagine that.
“Indeed~~~” said Mettaton. “The deed has been done! The truth recorded! Caught on videotape and analyzed to the core! And yet, we’re still missing a vital piece of the puzzle.”
“Why oh why did Sans Serif -- our bonafide lazy comedian -- decide to play the role of the antagonist. What makes him tick? Is he a villain… or perhaps… an anti-hero?”
“Fair point.” Sans shifted his body to one side. “So. What do ya need?”
Mettaton leaned forward against the table, legs outstretched. “A promise from you, darling. Call it a judicial vow. You shall tell the truth and nothing but the truth.”
The skeleton shook his head. “Sorry Mettaton. I hate making promises. ‘Fraid your pizzaz ain’t enough to convince this cold pile o’ bones.”
“Oh dearest dear, did I say that you’d make that promise to me?”
Showing his hand to you, Mettaton added: “I’m speaking about Their Honour, Judge Frisk! How could they do their fabulous job if you continue to conceal your intents in the shadows?”
You held your breath. What a way to put you in the spotlight.
“…Funny you should mention it that way, Prosecutor Mettaton.” Sans said, laughing. It’s not the usual chuckle and chortles either; he’s dead serious. Chilling almost.
“Okay. I’ll tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. Promise.”
Sans continued: “Say, Lil’ Miss Lucy, why not spice things up and supply us with some visual aid? Link it to my Eye if you must.”
A pause lingered in the air. Lady Lucidia hesitated, but… you’re sure she’s going to go along with it.
“…Very well.”
With your prediction spot on, we now have a giant floating screen behind Sans.
“Initiating Link with subject: Sans Serif.”
Sans’ Eye burned in his three colours. Cyan, yellow, and purple flames flowed towards the monitor. You noticed that this time, the purple was dense enough to be seen from your chair. It’s usually so faint.
Mettaton clapped his hands. “What an excellent idea! Nothing communicates better than the big screen. Open your eyes and ears, beauties and gentlebeauties! It’s time to witness the defendant’s tale!”
“You see,” Sans began, “It all started with a chain of promises. Yep. Not one. Many.”
The display started to play a slice of time: that moment when Mom traded knock-knock jokes with Sans from behind the Ruins’ door.
Mom said: “If a human ever comes through this door… could you please, please promise something? Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?”
“Now, I hate making promises,” Sans elaborated: “But… someone who sincerely likes bad jokes has an integrity you can’t say ‘no’ to. That’s how kiddo survived to this day.”
Narrowing her eye, Undyne accused: “Bah! You broke your word with your stupid crazy plan.”
“Nope. Not at all. My goal was always to find a safe world, not exterminating the kid. As much as it’s convenient to go back on my word, I can’t. A promise is a promise. It ain’t one otherwise.”
Mettaton crossed his arms. “If that’s your claim, then merely watching over Frisk would have sufficed. What compelled you to go beyond a simple bodyguard?”
“That’s due to a different promise. Go ahead, Lil’ Miss Lucy. Show them.”
There it was, your pinkie promise with Sans. It was made in his lab. Mid-winter. A few months ago by now.
“I promised the kid to help them out. Boy, they sure needed it. Who would have thought that they’re smack dab in the middle of a historical whirlwind?”
The prosecution pressed: “What was Frisk’s plea exactly, word for word?”
“Well, the kid didn’t say much. They were in their shell, weighed down by desperate despair. But, let’s review what I said instead.”
The video resumed.
“The Surface isn’t kind to you, huh? That’s some… heavy research material you got there. In Alphys’ Lab, I mean.
You watched your younger self cry, immature and helpless in the world. Those were dark times.
It’s strange that you feel more empowered now despite the heavier responsibility.
“Hey, kid.” he said to you back then. “You’re not alone, y’know. You got Toriel. Asgore. Papyrus. Undyne. Alphys. Every monster in Ebott. We’re all willing to help.”
“Even lazy ol’ me.”
That fond innocence. You really, really trusted him. Simpler times: where did they go? Did you change so much in the course of a few months?
“You know I hate making promises, kid. But when I do, I follow it through.”
He then offered his pinky finger: the sign of an oath. You remember it well.
“Will you do the same? If we overcome this, promise me that you’ll never RESET again. Keep that power under lock and key. Forever.”
Gasp. It’s been so long, you had forgotten the exact words.
Lock and key.
Forever.
…Wait…
Your heart pounded. The sharper ones at the prosecution’s desk started sweating. It appears that they realised the predicament as well.
“Oh… oh my…” Mettaton muttered.
Undyne said. “I don’t like the vibe, but I can’t put it to words. I KNOW something’s wrong. I just can’t brain what!”
“My dear rambunctious darling,” Mettaton coughed. “Their Honour Frisk never could uphold their end of the deal… If they rise to replace Judge Thyme’s position, it’s as good as being a life-long time traveller. If they quit being a Crimson Keeper, that power will only end up in the hands of others. It’s impossible for them to lock it away forever!”
“Crap…” But after a few seconds, Undyne slammed the table. “HOLD IT! That means Sans got no bloody reason to pin any blame on the kid!!!”
Sans however shrugged. With one shoulder too, since the other side was dead. “Hey, I didn’t know that either. Yet despite the issue, I still kept to my word. Tried to ‘save’ everyone the best I could.”
“I thought you only cared about Papyrus and Toriel?”
“Well, let’s just say a happy Frisk is in everyone’s best interest. Don’t you know what happens when Their Honour is unhappy?”
Sans looked straight at you. The moment he did so, his Eye burned bright. The screen tore and frizzled.
“Sorry, kid.” he said, “Can’t say I’ve forgiven you for killing Papyrus yet.”
Then. The most incriminating moment happened. How Mezil Thyme grilled you for this: a punishment of burning hot coals and demon spice.
The court watched the scenario in silence. They listened to Papyrus’ speech, of how you were a puzzle-hating weirdo going down a dangerous path. And how someone needs to keep you on the straight and narrow.
You did not listen. Your husk of a person inched closer and closer to the jolly skeleton, ignoring his pleas.
“I, PAPYRUS… WILL GLADLY BE YOUR FRIEND AND TUTOR! I WILL TURN YOUR LIFE RIGHT AROUND!!!”
With your toy knife, you sliced his skull clean off the spine.
The decapitation of the Great Papyrus horrified your friends and family. It’s one thing to hear secondhand testimony. It’s another thing altogether to watch the crime happen on screen.
“Ugly sight, huh? Of course, Judge Thyme grilled the kid about this. Why kill Papyrus, the shining light? Why kill Toriel, their mother figure?”
Sans, stop!
Too late. When he mentioned Toriel’s name, the screen switched to another terrible time. You slashed her across her body to gain access outside of the Ruins.
Mom…! Dad…!
Dad turned his back towards the screen. His head hung low, trying hide his grieving tears. He cannot bear to watch.
On the other hand, Mom had this cold, stoic silence of sheer disappointment. You had seen this too many times, directed at your goatfather. Now it’s on you.
“That’s just the first of many,” added Sans. “Next up, Undyne the True Hero. Who died with a huge grin on her face. Believed that good will prevail. That someone would come and stop the menace.”
Undyne was left speechless. Motionless. Alphys hugged her as the screen played out her inevitable demise. The poor lizard sobbed and refused to let her girlfriend go.
“Then there was Mettaton. With his non-functional NEO. Still as confident as ever.”
To your surprise, the bot remained neutral. What went through his mind as his personal philosophy fell apart? Disturbed, or mildly amused? You cannot tell.
“And then, The End that never happened. You can thank yours truly for preventing it.”
Sans’ battle played over and over before your eyes…
You wanted to object to Sans. Say that’s not you, but Chara.
Except… your throat tightened. You remembered the Crimson Hall. You already admitted the responsibility of your actions before this very court.
You glanced at Mezil. He’s resting his head against his hand with his distinctive intense glare, scrutinizing your every move. That was enough to make you dunk your immature thoughts into the trash.
“Welp. A bad sign no matter how you dice their reasons, really. Immaturity? Disqualified. Carelessness? Disqualified. Acting on ignorance? Disqualified. Murderous resentment? Triple disqualified. Such levels of badness befit only a Fallen.”
“And yet, Their Honour is elected as a Crimson Keeper. Successor too. On a flimsy little excuse.”
You could hear the sheer salt exuding from Sans’ tiny bones. “‘Be determined’? Really? That’s your ‘oath’? Fishy is an understatement. Many other Living Victories had way stronger convictions, yet they failed anyway.”
“Which brings up a major question: why did Frisk Wanderstar pass despite everything? Is it because they’re a Pure Red? Or, did Judge Thyme swear to their deceased biological parents’ graves? Heh. We’re pretty similar if that’s the case.”
Undyne slammed the table, yelling away. “What’s your point???”
“Simple, really.” said Sans. “A judge’s gotta meet a certain standard. Fail that bar, and they’re not qualified to sentence anyone. Can you sincerely say that Judge Frisk is right person for the job?”
“YEAH!”
“No.”
Undyne and Mettaton answered at the same time, but with opposite conclusions. It didn’t take long for the fish to redirect her frustrations on the bot.
“What the hell, Mettaton?!?! I thought you’re on our side!!!”
“Darling. Please listen. It’s not about sides anymore.”
“Frisk passed that Crimson Hall shit! That’s not good enough?!?!”
“I know, dear. But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re unprepared for this controversy. Imagine the scandal if they make any rash judgements! Worse for poor Judge Thyme!”
“…I’m afraid I agree with Mettaton…”
That’s the biggest twist of twists. Grillby -- the guy who used to serve you fries -- now stood against you.
“…In this situation… Frisk has a potential conflict of interest… Therefore they may not be suited to evaluate this Trial…”
The next thing you know, the prosecution bickered among themselves. It’s no longer directed at Sans. Rather, it was about you.
Nope. Bad. Terrible result. Abort, abort!
LOAD SAVE
A hidden panel audibly flipped above your head. Looking upwards, it glowed red with an Ace of Spades.
It’s… The Grandmaster’s Mark?
Mezil Thyme stood up from his throne. “A word with you in private, Crimson Keeper.”
But, what about the Trial? What about Sans?
“Call a recess,” he replied. “Sans Serif will wait in his own room.”
Undyne blinked in confusion. “We haven’t even started.”
“No,” said the old man. “This court has already looped through two sessions. That’s plenty enough for the time being.”
“Aww man, I was so hyped about the smackdown too.”
You had no choice but to do what the Tsunderjudge said. You called for recess, and let the court split up into their respective chambers.
The prosecution had their own space. Gerson joined them too, as an old friend of the Royal Couple.
The defense, well, he had a whole room to himself. You bet Sans would gladly take the opportunity for a quick nap.
Meanwhile, you faced the music. Alone.
Mezil asked: “Do you know why I called you here?”
You muttered a sheepish ‘not really’.
“That panel above your head was the Grandmaster’s veto card. You had witnessed it before. His duty is to maintain order, and his words are absolute.”
Yeah… back then Mezil missed his shot, and the Jury didn’t understand that there was a time loop. The Grandmaster had to step in to give Tsunderjudge a chance.
“Correct. However, there’s no Jury in the current setup to object to the Supreme Judge. Therefore that Mark can only mean that he’s calling you out on your error.”
But nothing happened when you rewound Undyne’s flipout. So, why are you in the wrong now?
“Your first LOAD was to salvage a simple derailment. Your second LOAD was an attempt to salvage your own reputation. Hide your flaws. Keep secrets. An unacceptable action as a judge.”
“Since you’re new to the ropes, the Grandmaster is giving you leniency. Two panels instead of one. Think of them as ‘extra lives’.”
…What happens if you blow through all of your ‘lives’?
Mezil answered, “It will be considered a mistrial. All proceedings will stop immediately. The failed Judge will then await judgement from The Grandmaster himself. Continued defiance can demote even the Supreme Judge into a Fallen.”
Hearing that, you lowered your head in shame. Gosh. That courtroom was a mess.
You wondered out loud. What about Judge Thyme himself? Why can’t he tell the truth to you?
“I keep secrets not because I fear for myself. Rather, it’s because the truth may be too much for the seeker to bear. First, prove to me that you can handle it. Only then I will confess. Otherwise, you’re better off not knowing. Such is the Magi’s highest decree.”
You summoned your Mark in your palm. Frowning. Being a real Judge was tougher than you expected. How does one even begin?
“Well,” said the elder. “The first step is to acknowledge that authority is complex. It has nothing to do with mere might, position, or riches. Depending on those alone produces a puerile corruption of the genuine article.”
“Next, learn from those who had once tread that same path. Study their successes and failures.”
That’s a given…
“The last and most important step: you must acknowledge is that you will never be perfect. A ‘good’ decision today may prove to be a bad one down the road. Nonetheless, you must commit. Hesitation breeds anxiety, and anxiety breeds paralysis.”
Okay. Noted…
So. Is it possible to get a crash course on the art of judging? Because, you might need it right about now.
“Hmph. There’s no replacement for experience. But… I could give you some more advice.”
Heh. That’s better than nothing.