So, it was decided. With the approval of both Magi and Monsters, Sans shall be punished according to ‘The List’.
The courtroom hall got replaced with an impromptu basketball courtyard. Ha ha. That vampire sure had a distinct sense of humour.
You liked the atmosphere. It’s tempting to dunk Sans straight into one of the hoops.
Ol’ Gerson shuffled himself to the viewing stands. He had worked hard maintaining his magical field, so he deserved a well earned rest. Dad joined his ancient friend as company.
Huh? The Tsunderjudge also went the way of elderly men? Why? He's dang fit for his age. Leg injuries starting to bother him? Or did he prefer to watch from a distance?
Whatever it was, it’s his story. You need to do your part.
With THE LIST in your hand, you declared that it will be read out on the level of severity: from the lightest to the heaviest.
For example, insisting that Sans finally pick up that sock in the living room. That’s a joke gone too far. Seriously. You can’t believe that it needed to be written in.
Sans shrugged. “Sure. Can do.”
Next, ‘stop being such a trashbag and clean your damn room’!
“Ok, ok. I’m feeling more energetic nowadays.”
No more lazy naps for naps’ sake. Prioritize proper sleep. Limit naps for when he’s ACTUALLY tired. And yes you have taken into account the possibility of shift work.
“Hmm. Sure. Can do too.”
Get proper footwear dammit! How did he even manage to not slip with those slippers?! Slippers shall only be limited to his home.
“I’m starting to like sneakers anyway, so that’s fine.”
Mom dictated that he shall take care of her flower children. Once a week, or more often if required. And take care of them well. Top quality. Further arrangements are to be decided.
“I’m really not sure if that’s a good idea,” said Sans. “I know the weedy kids will try to mess me up, but… I don’t think Tori and the kids share the same idea of ‘top quality care’. Get what I mean?”
You clutched the paper, slightly apprehensive. Yeah. You get what he means. But, The List is The List. It’s to help both sides, capiche?
“As long you understand, kid.”
Sans is also to get therapy. Exactly what kind of therapy, it’s not decided yet. Anything to cut that nihilism out of his life.
“What are you gonna do if the therapy ain’t working out?”
You rubbed your chin. Let’s try making it attendance based first. You understand that this process is not something that could be forced. The important point is to keep trying until something fits. Don’t give up.
“Thanks for thinking this through. Really appreciate it.”
No problem. You're not that heartless.
Next. Go on a ketchup detox. His quantity of consumption will be limited to ‘normal people portions’. That’s usually about one packet a meal. No more chugging bottles of them like he’s addicted or something.
“Uh… starting to get difficult there.”
Does he rather get curbed on puns? Because that’s next.
“Wait,” Sans held his breath. “That’s not even the worst? It’s too soon. How are you even going to enforce these rules?”
You shrugged. At least it gives everyone the right to complain.
No puns. No jokes. No japes. No schadenfreude or sarcastic snark. No mocking music or badabing!
Perturbed, Sans exclaimed: “I-isn’t that excessive?! Without wordplays, I won’t be me anymore… I might as well become a bland faceless character.”
You stuck out your tongue. Just kidding, Sans. The actual entry covers only the corniest of Sans’ puns. How does it feel to be played?
“Unsettling. But, that’s part of the fun. Good one, kid!”
Sans sure has weird tastes…
You continued reading out his sentence. Most of the next dozen were standard civic stuff like ‘don’t swindle for profit’ and ‘don’t threaten death at random children’. They’re just breadcrumbs to the punch waiting at the bottom of the paper.
At last, you reached the first of the heavy hitters. ‘Upon request, Sans is to teach Alphys everything he knows about science and Seer magic’.
Doctor Gaster raised a brow. “So… simple? Practical? I thought you’d have more diabolical assignments, Doctor Alphys?”
“W-well,” she said, “It’s better t-to think long term. I mean, now Sans is obliged to be my lesson dispenser.”
With the most demonic smug grin, she added: “Forever.”
“My, my, dear Alphys. I’m so pleased with you.”
…She’s making Sans sweat with mild discomfort. What a powerful dark side.
Next up, Mettaton. Oh. This is rich.
Tapping your shoulder, the glambot posed. “Frisk darling, will you let me have the honour?”
You grant your approval.
Mettaton strutted around Sans. “Sans, Sans, Sans, my top comedian on MTT-TV. Guest star of my upcoming science show. Oh dear me, I’m afraid to say this but…”
The courtyard darkened.
One spotlight shone on Mettaton, and the other on Sans.
Drums rolled in the background.
How is he coordinating all of this?
Mettaton struck a magnificent, accusatory pose!
“YOU’RE FIRED, BABY!!!”
The spotlight on Sans turned red. Incidental trombone music played its sad, sad tune. It’s the exact melody that annoyed Papyrus all this time.
“Ok.” Typical Sans answer.
The bot breathed a satisfied sigh. “Always a good stress relief.”
Wow. Talk about getting dunked on by all of his poor life decisions. But, that got you curious. A science show…? What science show?
“Something to educate our impressionable young about human health, since our biologies can be quite different. So, Sansy and I struck a deal, honey. He was supposed to be at least a guest star. Well, after this incident, his involvement shall be nullified. Bye bye. Adios.”
Who’s gonna fill in the empty slot then?
“Don’t worry about me, superstar. There’s always another audition process to select a fresh face.”
Cool. Now, let’s move on to the star attraction. Literally.
Sans blurted, “Literally?”
Yep. Undyne -- Captain of the Royal Guard -- shall execute ‘the mother of all suplexes across space and time’. Quote for quote.
She’s already breaking out into a chain of ‘fufufu’. You beckoned her over with a big cheeky smile.
Is Undyne ready for some fun?
Showing both palms at you, Undyne answered: “Totally!”
You spawned two Marks: one star per hand. Orange for propulsion. Blue to float. Maximum output, because we're in The Void.
Heh, she must be feeling just like an anime superhero right now.
“Yes… YES!!!” She cackled in mid-air. “I recognize this POWER!”
Similar to her battle armour, huh? You’re not surprised; Determination and all.
Whoops! She almost flipped upside-down despite your Blue Star’s help. Lucky for her, Cenna was there to coach the basics.
Sans said, “Uh, Frisk. You know that a rocket suplex is gonna be fatal for anyone. Right?”
Well. If anything goes wrong you can LOAD a quicksave. But, that’s just a backup plan.
You waved at Gerson. Dad helped his friend up from his seat as they began walking towards you.
“…Serious, kid?”
Serious.
The old turtle stretched his neck and shoulders. “Finally reached there, huh? Well kiddo, where do I need to stand?”
You pointed at the basketball hoop.
“Wa ha ha! That’s a nice pick. Looking forward to it.” Thus Gerson moved into position.
You noticed Sans analyzed the old turtle with his Eye. Hey!
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Sorry.” He said, “Just checking.”
Meanwhile, Undyne had gotten the hang on her temporary anime power, grinning earfin to earfin. “NOW I’m ready!”
Alright, everyone to the stands. Stay clear of ground zero!
Once the spectators settled down, you told Undyne to get ready.
Three!
Two!
One!
BLAST OFF!!!
The strongest fish grabbed Sans and rocketed straight into the dark yonder. Listen hard enough and one could hear him scream.
Whoa! A streak of blue and orange whizzed over your head! Apparently The Crimson Hall loops around itself. It does make sense. Otherwise, it’s a straight plunge into nothingness.
Here she goes! The second and third loop. Then it’s just a series of zips over your head. They’re going so fast, you can’t count anymore. It’s quite a spectacular sight.
Smackdown! From a perfect 45 degree angle, Undyne plunged straight into the confines of Gerson’s boundary field.
It was a majestic KA-BOOM!, you dare say. The ground caved in as chunks of concrete flew into the air. Not even the steel basketball pole escaped the carnage.
W-what the?! Gerson stood on a lone island of unbroken ground???
You dropped your jaw. Holy fried bananas in batter. Is the Hammer of Justice nigh invincible?!
Dad scratched his cheek. “Well… that’s why we say he’s named ‘Boom’. Gerson leaves behind a blast everywhere. I don’t understand how it works, but his powers can redirect any attack.”
…!!!
Geez. You now understood why Gerson caught Sans’ interest. The ability to redirect anything and everything could have amazing applications. What if one could create a legendary shield?!
The excitement can wait. You wanna know if Undyne and Sans survived.
As you walked over to check, Sans got tossed out of the pit. He rolled once before stopping right beside your foot. Undyne then jumped out without any problems.
You asked if she’s okay. That sure took a while.
“Sorry Frisk,” she said, “It was a smashing ride. Thrilling, but dang. I need a breather.”
You’re glad to hear that she’s fine. But, maybe she should swing by Lady Lucy’s clinic later? Just to make sure nothing broke. It pays to be paranoid when it comes to massive force.
You heard some shuffling. It’s Sans, who’s finally able to move again. He proceeded to hug the floor while rattling from skull to toebone. “Sweet, sweet earth, please don’t let me go.”
You pouted at Sans. What’s with the melodrama? He was totally fine with those same speeds when he went six-winged-angel mode.
“That’s different, kid. If I’m the one flying, I know where I’m going y’know. Getting dunked removes all sense of control…”
Hmm. That’s true. Now you feel rather sorry for him.
He asked, “That had to be the last, right? It can’t get any worse than this.”
You tell Sans that there’s ‘one’ more.
He flipped on his back. Looking at you, he blurted: “Seriously?”
100% serious.
You read out the final punishment: Sans Serif will be banned from Grillby’s, the finest establishment of grease in all the land! And, only the owner can decide when to let him back.
A moment of silence…
Then, Sans let out the longest, smallest ‘noooo’ in the world: a lost despairing whimper engulfed in its own patheticness. It’s beyond sad.
You sat down by his side to ask if it truly was the worst.
“Kid. You don’t understand. Burn Grillbz enough and he holds a mean grudge. I might never, ever, ever, ever be able visit his bar again. Nevermind eating anything.”
Maybe Sans would get a lighter sentence if he paid his tab?
Which then Grillby himself replied: “I won’t accept a single cent.”
W-whoa?! When did he get so close???
He didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he distanced himself.
…Yep. Sans is screwed. Permabanned.
Here’s the bigger question: how on earth are you gonna enforce all those rules? You can’t watch Sans 24/7. Maybe you need one of those tracking leg-bands used for prisoners?
Cenna tapped you on the shoulder. She then pointed you straight to the one and only Tsunderjudge. “The old man will help ya there.”
Oh, will he loan out manpower?
“Something even better.”
Okay. A solution is a solution. So, you hopped over to the tsun.
Aha! Since Sans depended on your Claim to keep his Determination at safe levels, Mezil suggested that you add a number of clauses into the Mark. Make it so that his DT-levels increase upon every transgression.
Small offenses will cause small increases. Bigger ones will cause bigger increases. Go back to his criminal ways, and Sans self-destructs into a pile of dusty goo. Morbid. But, there’s no other way to enforce the sentence.
Besides, it’s not like it’s permanent. The levels will go back down over time.
You informed everyone about what you’re going to do. They approved, though Mom had her concerns. Could this mean the end of their knock-knock jokes?
You let Mom know that if Sans stays good, it’s possible to adjust his sentencing. Maybe relax the jokes as a reward. Gotta give some motivation, right?
In one flash, you imbued your will into the Claim. Go ahead, Sans, crack a pun. Gotta test it.
He pondered for a while. “So… this is the price for being bad to the ‘bone’?”
Pause. Nothing happened?
“Hm? Sure this is working? I didn’t notice any changes.”
You rubbed your chin. Standard expressions might not trigger the clause: otherwise all idioms and metaphors would be banned alongside puns.
You tell Sans to try emphasise on the ‘bone’ bit. Make it super corny.
“‘Kay,” Sans cleared his throat. “So… this is the price for being bad to the bone!”
Cue the mental rimshot. It’s upon that moment, Sans winced and clutched his chest. That’s the reaction you were looking for. There’s a slight reddish glow beneath his shirt.
“Oof,” he commented. “Feels like someone backhanded my chest. It’s quite warm, too. Man, I bet it’ll burn if I try to infiltrate Grillby’s.”
WHAT?! He just triggered another penalty. Is he doing this on purpose?
“N-no. Of course I’m not trying to get myself punished-- Hurk!”
Sans, stop!
“I’m trying, I’m trying! But I’m afraid I can’t kick the habit in Thyme.”
The shine on his chest was getting brighter. Why did he need to drag the Tsunderjudge into this?!?!?
“Time! Not Thyme!… Ack!”
Did he just ripple? He rippled! Isn’t that a sign of impending overload???
You slapped a ‘Mark of Silence’ on Sans’ grinning mouth. Emergency measures, yo.
Sans wheezed a few times. The pain of being unable to pun seeped into his bones.
Slowly, you could feel the Claim returning back to its normal cap. The crisis had passed.
How disturbing. Just four puns? You protested to Tsunderjudge. Isn’t this too strict?! He almost died from stupid wordplay! They weren’t even the worst of Sans’ puns!
“No.” He replied, “It’s working as intended. If Sans Serif wants to live, he better channel that extra Determination into respecting the rules.”
You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but there’s a hint of deviousness in Mezil’s eyes. Is this what they call justice? Or vindication?
You dispelled your latest Mark, allowing Sans to speak again.
His first response? “…That was one of the most terrifying moments of my life…”
Hmm… Won’t Sans exploit this system as extra sources of DT?
“Heck no.”
On cue, he suffered another strike. Hah! He fell for it.
“‘Do Not Lie to Owner’ clause?” Sans mentioned. “That’s pretty cheating.”
You crossed your arms and nodded, smug. You’re not so naive to think that he could gather intel without trickery. But he will have to tell you the truth, and nothing but the truth! How does that sound?
Sans nodded, nonchalant and factual. “Great. I like it. You select the ears, I give the news. That’s how classified work should be.”
All right. Sentencing complete. It’s a wrap. Here concludes today’s Trial of the Crimson Hall.
Good grief, you’re done. Absolutely done.
Maybe you should visit Papyrus one more time before heading back to the real world?
Your group thus swung by the Hub’s medical bay. Lady Lucy didn’t allow you to visit Papyrus himself, but she scanned Undyne and Sans for any injuries. Fortunately, Gerson’s magical field did the job just fine: they’re both ‘Condition Green’.
It piqued her interest enough to request for the old turtle’s stay. With the explanation that he had nothing better to do, Gerson accepted the lady’s request.
You asked Lady Lucy what she’s trying to do. You thought she finished treating Papyrus. You’re anxious to rewind his injuries.
“Status: more analysis required.” she replied, “LOADING without sufficient data will only result in repeating consequences. Preventive measures, compulsory. Please resume business as usual until I complete my research.”
And old Gerson?
“The Law may be required to confirm certain hypotheses. In the meantime, please pay attention to new events in this current timeline as they unfold.”
Huh… okay. You promise Lady Lucy to remain vigilant.
The rest of you returned to the real world. How much time had passed? You’re not sure, but you’re confident it’s no longer noon. Not by a long a long shot.
Your stomach growled. Oops. Come to think of it, you haven’t had lunch either. Funny enough, you didn’t feel hungry in The Void.
Alphys suggested, “I-I have lots of instant noodles.”
There was an immediate frown from Mom and Gaster.
“W-w-w-we can add our own vegetables! Leeks, carrots, mushrooms, cabbages anything! I-I swear it’s possible to make a proper meal out of instant noodles. People in the Far East do that all the time.”
You asked Alphys if she even had groceries in stock. Nobody had time to shop. Your pantry had gotten pretty bare too. Whatever Garamond bought won’t be enough to feed everyone.
She answered sheepishly. “I have… a dozen eggs. Maybe?”
Does she still have that thick soy sauce that she bought on a whim at an Eastern food fair?
“Of course! Though, I haven’t even opened it yet.”
You made a suggestion. It's a meal you used to have back in your foster home. Easy to cook for large amounts of people, and doesn't require much of the salty soup stock either.
Cenna laughed so hard.
“Mez, did you really give them Mama’s recipe?! She used to cook that!”
In which he replied, “Well, they wanted something that ‘even a child could make in bulk’.”
That explains kitchen duty. Your foster home needed all the help they could get to cook for so many people.
Undyne blinked a few times. “Wait, Frisk. If you knew how to cook… then why did you follow my instructions during our dinner date?”
Did she think you were in any position to teach? She broke the table in half with her spear. Besides, it was more fun to follow along.
Mom’s glare focused on Undyne like a ray of magnified sunlight.
The fish tried to save her scales. “T-the past is the past, Toriel. We don’t do that anymore.”
Mom leaned forward. School principal mode on.
“Undyne. How did you lose your Underground home again?”
“In a fire,” answered Undyne.
“And how exactly did that fire happen?”
“W-we turned up the stove up way too high. Yeah! T-totally not intentional.”
Mom’s new glare balanced the scorch of the sun’s plasma surface and the absolute chill of outer space. All in perfect intimidating harmony.
Uhhh… Maybe it’s best to start cooking. An empty belly doesn’t wait.
With your instructions, the packets of instant noodles thus transformed into a big plate of fried soy-sauce noodles topped with strips of thin crepe-like omelette.
Time for the taste test. Passed! Though it would be a lot better garnished with crispy shallots.
Still, you smiled at your plate of noodles. It’s nice to know that a piece of your biological family stayed with you for all these years, even though you never realised it.
Meanwhile your monster friends looked at the results with great curiosity. Understandable. They won't find it anywhere in their country.
You urged everyone to take a share. So, they did. Dinner is served!
Alphys loved it, as expected. It’s simple and comforting. Plus, it features instant noodles. It’s fills her happiness checklist.
Sans, of course, started squeezing a packet of ketchup over his meal. You remind him that he’s limited to ‘normal people portions’.
Doctor Gaster couldn’t stand it. He refused the meal outright. His friend Grillby had to coax him; Goopdoc was supporting two other people in his body, after all. In the end, the fussy scientist caved in.
Awww. You’re sad that the fire elemental no longer had his awesome fixed voice. Why can’t THAT be permanent? It’s nice to have a positive buff for once.
You heard Cenna and Mezil talking in the background.
“Do we have enough for Gael?” she asked, “Maybe I can use this to lure him back?”
The Tsunderjudge said: “There’s no need. Gaelic is with Garamond. They’re on the lookout together.”
As he said so, his phone went. Ring. Ring. Looks like Mister Invisibone needed to deliver a report.
“…How many?”
Mezil listened. You stared, waiting for a reaction. You can’t discern anything else other than ‘serious’.
You took out your phone and scanned him. Dark red. Hm?
“Do not engage,” he said. “Let them come.”
Mezil then ended the call.
You asked him what that was about.
“Hurry and eat your fill. Work is heading our way.”
So soon? Although you wondered exactly what ‘work’ entailed, you’re not going to doubt his warnings.
You scarfed down the noodles and rinsed your mouth. Can’t greet others with smelly breath.
Dad helped out by giving you a piece of mint. Ah mint, the ultimate breath freshener. Thanks!
You waited at the lobby of the lab, expecting the rumble of media vans and the badgering voices of reporters. Except… things were silent.
Too silent.
Finally, the doorbell rang. You wanted to answer, but Mezil stopped you in your tracks.
Again, the doorbell rang.
Mezil asked: “Doctor Alphys, can you open the door remotely?”
“U-uh. Yeah. S-sure.” She dug into her pockets and pressed a button.
You heard a beep. The door slid open.
There were no reporters. No media. No cameras. No microphones. No vans.
Instead, you saw an adult man with two teenage boys wearing colour cloaks of fanciful foreign designs. Their skintones reminded you of autumn acorns.
Grillby immediately stepped forward, cautious. While Undyne summoned her spear to defend Mom and Dad. They’re both on high alert.
The bartender’s actions threw you off. He acted so cold to you after the courtroom drama, yet he’s jumping straight to your defense. Why? Does he know this person?
He said: “…Yes… That is Aiden of Aratet… The current boss of Gungnir…”
Oh.
Em.
Gee.
You started freaking out internally.
You’re not prepared for this!!!