Papyrus didn’t tell anyone, but he made enough spaghetti sauce to feed an army. He can’t let the mooks go hungry while the VIPs have their dinner. There will be plenty of humans and monsters to serve come nightfall.
However…
Leading a full kitchen turned out to be way more intense than cooking a meal at home. His experiences as a part-time employee at the school cafeteria didn’t prepare him for THIS.
His parents used to do this for a living? Every day of the week? Truly, he had gained a newfound respect for all kitchen staff.
As he was frying the first batch of meatballs, Papyrus shouted for status updates.
“HOW’S THE CINNABUNS, PASTRY HUMAN?” he asked.
“Going into the oven, sir!”
“IS THE QUEEN’S PIE SAFE IN THE FRIDGE?”
“Yes sir!”
“THANK YOU! AIDE HUMAN, HAVE THE METTA STEAKS BEEN PREPARED FOR THE GRILL YET?”
“They’re ready to go on the grill.”
“AND THE VEGETABLES?”
“Ready too!”
“SPLENDID JOB! OTHER CHEF HUMAN, HOW’S THE KETCHUP COMING ALONG?”
“It’s a bloody banger!”
“I’M NOT SURE WHAT YOU MEAN, BUT I SENSE POSITIVE ENERGIES FROM IT."
“UNCLE GASTER, IS MOM READY YET TO SHOW OFF HER DUMPLING PLEATING SKILLS?”
Said Uncle Gaster had just unwrapped the first batch of dough. They were chilled beforehand for easier rolling. “Absolutely, my boy. Do you want to join?”
“I DON’T THINK I CAN, SORRY. I STILL HAVE MEATBALLS TO FRY AND STEAKS TO GRILL.”
“Alright then,” Gaster said. “I hope they’re doing fine out there. We’ve reached this stage at last…”
The way he answered worried Papyrus. The Keys of Fate might be turning again… and that’s never a good sign.
Someone knocked on the kitchen door. Quite loud to boot. Mister Other Chef Human went over to check. Moments later, he returned with more concerning news.
“Your little boss said they need you outside of the kitchen. They’re looking mighty worried. And quite peckish.”
A ‘little boss’ with an appetite. It couldn’t be anyone other than Frisk.
“I SEE…” Papyrus, with a serious gaze, slapped his hand on the man's shoulder “CAN I LEAVE THE KITCHEN TO A PRO LIKE YOU, OTHER CHEF HUMAN?”
Though slightly confused at first, other chef human soon replied: “O-of course!”
“THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”
Papyrus compiled a quick hotdog with the still-simmering ketchup. After setting it down on some paper napkins on a plate, he took off his apron and rushed out with it to greet the hungry young boss.
It was Frisk alright. Their expression brightened a little when they saw the hotdog.
“Oh man, I’m so tired of being semi-hungry. Thanks for the snack, Papyrus.”
“NO PROBLEM, MY BEST HUMAN. BE CAREFUL, IT’S HOT.”
“Wow. You’re right. The ketchup is STEAMING.”
After a few huffs and puffs, Frisk munched their first bite. “Huh? It’s not goopy like the usual ketchup. It’s fuller somehow. Smells a little different too.”
“MY DAD’S SPECIAL RECIPE! HOW IS IT?”
“Awesome!” Frisk munched on another bite while giving a thumbs-up. “This is way better than the generic stuff.”
“IS… THAT ALL YOU NEED, HUMAN?”
Frisk replied with clear disappointment. “Nope. Follow me, Papyrus.”
While holding onto the warm dog, the bite-sized Crimson Keeper led Papyrus out of the cafeteria zone. They approached the gym area. There, Papyrus noticed many smears of liquid on the floor. They’re dark red and slightly yellowish. Ominous colors.
“Careful. Don’t step on them. They’re slippery.”
Gripping the door handle, Frisk said: “We’re just gonna look from outside, ok? Monsters are not really welcomed in there.”
The human kid opened the door just enough to take a peek.
The gym had transformed into an emergency hospital. The injured humans lay down on sheets of cloth. People ran back and forth with medical kits, clean water, bandages, and other tools to treat their patients.
“…ARE THEY ALL GUNGNIR?” Papyrus asked.
“Yep,” Frisk replied. “It happened when they arrived at our school. A sniper fired a shrapnel bullet right on our doorstep. Both Aiden and Dayton were badly injured. The ambulance is on the way.”
“WHAT ABOUT DAYTON’S YOUNGER BROTHER? I KNOW HE HAS ONE.”
“Niton…” The kid shook their head. “He took a direct hit. Didn’t even have much of a corpse left behind. Mom tried to save his SOUL, but it shattered too.”
Papyrus crouched down on one knee, matching Frisk’s eye level. Concerned, he asked: “WHAT ABOUT YOU? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”
Frisk glanced to the side as they nibbled on the last of their hot dog. “I wasn’t in the line of fire. It’s just… I think I saw some stuff that I shouldn’t have seen.”
“I’M SORRY TO HEAR THAT.”
“Let me bring you to the rest of the guys.”
Frisk proceeded to guide Papyrus to Toriel’s classroom: an impromptu camp for monsters and the magically-inclined. The unused tables, chairs, and crafts were moved to each of the four corners.
The scene here was not much better compared to Gungnir’s side. Sure, they didn’t suffer any physical wounds, but their morale had hit rock bottom.
Mettaton in his pink ghost form floated beside his broken body, huddling together with his other stranded TV crew. Alphys had opened up the box for repairs.
“Papyrus!” the ghost exclaimed, floating toward the skeleton. “How’s the kitchen-side, darling?”
Papyrus answered, “GOING GREAT. THE HELPERS ARE A MASSIVE HELP. WE WERE ON TRACK TOO.”
“Wait, if Frisk brought you here, hot stuff… Who’s taking care of the other hot stuff?!”
“I ASKED OTHER CHEF HUMAN TO WATCH. MOST OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS SIGNATURES -- ERGO THE SEASONINGS -- WERE ALREADY DONE BY THE GREAT ME, NYEH! ALSO, UNCLE GASTER AND MY PARENTS STAYED BEHIND TO SUPERVISE!”
The pink celebrity threw his head back and yelled ‘OH YES!’. Dramatic and dynamic as always. “Thank the stars! At least there’s a spark of hope in this mad mayhem.”
When the elation faded, Mettaton sighed in surrender. “I’m busted, my darlings. I’ll go return to my corner now and get some beauty sleep. Keep your wits about you, baby…”
Papyrus nodded. “I WILL.”
Next to inspect were King Asgore and Queen Toriel. The King sat still on the chair, staring at his red-stained hands. He seemed too traumatized to wash up, evident by the splatter of dried blood on his snow-white fur. The Queen didn’t fare much better. She sobbed to herself while muttering her grief.
Papyrus made out a faint sentence:
‘I could not save that child either…’
Ambassador and skeleton both thought it’s best to leave them alone. For now.
Cenna sat at the teacher’s desk to use Toriel’s computer. She had plugged in a portable internet hotspot and a microphone so she could use the machine to communicate with the rest of her peers.
She flashed a weak smile. “Hey Frisky. Thanks for bringing Papyrus. We’ve yet to find Sans though.”
“Oh,” said Frisk. “You know, I thought being suspended means you don’t get to work at all.”
“Hahaha! You’re right there. But the old man is short on manpower. It’s gotten even worse after that latest scuffle between Gael and our resident Assassino.”
“HOLD IT!” Papyrus exclaimed, “DID YOU SAY ‘SCUFFLE’? DID MY GENUINE BROTHER GET INTO ANOTHER FIGHT WITH MISTER GAELIC?!?! ARE YOU SURE IT’S NOT A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY????”
“Cinnamon Roll, a mistaken identity may be our best case scenario. Though, we won’t know for sure until the Observers and Miss Muffet find our funny fugitive.”
“HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? AND WHY?”
“…Let me start from the beginning.” The Vanquisher turned the swivel chair to face Papyrus. “As the newly appointed ‘Princess’ of the Dreemurr Nation, I hired Sans to eliminate an enemy: a certain Seer sniper that's been hounding us since the Magi and Gungnir first arrived at Ebott's border.”
“When he failed to stop the gal from completing her objective, we presumed that our one-armed friend was injured or worse. Mezil ordered the Observers for a search and rescue. Thaaaaaaaaat’s when crap hit the fan. Gaelic went nuts! Not just regular nuts, but anti-DEMON nuts!”
Frisk nodded at Papyrus. “Sis is right. I have seen Snakeface go anti-DEMON mode before, and his behaviour matches 1-to-1.”
The situation sounded worse by the second. “WHERE IS GAELIC THE SNAKEFACE THEN? I WANT TO CHECK UP ON HIM.”
They pointed their thumb over their shoulder. “The teen’s classroom.”
Thus it was decided. The heroic skeleton and his human friend shall pay a visit.
Upon arrival there, Grillby had just exited the room. The fire elemental frowned the moment he saw them.
With his hand stretched forward, he warned: “…Do not come any closer… Especially you, Papyrus…”
“WHY?” He couldn’t remember being Gaelic’s enemy. That was Sans!
A bone-rattling screech howled from the classroom. ‘Traitor!’, Papyrus heard. ‘Traitor! Traitor! I can smell ye, traitorous cur!’ The same accusation went repeated a few more times before it became incomprehensible Code.
Grillby escorted them a few more doors away from Gaelic’s haunt.
“…I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” said Papyrus. “DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG?”
“Errrr…” Frisk lifted their finger. “You kinda put Tsunderjudge under a hot giant spotlight during Sans' trial. That’s how you got yourself hurt in the first place.”
“EXCUSE ME?”
The fire elemental added: “…You forced Judge Thyme to confess about his past… in front of everyone involved… Gaelic sees that as betrayal…”
Details clicked together. Papyrus remembered the event and guilt stabbed him in the chest. He began to question if he might have felt better if he hadn’t regained those two years’ worth of memories.
Fiddling with the end of his scarf, the skeleton muttered, “I-I THOUGHT… BEING HONEST AND OPEN WOULD HELP MISTER MAGUS. HE KEPT TOO MANY SECRETS.”
Grillby shook his head. “…Judge Thyme is not the main point here… It’s Sir Gaelic… You see, he has a troubled history with mob justice… False accusations still ruin his life to this day… Witnessing his master get tossed into court by your urgings… painted a bleak impression on you, Papyrus…”
Unhappy, Frisk protested: “But Papyrus did nothing wrong. In fact, that tsun really needed to be called out. He admitted so himself!”
“…It’s not about right or wrong… It’s about breaking personal trust…”
“…Like between us?”
“…Similar… But in your case, you were in the deepest wrong… I should never have put my faith in you from the start…”
And therefore, Frisk and Papyrus joined the ‘Sad People’s Club’ together.
The kid’s phone started to ring. They picked up, replied ‘okay’ a couple of times, then ended the call.
The little Ambassador looked up and said with renewed spirit:
“They found Sans. Let’s go, Papyrus!”
“ALRIGHT!”
But, before he could find the heart to leave, there was one more thing The Great Papyrus had to do. On the top of his loud ribs, he vowed:
“MISTER GAELIC! I WILL MAKE UP WITH YOU SOON! THROUGH THE TASTIEST APOLOGY!! MARK MY WORDS!!! NYEH HEH HEH!!!!”
Satisfied with the announcement, Papyrus followed Frisk back to Toriel’s classroom.
The discovery of Sans’ whereabouts led to the monsters crowding around Cenna’s computer. The news seemed big enough to snap them out of their personal funks… which could be a good or a bad thing.
Cenna -- blocked by the massive bodies of both the King and Queen -- tried to wave her hand above their fluffy mass. “Hey! In here! Can you see me???”
The monsters made way for Frisk and Papyrus. It’s a tight fit in the crowd, but luckily Papyrus had always been a thin skeleton, and the human remained tiny.
Displayed on the monitor was the video feed of one of the Magi’s spy drones. It showed Captain Undyne trying to pry the lab door open with her spears. Failing that, Muffet’s spider underlings attempted to scuttle under the gaps. That path was blocked too.
Cenna explained: “The search team tracked Sans back to his backyard lab. I’m gonna attempt to negotiate. Don’t talk into the mic unless I give it to ya. High chance that he’s unstable at the moment. ‘Kay?”
It was a unanimous agreement.
Once she gave the signal to the search team, Undyne and the spiders retreated.
The Vanquisher spoke into the mic. “Hey Assassino, I know you’re in there. I’m not here to arrest ya. Just checking up on your status.”
Silence so far.
“You went MIA and got me real worried. Are you hurt?”
More silence. Cenna passed the microphone to Papyrus. It’s his time to shine.
Papyrus cleared his throat. “SANS? ARE YOU IN THERE???”
The video drone picked up a loud thud against the wall. There was a voice, but it sounded too muffled to understand.
Cenna’s phone rang. She redirected the call to the communications system.
“Papyrus? You… you’re alive?”
That was none other than Sans alright. It wasn’t a mistaken identity at all. The nerves sunk down the young man’s chest.
“YES I AM! WHY WOULDN’T I BE? I WAS BUSY CRAFTING MY EXTRAORDINARILY EXQUISITE CUISINE IN THE KITCHEN, NYEH HEH HEH!”
“…What about Tori? Is Tori fine?”
Papyrus passed the microphone to the Queen. She took it with shaky hands.
Toriel said, “I-I am here, Sans. Please, do not frighten me.”
“I thought the human… no… the sniper. I thought the sniper shot you.”
“No. I was fortunate. No monster perished in that incident as the bullet hit Aiden and his people. His younger son… is the only deceased victim so far. Who is this human you speak of, Sans? Were you ambushed?”
Sans replied: “No. It was a solo sniper. That Seer… It’s… complicated. Not something I wanna say out loud in public. Can I talk to Paps again?”
The microphone went back to Papyrus. “YES?”
“Can you tell me what happened on page 6 of Fluffy Bunny?”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Why did he ask? What was Fluffy Bunny to begin with? Wasn’t it that nightly story book? Sans would read it every night but… Papyrus did not remember its contents.
He started sweating.
“Was that question too specific? Ok. No probs. What’s the colour of the sock in the living room?”
“UM…”
“How many action figures do you own?”
“UMMMM…”
“Where did you get your Pet Rock from?”
“UMMMMMMMM!!!”
“What car model is your bed based on?”
Unable to take the pressure anymore, Papyrus exploded into a big yell. “SAAAANS, STOP! I… I CAN’T ANSWER ANY OF THESE QUESTIONS BECAUSE I BURNED MY SPECIAL EYE TOO HARD! I… I DIDN’T TAKE CARE OF MYSELF… I MESSED UP! BIG TIME!!!”
A moment of awkward silence lingered. Frisk patted their friend on the arm.
“Whoa. Not the answer I expected. But, that’s the most accurate verification of your identity. Sorry, Paps. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Truth is, I’ve been hearing your voice down here… in my head… telling me to… stop slacking. Pick up the sock. Get a real job. Feed the pet. Eat better. Y’know. The usual music.”
“I, uh, really needed to hear the real you.”
Toriel covered her mouth. Alphys whispered to Frisk, commenting on how bad it is for Sans to be having hallucinations.
“MY GENUINE BROTHER, LET US HELP YOU.”
Sans muttered something in the Code of his kind. Papyrus couldn’t understand. Too fast. Too many homophones. Too many subtleties.
“SPEAK IN HUMAN, SANS, PLEASE!”
His brother obliged. “Well… If you wanna help, then you gotta follow my instructions. First, I need a fellow expert. Doctor? Scientist? Both? Someone who knows all about ‘The Seer’s Curse’. The Surface has someone like that, right?”
“Second, stuff for forensics. I have the sniper’s remains with me: dust, clothes, tools, and her weapons. I will also need more paper. I think… I think… the walls and whiteboards aren’t providing me with enough space. Don’t want to erase the older notes yet. Apparently, I was building something amazing?”
“Third. Uh. Medicine? Sweet drinks? Something to keep me going. I’m losing my arm to Karma, fast. Heh, fitting. There’s no pain, but the rapid loss of magical matter is draining my stamina. I can’t be losing stamina… Got work to do… Must continue writing…”
A baffled, angry Alphys vented her frustration with a whole bunch of hand movements. Mettaton tried to keep her mouth shut with his stubby ghost arms, but he failed as he’s intangible.
Cenna signalled Papyrus to tilt the microphone towards Alphys. There’s no stopping her anyway.
“You should be in MY Lab! I-it’s pretty much a hospital. WHICH IS WHERE YOU NEED TO GO! RIGHT NOW! Oh Em Gee Sans I can’t believe you’re still doing mad science when you’re literally DYING!!!”
“Uh… Alphys, right? Don’t worry. I’m not dying. I already prepared a spell to seal off my wounds for when my arm falls apart.”
“That’s not convincing at all!!!”
“Okay, okay. Whatever you say. And fourth… this is for Papyrus… I’m sorry, but you have to let the kitchen go. Other than some vital mental support, someone has to translate my sloppy handwriting. The ol’ noggin is working faster than my pen.”
"ANYTHING FOR YOU, MY GENUINE BROTHER."
“Thanks. Much appreciated, bro.”
Cenna scrunched her brows, pondering hard. She beckoned for the microphone back from Papyrus, saying: “You’re asking for some pretty specific stuff there, Assassino. I can’t guarantee a total pass, but I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“Heh. Thanks.” Sans replied. “Oh, by the way. No humans please. Especially those with Red SOULS. I can’t guarantee their safety.”
“Understood. Going offline for a bit. You take care of yourself in the meantime, yeah?”
“Sure.”
When the transmission ended, everyone released their tension in their own way. Sighs. Groans. Annoyance. Mild panic. Maybe a bit of all four emotions.
“Gwah,” the Magus slapped down her hat. “Lucy is the only person who fits the bill.”
King Asgore then said, “If she goes, Sir Grillenn must follow. He is her assigned bodyguard.”
“Ahuh, I’m fine with that. What about you, Papyrus? Sans did request for your presence, and I know you agreed already, but don’t you think you should let the kitchen know?"
“YES! I SHOULD TELL THE CHEF HUMANS THE TRUTH. DINNER WILL STILL BE SERVED, BUT IT WILL BE IN A HUMBLE NOT-CELEBRATORY FASHION. SO, DON’T WORRY ABOUT GOING HUNGRY.”
Frisk hugged the skeleton. “Pity I can’t come with you. We’ll undo this bad timeline later, okay?”
Would that be possible? From the short time Papyrus tangled with the Keys of Fate, he realised that things may not always go their way.
Worries can wait. While Cenna prepared Lady Lucidia, Papyrus went back to the kitchen.
There, he announced the shocking news. Morale hit rock bottom. The mood lifted a tad when he told them that there are still people expecting dinner and that no food will be wasted. The Royal Guard, The Magi, the townsfolk, and remaining Gungnir should be able to finish the stock.
Papyrus relinquished his leadership to the seniors. Then, he left to meet up with Lady Lucidia.
The woman in blue waited at the playground, illuminated from mask to toe by the orange glow of the fire elemental’s flames. Their demeanour matched the dark, cloudy sky.
The trio travelled to the skeleton brother’s house and detoured to the back yard. Muffet’s spiders had long since been sent home. Those who remained behind were the peacekeeping forces of both humans and monsters.
Lesser Dog -- whose real name Papyrus could not recall -- delivered the requested medicines into Papyrus’ hands.
“THANK YOU, MY FLUFFY FRIEND!”
He petted the dog monster. Doing so caused the canine’s neck to extend a bit.
“Hey Papyrus,” Captain Undyne slapped a firm grip down on Papyrus’ shoulder. “All the best.”
“THANK YOU.”
Despite her encouraging words, Undyne too looked as serious as the dark weather looming overhead.
Papyrus knocked on the door. “MY GENUINE BROTHER, WE’RE HERE.”
An Arcanagram lit up to their presence, unlocking the entrance. The three approved ones entered. Once they cleared past the boundary, the door shut behind them. Papyrus heard the lock click into place. It appears that Sans truly did not want to step back out into the Surface’s light.
His voice hollered from below: “You guys need extra lights? Sorry. The glare of my usual fluorescents started to bother me.”
“Offer declined.” The fairy godmother replied. “Increased photosensitivity is a common complication of your condition. I too would prefer low lighting. Sir Grillenn, could you go ahead and illuminate the stairway, keeping your fire as faintly lit as possible?”
“…Consider it done, Lady Lucidia…”
Upon command, small kindles of flame lined the edges of the steps. It was just enough to make out their shape.
When they entered Sans’ Secret Lab proper, they found the skeleton writing notes on the wall with the aid of a glow lantern. He was serious when he said he needed more paper. Almost every square inch -- including the floor -- was covered in writing.
Stopping mid-sentence, Sans turned his head. “Yo.”
Papyrus felt his SOUL skip a pulse. What happened to his eyes? Why were they… Red?
Angered, Lady Lucidia wasted no time to chide: “You most foolish of fools. You should have fled. You’re the only person who can build the Seraph System, and you let the enemy damage you. And for what? Data? What use is data that you cannot apply?”
Sans chuckled. “My memory is messy, but I’m sure it’s the vampire who uses the word ‘fool’ unironically. Not you.”
“Requesting the patient to cease his inane prattling and submit himself for analysis.”
“Ah. That’s more like it. Y’know come to think of it… you two are pretty similar, huh? I don’t mean only in character, either. I’m reminded of our first meeting. You… you seem to know what you’re doing. Yup. You may not be used to a gun but… your conscience ain’t exactly guilt-free, am I right?”
Sans stared hard at Lady Lucidia. “If you had any real juice, I would have risked a limb to throw a bone. But. Nah. You don’t have any. Your flaming bodyguard doesn’t have any either. Which is weird. Weird. Too weird. A pity really. Grillby, didn’t… didn’t you kill a human before? Why am I reading LV 1? You should have more EXP. Much, much more.”
Confusion, confusion everywhere. Papyrus didn’t understand what Sans was trying to say.
Yet, the Fairy Godmother knew. She asked: “‘Execution Points’, am I correct?”
“The one and only.”
“I find it interesting that your method of calculation implies that all murders are enacted at a close distance. When monsters die, their Psychia releases a burst of magic. The absorption of which is what you call ‘EXP’. However, this process is in no way guaranteed.”
Lady Lucidia clenched her hands for a moment. “Query to Sir Grillenn and Papyrus: do you see sense any ‘EXP’ on me?”
The Fairy Godmother, a candidate for LV and EXP? Papyrus couldn't imagine it. No one deserves to be sullied with that kind of stain, least of all this prim and proper lady.
He narrowed his eyes. “I’M NOT SANS, BUT I DON’T FEEL ANYTHING STRANGE ABOUT YOUR SOUL.”
"…Neither do I…" Grillby added
“Such is the proof this method’s shortcomings. In Sir Grillenn’s case, he had collected a human SOUL whole without consuming its power. Destruction of the physical body does not incur any penalties. Though a death indeed occurred, he is clean in terms of science.”
“Really?” Sans replied, “Huh. Interesting. Then, am I also reading you wrong, Lady? I thought you had killed plenty of people. Lots of LV and EXP. But, nope. Did you apply a mask to hide your true value? Like the one on your pretty face?”
“Again, it is because I did not personally harvest the lifeforce of my targets. They perished apart from me. In addition, I did not consume their flesh or blood. Therefore, I too am clean in terms of science.”
“The same won’t work for your pup. Scary fellow that one. I remember him taunting me. Tried to play tricks. Ain’t his style. Could tell. He’s a predator. Hunter. Violence incarnate. Why was he LV 1 too? Should be more. Why wasn’t it more???”
“Gaelic Blanc has undergone multiple rituals to purge his ‘LV’ and ‘EXP’. Without those, he suffers from severe withdrawal symptoms, making him susceptible to DEMONs. To his fortune, he has not killed anyone since his last session and remains clean in terms of science.”
“Talk about loopholes. Ludonarrative Discobiscuits. Say, are you gonna do the same for me?”
“If applicable. First query: did you kill anyone else other than the sniper?”
“Nope. I thought I killed Papyrus. But he’s here, alive. That sniper girl. She… she was delicious. Weird for me to say it. Like…. Like a thick bowl of soup… With tomatoes… Dust flavoured tomatoes!”
Papyrus felt his nonexistent stomach churn from the imagery. He kept reminding himself that it was metaphorical. It had to be so.
“Second query: was your previous victim unusually high in ‘EXP’?”
“Yep,” Sans replied. “Colour me surprised. And delighted.”
“Third query: what was this person’s LV?”
That question made Sans think for a long while. “Sorry… was too busy suffering. Definitely greater than 1, though. 18 maybe? Mmhmm. Yep. Sounds about right.”
“Data accepted. Final query: Sans Serif, what is all this hard-to-read text?"
“Well. About that. See, that last incident re-awakened my Eye of Dreams. I used it to take a good hard look at that Philosopher’s Stone thingy, and had a flash of inspiration. Since then, I’ve been writing until my remaining good arm practically popped off. Don’t worry, it’s a figure of speech."
“Anyway. Problem is, The Eye works but it’s weak. Too weak. Missing data. Can’t risk using the stone itself, and more DT will amalgamate me. There’s this Claim too. The human’s ‘star’… Young kid. Not mature yet. Talent without refinement. No, no, bad idea. There’s another layer of protection. Not messing with that.”
“Ah… punning… punning is great, but it hurts. Same goes for ketchup. Abusing The Claim for fuel is a chore. That’s fine, EXP gives more base power for DT to multiply. If I can’t safely increase the multiplier, I’ll increase the base. Heh. Yep. A better and tastier alternative. I just need to look for someone with a lot of LV. Close quarter killers… didn’t you guys invite a whole group of those people? I’m very sure these Gungnir don't collect SOULs whole."
Papyrus gasped. He stomped his foot down and insisted: “NO SANS, YOU’RE NOT MEDDLING WITH MY GUESTS!”
“Are they still your guests? After that disaster, I don’t think so. Sorry to say Paps, they might turn against you. Heh heh heh… I’m gonna have a field day. Say, is the Magus Association open for kill contracts? I solve your problem, you solve mine.”
“…I won’t let you…” Grillby countered. “…You’re going down that human’s path… the one you condemn so much…”
“Ehh,” he shrugged. “Been there. Done that. The Ol’ Vampire Judge said so. I’m really no better than that human.”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, SANS? YOU HAVEN’T--”
Except he did. It’s only one victim but… Sans had already killed someone. Papyrus couldn’t deny that anymore.
Lucidia clutched her hands, nervous. Still she persevered to say the important truths. “Warning, Sans Serif: judging from your medical history, you have a high predisposition to substance addiction. Determination and lifeforce trigger similar dependencies. This affects the severity of your symptoms as well. Therefore, I believe it’s best to sedate you before withdrawal kicks in. If it all goes well, you should sleep through the worst of it. Meanwhile, I will read your notes.”
The response? He just resumed his mad science scribbles on the wall.
“Sorry Lady. Got too much work to do. I’ll just have to go kill some people later. When nobody’s looking.”
Since when had Sans listened to others after setting his mind on something anyway? Undyne’s historical yelling about him dodging his sentry work never stuck either. There was also that sock, still due for removal.
“Overruled!” Lucidia yelled, trying to mimic her husband. “I repeat, CEASE your inane prattling and submit yourself for analysis! This instant!”
Again, Sans refused. “Not yet. Listen, listen. Just a bit more and… I think we can help… Mom… and… Dad…?”
Noticing his preoccupation, Lady Lucidia took the immediate opportunity to cast a large, elaborate Gram under Sans' feet. It sent out a soothing hum.
Sans’s breaths became heavy. Shaky. His writings turned into a scrawly squiggle. He then leaned sideways with the pen still in his grip, creating a long downwards trailing line until he hit the floor.
Grillby then laid Sans down on the couch. They couldn’t leave him on the cold, hard floor, no matter what.
What a peaceful face, thought Papyrus. Never could he have imagined a moment where someone had to forcibly put the laziest bone to sleep. When Sans snoozed, he looked no different than the Underground days.
The younger brother knelt down by the sofa and rested his cranium on Sans’ forehead. Papyrus shed mournful tears, knowing that yet another promise of peace had caused everyone so much pain.
Lady Lucidia proceeded to scan Sans. That’s why she came here to begin with.
She finished sooner than expected. Perhaps too soon, as though she was merely confirming her suspicions.
“FAIRY GODMOTHER, WHAT’S WRONG WITH SANS?” asked Papyrus. “PLEASE… DON’T SOFTEN THE BLOW FOR ME.”
She hesitated. He could tell by the look on her face that she did not want to disclose the full story. However, Grillby interceeded. The fire elemental told her that she should trust the new Papyrus.
And therefore, the lady explained: “He is suffering the same affliction as you and Gaelic. His Seer’s Eye is overflowing with Determination to the point where his primaries have consumed the weaker Aspects, forever altering his mental faculties. I have called this phenomenon: ‘Overburn’.”
“Sans Serif, however, is affected in much greater severity than a typical patient due to his Red Aspect. His altered being causes an unusual imbalance. With Red overpowering all the others, his Determination is attempting to convert everything under its influence: starting with the ashes, then moving on to the flames themselves.”
Grillby commented: “…So this is why… Sans had this weird combo Eye…”
“Affirmative. It appears that Sans Serif suffers from an additional side effect. His Red has overtaken his Purple and started drawing upon residual memories from his subconscious. They appear to belong to an odd alternate universe version of himself. Perhaps we might find a clue in his writings. If they're sensible to begin with.”
Papyrus decided to put his grief aside for the time being. It may be unnatural for monsters, or even for humans, but he had a job to do.
He still trusted Sans despite everything that happened. If his brother called him here to decipher his handwriting, then the information on the wall had to be important.
Grillby conjured two glowing orbs of warm flame and handed them over to the Seers for additional illumination. The lantern alone may not be enough as the elemental himself had chosen to stay behind to watch over Sans.
The entrance to the second chamber of the Lab was left wide open for Papyrus and Lucidia to enter. There, the writings on the wall further extended to their original starting point.
Sans’ secret workshop was a workstation of dreams. He had a forge, mechanical saws, electronics station, mould makers and casts, tool racks, an anvil, a workshop bench, and a power hammer of all things. It’s only missing a loom and a sewing machine to make a complete collection.
Papyrus had a vague memory of Sans submitting a very specific floor plan to the builders. The older brother insisted it to be an exact clone of their Snowdin home. All the while, the young one thought it was for familarity’s sake.
“Suggestion: I shall make a typographical sample of your brother’s handwriting.”
“SO… YOU’RE MAKING A SANS SERIF FONT. I CAN’T BELIEVE MY GENUINE BROTHER’S TERRIBLE PUNMANSHIP TRANSCENDS HIS LUCIDITY.”
Lady Lucidia paused for a moment before drawing a long, tired sigh. “I thought you’re the one who hates puns. If my internal thesaurus is correct, you just made three in one comment.”
“I ONLY HATE CHEAP PUNS. GOOD ONES LIKE CARDBOARDHYDRATE ARE PAPYRUS APPROVED.”
“Please stop. I detest puns because they confuse my understanding of vocabulary.”
“IT’S NOT EMBARRASSMENT?”
“Negative. Now, let us not distract ourselves any further.”
And so, The Great Semi-Amnesiac Papyrus helped the Fairy Godmother to read the barely legible ramblings of a mad scientist.
It appeared that sections had been erased to make way for new content. Following the text, he reached a whiteboard containing a picture of a very familiar device.
The large letters to the side read: ‘V1.0’. That one whiteboard contained none other than the original schematics of the Seraph System.
Papyrus thus helped decipher Sans’ horrible handwriting for Lady Lucidia, reading the words and symbols out loud to the best of his ability. Some of it even involved high-level math.
Lucidia nodded in understanding and summarized, “The first iteration of the Seraph System -- the one you had encountered in The Void -- contains the following functions: a computer-generated Arcanagram lens, a blade designed to drain Determination, two battery sources to store said Determination, and the ability to amplify monster magic by using what’s been stored. This allows for the creation of a Mark that matches the bearer’s Psychia.”
“IT DOESN’T GENERATE MATTER? SANS MADE A WHOLE MOON OUT OF NOWHERE!”
“Negative. The generation of digital matter from Determination in The Void belongs to my Chronograph. That criminal brother of yours managed to gain illegal access to the ability by hijacking my husband’s power.”
“WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE WEIRD ALTERNATE REALITIES?”
“They’re virtual recreations of his White Eye’s observations. Query: How much memory did you restore? And what was the exact method?”
“ABOUT… TWO YEARS? I THINK? BUT IT’S NOT COMPLETE. CERTAIN BITS OF DETAILS ELUDE ME LIKE THE CONTENTS OF FLUFFY BUNNY. AND THE COLOUR OF THAT TERRIBLE SOCK. SANS HAD ME USE HIS INVENTION TO ADD A PURPLE LENS. BUT HE WARNED ME THAT IF I USE MY SPECIAL EYE, I’LL LOSE MY MEMORIES AGAIN.”
“I see. Data acknowledged and recorded.”
Moving on, they arrived at the darkest corner. What remained of the attacker lay placed there in a haphazard pile. How typical of Sans. At least her dust had been tied up in her own clothes.
Lady Lucidia used her Blue to lift the gas mask. “She came prepared for Gaelic. This would have rendered most of his aerosol-class toxins useless in battle.”
Next to the remains -- on the floor -- were the crude drawings of a phone and a musical note. Sans had used red ink for the latter.
“I THINK SANS IS TRYING TO SAY THAT THE GIRL’S PHONE HAD A MARK. IT’S THE MUSICAL NOTE WITH ONE LONG TAIL.”
“That is a ‘quiver’. Am I reading the word ‘vanished’ here? Your brother seriously has poor penmanship. The writing is getting sloppier and sloppier.”
“YES. THAT CERTAINLY LOOKS LIKE A ‘V’ AND AN ‘N’. ‘THE MARK VANISHED AFTER THE SNIPER FIRED’.”
“Hmmm… Other than a single-use spell, a Mark dissipates either from a loss of concentration, or the complete demise of the caster. A music note for a musician… The likelihood of Niton having been the owner of this Mark rises. Though, he seemed rather weak for a Determinator.”
“WHY DO YOU THINK SO?”
“His Psychia shattered almost immediately despite being a Red. What about this line, Papyrus?”
Lucidia pointed to two rows of stick figures on the wall.
“NAMELESS GIRL. APPROX AGE: 14 ~18. BLASTER: WOLF. PHILOSOPHER STONE CONTENT: 986 BLANKS, 25 SEERS.”
“WHAT’S THIS? IT READS: ‘A PACK OF WOLVES, PACKED INTO ONE.’ BUT THESE DRAWINGS LOOK NOTHING LIKE A WOLF! I SHOULD KNOW. I STILL REMEMBER THIS WOLF CHUCKING ICE TO COOL THE CORE.”
“Sans Serif wrote ‘nameless girl’ instead of ‘name unknown’… that means she’s not given a name at all; True Name magic won’t work on her. She was created to be a weapon. To live as a weapon. And to die as a weapon. Just like her brethren, I presume. The failures were most likely culled into ‘The Philosopher's Stone’.”
Papyrus’ bones rattled. He was not the kind to feel angry. Annoyed, yes. Irritated, yes. But so furious that he wanted to slap someone across the face? It was a rather foreign emotion, until today.
“WHO COULD HAVE DONE THIS?!” he yelled. “NOT EVEN UNCLE GASTER AT HIS WORST TREATED SANS THIS BAD!!!”
“It is too soon to tell. Please remain focused.” Despite her aloof words, she too carried a grim expression on her face. That’s how professionals are: they put aside their immediate emotions for when they're more appropriate.
“HUH?” He squinted. “WHAT’S THIS? FUN? SEER 1. 84…573…772? HOW IS ANY OF THIS FUN???”
“Correction: FUN is an acronym for ‘Functional Universe Number’. What did you find?”
“SANS WROTE… THAT EVERY PERSON HAS A UNIQUE FUN VALUE. IT DOESN’T CHANGE. LIKE DNA? BUT… THE SANS FROM WORLD 1 APPARENTLY HAS A DIFFERENT NUMBER FROM THE SANS OF WORLD 2? ARGH, WHY DOES MY GENUINE BROTHER HAVE TO BE SO CRYPTIC???”
“Comparing content with your education level… Papyrus, I’m afraid from this point onward it is out of your scope. However, to our boon I have obtained sufficient data to reconstruct the ‘Sans Serif Font’. I thank you for your services. Please take this opportunity for a moment of respite.”
She then burned her Eyes in Blue and Green to read the rest of the script.
Meanwhile, Papyrus went back to the dusty remains. He picked up the cursed stone, gazed at it for a good while, and pondered...
What were their lives like?
Did they know love?
Were they aware of what they were denied?
He tried to communicate heart-to-heart with the people in the stone, but he was greeted by nothing but silence.
If only they could hear his voice…
If only he could hear their voices…
Then maybe they could still be saved.
Looking up, it appears that Lady Lucidia had left to read the writings in the other room. Anxious and impatient, he hollered to her, asking: “ARE YOU DONE YET?”
“Status: pending.” She responded from afar.
The tone of her voice had changed. More mechanical, robotic even. He recalled hearing this before when she used her Eyes to scan his vitals.
It bothered Papyrus. Was this also caused by what Lucidia called ‘Overburn’? He could only speculate.
When she returned, her Eyes has switched to double Purple. Wisps of their fire trailed past her hair.
She strode straight to the wall that talked about FUN. Her light burned even brighter there.
Then… she extinguished her Eyes. When she did so, Papyrus sensed his unease dissipate.
“Processing complete.” She said, “I can’t believe this. He… he might have cracked the code. Despite his madness, your brother still managed to crank out a plausible theory. If this is legitimate, we’ll have the biggest breakthrough of the century.”
“MORE THAN HIS WORMHOLE TELEPORTATION?”
“In terms of urgency, yes. If this is applicable, then…”
“THEN WHAT?”
“It could bring us certain victory. A method to defeat The Abomination.”
Finally, a spark of hope in this mad mayhem. As Mettaton had said: thank the stars!
“WOWIE! THAT’S AWESOME NEWS!!! LET’S GO TELL EVERYONE ABOUT IT!!!!!”
Except, she looked rather… apprehensive? Why would she respond this way to a solution?
“…Papyrus,” she said, “I must issue a warning. Again, you stand at the crossroads. You may have to make a cruel choice.”
“WHETHER OR NOT… WE KEEP THIS TIMELINE?”
“Accurate.”
As expected. There was a catch after all. When time-travel is involved, things may not always go their way. In that moment, he recalled that surreal dream with the vampiric butterfly.
The butterfly had asked:
“What is ‘justice’ to you?”
“What if by rewinding time to save one person, you condemn a hundred elsewhere? What if by saving one nation, you perpetuate the subjugation of another?”
If he was the wielder of The Keys of Fate… what would his final decision be?
Would others even come to agree with him?
Could he find the golden path without checking the answer-book of time?