Sans teleported from rooftop to rooftop, burning his Eye for anything that looked out of place.
Where is the jammer?
How are they doing it?
What does it look like?
I need clues. I need answers. And I need them fast.
He spotted a communications station up ahead. If the town was shut down by coordinated vandalism, it should show signs of physical damage.
Could the enemy have another Red on their side?
No. But, they once had a Red. Things like these just require a little forward thinking to plan out.
Been there, done that.
Sans executed another teleport, but this time he was hit by a sudden, incredible bout of sickness. His remaining hand reached out for the nearest vertical surface. Birch, so his Seer’s Eye indicated.
Then he started vomiting. Hard. It kept going, and going, and going, even though his stomach was long emptied.
No. Not now. Please, not now.
A familiar man’s voice said: “Hey, we have meds over there. You look like you need them.”
Whoever approached him didn’t make the mistake of getting within arm’s range while he’s in this vulnerable state. If they happened to touch him by surprise, that unfortunate bystander might have gotten hit by more than a mere defensive smack.
Standing in the rain was the elder detective, Edmund Moriarty.
“…Hope it ain’t just pills,” Sans replied. “‘Cause I don’t think I could keep them down.”
“We’ll find out when we get to the mobile base.” Edmund added, “Bet nobody else knows you’ve been hiding the side effects of going under.”
“Heh… that sounds like experience speaking.”
Edmund flashed a sad smirk. “I’ve heard my nephew’s stories from time to time.”
The puking resumed in great pain.
Seeing that Sans couldn’t even reach out, Edmund decided to take the first step. He went over to the skeleton and offered his hand. “Let me help you.”
“Much appreciated.”
Together, they walked slow and steady. Edmund led him to what he called a ‘mobile base’. It was a big blue van with the police’s emblem.
“Hey…” said Sans, “I-- urk.”
The threat of another bout of ‘Barfinglovania’ prevented him from saying what he wanted.
“Take it easy there,” said the detective. “Don’t talk more than you need to.”
…I… I guess thanking Edmund for the pendant will have to wait.
Edmund guided Sans to the back end. From this angle, he could see that the insides had been modified to house all kinds of technical equipment for all kinds of purposes. Surveillance, analysis, and communications were the most likely choices.
Victor worked on a laptop. Noticing his boss’ presence and the person he brought in, he put the computer away with a concerned frown. “He looks worse than I thought.”
“It’s the anesthesia. Man couldn’t stop ejecting his non-existent guts. Good thing Roger assigned a Magus medic with us.”
While the rest of the crew continued their work, a woman attended to Sans. She had him sit at the edge of the van while she listened to Edmund’s explanation. Once that was done, she pasted a scroll of Green and Cyan Magic on Sans’ forehead like a fever pad. It immediately soothed his senses, although he wouldn’t call it a hundred-percent recovery just yet.
The medic asked, “How are you feeling now?”
“A lot better. Thanks lady.”
Through the routine of her training, she reached out for her kit. However, after looking at her patient, the medic began to have second thoughts.
“…How do I administer drugs to a magical skeleton? What’s the safe dosage?”
“Uh…” Sans pondered for a moment. “Good question. I know the injection point, but not the dosage. Lady Lucidia is probably the only person in town certified to treat my kind. So. Just stick to magic for now.”
“In that case, please rest as much as possible. We’ll take you to her soon.”
But could he rest at all? Waiting to recover meant losing precious seconds. Then again, being sick was synonymous with being useless.
While he contemplated, he overheard a report from one of the policemen. “Drone #4 has completed its rounds, sir.”
Looking up towards the rainy sky, Sans spotted the aforementioned flying machine hovering in the air. A spiral-shaped Mark glowed beneath it.
That’s probably Lucas Fennel’s Mark. I know he’s working on Frisk’s side.
A spiral. Looks like a cosmic type. Anything with that symbol seems to have its own sense of gravity, like a planet orbiting in space.
I see now. That Mark would give the activated drone a path set by his will. Saves a lot of battery too. They already have means to scout the whole town, with or without any technological hiccups.
The drone landed on the ground and a policeman picked it up. Then, he took it to the back of the van and started processing the data that the drone recorded. Victor kept an eye on the visual cameras, while the other crew analyzed the numbers.
“Anything?” one asked.
“Nope,” the other replied, “This spot isn’t the source of the jamming either.”
Leaning over Victor’s shoulder, Edmund asked: “What about your end? Any physical damage?”
Victor frowned. “No. I don’t see any signs of forced entry on the facility itself. However, look here in the distance. I think there are some people trying to repair another comm site. The rain is preventing me from getting clear visuals, though.”
The mentions caught Sans’ attention. “Let me see it.”
The human passed the laptop to Sans and showed the exact moment. In the midst of the light fog and blur, he could recognize monsters wearing fluorescent safety vests attempting to repair a nearby station.
…Asgore must have sent them there. Hmm. If the stations aren’t all broken into… Then…
Sans concluded: “There’s no point checking out any of the towers. There are redundancies built into the system. That way, if one goes out of order, the rest will pick up the slack.”
Edmund rubbed his chin. “That’s just like the ones we have in our own cities.”
“Since you couldn’t find signs of forced entry, I think we’re dealing with an active jammer that blocks out a whole radius. Something big enough to cover the whole of Ebott Town. All we need to do is draw a giant circle and find the centerpoint. That’s probably where the source is hidden.”
“Sounds like we’ll need Roger’s main map back at the Command tent. We’ll drop you off at the Lab for treatment. It’s along the way.”
…I would be stuck in bed for the rest of the day if Lil’ Miss Lucy sees me like this.
“No. Don’t take me to Lucy yet. There’s something bigger on the horizon. I know it.”
“Why so?”
“Wasn’t there a hotshot who tried to ‘rescue’ the Commissioner? Rang in between 11:30 and 11:40? Imagine what’s gonna happen if the boss didn’t straighten them out.”
The elder detective began muttering a bunch of colourful frustrations under his breath. No cursing, but definitely fanciful.
Edmund concluded, “Roger is in deep, deep trouble then. We’ve already passed that timeframe.”
“Then all the more why I can’t get stuck in bed yet. We gotta apply some map math fast. It’s game over if those so-called ‘rescuers’ take the cop boss away.”
Crossing his arms in a stern manner, the detective said: “You’re not getting yourself into any combat situations, I hope.”
Sans stared back at Edmund with widened eyes. He was so focused on his ongoing mission, the consideration of completely removing himself from combat didn’t even cross his mind.
The recent scenarios had drifted further and further away from the hands-off approach he took for Frisk’s Undertale adventure. They’re more complicated. Cunning. Urgent. Dangerous. Yet ever so nebulous. It became expected that he had to intervene.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
And yet… he’s now being asked to stay out of the fight. Be lazy once more, all for his own health’s sake.
This Determined Sans would have insisted on fighting. But… if I lose any more of myself --- figuratively and literally -- Papyrus would be sad.
And so, he agreed to the conditions. “Alright. I’ll stick to math. And math only. Once I’m done, take me to Lucy. No objections.”
The agreement made the human smile back in relief. “Alright, Mister Sans. Do what you need to do then. We’ll help. ”
“Hang on,” he said, “I have a favour to ask everyone here. Please keep my involvement a secret. For most folks, I’m just the local funnyman who got caught in the crossfire. Nobody important. I want to maintain my cover for as long as I can. ‘Forever’ would be the ideal.”
“Ahuh,” Edmund nodded. “All we did was to pick up a sick fellow from the wayside.”
The agreement echoed throughout the rest of the crew. Just like that, they’ve come to a common understanding.
* * *
Meanwhile, in the Town Hall, The Dreemurrs contended with a different type of battle.
Queen Toriel was delighted when she first met her long-lost relative. He was an impeccable lad, more so in his formal suit. But then, the meeting table brought out a whole other side of him.
Ah… I thought Lady Lucidia’s demands were steep. Here I am, dealing with worse ones.
At the end of the long explanation, Ralsei concluded: “…And so, Lemuria invites you to add your current territory under our banner.”
“If we do so…” said Toriel, “Then The Dreemurr Nation would become nothing but a vassal state.”
The prince smiled awkwardly. “M-my, my. That’s a bit harsh isn’t it? But… I can’t deny that. Functionally, you would be correct.”
Toriel questioned. “Is there a reason why we could not retain independence? The Kings and Queens of Lemuria still have their crowns, do they not? The Dreemurr Nation is of equal standing to Lemuria. I would even dare say that we have greater authority on the grounds that we have never abandoned our land. Ownership of Mount Ebott belonged to King Asgore’s lineage since the founding of the kingdom.”
“That is also true,” replied Ralsei. “By the standards of history, your nation is indeed older than all three islands combined. Unfortunately, the Dreemurr Nation currently lacks the diplomatic standing to retain independent governance. None of the current world rulers know anything about you, and therefore no one is willing to give you their trust.”
“Besides,” he added, “With Doctor Gaster’s latest proclamations, your ability to rule is heavily questioned. Nobody is keen to repeat the tragedy of Mu.”
Asgore said, “We have heard about what happened to Mu, though it was only the end result. We were not privy to the circumstances leading up to it. Perhaps you could enlighten us, Prince Ralsei?”
“To summarize, Mu experienced a time of great wealth and power, but woefully lacking in wisdom. Key decisions and finances were handed to the wrong people. This allowed corruption to spread faster and deeper than anyone could comprehend.”
Toriel felt a little mocked by that comparison. “Is this risk not inherent to all kingdoms since the dawn of creation? I do not see why we are the exception.”
“After all,” she added, “Has humanity not committed much, much worse over the years? As a teacher, I am required to update myself in many subjects. History is one of them. Countless monarchs commanded the deaths of millions through war and oppression. Yet, they still refused to step down. My husband is a saint compared to them.”
Oh by the stars, did I really just call Asgore ‘my husband’ again?
Ralsei shook his head. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, my dear distant aunt. Because of such atrocities, humanity revolted against their monarchs time and time again. It’s always a messy affair, and I don’t wish your nation to suffer the same. Hence, my proposal for a peaceful integration with the greater monster community.”
The prince nodded towards Sir Berdly. In response, the bird placed down a dossier in front of Ralsei. In turn, the young goat monster pushed it forward to the Queen and King of Ebott.
“Should you choose to accept my offer, you will receive much needed assistance. The full details are in the file, but I will summarize some of the perks.”
“First and foremost, a bolstering of legal defenses. I believe you have met Zakari and Sir Latinoros as Juror for Frisk Wanderstar’s Trial of the Crimson Hall. They’re the criminal and family lawyer respectively. Zakari’s firm would help defend King Asgore and the others against unjustly perceived crimes. Meanwhile, Sir Latinoros’ firm will ensure that no monster will ever be separated from their families. Oh, naturally other lawyers can help you in other fields, such as property ownership.”
The Queen remembered hearing from Mezil that without the Magi’s intervention, the humans might have forced their town to disband, reshuffling everyone into human-owned settlements.
“Secondly, an update to health infrastructure. I’ve heard that your medical facilities are far behind modern standards. I -- Prince Ralsei -- will personally train a new generation of nurses to assist the future doctors. The Magus Association themselves will help you install any new infrastructure required to keep any human migrants healthy as well.”
“And the most important of all, trade. You will receive the bounties of the ocean, from fishing products, to magitek, to deep-sea mining. And in turn, you get to sell the bounties of the land, such as crops, imports of the human world, and other land-specific resources. A healthy economy is vital to maintain a strong country.”
With the sunniest of smiles, Ralsei concluded: “You have much more to gain than to lose by giving up your crown. Don’t you think so?”
“Prince Ralsei,” said Toriel, “That is too soon for us to decide. The devil is in the details, as people say. I cannot ascertain if the offer is fair or unfair until further study is conducted.”
The young prince seemed relieved. “Also a very fair point. To be honest, I would be worried if either of you agreed to my clauses too quickly. Should we consider a break for the time being? You will need time to read the file I gave you.”
“Thank you very much for the consideration.”
This child certainly knows how to make a deal sound irresistible. He must have inherited my family’s political cunning. No wonder Judge Thyme warned us so strongly.
We must remain vigilant.
* * *
Work resumed when Sans arrived at Command.
The Magi had supplied the police with fifteen surveillance drones, each with their own preset path. Their original purpose was one of simple economics, but now, they were the only bunch of wireless electronics that still functioned.
Sans requested to launch the rest of the drones from the tent. He needed to know the maximum range of the jamming, and whether or not it completely covered town. The sooner they got the necessary data, the better.
Meanwhile, Edmund and Victor helped Sans apply the data they had already received from drone #2, #4, #5, and #9. Those were chosen because their paths flew near the communication stations.
Pen marks and highlighter ink started to fill out Roger’s giant paper map of the town.
Nothing out of the ordinary so far. It further proves my point that the stations themselves are fine.
Sans glanced at Victor and commented: “I noticed that you’re great with maps. Especially applying 3D to 2D and vice versa. Bet you’re hired because of that.”
“You’re right,” Victor replied with a slight smile. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. The boss is better when it comes to the actual detective work though.”
Edmund said, “I put together the clues and Vic charts the path. Been telling him that he could go further, but he insists on sticking by my side. Imagine the salary hike if he joins some Observer division.”
Victor chuckled, “I like working with you, Ed. Besides, this is the best way I can repay Seonbae. I get to watch out for his uncle and help him at the same time.”
Sans then said, “Connections above cash, huh? Same goes for me.”
“Enough about us,” said the senior detective. “How about you? Holding up fine?”
“Sorta,” the skeleton replied. “Not as fresh as before, but I still can work. The kind medic provided this little doodad right here.” Sans then tapped the edge of his barf bag with the end of his pen.
I think now is the best time. With this much chaos, I don’t want to delay it any further.
Sans put his pen down for a moment to show Edmund the cross pendant. “Heard from the grapevine that you’re the one who gave this to me. Thank you, really.”
“Aha,” The detective smiled. “No problem. Have plenty of these back at home. My wife gets one whenever I go on a Magus mission, believing that it’ll protect me. Thought maybe it would work for you too. So, did it?”
“Maybe. At the very least, it serves as a reminder of why I’m still alive.”
“I’ve heard bits and pieces of your story.”
Sans froze for a moment. Then, he resumed his work. “How much?”
“Enough to know what kinda guy you are,” Edmund replied. “A desperate man taking desperate measures for everyone’s sake, all by himself.”
“Heh. Whatever happened to the ‘lazy, depressed jokester’? I put a lot of effort into cultivating that impression.”
“For your own health, you’d do well to balance those two sides of the same coin.”
“Welp. If you say so.”
More drones had completed their rounds, and their data too got processed. On Drone #11, the recordings revealed a breakthrough: buses, vans, cars, and motorbikes entering town uninterrupted, all human-owned.
Victor cross-referenced the camera feed with the layout of the map. “They’re coming from the south and south-eastern sides of town. I don’t see any security personnel there. No police, no Royal Guard, no Magi either.”
“That worries me,” said Sans, “It seems that resources were pushed northwards. Do we have any footage of the three designated protest spots?”
Drone #1 flew over Point Alpha. Outsiders had started to pour in from there too, making Point Alpha more and more chaotic.
Drone #7 showed Point Beta. The reporters and journalists there were in great distress about their own lack of signal. Meanwhile, Mettaton’s crew worked overtime trying to fix a problem that they couldn’t ever solve.
Drone #8 had returned from Point Gamma, which had started to grow congested with even more protesters. At least nobody tried to burn anything anymore. Frisk and Grillby managed to hold the line, but the risk of a stampede continued to increase.
Drone #10. Roger’s blockade prevented the pro-magic humans from crossing past. That place was also crowded from the influx of new people.
The communication blackout is preventing troops from patching the holes.
I see… the enemy wants the human crowd to build up. It doesn’t matter whose side they’re on. They just want to pressure the existing law enforcers. Furthermore, any little accident will become propaganda fuel against the nation.
Then, one of the police analyzers announced: “Drone #12, #13, and #15 detected wireless signals!”
Jackpot. That was what Sans was hoping for. Those little flying machines had crossed the border of the jamming radius. In other words, he’ll soon know the full diameter, and with that the centerpoint of the whole problem.
Footage, analyzed.
Distance, measured.
Position, calculating.
Sans wiped the sweat off his skull. It’s getting tempting to use the bag, but he’s holding on with sheer determination.
After hashing out the math, a giant circle was drawn. And the centerpoint lay square on Point Beta: the library.
Everyone stared at the result in disbelief for one whole second. Just one. Then the tent went abuzz with people re-examining Point Beta’s footage, combing it for even the tiniest clue.
Sans joined their efforts despite his declining health. He scanned every face captured on that camera.
I think I saw someone familiar there. Not the good kind either. That fellow… is bad news.
Then, he spotted one male reporter from the crowd. That person was way too calm compared to his neighbouring peers.
An almost forgotten memory flashed by. When Papyrus tested the Chronoviewer, they checked the vandalism incident at Mettaton’s studio. There was a reporter who tried to bait the glambot into saying something offensive on live broadcast.
“Stop!” Sans yelled out. “That guy. I recognize him.”
Pointing at the suspicious reporter, he elaborated: “This man is a member of Gungnir. He tried to mess with Mettaton before.”
“Sure?” asked Edmund.
“A hundred percent sure. I’m gonna go intercept him before he does anything.”
Forget about self-preservation. If anything happens, his people won’t have a home anymore.
Sans prepared himself for a teleport, but he felt Edmund place a firm grip on his shoulder.
“Hey,” said the detective, “Remember our agreement. Let us humans deal with our own bad apples.”
No reply. After all, they were in trouble because humans have failed them at every turn.
“Mister Sans. I don’t know what you’ve seen… but one thing is for sure, we’re here to help you.”
Edmund squeezed his grip a bit tighter, for emphasis. “I’m here to help you.”
“…What can you do?” asked Sans, “For real. I need to know.”
“I’m a private investigator with decades of experience under my belt. I specialize in magical matters on top of that. Tracking that dude down? Standard stuff.”
“So… You would be doing everything I’d do.”
“Will that suffice?”
After weighing the options, Sans relaxed a little. “Yup, I guess I’ll trust you for now. But, if things get outta hand… Welp. No promises.”
“Good. Now leave it to us. We’ll be back in a jiffy. Then we’ll go see Lady Lucidia.”
Sans watched Edmund’s group jump into the mobile base and drive off to Point Beta. Though he let them be the heroes, he struggled with a deep sense of unease.
Clutching the pendant, he clung on the hope that his trust was not in vain.