CHAPTER 1:
[ It's Raining Somewhere ]
"The fact is that we have no way of knowing if the person who we think we are is at the core of our being. Are you a decent [girl] with the potential to someday become an evil monster, or are you an evil monster that thinks it's a decent [girl]?"
"Wouldn't I know which one I was?"
"Good God, no. The lies we tell other people are nothing to the lies we tell ourselves."
― Derek Landy, Death Bringer
Sans was never called in at convenient moments. He couldn't recall the last time he'd had time to just, you know, wake up at a comfortable two in the afternoon and drink his coffee in peace. Always at six in morning, when he'd only gotten home two hours prior and had just about that much sleep in his skeletal frame.
It was a constant that normally the skeleton could appreciate - after all, routine was just about his favorite thing in the world, besides greasy food, joke books, cheesy sitcoms and the convenience of ketchup packets. His phone ringing before dawn broke every morning like clockwork, though? No, to that, he'd just roll back into his greased sheets, back turned to the phone rested on the ground with its charger connected.
Ring. Ring. Ring. And the text notification came. Like clockwork, just as he prefered it. Sans rolled back over, picking it up and bringing it up to his face, squinting at the flip phone's low resolution text.
' Body found. 2831 CHARLES ST. Expecting you in an hour.'
A small sigh, and the device was dropped again as he briefly considered skipping out on the scene entirely. Papyrus was likely already out and surveying in his stead, and he was better in the aftermath of observation than the actual act of it. Not for lack of skill, but more for lack of motivation; someone'd have to wave a half dozen doughnuts in his face before it actually became a priority to do things efficiently at the crack of dawn. But he already knew he couldn't unless he wanted the wrath of a judgmental police department and partner weighing on him for the next week, and thus, hoisted himself straight out of bed and shuffled out the door of his room, avoiding the cluttered mess of paperwork and tools that made his carpeting near invisible.
When the short monster finally made his way into the cramped apartment kitchen they shared, he found the coffee pot already full and warm, along with an extremely detailed written note from his partner on the details of the scene. He didn't bother to check just yet, pouring out the cup as he stared out the window over their sink full of dirty dishes from the night prior, as the sounds of calm but steady plonks against glass pane acted as a secondary alarm clock.
Ah. Raining. Sans knew the note explained what he already knew.
Turning away from the window and leaning against the set of stacked, milk-stained bowls, he gazed out into their straight-shot of an entryway, noting for confirmation's sake that the larger set of coat, rain boots and umbrella were visibly missing from the usual cluttered arrangement. Papyrus tried his best to keep the majority of their belongings organized and separate, but Sans was just as unconsciously good at tossing things wherever he pleased that it made his systems entirely moot. The rest of the small apartment wasn't much better in appearance, but at the very least, it was livable, which was all they really needed it to be; you only had to be concerned about the cracking drywall and rowdy neighbors to your side if you actually were home through the majority of the day, which neither were.
He took his time with his drink, sipping away at it while sleepily shuffling back into his room for a change of clothing. Sans found it all laid out and folded on his desk that was buried in the furthest corner of his tiny room, as per usual; dress pants, leather shoes, clean shirt and tie, with another note placed on top.
[ CLEAN YOUR ROOM WHEN WE GET HOME. WE OWN A WASHER AND DRYER. I WILL INSTRUCT ON HOW TO OPERATE THEM IF NECESSARY. AGAIN. ]
The "again" was underlined very strategically and specifically, in that it was overly done in about three different pen colors with intense exclamation points off to the side. He could only chuckle and brush it aside as he left the now empty mug off to the side of the desk and began to grab at the freshly ironed clothes before snagging both the note and his phone in one hand, shoving them into his pocket as he exited again. The tie was merely tossed around the neck of the dress shirt's collar as he charged down the stairs, skipping every other step before sliding straight into home base - the front door, with feet just stopping short of the dirtied welcome mat placed right in front of it.
Blue trench coat snagged from its lower-placed hook and yanked on, with matching fedora plucked from a similar place, and he was off, forgetting to even both locking the door on his way out for his nice, damp stroll.
It hadn't taken the detective more than ten minutes to reach the address he'd been given through the text, knowing the area fairly well without need for navigational assistance. On the monster side of town, while everything was quite plainly in economic disrepair, it made for easy landmarks on just about every street corner; most monsters could tell you to get to places just by listing out the various abandoned businesses and sketchy alleys you'd pass by on the way. It was why most humans only visited if they had monster friends, or even more rare, monster relatives of some sort, and the ones that did live within that side of town were few and far between - no sense in staying somewhere so sketchy looking, when the rest of the humans you knew would likely avoid you just because of the neighbors you lived by.
When the yellow tape was in sight, there wasn't even a need for him to search his coat pockets for his badge, with an officer already waiting to escort him past the very small crowd of early morning onlookers that were managed by another two on the scene, taking notes in their tiny notebooks with stern expressions. He waved as he went passed, and they did so only briefly in return as a sign of acknowledgement.
"FINALLY! I WAS BEGINNING TO WONDER IF YOU'D SHOW UP AT ALL!"
Waiting beside the entrance of the Seven-Eleven esque shop was a rather tall, impatient-looking skeleton, tapping his foot against the wet concrete as the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the nearby alleyway, causing those present to only mildly flinch from the suddenness of it. Unsurprisingly, he was dressed similarly to the only other skeleton on the crime scene, with his clean slacks and shirt with prominent red tie. Overtop of it all, though, he was sporting a rather slick leather jacket, with umbrella folded away and slung of his shoulder.
" sorry, bro. i had to interrogate the bed again this morning. " A casual shrug as he stood beside him, nodding to the escort before watching him trail back to a nearby evidence collector. "I really think i'm close to cracking that whole serial sleeper case wide open. "
"SANS, THAT IS RIDICULOUS. " Papyrus huffed. " IF THE BED WERE THE CULPRIT, YOU WOULD KNOW! IT'S PRACTICALLY YOUR BEST FRIEND. "
" eh, you've got a point. wouldn't want to be searchin' on dead leads. i'll try the coffee pot tomorrow. "
"OH. HOW WAS IT? THE COFFEE? " Completely changing gears as the two walked into the stores entrance, careful not to push too harshly in the places the glass in them had shattered or chipped away like the rest of the vandalized exterior. "I TRIED A NEW SET OF THE OL' BEANS, SO I HOPE YOU WERE PROPERLY BEAN BOOZLED AT MY BARISTA SKILLS. SKILLS WITH A 'Z'. "
Sans snorted, stepping around the few broken pieces of glass on the floor and wiping off excess water from his shoulders. " not too shabby. i'd give it a solid eight outta ten, but i forgot to put the sugar in, so- oh, geez. "
The store was in no fit shape on its own; shelves were dismantled and laying in piles of useless metal bars and screws, and most of the vomit orange tiling was cracked or missing in some places. The displays, which were only hanging together from the vast amounts of duck-tape they'd been put together with years ago, had all been knocked over, their stale Twinkies and bags of generic chips scattered around the majority of the store. Right in the center of it all, though, were the stars of the scene, and only just recognizable as two expired human beings, drenched in pools of blood and mangled beyond proper recognition.
" got 'em identified yet? " Sans crouched down, pulling out a pair of plastic gloves from one of his pockets and slipping them over his phalanges.
Papyrus shook his head. " NOT YET, I'M AFRAID. THEIR SOULS ARE MISSING, SO-"
" -identification gonna be messy. " The skeleton sighed, giving the cheek of the closest victim a poke. " not sure why they've gotta make it so difficult. you'd think they'd get bored with it by now. "
"I AGREE THAT IT WOULD MAKE IT MARGINALLY EASIER, SANS, IF SERIAL KILLERS GOT BORED, BUT THAT WOULD DEFY THE PURPOSE OF BEING A DETECTIVE IN THE FIRST PLACE!" Cheerfully optimistic, Papyrus began his searches elsewhere within the disastrous displays, admiring the bits of unique graffiti as he found them.
Careful hands began to lift the arm of the nearest corpse, the short detective's hand pilfering through their pants pockets for any sort of additional evidence. " it'd be pretty early to call it, but given that i got soaked walking here- "
"WHICH YOU COULD HAVE AVOIDED, IF YOU'D WOKE UP ON TIME AND COME WITH ME!" Papyrus pointed out, picking up an old bag of trail mix with the skeletal equivalent of 'nose scrumpled'.
" uh-huh. but you get the picture then. " Sans glanced over briefly.
He nodded, back still faced away from his brother. "INDEED. GIVEN THE WEATHER, AND THAT THEIR SOULS ARE LONG GONE, THE PATTERN IS REASONABLY SIMILAR ENOUGH TO MAKE AN ASSUMPTION IN ADVANCE. THOUGH I STILL HAVE YET TO SPOT THE FLO-"
"like that one?"
Hands removed from the deceased to point out for his brother across the way, at a rather fresh-looking buttercup laid out on top of ia pile of fallen, expired merchandise, sticking out like a sore thumb as being one of the only fresh looking things that didn't smell of hard iron in the entire abandoned store floor. It was Sans who rose to get it, shuffling past the bodies and littered evidence to pluck it from its perch and twirl it around in his hands with scrutiny.
"...DO YOU STILL THINK IT'S-?"
Sans sighed. " i dunno. its their style, for sure, but… i recognize this pair. they were there. and i'd bet anything the last few were too, so killing off your own doesn't make much sense. not that i'd put it past them or anything. "
The other monster seemed to hesitate only for a moment before nodding, placing the old junk food back where he'd found it and walking past another display to kneel down beside the bodies on the opposite side of where Sans had been. He gave a small poke to the backside of the one wearing an actual coat, frowning. "THEY COULD ALL BE DEFECTORS?"
"nah. the group's been cold for years, and even if they were jumping back into activity, you don't really join that sort of group without your ideals figured out straight beforehand. " Sans turned to Papyrus and motioned to him. " can you toss me an evidence bag? "
"THEN WHAT KIND OF PERSON DOES THIS SORT OF THING, IF NOT THEM?" The bag was retrieved from his pockets and tossed across for a solid catch.
" the power hungry type, usually. they wouldn't be so open with it if they didn't want everyone to know. seems more like a show off move every time."
Sans dropped the flower into the bag, sealing it up and gently putting it inside his trench coat, taking another swinging gaze around the place before shrugging. "we should probably let the other guys in to get the bodies into the morgue. alphys'll probably already be waiting.
"THAT WOULD BE BECAUSE ALPHYS SETS AN ALARM CLOCK!"
"alright, alright, i got it, pap. set the alarms."
A small grumble. "IM BEING SERIOUS."
"i know, and i'm gonna set them this time." Gloves were removed, tossed into a nearby open garbage can by the doors as the two began to make their exit from the building. "I'll even start up one of those, uh, spa routine things the cops in the break room've been trying out if you wa-"
From behind them just then, though, a set of metal displays squeaked.
The brothers paused with hands above the door handles, gazing at one another before turning their heads in sync towards the source of the noise. Within three seconds of mutual silence, Papyrus was the one to break it, speaking in as loud a whisper as physically possible as his eyes darted between the dismantled mess and his partner. "A RODENT?"
"...maybe." Sans held out a hand, and found a tiny flashlight in it near instantly. He flicked the on switch for it, edging forward and aiming it towards the nearest set of broken shelves. Papyrus hung behind, hand raised with the distinct vibration of magic hanging in the air with a motion for the police officers watching from their loitering positions outside to stay where they were for the moment.
Finding nothing behind the first set, Sans continued forward, stepping over the bodies to get to the most disgraceful of the trash piles in the place, aiming the light towards the back of it. "...come on out with your hands up, pal, and make it slow-"
Like a bolt of lightning, the pile seemed to almost explode as bits and pieces were thrown from the sudden momentum of what'd been hiding beneath it, clattering and smashing into anything solid as a tiny figure tried to dart past them for the door, nearly taking the detective out in the process. Dazed and spun onto the floor, however, it didn't take him very long to realize that Papyrus has done the deed for him, spotting the SOUL of whatever he'd caught on the ground with the figure themselves, pinned by the weight of gravity manipulation.
Getting back to his feet and dusting off himself, though, the tiny dots in his sockets froze as the remainder of the figure was spotted, and Papyrus seemed just as surprised, mouth hung open in a perpetual state of being unsure what to even do with it beyond opening in shutting it over and over, gaze darting between human and skeleton.
"SANS, I… THINK I CAUGHT THEM?" Questioning it himself, even, waiting for proper instruction from just about anyone else. Sans, though, was far too busy simply staring down at his catch, flashlight dropped and allowed to roll away into a set of bolts and metal pipes.
Papyrus had caught a human. A very tiny, quivering human, covered head to toe in red.