"alright papyrus, see ya."
Sans turns away as he mumbled off his good-bye to his little brother, Undyne's fish-faced house fading away into the distance as he walks off with a barely noticeable amount of trepidation, if one cared to really look. But, who really did? Nobody really. The way he did things was not questioned in general, unless it was Papyrus, of course. But nobody listened to him either, so as he continued his 'leisurely' walk home, he felt free to finally ruminate on his most recent uptake. It made Sans rather uneasy. Normally, he wouldn't feel the need to watch out for Papyrus this much, but today, it felt right, somewhere deep inside. This is, for Sans, not remotely close to new – if anything, it is a familiar feeling.
As far as his conscience goes, Sans wasn't too keen on taking it seriously. He has learned the hard way that it is better to let it go unnoticed just like himself, even if it festers into behavior on the hard line of self-loathing, but were he to listen to it all the time, Sans knew that the pain would be far too much for the little life that flicks dimly within him, being held alight by the only one who keeps his hope brighter than he could ever imagine to conjure. Why this particular feeling felt stronger than all the rest was too much to ignore, so led by pure instinct, Sans chose to follow through with more precaution than what was warranted from him, which nearly amounted to the bare minimum. If it meant keeping his little brother safe and sound from the strife that he has come to get accustomed to – to his great and very secret chagrin – then he was willing to put in the effort. That is, for once in a blue moon. But always for him – he knew that would never change, in this universe or the next. He knew this much to be true.
Papyrus traipsed towards the door away from Sans. Nearly tripping into himself, he grasped the door handle, turning it excitedly to let himself kindly barge in. Before closing the door behind him, Papyrus turned as well, straightened up and grinned as he always does when his older brother decided to act the part, or at the least, when Sans decides to take part in the world around him, but especially whatever Papyrus wants to get up to. Sure, the world matters, but for Papyrus, being acknowledged at all is always the nicest feeling in the world. Being important and helpful always matters greatly, and if his older brother acknowledges it, even if Sans gives very little input, well, that will just have to do.
"WILL DO BROTHER! I'LL BRING YOU SOME OF MY HOME-COOKED SPAGHETTI WHEN I GET BACK!" The door slams, and Papyrus lets himself in, looking around as if the place is brand new to his eyes – that is, if he had eyes, and if he did, there would be a brilliant gleam to them as he looked on to his dear friend who resides here, even if he admits, it smells fishy. Fishy is perfectly fine by him. He looks on at Undyne. She was sitting haphazardly at her chair, her left elbow lazily set upon the table, as the palm of her hand is giving way off of her cheek, each passing second, her right arm dangling like a limp noodle. If she were truthful to herself, she was exhausted, letting out a breath as she dwelled deeper into her thoughts...
As soon as she felt Papyrus watching her with rapture, that unsurpassed enthusiasm infectious as always, she quickly did away with her sour pout, returning Papyrus's warmth with her sharp-toothed grin, hoping Papyrus did not notice her mood. The last thing she wanted was the incessant questions. Undyne stumbled out of her chair, her right foot caught on one of the chair legs. She admits as well that she was also starting to feel restless from waiting on the peculiar skeleton brothers' lengthy good-bye's. Undyne was not one to let her former feelings linger. She internally shook it off, and decided to let herself come back into the present. She has been looking forward to this, and with a similar enthusiasm that Papyrus was emitting, she began to instead feel like she was born ready for this very moment.
"So," Undyne began as she stumbled again, but this time with feigned purpose and took up a made-up ridiculous warrior's stance to get Papyrus focused on the reason for their meeting at her house. She straightened up her posture, her right foot no longer giving way to what would have been a rather nasty (and embarrassing) faceplant to the floor. "Are you ready for your warrior training, Papyru-"
"sounds good. i can't wheat to try it." Sans appeared out of thin air, right besides the lanky skeleton. Papyrus's excited grin fell, as his eyes narrowed at the sudden presence of his older brother's voice. Annoyed by the shortcut pranks yet again - and dedicated to catch his brother in the act - he spun wildly as he looked on all sides. Papyrus's eyes widened right back to where they were, expecting the sweetness of success, besting Sans at last! Because surely this time, this one time, he would get the satisfaction of catching him.
"OH MY GOD, SANS, ST-" Stunned at the lack of a short skeleton despite the voice, Papyrus realized today was not going to be the day. He looked around again, exasperated.
To no avail.
"AND HE'S GONE," Papyrus uttered dryly, utterly defeated, as Undyne looked on with amusement dancing in her eyes. She would never tired of this. How could she let herself be irritated with the interruption when it was so evident they enjoyed this game, or whatever it was? She walked towards Papyrus, giving him a friendly yet sharp, strong shove of her elbow into his ribs.
"You'll get him someday, Pap. C'mon, let's get started!"
And Papyrus, reminded of his lessons, let himself be the best him only he knew how to be. He grinned back, one arm raised, fist in the air triumphantly.
"YOU'RE RIGHT! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL ABSOLUTELY GET HIM! NOW, LET'S START! EN GUARDE!"
The murky cavern's cramped pools of water lift an unusually dense mist into the subterranean mire. With nowhere else to go, a heavily saturated moisture fills every room, every tiny crevice, with a fresh, waterlogged scent – it is dense enough to cause great discomfort to any living thing that dares to take a stroll this morning; a simple intake of breath is akin to drowning slowly. Of course, this does not apply to the undead monster that did not mind a stroll. Sans has to admit, his bones were starting to ache from the pressure, and visibility was rather poor, but he already knew his way and paid little mind. Glimmers from the lustrous mineral rocks on the damp walls are what lights the enclosed spaces of the darkest halls of the Underground. Sans is not one to deny the beauty of each twinkle from the ores, as if winking at him. They gave tiny glints of hope, for each twinkle is a star that is bound to be seen by every monster that leaves the Underground – someday, Sans thought wistfully. He dreams of that day, liked the feeling that spread all over his bones, confident it is not the dense mist closing in on his bones. Hope. That a trapped Underground resident would take notice of the similarities of the shining Waterfall rocks and the litany of stars in the envisioned night sky in his mind's eye with great delight, when he has not seen the stars for himself in this universe (what if they look different this time around anyway?), speaks of a stirring deep within his SOUL – a restlessness that will not quit, determined no matter the cost. Although this is not exactly a feeling he is completely okay with, at this peaceful place in time and space, he lets it be okay. And he lets the mild determination ease into his very bones. This is okay, for now. Let me have this moment.
As Sans continued to ruminate on another uncertain yet hopeful future, his footsteps slowed, interrupting his melancholy stroll, as he readied himself to take a shortcut. Expecting to be back in his room, the lazy skeleton had already closed his eyes, letting himself fall with arms in the air, ready to hug the messy ball of creased bed sheets on his lumpy mattress. Instead, he ended up bumping head first onto a hard surface, and suddenly clenched onto a hard, silver doorknob. Sans's left eye lit up for a second, then dissipated, rattled by the unforeseen circumstances. Rubbing his forehead after the hit he took, not aware enough of the dark door right in front of him at that instant, he swayed to his left, one of his slippers slightly askew as he did so. Sans shoved his hands back into his hoodie's pockets, thinking, head down, letting his eyes roam and take interest on the dark mauve gravel beneath him. He stirred the gravel with his right foot, his slipper messing with one of the bigger chunks. Oh c'mon! Sans' mind sharpened, tilting his head up to stare into the deep darkness around him.
Then it hit him all at once – the pressure from the mist had left his bones entirely. Fully alert now, he began to survey his surroundings, sweat beads gathering on his skull as he let himself inhale the dry air slowly, exhaling just as slowly as he sought to ground himself to his latest predicament before acting. It's a grotto. So, uh, still in Waterfall, Sans confirmed dumbly to himself, suddenly shaken even further by his innate intuition failing him. I know this place, right? Stop. Breathe, do not start now assuming the worst. His self-assurance was unfortunately doing little to alleviate his worries. Just look around some more... Sans, think! Use that thick skull of yours. What do you see...?
The tunnel to the left had a table with cheese crystallized by some sort of magical enchantment, while to the right stood his trusty prank telescope, and a heavy, wooden chest, near the entrance to an ancient passageway with runes in-scripted on the far wall – where the Nice Cream guy preferred to set up shop. With that, Sans was at a loss.
This is a clearly familiar place to me, so why...? He began to feel dazed, a bout of vertigo accompanying his confusion as he stumbled, arms suddenly flailing as if dancing himself back into balance, one foot forward trying to right himself, only to trip onto his left foot, falling headfirst into the ground. Welp, this is as dignified as it gets, Sans sighed, arms splayed out in front of his face, his body resigned to its position as his eyesight began to blur from the panic, his eyes not giving a single feeling away other than utter boredom, despite nobody being around to try to question why he found himself on the ground. Sans knew though this was far from boring – if anything, this was extraordinary.
Have I lost control of where I can go? Impossible. Probably possible. Perhaps... He let out a deep breath he had not realized he was holding, the stressful situation taking a toll already.
His chin resting on the hard gravel, Sans' eyes shifted his attention to the door in front of him with great curiosity. Why did it have to be now? What could he possibly want? Sans let his eyes wander to the ordinary doorknob, as he weighed his options. Do I need to do this now? Must I? Should I? I could just as easily walk away... Oh. He sees now, realizing the solution to this, one he was uncomfortable with, but it felt better to come to some sort of radical acceptance, despite himself feeling impending doom of an otherworldly kind. He couldn't put his mind exactly on it, but he could definitely feel it.
I'm not going to like this. Alright, time to get up, Sans commanded himself as he slowly lifted himself up from the ground, the gravel grinding against his hands and knees. As he regained his posture, he stretched his back, then his arms, bones cracking as he moved, letting his eyes close in relaxation, allowing his breathing to slow with the moment. Well, this is all the comfort I'll be allowed before I start anything labor-intensive anyway. As he finished stretching his tense neck with a final crack!, he looked back down at the front of his clothes. Sans noticed the fine gravel dust that his hoodie and shorts accumulated, and daintily brushed off the dirt off his blue hoodie and black shorts. "heh." Nothing about this is funny, but whatever, shrugged Sans. I'll allow myself this comfort, too, I guess.
Sans closed his eyes with resolve. A self-satisfied, falsely warm grin settled in as he began to turn his back, boldly stepping away from his newfound predicament – that dreaded door he bumped into when he just wanted to go home and wait for his little brother's spaghetti. He just wanted to curl up into his bed and take a nice nap. At this, Sans felt mildly agitated, his body tensing. Wow, he just likes to take and take from me. The slime that keeps on taking. Well, he can't take away my small comforts! Sans thought defiantly.
"this ain't my problem. not right now. how about it gaster? ya hear that?" Sans' words echoed out and reverberated into the ancient walls, speaking to the ethereal (but very real now) resident (or visitor?) that resides a few steps away from Sans – that stupid door! Sans kicked it in frustration, betraying his calm. His soft footsteps, shuffled yet muffled, ended up crushing the gravel beneath his pink, fluffy slippers, wearing away at the soles, as he raised his voice. "i am WALKING. AWAY." Sans straightened his back, giving himself a more foreboding posture; a promising threat, his voice issuing a warning, "did ya hear that? loud and clear enough for you, gaster? WALKING. AWAY. capiche?"
The promise of a threat accepted by the door's only occupant, Sans was teleported out of Waterfall, and into a pitch-black void, unable to see himself at first. The darkness swallowed everything. This was a space transcending time and space. Where was the ground? Where were the walls? Who cares? Wait, I kinda do, can't be floating around in nothing where I can't even see myself. Would he come up behind me? Of course he would, idiot. Don't let your guard down. Just be ready for whatever. I did provoke him afterall! Sans thought sardonically.
He continued to smile (really wish this wasn't just my default, but oh if only gaster could see what I really thought of him! the nerve of this... this! whatever this is, or it is!) despite his placement into the unknown. Sans closed his eyes, calmly focusing on his current location, opening them gradually into the black, still nothing within sight, except for a little progress – Sans was able to see himself again, from his hands to his slippers. Well, better keep convincing myself I am 'here' and not nowhere. After all, I exist, unlike this jerk. As he concentrated, delving deep into the darker corners of his mind, he couldn't help but emit a few chuckles. This situation seemed all too familiar to the dazed skeleton, his eye sockets half-asleep. "heh heh, you just couldn't let me walk away," Sans paused.
Then, his bright pupils disappeared behind his hollow eye-sockets, leaving only a dead stare.
Swiftly, he took his left hand out, grasping tightly onto the nearest life form he could detect with his SOUL, his concentration intensifying. In the midst of the surprise assault, the aura of his blue and yellow flickering left eye illuminated the darkness a little. That's when he saw him; the somber, shapeless specter, in all his pathetic, tragic 'splendor'. It had no resemblance to who it once was however long ago it may have been. One fact remained: it was no longer the revered, genius Royal Scientist prodigy. Finally, Sans thought triumphantly. I have you first this time around, his unforgiving grip holding on to Gaster's ethereal SOUL.
"so, you do, and can, exist after all. or rather, I made it so you COULD exist to ME for a moment, since you dragged me all the way out, or uh, in, here." Sans promptly pulled his left hand towards himself, thrusting the dark figure towards him with ruthless force. He then stopped the otherworldly stranger right as they met face-to-face.
Sans halted the gravitational pull, but not before forcefully flailing them aside. Sans pondered for a second as he saw the pitiful phantom-like monster clumsily drag himself to Sans' level, as if trying to make fierce eye-contact.
"wait a moment, you exist to ME? aw, isn't that sweet? i have an imaginary friend now! let's all have a nice shindig together. heya, i know just the thing. a little tea party! we can invite alphys, asgore, and the rest of your colleagues, and i can provide the food. oh but wait! what if i don't WANT TO?"
Gaster began to let out an uneven, ghastly laugh at the gall that Sans had to try and sabotage his intentions, trying to find – or will into existence – ground to lay on in the void. He was slipping away from Sans's mentally conjured foundation. As the malformed aberration attempted to speak, only static and high and low-pitched noises came out of the black hole that was his mouth. Sans's left eye lit up again, possessing Gaster's SOUL.
"ya know," Sans shrugged, his left hand lifted out of his pocket, "i can't help but be surprised that you STILL have a SOUL after all this time. you should be dead. you shouldn't be able to take me out of my life just so you can have a little fun with me, or whatever misguided attempts at anything your great mind has come up with. you are not supposed to exist, ya know that, right? i should be the last person to remind you of this fact," Sans said savagely, emphasizing the implication of Gaster's failing mind, something that Sans knew Gaster prided himself in – that is, in another lifetime or universe. Gaster wanted the power to modify something like a universe at will, too, Sans thought with utmost disgust.
"also," Sans brutally threw him to his right, huffing impatiently, "can't you just talk like a normal person? oh. right." Sans chuckled bitterly at Gaster, marching with a keen and dedicated glare towards him, kicking the miserable deformed creature in the face with his right foot. The sole of his slipper still had gravel stuck on the bottom from earlier, grinding into Gaster's malformed skull making a distorted sound of displeasure at the insulting gesture.
"heh. of course you can't. anyway," Sans turned him around with his foot to glare into each others' empty eye sockets.
Sans evoked a barrage of bones, aimed at the bizarre, apparition that dwells in the void. It let out an abnormal, terrifying moan, one that would paralyze a monster, the mind and SOUL incapable of processing such otherworldly sounds that do not belong in the plane of existence that everybody is tethered to. Not Sans; the short, bored skeleton was not fazed, nor would he let his guard down for a nanosecond. "here, have at it. they will probably miss like last time we had a little scuffle, but, whatever. unless you decide to want to actually exist like the rest of us normal monsters, then it will sort of hurt." With that, Sans unleashed the attack onto Gaster's SOUL. It avoided the first row of bones, but then...
"IAAAAUUUGHH!" The distortion from the voice echoed hauntingly into the void, the sound not fading away, lingering far longer than it should were this to be anywhere else that is not the middle of nowhere, the realm of nothing, the space in between all other spaces – dark matter took the noise and let it fester on Sans's body, his skull tingling from the horrible sensation of the discordant, painful echo. Sans shook his head, his mind and SOUL collaborating to not fall into despair.
"oh please, just shut up! what, did you REALLY expect me to treat you nicely? like we were going out for a picnic in this hellhole? like we were old friends? heh," Sans pulled his SOUL towards him, Sans' eyes darkening again. "go to hell. you are not the same Gaster I worked with. you are corrupted and forgot your own purpose. you are dead. you do not exist. you are nothing. do not mess in the affairs of the existing and the living!"
Sans launched him up into the airless space, Gaster being completely unaware of any sense of direction despite this being his eternal home. It didn't take long for momentum to take care of Gaster, causing him to fall faster into the depthless abyss, as it groaned incoherently, static and all sorts of ghastly disorganized noise emitting from him. Gaster had a truly deformed and agonized expression on his face. Sans' eyes reverted back to normal, as he took a step forward to go back home. This whole time that Sans was spending belittling him, reminding Gaster of hard truths that cannot be escaped – and throwing off Gaster around the aphotic landscape rather harshly, for good measure – Sans was in a deep state of focus in order to stay grounded in the void. Trying to will himself to exist in a realm of non-existence was anathema to all rules of nature. Yet here Sans was dragged against his will, not being able to set aside his self-disgust at something that was out of his control. Sans has worked so hard to not break the Home he has accustomed himself to with what little hope he had left.
Gaster, in the meanwhile, didn't have enough time to react to Sans' merciless and sudden assault. Whenever Gaster was flung across in different directions, all he could do was the bare minimum; land somewhere. Anywhere. The void is a place of non-existence. A location lost in space and time. It is nowhere. But I am here! I am existing, Gaster reminded himself, willing into existence anything to help him gain the upper hand. The floor. A rock. This was not happening, however, no matter how hard Gaster wished with all his SOUL, as Gaster unceremoniously floated uncontrollably with every wave of Sans' hands, flinging him and suggesting his every action with great willpower, like a conductor conducts his symphony. Thus, after being thrust upwards into the vacuum, he fell far below Sans' ground level before he could think of his next move.
With no time to waste, Gaster finally regained control. He grasped Sans' SOUL, bringing Sans down with him in the void. Sans' teleported out of his grip, only to be returned back into the void. And again. And again. Try as he may, Sans lost control of his shortcuts again. Sans was beginning to get some interest out of this dilemma, wanting to know yet not really know what has got Gaster so determined to say what he has to say. But Sans knew better, and if he didn't, he has accepted that that position in his line of thinking was perfectly okay in the grand scheme of things.
So, why couldn't Gaster be okay with it, too? Sans thought, although he dismissed the concern that he deemed also too dangerous to exist. Sans knew nothing about curiosity having ever killed a cat, but it definitely had the potential to kill him, and everybody he has grown to care for and love around him, too. His grin elated, as his left eye glowed fiercely into a swirl of neon yellow and blue the more curious he got – and livid, yes absolutely livid, because Sans thought it unfair that any body thought they had the right to manipulate fate, destiny, material things, or any one living thing that had a right to exist. The non-living and non-existent had no right to be overpowered by some megalomanic sense of righting the wrongs, experimenting with the different circumstances; it disgusted Sans to no end.
Sans aggressively grinned at Gaster from afar, their distance decreasing between each failed attempt at escaping. "why? can't you just stay dead? why do you feel the need to do this? i REALLY want to know now! actually, wait, DON'T!" Oh man, this is brutal. I have got to come up with a plan. Like, an actual long-term one this time!
I'll do it eventually, Sans concluded resolutely. The longer he waited, the less risk of a universal implosion, or worse, a devastating black hole of non-existence where everything goes to die, with no material to built anew. But he had a feeling his resolve was not going to hold this time around.
All of a sudden, the cimmerian monster finally took shape of Sans' formerly diseased colleague, W. D. Gaster. His pale face took a more shapely oval form, his complexion rough on the edges of his broad, tooth-less mouth, the same uneven cracks over his eye sockets, yet overall refined, like an opal - and a skeleton. He had a slender, towering body, with the rest of his bleak, disarrayed remnants becoming a great, broad cloak, loosely fitting around himself, as dark as the void he resides in.
"well, it's about time. you look a little less horrifying now. maybe a little less dead, too." Gaster yelled in a deathly calm, yet eerily discordant voice, with the same irregular language. "heya buddy? i got something to tell ya'." The former Royal Scientist paused, and moved closer, communicating unusually.
"i still can't understand. what you. are. SAYING! and now," Sans then gave an amused look. Not at Gaster, but at himself, thinking fondly about his innately loud younger brother, "i think i'm starting to sound like my little bro now. anyway, care to speak normal? maybe use sign language or something?" Gaster gave a resentful frown at the not-so-sleepy skeleton that continued to berate him. "make the effort for me? please? thanks. always knew i could count on ya." Now Gaster was really offended - his history contradicted this, and Sans knew it. Although Gaster struggled to speak like everybody else does, Gaster had comfort in having Sans' SOUL hostage, so peer pressure was definitely not part of the problem at this point. With a lot of effort, this time without the use of his hands, the language Sans spoke feeling so foreign and far-away yet familiar to him, taking a deep breath as Gaster started in a raspy, unused voice.
"I didn't take you to turn out like this so many years la-" Gaster was stopped late in his sentence by a fuming Sans, snapping back at him, still with the same carefree grin as always, although his eye sockets said otherwise - one was still glowing. "of course i'm not. but whenever you and i meet, it's YOU who is making these situations a real pain, when they shouldn't be. i prefer going back to my life. right now. oh yeah, my SOUL. i would like to have that back, please and thank you. and ya know I don't have to be polite for your sensibilities. i don't want you here. nobody wants you here. in fact... how can anybody want you when you don't exist?" Sans looked at him the same intimidating way as before Gaster transformed. It was not a pretty picture, and it only left Gaster with the option of keeping Sans trapped for a while longer in the hopes of calming Sans down, or rather, in the hopes that Sans might re-think his entire approach. Gaster felt so close this time around to accomplish what he wanted out of this world, but Sans was not making it easy. Gaster knew, however, deep inside in the little conscience he has left, that there were good reasons – very, very good reasons – for Sans to refuse Gaster's otherwordly wisdom. It was not meant to be. Was this highly risky? Yes, Gaster confirmed, but this is worth all our time. If only he could see like I see!
"You REALLY are a piece of work." Gaster sarcastically stated.
"likewise," Sans replied flatly. "lemme go?"
"Can you stop giving me the glowing eye of death first?"
"no," Sans said curtly, not backing down in the slightest.
"Care to at least back down a little bit? My simple wish is only to talk," Gaster said calmly, gathering all the patience he could muster to make this work. He just had to, if only for this moment, as he might not have this chance again. He felt the window of opportunity slipping away rapidly, faster than he dared to admit he could keep up with. This is much too close for his comfort. Sans knew cutting Gaster off from saying anything more was of the essence. This was a dangerous game they were both playing, but especially on the one who insisted on playing, this corrupt, stubborn apparition not ceasing his determination to say things of other worlds that posed a great danger to the stability of this precious world. Why can't he be satisfied with the way things are? This is the way of all things! Gaster knows this!
"heh, now you want to talk," Sans replied savagely, his contempt letting itself be clearly known, "after all the beatings i gave ya? no way."
Gaster winced at the sheer impetuousness and venom that his words dripped, feeling himself ever so slowly leaving the plane of existence that they have come to at standstill, at an impasse that does not seem to have any worthwhile resolution that is not fitting for himself. "You didn't exactly give me a chance to talk," Gaster uttered in a deathly whisper, as he continued on, looking for an opening in this dying conversation, "you snatched my SOUL as soon as I summoned you here. That's not a good first impressi-"
"this wasn't our first time meeting, wingdings," Sans snapped.
"DON'T call me that!" Gaster snapped back. "And fine. I concede. So it was NOT our first meeting, bu-"
"but nothing. don't you DARE say ANYTHING about any thing!" Sans interrupted, again, wishing hard to put a stop to this talk. Utter nonsense, DANGEROUS nonsense, Sans thought angrily. He would not stop giving Gaster the amplified glowing glare. Now his eye was leaving streaks of a rainbow of yellow and blue hues with every movement. Sans loathed Gaster for his selfishness – such deep animosity for him felt so out of character for himself if his standing in the world had anything to show for it. If time – and the world at large – has taught Sans anything, it would be that deep hatred was a waste of such valuable time, when he could just as easily stay in the present moment and treasure each minute as if it was his last. His intimidating, manic grin would not falter.
Gaster knew better than to let him go, unless he had a death wish. So what if I do anyway? Gaster thought. This is a fate so much worse than death, stuck traveling between universes far and wide, no end in sight. Gaster, more than anything, wanted – and none of this to Sans' knowledge – purpose and meaning. Unlike Sans, Gaster truly had nothing. Was it so wrong to seek to fix or forewarn of great danger? Or call out for anything that could help? And so what if it caused a minor rend? If everything broke? Gaster didn't think himself insane for this; just very desperate for connection of any kind. If anything went wrong, he could easily just hop on over to another world – one that potentially could accept Gaster's help.
"if you don't let me go right now, i will MAKE you let go. and you REALLY are not going to like what happens next," Sans threatened in a calm, deadly tone.
"OK then. Let me make things clear," Gaster sneered, desperate to get his say. "I am NOT letting go." Sans and Gaster continued to glare defiantly at each other, the short petulant skeleton being elevated by his SOUL to make him come into sharp eye-contact with the foreboding, tall skeletal monster.
"ok. don't say i didn't warn you."
As soon as he finished, Sans conjured a row of five maws, rallying behind him. He assembled three to be his defense. One floated on his right, and another on his left, in order to facilitate faster firing.
"EXCUSE ME!?" Gaster gaped, readying himself as he tried to snap out of his shock. It can't b-
This happened within the span on a second – Sans couldn't be more ready for this conversation to end. He teleported one last time out of Gaster's hold. As Gaster attempted to teleport him back to the voice, Sans was a millisecond faster than him, and took a shortcut behind him, throwing a few conjured bones at his skull.
"OW!" Gaster yelled out, rubbing at his skull to ease the pain. Sans struck him again with a hard blow across the chest, and Gaster felt the wind get knocked out of him. His arms pinwheeled as he tried to regain his balance, only to fall flat on his back, a loud THWAM! echoing through the empty black space as he was unable to propel himself back into a more dignified position, and a jolt of pain shot up his spine as Gaster cringed.
"numbskull," Sans spat.
"LET ME HELP YOU, DAMN IT!" Gaster shrieked, beside himself with frustration as his plans fell apart before him.
"WHY CAN'T I GET A SINGLE THING TO GO RIGHT!? DAMN THAT ACCIDENT! DAMN THIS WORLD!"
Gaster conjured out ten imposing Blasters with a wave of his hand, shooting relentlessly at Sans, who barely escaped the assault, singeing the hood of his jacket as he rolled, tumbled, and teleported out of each hot blast, none less fatal than the next. Fighting in the void made this a deal more difficult, as Sans struggled to re-orient himself to his sense of direction as to not accidentally run into any one of those blazes of destruction. The echoes of those shots that missed seemed to stretch into eternity, leaving throbbing pulses of energy and sound in the void that drove Sans' mind into disarray from the disarming vibrations tingling into his skull. Calm yourself down, Sans, this isn't over! Sans took steadying breaths, not letting the vertigo get the better of him as Gaster continued to shriek with anguish like a wounded animal, letting out all the stops in his great repertoire of attacks. Sans would never let himself slide into such megalomaniac tendencies – these weapons were for the ages, beyond his desires and capabilities, power which he could much do without. Some of the blasts from these nature-defying weapons managed to burn a corner of one of his slippers as he stumbled into the darkness, missing his foot by half an inch.
This could not go on much longer, if his SOUL had any say in it. Any more and the determination would surely kill him. Desperate to get back home to Papyrus, Sans rummaged mentally through battle tactics, settling for defensive. All Sans could come up with as he teleported out of more violent blasts from the most corrupted Blasters in this space of non-existence was to wait for an opening, any opening. Gaster was starting to look tired, back hunched and breathing become ragged from the shrieking and power erupting from his SOUL. It seems Gaster's last concern was falling apart completely from determination, which was a fate that Sans was ironically determined to not fall into. The trap that can corrupt a monster so badly that they are no longer themselves.
How Gaster didn't bother to gather his senses back into order to avoid agonizing disintegration was beyond Sans's realm of understanding, or rather he didn't want to empathize with the enemy – Sans felt the moment he did would be his last. At last, in his madness, Gaster only had to let his guard down for a second as he struggled to breathe, the earlier blow that Sans inflicted on him taking a toll on his weakened SOUL, giving Sans the perfect opportunity to fire his two nimble, vehement blasters at full power, as he waved an arm to conjure the bluntest bones and released the blistering heat towards Gaster, making sure to aim one small boomerang-like bone at Gaster's feet to stumble him. Sans did not want to afford Gaster the luxury of getting up to gather any poise. Gaster could not evade the bone-merang in time, stumbling backwards in the void as it hit the heel of his feet, hissing as his back arched backward and stayed floating in-place for two seconds, stunned from the low-blow as he struggled to put his mind to work, and was not spared the vicious attack. He wailed shrilly in agony as Gaster was scorched by the powerful blistering, white infernal blasts.
Sans then vanished again for good measure. With each second, the three blasters following him were charging bright, fervent beams at the back of their grand jaws, turning so hot and bright that they turned a radiant white-blue. This one was going to hurt. Sans then veered right in front of Gaster, who continued to wail like a tortured ghost, the fire blast burning into his body, smelling like burned bonemeal, floating helplessly as he writhed in agony, hands over his heavily blistered and blackened skull. Time seemed to stop for the both of them, although Gaster's battered face fell at the realization of what was going to happen next. There was a ringing in the background. If their hearts could beat, they would be hearing the hard thumping reverberate through their bodies. Their SOULS, they had to admit, felt like they were destabilizing to dangerous levels. Gaster stared in horror during that one millionth of a second behind Sans, face blank, now fully aware of the end of the battle.
"please, from now on... " A beat passed, until Sans gathered himself, wielding his words like a deadly venomous sword.
"stay out of our lives."
With those last words, Sans set his Gaster Blasters free, and teleported to a remote corner as to not be incinerated by the mass destruction. Firing at will, they released the most outrageous spectacle of a light show, the cacophony from the magnitude of the blasts so loud and distorted that the void became unstable, seeming to perpetually quake. Sans teleported back to Gaster's spot, landing nimbly on his feet, feet slightly parted to regain his poise in the void, as if he willed into existence some ground to stand on. He awaited Gaster's next move – assuming he lived – as Sans let the smoke settle, holding a breath to ease his aching SOUL from all the abuse it was taking from the savage power-play.
Gaster did live. But, he lost his other lifetime's form. Now he was back to the same pitiful blob that once was. Gaster was defeated. Yet, Sans did not feel the slightest bit sorry for him, and neither did he feel victorious. There is no glory in fighting that which does not exist. Sans did, however, feel the need to at least pay his respects to the better side of him; the one that built the CORE and helped monsterkind advance in science. Again. This time – out of how many times now? Sans dismissed the fleeting question to himself – Sans thought of being more cross with Gaster after thanking him.
"thank you for all your hard work, wingdings."
pSans paused, trying to think if he missed anything. Nope.
"bye. oh yeah, quick reminder. please stop existing. thanks. it's for everybody's own good. you should know better than that, if we have researched the same stuff. and do not try to reach me in another universe. you would only mess up everything. you are not needed or welcome anymore. it is high time that you have accepted your fate... just like everybody else. just... like me."
After Sans has said his piece, Gaster disintegrated and blanked out of existence. Sans, in his curiosity, swore he could see a mournful look on Gaster's fading face within the pathetic blob that settled in the middle of the vast darkness. His compliance was enough to confirm that Sans was in the right. Gaster was not needed here, and although he had a vague sense of familiarity with him, intuitively it felt so wrong for him to stay. Whatever he wanted to say to me will not be necessary. I can't have him here. None of us can have him here. Whatever use he had before at some point or another is gone. How dare he try to tear the fabric of existence for the sake of a few words. He knows nothing of this world and the importance of keeping it whole!
Sans already knew that another encounter was imminent regardless of the consequences – it was a matter of when. He didn't care enough to think any further as to how or why. For all he knew, Gaster would decide to never show up in this time and space again, and that was enough solace for him. After all the chaos – albeit if Sans were really to be honest with himself, it wasn't anywhere as bad as he thought it would be and resembled more of an unpleasant surprise – Sans finally got to take his shortcut back to his room. He closed his eyes, falling with raised arms, ready to hug the messy ball of creased bedsheets on his lumpy mattress. And this time, he didn't fall into any door.
"SANS! SANS!"
Welp, there's Papyrus. No doubt he must be excited to see Sans after practicing combat with Undyne. Better get that spaghetti. Sans muses that despite everything, things were going to be alright. No tear in the fabric of time and space. Nobody disappearing into nothing. No time traveling. No fixing events. Then his mind ceased upon remembering all that work he did on the inter-dimensional time machine.
So close to completion, yet... No. Everything must happen this way. This is the way of all things. So unnatural to mess with things beyond our comprehension. I can't... forget. I will not forget. I can't be tempted into that trap. Not again. Shoving a slight presence of Gaster in the deepest recesses of his mind, along with his deepest longing of a time since long past, Sans sat up on his bed and looked forward to dinner more than he had earlier.
He would not despair. Not as long as he had Papyrus with him. Sans thinks about how grounded in reality and all that truly matters really does just come down to simply spending time with his little brother. I am okay with the way things are. All thanks to him, even if he does not know it, Sans thought with great admiration. Papyrus is so much stronger than Sans could ever hope to be. So Sans indulges Papyrus, as he feels it is the least Sans could do for all that Papyrus has done for him. Including cooking dinner. He could eat it every night if that's all there was. Sans thought grimly that Gaster could learn a thing or two from Papyrus. He had to accept that a force of nature like Gaster could not possibly learn anything from a monster so emotionally connected to this plane of existence that Sans and Papyrus call Home. With a last fleeting thought, Sans almost felt...
"coming bro." Sans stepped off his messy bed, walking towards the door, closing it behind him, along with any lingering ruminations that wished him the deepest despair. Had he so little hope that he is not even safe from his own thoughts? Sans shoved that aside, too, as he looked down from upstairs from where he stood, arms on the railing, as Papyrus waved Sans on to the table with a plate full of red sauce and over-cooked noodles. And all felt good and right in the world.