Chapter Twenty Four: Sans Versus the World
His unseen stomach growled upon the scent reaching him. The Toriel impersonation, which claimed to hold no ill will at him for their encounter, had lifted a pie from their large basket. He stared at it through narrowed eye sockets. This was another trick; he knew it! Why else would a sudden hunger show up to vex him? That cinnamon smell held dark secrets he would not allow himself to fall victim to. He stood several feet from the group, analyzing their every action. His stomach growled once more, louder this time. The one they called "Frisk" beckoned with a smile.
He glared back, unwilling to reveal the rising panic in his heart. He battled his emotions with renewed purpose, quelling his natural instincts in favor of training and experience. The combination was of little use to him, however. Neither had succeeded in preparing him for this. Training could only go so far, and he'd never been in quite a situation.
It wasn't the first time he'd walked in another world. None of them had held this particular set of limitations. No world he'd visited prior ever housed beings that could render him utterly helpless. The most he could do under the fish's power was try to catch a spear and use it as protection, and he hadn't a clue how quickly they could fly through the air.
"OTHER SANS, COME AND JOIN US!"
He saw tiny traces of annoyance in the anomaly's expression, likely due to the slaying of virtual dragons.
"'m not hungry."
"BUT YOU HAVEN'T EATEN SINCE BREAKFAST, AND YOU HARDLY ATE THEN!"
He shrugged, averting his gaze.
"Are we gonna eat? I'm STARVING!"
"Patience, Undyne. We have not even finished setting up the table."
He watched them in the corner of his vision. The Undyne disturbed the air with an overly-dramatic groan. Frisk feigned weakness, collapsing onto the grass and telling the others to "go on without her", much to Toriel's exasperation. Papyrus held his awful spaghetti high above his head and waited for applause, whilst Alphys and Asgore struggled to organize things with their limited space. A strong gust of wind sent a plastic cup flying, which the lizard frantically pursued.
"Frisk, my child, why not go and play for a few minutes while we figure this out? Perhaps a game of Hide and Seek with Undyne?"
They perked up at this, immediately running off as each declared themselves the best at the game.
"Sans, go with them and make sure things do not get out of hand, please."
"Sure," he replied with a level of sarcasm. What was it exactly that she expected him to do?
He trailed along in the direction they had gone, scanning the environment for any sign of deceit. This world did well in hiding its true nature. He saw not a trace of distortion, no thread he pull to unravel this cheery illusion. The setup was so thorough that he had nearly believed it himself for a moment. That was just it, however: there was a lie in believe. It was surely a secret message placed in the word by its inventors to hint at the hidden dangers of the multiverse. He lost sight of Frisk as she threw herself up a tunnel slide. What powers did the creature hold in this world?
He sat on a bench and pretended to watch Undyne seek. His stomach growled. He whispered at the vile thing to shut up.
How was Papyrus doing, he wordlessly asked yet again. How was the real Papyrus doing, living with a dangerous entity she thought to be her brother? They didn't have the closest of relationships, in fact, they scarcely interacted outside of necessity. He was far too busy saving the world she lived in to learn about how she viewed it. How much was she aware of? Would she eventually realize the other "Sans" was an impostor? What would become of her if she did? A sudden thud; he clutched his chest, struggling for air. How was he to ensure her safety now? What could he do but wait for an escape route back to his world?
"Hello…. Do you mind…. If I…. Sit here…?"
He lowered his hand, attaining a grip on the edge of his seat with both. The stone scraped his fingers. He tightened his grip. All his training, all those years of honing his skills, and for what? To wind up so painfully useless, at the mercy of the beings he was meant to hunt? To sit and do nothing, awaiting some miracle that would never come? To hope for a happy end to this rather than making one happen?
"Oh no…. I'm sorry…. I didn't mean to bother you…."
"Move," he commanded, pushing past the weird "ghost".
If that's what'yer thinkin'…. Ya better stop thinkin' it! Ain't gonna happen!
There simply had to be another portal, one whose functionality didn't rely on magical rocks. He would find that portal, he decided, or die trying.
"I'm sorry…."
He paid no heed to the scents of the flowers. He couldn't have cared less for the wind or the sun. Such things were not special, and he nearly laughed at his own stupidity.
I admit, yer mind control's pretty strong, but it ain't no match fer me.
He followed the stone pathway to a gate at the far side of the park. He gave his surroundings a quick glance before making his departure. They couldn't kill him if they couldn't find him! He called himself a genius as the thought crossed his mind.
This world believed he would succumb to its will, did it? There was a lie in believe, and the anomaly could think as it wished. The reality would not change. He was a seasoned agent of the Anomalous Threats Task Force, and Agent Gaster refused to let these creatures choose the end of his tale. Things had been out of hand for much too long, a wrong he found himself Determined to make right.
No matter how many times his stomach begged for food.