Aaaaaand we're back!

After about a year's absence, I figured it was about time to give the whole writing thing another go.

So, a quick disclaimer; I don't know whether or not there already exists a CrimeTale AU of Undertale, though given the amount and variety I've seen I wouldn't be surprised if one does. That said, this story is not based on any existing AU.

Also, previous readers might remember the... extended period of time in between chapters getting realized, something something laziness something something work something something.

Well, I'm glad to announce I've been working on this story for a while now, and while I haven't written it to completion, I do have a few chapters ready to go. The plan is that I'll try and aim for a new chapter each Friday.

With that out of the way, I hope you're ready and willing to join us on a seedy crime drama of power and betrayal in the seedy underbelly of the Free City of Ebott!

DISCLAIMER: Undertale and all characters are the property of Toby Fox


This world is one of endless possibilities, for those with the strength, determination, wit and will to seize them.

Kill or be killed.

Sink or swim.

Be free or be ruled.

Steal or get stolen.

This world is like one giant smorgasbord of wealth, opportunity, and power for those with the means to take it. For some, this is unacceptable, gathering into communities, building cities, and forming laws with which regulate their lives after, the puppets never realizing the strings they have put on themselves, or who they have handed them to, trading their freedom for security bit by bit.

Yet, the world still brims with those choosing to live life according to their own rules, as well as those who would follow them. Powerful souls leading the way to a new paradise or ruination, whatever comes first.

One of these was the legendary Don, Asgore Dreemurr, The Grandest Thief alive, so-called for his ability to paw whatever he desired despite his prodigious and conspicuous size, but also for the grandness of his soul and charisma, brilliant enough to gather a mob of thousands of monsters and humans behind him. While those outside his gang might decry the great monster as nothing more than an over-glorified mob boss, those within it would often agree; 'Yes, but for the best cause imaginable'.

For while Asgore's mob would look very much like a motley gang of thieves, larcenists, and scammers, laws still applied to them, enforced by Asgore's iron paw, but softened by tenets that united; 'There is no greater virtue than caring for friends and family. There is no greater crime than not doing your utmost to do so'. For these, Asgore's mob, doing their utmost was what others would consider criminal. Some, like the Don himself, had never known another lifestyle, while others had fallen into it with time, discovering and realizing questionable but useful talents.

When Asgore's gang had at length grown too large to keep organized on the move, the roving mob settled into a small city, nestled beneath Mt. Ebott, rich in gold and minerals, in a region contested by many neighboring states and kingdoms, all with equally flimsy claims and all equally furious at the boldness of the great Don that they themselves had lacked. Several times, the neighboring countries had tried to evict the mob, through force of law, but Asgore's spies, thieves, and blackmailers ensured that the Don had more than enough dirt and ammunition to bury each of them in scandal should they make a move.

It was said by some, that despite all the riches and artifacts The Grandest Thief alive had pilfered and purloined over his long career, it was the thousands of followers willing to share in his dream that were his greatest prize ever.

Thus, Ebott had flourished for years, a city of thieves but also a city of freedom, somehow managing to stay more idyllic and peaceful than more lawful cities – ensured by the rulership of the Kingpin and Queenpin of Crime, Asgore, and Toriel, espousing the idea of 'Honor amongst Thieves' in full effect.

But even so, not all within Asgore's mob share the sentiment.


One warm summer night, just off the usually packed beaches of Ebott a creaking ship dropped anchor. A sizeable 2-master, with a rudder magically enchanted to sail at top speed in any weather and climate, and with sails showing the symbol of a Froggit's head above a set of crossed sabers.

The rapacious pirates of the Foulfroggit Freebooters had come to Ebott.

A shortish figure made his way across the deck. Amidst the gaps in the jacket and pants of an 18th century naval officer entirely too large for the wearer, one could see hints of the cephalopod monster underneath it all; the tips of tentacles could be just barely seen reaching out of the sleeves and wet, glowing yellow eyes shone from beneath the brim of the tricorne hat.

The infamous Captain Keelhaul.

The squid captain rounded on one of his crewmen crouched over a poor unfortunate tied to a chair, his hands at work on a devious deed on the captive's face.

"Arr, that be some mighty fine work, mister Wobbles" Keelhaul said in a voice as deep and wet as the ocean itself.

"Why, thank you – I mean, thank ye, capt'n!" the crewman beamed back with pride.

"Arr… but it be not what I meant when I said 'give the captive a lashing'!" Keelhaul snapped, slapping a tentacle towards the prisoner in the chair, wide-eyed in amazement at the luscious eye-lashes the crewman had spent the past hour giving her.

"Bu-but boss! – I mean, capt'n! I-I thought-"

"Thought what!? That ye would turn our little nest egg into some fey waif!? We be supposed to ransom 'er, not put her through a fancy cruise thru' the seven seas!"

"But… I spent so long on it…" the crewman sulked. Despite his misgivings, Keelhaul had to admit the makeup was well done. Even with the captive's look of disbelief, each blink of her eyes looked incredibly bashful… which only served to infuriate him even more.

"I don't care how long ye spent on this malarkey, ye bilge-brained fleabag! I wouldn't tell ye 'good work' if ye built a fort worthy of a king when I asked ye to make a secret hideaway either, scallywag!"

"Wow, you guys aren't just a bunch of clowns, you're the whole circus" the captive in the chair suddenly butted in with a dismissive chuckle. "Just you wait till the Don hears of this. He doesn't take too kindly to kidnapping and ransoming on his turf"

Keelhaul turned away, each appendage of his tentacle-beard quivering with pent-up frustration.

"By thunder… even a bound'n'tied landlubber be makin' fun'o us now…" he seethed, stomping over to the railing to look down on the main deck where the rest of the Foulfroggit Freebotters were looking up, scared stiff at the anger of their diminutive, but no less dreaded captain.

"Every blasted day it be another thing with ye worthless lot. I tell ye to sweep the poop deck, you go and clean only the toilet seats. I tell ye to use grape-shot on the cannons and ye go and stuff all the fruit down our smoothbores! I tell ye to stock up on supplies and ye go and get a hold-full of rum only! What did ye think we'd be eating on the way; rum soup with a side of rum washed down with rum with rum for dessert!?"

The crew muttered in collective embarrassment, pulling their shoulders and kicking their feet. One red-faced individual stepped forward, paws wringing in trepidation "but Captain, all this pirate lingo and fancy words, uhh, well, they don't all make a whole lot of sense to some of us, I mean, what the heck is 'grape-shot' anyway?"

"Y-yeah, like, I don't get portside or starboard either, I mean, can barely remember what's up and down most of the time!" Another one chimed in.

"And why does the water out on the ocean taste so salty? You can't drink that stuff, even if you cocktailed it with rum! What gives!?"

Captain Keelhaul ran a soggy tentacle across his face, hiding his look of immeasurable disappointment "Stars above, here I thought I had meself a hoary crew'o fierce'n'brave swashbucklers, but put ye all together and ye'd barely make for a milksop cabin boy without his sea legs. I's bet none'o ye could rig a bunt gasket 'round a master jigger to save yer worthless hides"

"Aww, boss…"

The Captain slapped a dismissive tentacle in the air, turning back to the face the crewmember that had initially stoked his ire.

"Ye know how to use a cellphone, Mister Wobbles?"

"Y-yes, capt'n!"

"Something at least" he sighed "Give that monkeyshine Don Asgore a call, tell 'im we got a ransom an'-"

"Through fiercest wind and gales of cold, a song of justice will now unfold, so surrender now, lest you fail, and become a mere footnote in Ebott's tale"

A river of icy water ran down the Captain's back at the sudden, growling and distorted voice cutting clean through the night wind. The stories of the vigilante of Ebott were known to everyone within the underworld, a masked monster who hunted down everyone that took their crimes to far, even for Ebott's standards.

"Well, blast me broadsides and call me leaky, can't even slap me own crew around without someone takin' offense" he groaned and looked up. Around him, his crew was faring with far less composure.

"No way! I thought we'd be safe out at sea from him!"

"It's a bird!"

"It's a plane!"

"What are you twats talking about!? That's-"

"THE VIGILANTE!"

At the mention of the name, a bolt of lightning struck from the skies, illuminating the ship and revealing the intruder. Standing atop the mainmast, clad in dark robes and cape, and with a swirling white cloud for a head with angry, flaming, almost reptilian-looking draconic eyes. The figure's arms were crossed, standing completely still despite the buffeting winds and the waves rocking the ship, it's flaming gaze cast on Keelhaul. It pointed a finger down at the captain

"Keelhaul! Judgment comes from the skies, surrender now, and give up your prize!"

"Go suck an egg ya scurvy landlubber! Ye must be three sheets to the wind if ye think ol' captain Keelhauls' just gonna let some son of a tem-lover hornswaggle him without a fight! Men'o mine! Draw yer weapons and blow that scallywag down!"

Keelhaul's command had an instant effect on the scared crew. As if a spell was lifted from their minds, they turned from horrified and gibbering to roaring with newfound courage. Each crewman pulled a blackpowder weapon from their inventory and as they aimed upwards Keelhaul took a small degree of satisfaction in the briefly panicked look on the Vigilante's face at the small armory worth of weapons suddenly aimed at him.

As if trying to outdo the thunderclouds above, the cacophony of the unleashed weaponry was enough to actually buck the ship to the side. A few of the crewmen even fainted on the spot, the sound too much for their delicate senses.

Keelhaul was briefly thankful for the foresight of having his crewmen's weapons magically imbued by back-alley enchanters in Ebott to never have to reload, something that would otherwise be a problem with the aesthetically fitting blackpowder weapons they were packing. His joy turned sour, however, when he noticed the first signs of the low-quality magic of said back-alley enchanters. With each discharge of the guns, a small puff of glittering, magical gunpowder was released into the air before falling down, and already the deck looked like it was covered in glitter from a kindergarten arts and crafts project.

Above them, the Vigilante was avoiding the hail of gunfire effortlessly, jumping from pole to pole, leaping from mast to mast, and rappelling down the rigging with the agility of a monkey but the grace of someone trying to avoid getting shot.

The effect on the ship was another torn in Keelhaul's side – each shot that didn't hit the Vigilante hit something else instead; wood was splintered, the sails were covered in holes and even some of the thin ropes in the rigging had been severed by stray bullets.

"Would it kill ye walking sacks'o shark bait to try AIMING!?" he barked at the crew, eliciting a fearful wail from the nearest ones.

"B-boss! We can't hit 'im! We ca-"

"That's 'Captain' to ye, ye bilge-sucking barnacle!" Keelhaul shouted back, launching a swift kick to the whimpering sailor's behind hard enough to send him flying overboard.

Above them, the Vigilante was almost half-way down by now and Keelhaul groaned at his crew's continued abysmal accuracy and the damage it was doing to his ship. He was about to launch into another rant on them when a sudden realization hit him; just below the Vigilante was a stretch of the mast with only one real spot for him to hold on to, a small wooden mantle.

Easily destroyed.

He dipped a tentacle into his coat and retrieved his own pistol – a much finer specimen inlaid with gems and golden tentacles enchanted to wave and wiggle when used.

"Let's see ya get outta this ya smoke-faced monkey" he hissed as he took aim.

The Vigilante kicked off an outstretch of the mast, spinning and turning through the air, right over another hail of gunfire and dove at the mantle, but just as his paws were a few scant centimeters from reaching it, it exploded into a shower of wooden fragments and splinters, sending him flying back into and sliding down the mainsail.

Keelhaul grinned, only slightly annoyed that he couldn't hear the Vigilante's yelp over the cheers of his crew. Despite being dumber than a bag of rocks he figured even they would have little trouble finishing him off once he crashed onto the deck.

A sudden light bade him look up again and immediately the triumphant thought was banished. The Vigilante had a flaming sword plunged in the sail, using it to slow his fall but still coming at them quickly.

This time even the crew was aware enough to understand the trouble they were in. With all the magically-charged gunpowder spread over the deck, the Vigilante was practically a lit fuse burning down on a giant, ship-shaped bomb.

A bomb they were all standing on.

"OH NO OH NO OH NO!"

"Abandon ship! Rum and me first!"

"Ah crap, I'm allergic to fire!"

Keelhaul seethed with rage, seeing the descending Vigilante as the blade of a guillotine coming down to chop his dreams of pilfering booty in half. Finding a few-centuries-old ship and actually getting it seaworthy had cost him pretty much all he had. Now he was about to lose it due to shoddy enchantmenship and his crew not knowing a crosshair from a nosehair.

He raised a tentacle up, enveloping himself in a magical, watery shell as his crew ran past him and dived over the railings, the last ones just barely making it as the Vigilanter reached the deck.

The explosion was loud and bright enough to wake up the Ebottians living near the coast and powerful enough to summon up a wave in the water that picked up the floundering crewmen and carried them towards the beach.

Keelhaul let the fires roll over his watery shield, the flames themselves an apt metaphor of just how raging he was inside.

He saw a figure approach him through the fire, The vigilante, unharmed by the flames and still wielding his fiery sword, pointed directly at him. In the light of the fires, he could see that his robes were not entirely black, rather a dark shade of purple, and that dark lines ran from the smoky eyes to the back of the head.

The challenge was clear and Keelhaul roared in fury at it, shattering his protective bubble and extinguishing the nearest flames.

"You ship has sailed, Keelhaul, lay down your weapon and spare us both the brawl"

In an act of defiance Keelhaul did the exact opposite, unsheathing a cutlass with a roar of anger. The Vigilante went into a low stance, ready for an attack.

"Your crew has already faced a watery drop, but as long as you're armed you're going to be harmed, so lay down your weapon and give up!" the mysterious monster commanded.

"OH FECK OFF!" The Captain shouted back "Who in blazes do ye think ye are, coming here and ruining an honest pirate's livelihood!? This is Ebott, the laws state we can do what we want, ye lard-headed lily-livered lump licker!"

"The laws of Ebott lets you provide for kith and kin, not an excuse for every conceivable sin"

"Hell's bells, would ye STOP. TALKING. LIKE. THAT!"

Captain Keelhaul!

Captain of the Foulfroggit Freebooters.

Soul of Marquis

Keelhaul lunged and stabbed his cutlass forward in one swift move. The Vigilante easily deflected the thrust to the side, turning on his heel with the movement into a spinning elbow that ultimately ended up throwing him off balance as it knocked the squid-captains hat off and sunk into his soft, cephalopod-flesh.

Keelhaul easily shrug it off, slashing his cutlass at the Vigilante again, this time, with more luck, as despite the smoke-headed individual's best effort to jump back, the cutlass managed a good cut on his leg, enough to send a spray of blood unto the deck.

Keelhaul grinned maddingly as he advanced on his foe. It was impossible to read any kind of expression on the smoky texture of the Vigilante'ss face, but the sheer fact he was now limping slightly was evidence enough he was hurting.

It made him hunger for more.

"I'll cut ye to the brisket, ye whale-loving spit drinker!" he said as he lunged forward again with a stab. This time, the Vigilante tried chambering his cutlass, knocking it aside with his fire-sword and then using the wind-up for his attack. The Captain just barely managed to duck under a slash that would have cut into his shoulder, feeling an uncomfortable tightness as the heat from the sword dried the skin on his head. He looked up just in time to see the fire-sword falling down on him again, but before it could he whipped a tentacle at the Vigilante's smoky eyes with a splash of salt-water.

As expected, the Vigilante gave a grunt of surprise as he was suddenly blinded and backpedaled in a hurry. Keelhaul didn't give him room to breathe and he quickly followed with a swift kick to the Vigilante's mid-section that sent him over the railing and unto the gangplank. He got up as fast as he could, but when he finally managed to get the salt water out of his eyes, his vision became red with pain as he felt Keelhaul's cutlass strike his arm, making him let him of the fiery sword and letting it fall into the water below.

"Arr, what a sad display, I been hearing nothing but tall tales about ye and the havoc ye been causin' folks like me, yet ye didn't last a minute when crossing blades with someone with more than a mop for a brain" He jabbed the cutlass into the Vigilante's chest, drawing a drop of blood and making him retreat to the end of the gangplank.

"Ye been a right pain in me soggy arse, I'll grant ye that, but I figure I'll have hooligans and ner-do-wells aplenty lookin' to sign on me crew once I return with yer head"

The Vigilante was silent, paws slightly raised, but didn't even seem the least encumbered by the myriad bleeding cuts he was sporting.

"Think ye got the gift of gab, huh? Well, here's a short shanty for ya, afore I send ya off to the locker. Here's me cutlass, it can stab, it can cut, it's going down yer throat and out yer butt!" Keelhaul declared and reeled back for the killing blow, already enraged even further by the lack of pleading and groveling on the Vigilante's part. No matter. He could already imagine the fame and fortune that would come with killing him, just one blow and-

A smallish hand suddenly tugged on the shoulder of his sword arm from behind. Keelhaul immediately responded, spinning on his heel and turning the slash that would have killed the Vigilante on whoever was behind him.

"Not now, curse yer eyes! Can't ye see I'm about… to…" The captain's words trailed off in confusion as he found there was nothing behind him and sword only found empty air, snuffing a few flames out with the woosh.

"What in blazes…" he muttered before the extent of what he had just done dawned on him. He turned back as fast as he could, cutlass raised to finish the job that had been interrupted, but the moment he stood and faced the Vigilante fully was the moment said face got a flying knee into it.

And for the first time in a long while, Captain Keelhaul experienced something else other than seething anger and bitter disappointment – a measure of peace as he fell to the deck, unconscious.

He barely had any time to lay down, however, as the Vigilante immediately scooped him up, carrying him on one shoulder, before dashing through the flames towards a hostage with strangely alluring eyelashes screaming at the encroaching flames.

Although the rest of the Foulfroggit freebooters had initially been thankful for the sudden appearance of the wave that had carried them to safety on the beach, their joy had quickly turned sour once they found henchmonsters and goons in Don Asgore's employ waiting for them. Some of the crew had tried fighting back and make a run for it, but once they realized that a living legend was among them, they had almost begged to be put in chains.

Undyne, Asgore's chief enforcer, called 'The Spear of Injustice' by some, marched through the ranks of the kneeling crewmen, all cowering in her presence, the only sign of life from her being a single blue flame in the visor of her spiked armor. She favored each of the crewmen with a short look before moving on, as if she was looking for someone in particular and each of the crew let out a sigh of relief once she moved on from them.

The story of how Undyne entered into Don Asgore's service was well-known. Many years ago, she had been at the head of a small but tough gang that roamed around, causing mayhem and beating up anyone and anything that looked tough; innocent bystanders, guilty criminals, bulky robots, even wild animals. Once news reached the young brawler that one of the world's most infamous crime bosses was in the area, Undyne had immediately set off, declaring that she alone would punch, kick and bite her way to him and then punch, kick and bite him until he admitted she was his superior.

The scuffle that followed proved quite damaging to the reputation of Asgore's mob, as news spread of how a single youngster had punched, kicked, and bit her way through some of the gang's toughest goons, all the way to the Don himself. What served to somewhat repair the reputation was The Don's answer.

Undyne had kicked the doors to Asgore's office open. Cut, bruised, winded, and tired but still with a fire in her eye. A fire that had turned cold almost immediately, for there, bound and tired in front of the Don was the rest of her gang – her friends and followers, each with an armed henchmonster standing over them ready to end their life, whom Asgore had somehow managed to locate, kidnap and brought to him in the time it had taken her to get here. The Don himself was dressed in his Sunday's best, a simple red polo shirt with flowers and summer shorts. But despite his attire, the offer he gave her was anything but casual.

The Don made his impressions clear, that he could use someone with strength like hers in the mob, but also that strength alone could be as much a virtue as a vice. He gave the young brawler-fish a choice; either she could leave with her friends and forget the kerfluffle ever happened.

Or, should she choose to attack him, he would not fight back – the result thereof being that Undyne could claim the title as the toughest monster around for beating him.

But should she do so, her friends would follow the Don into the grave, leaving her with her title… but nothing else.

The third choice, the one that had led her to where she was now, was to simply join him and put her skills and talent to greater use than simply causing mayhem, the Don promising he would find work for her own gang as well.

It had taken some time for Undyne to understand why the Don hadn't simply forced her to work for him on pain of death of her friends, but it had come to her. Over time she had understood that Asgore wasn't in this for the money or fame or power. The currency most valued by one of the greatest crime bosses around was trust and friends. That, and his utter revulsion for anyone who would ever sacrifice it for material gain or renown.

It was a revelation that had fostered great respect and undying loyalty to him from the fish-monster. Some people even speculated that the strength granted to the gang by her, as well as her unbreaking devotion to his ideals made Undyne the greatest prize the Grandest Thief Alive had managed to nab.

Even though the crew of the Foulfroggit Freebotters wasn't exactly known for their smarts or wits, all of them knew that to raise a stink while The Spear of Injustice was around to smell meant getting a spear up their unmentionables.

The calls and shouts of some of Asgore's henchmonsters near the water drew her attention. A lifeboat had beached, bearing the Vigilante, the Captain of the Foulfroggit Freebotters and a wide-eyed, oddly alluring victim still tied to a chair.

Undyne merely waved a hand and immediately the goons around her picked up on the unsaid command. The captain was put in chains while the hostage was taken to safety. Without a word to each other, the Vigilante and Undyne walked away from the rest of the gang, going behind a large rock on the beach, out of sight from the rest of the henchmonsters.

With the Vigilante's head obscured in smoke and Undyne clad head-to-toe in armor, it would normally be difficult for either of them to get a read on one another, but even then, judging from his low shoulders and submissive posture, it was clear the Vigilante was on the verge of squirming.

"So, you went and did it anyway, alone" the cold voice of Undyne escaped from her helmet "Despite how dangerous it could be, despite when I Explicitly told you I would handle this you still went ahead"

"Well, it worked out in the end, didn't it? No one was hurt and-"

A hard, metal-clad hand snapped out to deliver a crude slap to the Vigilante, hard enough that whatever was obscuring his head faded away, revealing a white-furred goat monster, still with black lines running from his eyes.

"No one got hurt!? Are you high, kid!? Look at you, you look like you've spent all day hugging knives!"

"It… looks worse than it is" Asriel shrugged.

"Yeah!? I don't know what crazy luck it is that keeps saving you, but Keelhaul was seconds away from turning you into goat fricassee!"

"Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad…"

"ASRIEL!" Undyne shouted, stomped forward and grabbed the goat by the hem of his robe "Listen here ya putz, I know ya got problems and I know you feel the only way to deal with them is being a hero or whatever, but you're still the Don's son, damn it! You can't keep putting yourself in danger like this, one day your luck will run out and that's that, you've already had your second chance and I doubt you'll get a third. I mean, come on! I really, REALLY don't want to knock on Asgore's door one morning and go "What's up? You know Asriel, your son we thought died but recently came back? Yeah, he's had a relapse!' don't you dare make me do that you little twirp!"

"Shut up!" Asriel angrily snapped and shoved her hand aside "You don't understand, none of you do. I have to do this, because, If I don't it's… the voices filling my head to burst, those angry accusing eyes, the claws trying to drag me down to join them" He hissed through gritted teeth. "I can't even stand thinking about it. So just give it a rest, will you?"

"… Asriel, you-"

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I'm going home" he said and turned away, leaving the scene of the burning ship, the Foulfroggit Freebooters, and the exasperated Undyne behind. He half expected a metal gauntlet to land on his shoulder and spin him around for another earful from The Spear of Injustice, but thankfully, he was only met by the noise of Undyne growling something to herself before marching back to her henchmonsters.

Yet barely a second passed before another figure appeared before him. Translucent, casually leaning against a wall but still with a look of easy worry. As ever, the ghost of Chara was both a comfortable presence for Asriel, but also a shameful reminder.

"Well, she only seemed slightly miffed this time around" he said teasingly, cocking his head to the side.

"I guess"

"Really? That's all you got? 'I GuESs' what about 'Thank you for the assist, Chara' or 'thanks for saving my life, Chara!' or 'Nice work distracting squid-face so he didn't make dinner for two out of me!'"

"Thanks"

"Oh my god, Frisk and Undyne are so right, you're a real mopey-dopey, you know that?"

"Chara, I don't wanna do this right now"

"Do what!?"

"THIS! Like we do almost every single time!" He snapped at the ghostly human "Forgive me if I don't dance all the way home, hugging every migosp and kissing every moldsmal along the way, but last I recall one of use spent nearly a decade forced to kill innocents while the other is remembered as a hero who sacrificed himself out of love!"

"Neither of those things were your fault" Chara added calmly.
"Or maybe both were"

"Bro, c'mon"

"No, Chara, just-" Asriel said, taking a second to compose himself. Almost every time it ended up like this, and every time his heart-necklace growing cold on his chest was another reminder of Chara's displeasure.

"Just… don't. We managed to save someone today, so we can probably get a quiet night's sleep at least"

"Seems like a lot of work to just get some shuteye"

"It's been half a year now. Better get used to it… I don't know if it will ever end"

Chara made to respond but the quickly departing Vigilante made her stop, worried, crimson eyes following the cloaked figure as he left the beach.

Even so many months after his death, the reason for his ghostly state was still a mystery to Chara. While there were several monsters that could be described as spiritual in composition, it was practically unheard of for humans. His favorite and most wholesome theory was that it was the bond between siblings that kept him tied to the heart-locket he, Frisk and Asriel all carried. After all, it is the duty of the older sibling to look after the younger ones, and nothing as trivial as death was going to get in the way.

But still, all was clearly not well. Even if Asriel's dispirited behavior weren't so abundantly clear, the empathetic link he shared with him through the locket told him everything he was feeling.

Barely anything more than a lost soul in a churning black sea, and like the burning ship of the Foulfroggit freebooters on the horizon he was slowly going under.


"Well well well, I must say, I think I'm starting to understand why they call you 'The Determined Child'" The flabby prosecutor said, taking a brief pause to stick a fat cigar into his mouth, take a drag and puff a thick cloud into the face of a subordinate beside him.

"We've been sitting here all night, fencing and riposting with arguments and counter-arguments, and really, for someone so young, you've done a commendable effort" He took another drag and puffed it into the face of the same subordinate who was quickly getting blue-faced, before flashing a grin that revealed smoke-yellowed teeth.

"But it's about time we bring this case to an end. The evidence is conclusive. Clearly, Ebott is illegally built on ancient Kordian ground – as these pictures suggest" he waved an arm at a wall where a projector was showing a film of humans, including the prosecutor, standing in front of old-looking pillars, with the cityscape of Ebott all around them.

"That being the case, the prosecution demands that the so-called 'Dremurr Mob' immediately hands over any and all items, resources and artifacts their illegal presence have churned up to the state of Kordia, along with a fine of 20 Billion G's"

The droning murmur of the jury filled the court hall for a few moments before the loud bangs of the gavel of a gray-haired judge imposed order.

"I see" The venerable judge began "If I may, maybe 20 billion is a bit… excessive to demand of what can only be surmised to be a criminal gang, don't you think, prosecutor?"

"Your honor, the only excessive aspect of this case is the Dreemur Mob's blatant disregard for the laws and customs of the land. They trample over important historical sites, build their hideouts dressed as cities without a permit and cause crime-rates to sky-rocket everywhere around them. Is it to the benefit to all law-abiding and good citizens that these delinquents, thieves, and ruffians are expelled as expediently as possible"

"Quite so, quite so" the judge nodded along before turning to face the prosecutions counterpart

"Now, does the defense have anything further to add?" the question clearly heard by everyone in the court, except, it seemed, the defense itself.

Frisk stood, wide-eyed, wearing a fine purple and striped suit and skirt, slowly extracting a lollipop from her mouth with a loud, wet 'Plop!'

"Uhh, Ms. Frisk? Are you quite alright?" The Judge asked.

"Yes, your honor, it's just… I think I've finally figured it out" The amazed and stunned voice of Frisk answered.

"Y-you have?"

"Yeah… I've finally figured out the meaning of the saying 'Be there or be square'"

"I beg your pardon!?"
"Yes, you see, if you're not there, you're not 'a-round'! You're a square!"

"Uhh, well, I have… never really thought about it that way" the Judge groaned "But if you don't have anything further to add to the case, I believe I am ready to hand down a verdict"

"Hold it!" Frisk suddenly barked, slapping a hand down on her desk "It ain't over 'till the fat lady sings, and I only see absolutely curvaceous and stunning women in here!"

Another bout of murmuring seeped from the jury, with several trying to hide blushing faces.

"Enough with the theatrics, Ms. Frisk" The flabby prosecutor said "Stall if you must, but I think we both know this can only end in a verdict that rhymes with 'stilty'"

"Not a chance, underpants. The only things wearing stilts here are your shoddy arguments, and I'm about to knock 'em down!"

"You're bluffing!" The prosecutor hissed.

A coy grin formed on Frisk's face as she tilted her head over, letting shadows over her closed eyes

"I can do much, much more than just bluff" she quietly said before stabbing her sticky lollipop down on a document on her desk, causing it to stick to, and lifted it to her face so she could read.

"Prosecutor, you mentioned earlier that you yourself went with the crew that took the pictures currently on display, correct?" She asked.

"As the film shows, yes"

"Then, may I ask, how did you get to Ebott in the first place?"

The prosecutor cast a quick glance at his subordinates before giving a casual shrug "I drove"

"By car?"

"That's usually how you drive, little Frisk"

"Sure… but usual cars don't normally drive across barren fields and wilderness, do they?"

"W-what do you mean!?" The prosecutor gasped.

"Your honor, allow me to show you an aerial map of Ebott" Frisk's voice boomed. Up on the wall, the projector started showing a cityscape from above, with the ocean to the north, the Mountain range of Ebott to the east, and green wilderness everywhere else.

"As I'm sure the more eagle-eyed members of the court can see from this map… there are no roads leading to Ebott, meaning unless the prosecution got their hands on some cross-country vehicle capable of crossing rivers, hills, and crags, AND took with them enough gas for a 78 kilometers journey, this being the distance to the nearest non-monster settlement…" the picture zoomed out until another smaller city came into view, far away from Ebott.

"… the prosecution's photographic evidence cannot possibly be real!" Frisk concluded. On the opposite end of the courtroom, the prosecutor recoiled as if struck in the stomach, doubling over and heaving for breath.

Immediately, the droning murmuring resumed. Debates and conversations over Frisk's revelations raged, and even all the way down on the floor of the court Frisk could hear how the Jury's opinions were turning.

"Order! Order in the court!" The Judge demanded, before turning accusing eyes on the prosecutor. "Is this true, prosecutor? Have you dared bring forged evidence into my court?" The judge warned.

"Of-of course not! There's a- there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this!"

"In that case, do tell"

"Well, y-you see, it's like this…" The prosecutor began, red-faced and wringing his hands, eyes darting back and forth between his subordinates for ideas. Suddenly, one sprang to mind and despite his prodigious size, the flabby prosecutor performed an impressive jump.

"Ah! Yes, of course, now I remember! We took a ferry to Ebott and THEN drove from there!"

"You took a ferry? That is quite an important detail to omit, Mr. prosecutor"

"A thousand apologies, your honor. It's been a long night and a hard case, I fear it's starting to wear one me"

"Hmm, I suppose that makes sense" The judge nodded, turning to Frisk once again.

"Well, does the defense have a response for the prosecution?"

"Is kissing Pyropes bad for your face?"

"I'm sorry?"

"That's a yes, Mr. Super-honor" Frisk declared, crossing her arms and fixing the prosecutor with a confident gaze "You say you took a ferry to Ebott, correct?"

"Indeed, I did!"

"And you're absolutely certain it was a ferry?"

"That's what I said, you little brat!"

"Huh, in that case, maybe I was wrong about you, Mr. Prosecutor. I had taken you for being only a little bit slimy. You know, a few under-the-table deals here and there, a few thrown cases, maybe even a kicked dog or two, but no, you're actually neck-deep in the smuggling business, aren't you?"

"I- what? What in the world are you talking about!?" The exasperated prosecutor gasped, face as red as a tomato dipped in red paint.

"It's like you said earlier; Ebott is not a city, it's a hideout dressed as a city. There aren't any ferries going in or out of there" Frisk surmised.

"Of course there is! Just look at the stupid map you have on the screen! You can see boats coming and going!"
"Oh, sure, but I presume we're all aware just what kind of city Ebott is, are we not?" Frisk coyly grinned at the prosecutor "There aren't any, shall we say, 'normal' or 'regular' ferries coming or going into Ebott. It's all smuggling, either stolen goods or, in your case, dirty lawyers with criminal contacts"

"My- you… how dare…" The prosecutor hissed, nearly frothing at the mouth.

"And, as I'm sure you are aware, as per stipulation 45-7 §12 of Kordian law, criminals can't serve in a court of law" Frisk finished.

A stunned silence fell over the courtroom, the only noise being the ragged breathing of the prosecutor and the quiet whisperings of shady-looking men sitting in the shadows behind him.

"How… dare you, a little brat, still wet behind the ears… spit your baseless accusations around like this…!" The prosecutor managed.

"That's because I have a burning sense of justice and no shame!" Frisk declared mightily.

"Wha-"

"Here's how I see it!" Frisk said and jumped onto her table "Either you never went to Ebott and the film you showed before is forged, meaning the next time we see each other in court it will with you as the defendant and not the people I love! Or, you actually went there, through criminal means, which would invalidate your entire case and mean that you have violated the trust put upon you by these people gathered here, and put an end to your career as a practitioner of law! That's why I was wondering whether you were round or square before, but in the end, it doesn't matter if you were there or not. Round or square, you're all slime!"

The Jury slowly began clapping and a great cheer was building. In the skies above the courtroom, the morning sun broke through the clouds, casting a shaft of light down through the skylight, enveloping Frisk in angelic brilliance.

"As lawyers, we either take on the mantle of punishers of the wicked or defenders of the innocent! The powers and trust granted to us are meant to safeguard all that is good about our ways of life! We are meant to be a bulwark against evil! But for you the ideals of justice have been bought with gold and promises of selfish gain, haven't they!? That Prosecutors Badge on your chest is as cold and dead as the fire of justice that should have burned within your soul!"

"I… I can't…" The prosecutor wheezed unsteadily on his knees.

"No Justice! No Dream! No Hope is left in you! There is only one guilty person here, and that…" Frisk whipped her arm behind her before launching it forward in an accusing finger pointed straight at the prosecutor's heart.

"… IS YOU!"

The force of Frisk's accusation swept across the courtroom with the strength of hurricanes. The prosecutor was sent flying back, screaming all the way, papers were scattered to the winds and the heavy, oaken table he had stood by was toppled over as the force of Frisk's conviction swirled around, even blowing out a few windows.

The prosecutor slammed into the far wall and slid down "Such justice… too powerful… I am… defeated…" he groaned as his eyes rolled back in his skull, unconscious.

The cheer that had been building amongst the jury exploded in rapturous applause, all cheering the name of the young paragon of justice standing on her table, hands on her hips and bathed in the glory of the sun "FRISK! FRISK! FRISK!" they chanted.

Even the Judge, an old veteran of many decades was affected. So glorious was the display of youthful idealism and justice that tears seeped down his wrinkled face and he found he could barely muster the strength to lift his gavel or call for a verdict. All that came from him was a voice choked with joy he hadn't experienced since his earliest days as a young student in law school, and as he looked around the room he knew everyone present would grow to become better persons, set by the Supreme Justice in Frisk's example.

"Not g-guilty, not guilty! Oh my goodness, the monsters of Ebott are not guilty!" He mustered, stating the obvious, he knew but never before had he felt so sure about a verdict.


The great applause Frisk had incited in the courtroom continued well after she had left it, following her through the halls of the building all the way out to the exit where a group of Asgore's henchmonsters stood ready with a car.

They fanned out to hold the nearly ravenous Jury and spectators of the trial back, but even still, Frisk expressed a small giggle as paper planes made of love letters, fan letters, and requests for her autograph followed and flew past her. She picked up a few and made a mental note to add them to the collection at home. For some reason, many of her cases and trials ended just like this, with the entire courtroom inspired and incited by her performance.

She took a small measure of pride in it, but to Frisk, what mattered most was that another threat to the safety of her family and city had been removed.

She turned and gave one last wave and bow to the crowd that had followed her from the courtroom before turning back to the car, stopping in her tracks as she noticed a figure casually leaning against it.

A shark monster, dressed in a white shirt underneath a vest, one half covered in ocean-blue silk and the other in emerald green, and black business pants. His smooth, marine-like skin combined with the fine clothes made for an undeniably attractive monster, and while he wasn't as wide as the Great Don himself he was still broad of shoulder and easily as tall, an image of robustness, strength and resourcefulness perfectly fitting the great businessmonster around which Ebott's biggest, and only, legal corporation was built around.

Even his name, Stormstahr, was usually enough to get people's attention, whether they found it intimidating or ridiculous, and as he stepped away from the car throwing his arms to the side and flashed a coy smile at Frisk, revealing rows of sharp, shark-like teeth set in such a handsome face, she could easily see how he portrayed the supple grace and exciting danger of the apex predators of the planet's ocean he so resembled.

"You never fail to impress, Ms. Frisk. Our little lawful heroine, our little minnow in the big ocean, surrounded big much bigger fish yet still dazzling all with her brilliance, letting her love for our not-so-fair city carry her ever higher. What is it now, the 8th, 10th time I've seen you leave a courtroom followed by crowds enthralled by your performance?" He said with a chuckle "You really are too good for us"

"Oh, I don't know about that" Frisk shrugged "I owe everything I have and everything I am to mom, dad and Ebott. I'm just happy to help out any way I can"

"And that's what sets you apart from the norm, why they call you 'The Rising Star of Ebott'" Stormstahr declared in a grand voice "Most people nowadays can't even be bothered to give a kind word without expecting a handout. But not you; the always giving, always magnanimous Frisk. Honestly, if you ask me, you deserve way more than you get"

"I like to see what I do as giving back to people who have already given me so much. The warm feeling I get in my tummy after a good days work is more than enough"

"And none can fault you for that, all I'm saying is, you shouldn't let your gratitude become a shackle. The Dreemurrs didn't take you in because they wanted a workhorse, it would be a shame to have you waste your life away on these endless trifles" Stormstahr waved a hand at the building behind her "There will always be opportunists and people with bones to pick with your parents who will try and undermine everything they've built, and it's only going to get tougher, especially seeing as how you refuse to have your father help you forge evidence or use any of the mountains of blackmail he has on practically everybody"

"That would be wrong" Frisk blurted. The bluntness of it made Stormstahr laugh.

"Hah! That's why I've always liked you, Frisk. We see eye to eye on these matters"

Frisk reciprocated the chuckle, widening her smile "Is that you're doing what you're doing as well? You've always been a bit of a mystery, Stormstahr, I mean, who comes to one of the few places on the planet where most crime is allowed and sets up a Legal business when it would be so much easier to just do what everyone else is doing? Seems like a massive handicap"

"I guess great minds and kindred souls think alike" Stormstahr warmly suggested, tilting his head and smiling in a teasing manner that for a second made Frisk's heart flutter and a slight blush form on her cheeks.

"And that brings me to why I am here" the great shark-monster continued, taking a step towards the human and digging a hand into a pocket on his vest.

"Frisk, despite how, honestly, amazing you are at whatever you put your mind to, some people might not take kindly to how you're standing up for Ebott. Some might think it downright hypocritical for you to talk about justice and serving the common good when everyone knows Ebott is a criminal haven"

"By their definitions, perhaps. To me, Ebott will always be a place where people can be whatever they need to be to care for family and friends"

"I see your father's idealism has rubbed off on you. Just as well. What I'm saying is, you're putting in a lot of work for, I feel, very little gain"

He withdrew his hand from his pocket, now holding a small business card which he handed to her.

"I'd like you to come work for me" he bluntly stated "I can offer you so much more than an endless battle of lawsuits. I can offer you a place where you can realize your full potential! No more pandering, no more having to contend with bought prosecutors and filthy lobbyists. To say nothing of the salary, I always take care of my employees"

Frisk tenderly took the card, turning it over in her hand. It had her name on, citing her as a 'Corporate Attorney' for Stormstarh holdings. She couldn't decide whether to amused by the confidence he must have had in printing a card like that before even giving her the offer, or put off by the presumption that she would immediately accept. She was silent for a few moments before she spoke, muling it over in her head.

"I don't do this for the money, and… I don't know, it almost feels like turning my back to-"

"Nonsense" Stormstarh scoffed before she could finish "Your father lasted for decades without ever setting foot in a court of law and honestly, I doubt he ever will"

Frisk looked aside, dragging her arm in a conflicted manner. Stormstarh easily noticed her doubt, kneeling down and placing a hand on her shoulder "Listen, you don't have to give me an answer just yet. Just know, all these court cases and trials you're doing for your parents? Asgore has enough clout and blackmail to settle each and every one of them with a single phone call. All those hours you use peering over legal documents and battling in the courtroom is really just saving your dad 5 minutes of work at most. I understand you, though, you want to take care of your family the right way, no blackmail, no cheating, just ideals and wit battling ideals and wit. That's what I'm offering you, a place where you can do just that. Think about it" Stormstahr said, flashing his shark-like grin and giving her an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder before rising back up and turning back to his car.

Frisk mulled over the card in her hand, reading, but-not-really-reading it. Maybe there was a better use of her talents, she mused. But, as her stomach growled in hunger, such decisions were best made on a full belly and by now, she knew her mom would be just about ready with breakfast at home. Matters of employment and professions were important, but family always came first. Those were the ideals upon which Ebott was founded.

She looked up, seeing Stormstarh giving her a short salute as if saying he would expect a call from her in the near future, before disappearing into his car. Truth be told, while she found the shark-like business monster alluring and exciting in a dangerous kind of way, something about the cold nature of the business air around him always put her off.

Matters for another time, she concluded and stuffed the card into her pocket, turning back to her dad's henchmonsters ready to take her back to Ebott and breakfast courtesy of the best cook and mom to Frisk's mind in Ebott.


"A beautiful sight, is it not?" The Great Don Asgore rumbled, overlooking the vista of Ebott from the great wall-sized window in his office "It took me a lot of sweat, dust and sacrifice to get this far, and I've lost many good humans and monsters along the way, people I miss every day and probably will for the rest of my life" he turned from the window and fished a large stogie up from an ornate cigar box on his desk "But I like to think I can at least honor them by keeping the dream of Ebott alive. It takes discipline, order, and no small amount of tough love" He lit the stogie, puffing a sweetly-smelling cloud out towards another monster sitting across from his desk "Don't you agree?"

A small, weasel-like monster, nervously fidgeting with his tail squealed back "S-sure thing, boss! We sure are lucky to have you!"

Asgore snorted in derision and took another drag before calmly rounding on his desk towards the weasel "Which brings us to why you are here. You see, barring any crises, and let me assure you, this isn't one, there are only two reasons I would call a fourth-tier officer like you to my office; either you have greatly impressed me and are to be rewarded, or…" he took another drag, letting the smoke seep from between teeth set in a knowing frown "… you have greatly displeased me"

The weasel shrunk further into the chair, the color seeming to drain from his fur.

"I like to see myself in the peripheries of both sides" Asgore started up again "I am not an easy monster to impress, but likewise, it's going to take some doing to earn my ire" He sat down one leg on his desk and rested an arm on it "I'm sure you have probably figured out by now why I called you in, hmm?"

The weasel was almost completely pale-faced, lines of sweat running down from his brow.

"But before I cut to the heart of the matter, a question for you. You've been with the mob for some years now, so you ought to know this; what is the dream of Ebott? Why did I create this place for people like us?" he put to the weasel, throwing his large arms up as if to encompass everything around them.

The weasel-like monster looked around in confusion for a few moments with a wild look in his eyes before stammering out an answer.

"W-well, Ebott i-i-is a place where you can do whatever you want, r-right? I mean, we can't go against you, the boss, of-of course, but aside from that, i-it's just a place where there aren't any laws, right? Whatever you want, as long as it doesn't mess with the boss, right?"

A threatening rumble escaped the Don's cavernous chest as another puff of smoke escaped him "'Just' a place where you can do whatever you want?'" he quoted.

"Oh crap! I mean- I mean I didn't mean it like that! It's a great place! Not many like it, a true haven of-of opportunity and possibilities and-and all that!" the weasel hurriedly fired off.

"Hmph… your blatant disrespect for those who gave everything so you could have 'just such a great place' aside, I must say, I find your answer severely… lacking"

"Lacking? Wha-whaddya mean!?"

The Great Don sighed, the smoke billowing from his nostrils coupled with the red glare of the rising morning sun and his own prodigious size and threatening appearance almost casting him as a demon to the weasel in the chair, who could only cower before the Don's disapproval.

"Yes, and in the same manner I find most I ask these days, sadly. It's a new era… or maybe I'm just getting old" he got off the table and advanced on the weasel, casting a deep shadow over him.

"Oh, it's true that there are barely any rules here in Ebott. Anyone with the right skills and right ambitions can foster them to their hearts content here" Another drag, the piercing green eyes of the Don almost seemed to glow as he looked down on the weasel as a giant might look on an ant.

"But to what end?" he exhaled with the smoke.

"Wh-what?"

"Oh come now, Ebott might be largely lawless but it isn't anarchy. You must know why most crimes here are allowed. The keyword being 'most'"

"Boss… I-I… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" the weasel whimpered, but the Don wasn't finished.

"I made my fortune by thieving, and trust me, once you've spent a few decades going from lifting pockets to breaking into vaults you learn something about the true values of what really matters here in life. You ask yourself 'why?' what's the ultimate goal for all of this? It's not like a normal 9-5 job, no, you spend almost every waking moment planning, preparing, and stealing, always having to contend with the law and rivals, always having to look over your shoulder, all too often for measly gains. So why, I ask you? Why do we put ourselves through all that?"

The weasel monster looked about ready to burst into tears in fright "I, ah, I dunno! The money!?"

Asgore growled angrily in response, almost biting his stogie in half as he took another drag "Tch, the typical answer, it's all about the money, isn't it? Wealth, fame, growing fat and plump by causing others to grow thin and wasted" He turned from the weasel and marched back to the window, blowing out another puff of smoke that condensed on the glass, causing his piercing gaze to be reflected back at the weasel.

"Always the same answer from people like you, chasing after one alluring twinkle of gold after the next with no real end-goal in sigh. So short-sigthed. Money is a means, never the end. It honestly hurts that it has come to this, though, perhaps your place as a mere fourth-tier member is well deserved"

"B-boss?"

"It's for love"

"Wha-?"

"Love, taking care of those that matter most to us. THAT is why we do all this. Many people have no choice but to turn to crime, some find that it is simply what they do best. We steal, we scam, we rob, we even hurt and maim at times, yes, but NEVER for ourselves, you see?"

"Boss, I-"

"I'm not finished!" Asgore snarled, not a shout, but his voice was still powerful enough to be felt as a rumble in the floor.

"We do things most others would consider bad, even evil… but there are still some things we never do, some lines we don't cross" He took another drag, taking a moment to let calm regain control over his voice.

"I've learned many things over a long life. Not all crimes are equal, I kept to theft at first because anything material can always be regained. Money can be earned back, heirlooms and artifacts recovered… the same cannot be said for a life. Once you kill someone you take everything they had, have and ever will have with no chance to return it, which is why I don't like having assassins and hired killers in my city"

He turned back to the weasel. By now, he looked more resigned than scared, with a pleading look in reddish eyes.

"The same goes for kidnapping and ransoming. Taking someone's money is a whole lot different than taking their time, safety, and dignity, though, perhaps you never really cared. After all, it's all about the money isn't it?"

The weasel dipped his head in supplication, taking a deep breath that didn't entirely manage to hide a fear-choked voice.

"Boss, forgive me, I… I promise I'll never do it again. I'll pay double tribute! Triple! Just, please, show mercy"

A dismissive grunt escaped the Don "We found evidence of your consorting with the FoulFroggit Freebooters amongst the wreck of their ship. To think, selling out your own mob members for money" he exhaled another cloud of smoke "Poor sport"

"Don Asgore, Grandest Thief Alive, please…"

"You know, I can tolerate, even expect a modicum of audacity from my underlings. In our line of work, you don't get far just following orders and playing by someone else's rules. Initiative and a healthy amount of ambition can carry you far… but not when it comes at the cost of loyalty"

"Please! I'll do anything!"

"And that's the problem, isn't it? You'd do anything, not for the cause of friends and family, but to further your own lot in life. Some gangs and mobs might appreciate such a lack of scruples… but not mine" Asgore added with dire finality. He withdrew a piece of paper from a drawer in his desk and offered it to the weasel.

"There's a smuggling boat leaving the city tomorrow morning. You have the rest of the day to gather what stuff you can, but if I ever see your face in my city again, you'll be leaving it in something much smaller than a boat. But before I let you go, there is a saying I've heard going around that I quite agree with, something for you to ponder"

The Don let the words hang in the air for a few moments.

"'In Ebott, you live and die on your reputation'… now, once word gets out you're a rat bastard that sold out his gang, what do you think is most likely to come your way? Life or death? Consider this piece of paper your 'mercy'"

"Pl-please, don't do this! I'll lose everything!"
"You should have thought of that before you went ahead and sold out your crew to traffickers you damned idiot! Now get your worthless, sniveling hide out of my office!" The Don angrily growled, taking a stomp towards the weasel, who tipped over backwards in the chair, half-scrambling, half-stumbling for the door, which he ripped open with the strength of desperation before fleeing down the halls, wailing all the way.

Asgore sighed as the distant cries subsided, pinching the bridge of his nose and squashing his cigar in an ashtray, the tea leaves inside being all but spent.

"Good golly, the amount of snakes in our Eden never stops frightening me" he said out loud in a tone suddenly leagues softer, enough that anyone present might have mistaken it for a different person entirely.

But the only other present knew the Don well enough to understand. From out of the shadows of the room another figure appeared, gracefully enough that the robes she wore made it seem like she hovered instead of walked.

"He received his just punishment for his duplicity" Toriel cooed.

"You don't think I went too hard on him? He was right, he doesn't have anything aside from what's in the city"

"He sold out a fellow brother in crime for mere mammon. He already had less than nothing, only a craven's heart"

"I suppose so"

Toriel cocked her head to the side, displaying a faint smile "Dear me, Gory, I remember a time where you would have exiled people like him with nothing less than the clothes on their back for far lesser transgressions"

The Don turned to her with a small laugh "What, you're saying I'm going soft?"

"In more ways than just your heart" she replied, pinching a small roll of excess fur in the Don's side.

"Hah, can you blame me? With such a wonderful woman always by me? Showering me in more love and care than I probably deserve?" He said, taking her paw into his own while wrapping his other arm around her waist, their meeting eyes like a bridge in which only pure affection traveled on.

Without a word the two of them gently traipsed into a small dance around the spacious office. Each second was like a balm of the Don's mind, washing away the bitterness of deceitful underlings and their machinations and replacing it with a wave of inner peace.

At times like this, he could barely fathom how someone like him could be so fortunate to have moments like this, and to get to be with someone like his queenpin. He really was lucky to have her.

All of Ebott was, he conceded.

As a young girl, Toriel had been born to a noble monster family on the complete opposite end of the social ladder from the crime boss she would end up with, growing up to be a stunning natural beauty. She had never wanted for anything in her childhood, with servants tending to her every need and whim… except for the time to actually enjoy any of it.

Every waking moment had been spent practicing courtesy and proper noble etiquette. Hours spent performing tasks while trying to balance a stack of books on her head, whole days in ballrooms learning the pirouettes, steps, and turns of all different kinds of courtly dances to the point she could do them with angelic grace in her sleep, and while most children would attend school to learns the basics of the world, Toriel had special tutors providing all that and more; the literature and works of the world's greatest poets and songwriters, practice with the harp, piano and violin.

Her more magically inclined teachers had worked to include her proficiency in fire magic into her training as well; small theatrical puppet shows made with characters of multi-colored fire, dance steps that had her letting of beautiful flames to create the perfect immersive backgrounds in step with the tunes of the music and much more.

Great time was also committed to fostering her talents for healing magic, as was custom for the caring, gentle image of a noblewoman her tutors were trying to impress upon her.

All of it was to refine the young Toriel into something less of a person, and more of the perfect marriage proposal for the son of another noble family. Which were precisely her family's intentions.

One morning, as she was practicing Farron's 7th Symphony of Magic on the piano, while an echo-flower gramophone recited the collected verses of Mani Wildpen's collected works, her father had stepped in. A proud and powerful monster with the face of a statue, seemingly only capable of an expression of feigned disinterest.

His message was clear and blunt. She was to be married away to the son a Duke two continents away, someone she had never heard about, in order to secure a deal on Sea Tea trade.

Toriel had taken the life-shaking news with all the practiced calm, patience, and grace her tutors and teachers had spent most her life ingraining into her, and as she gently nodded her acquiescence, her father had in a rare moment displayed a look of something other than indifference – content. To him, he wasn't losing a daughter never to be seen again, to him, this was a years-long investment finally paying off. The beautiful and graceful flower that was his daughter, which he had spent nearly 2 decades tending to, was now ready to be traded away for a valuable piece of paper and the promise of capital.

Toriel had spent the next few days of preparation in a daze, though no one had noticed it under her veil of calm and composure. She had always known this was what was ultimately intended for her, but the thought that the entire purpose of her life had been decided by another made her sick to her stomach. Soon, she would be married to a complete stranger, where she would spend the rest of her life being the graceful housewife, entertaining guests and playing the trophy wife for someone who had probably never spent a second trying to court someone of the opposite sex.

Somewhere down the line, she would probably be asked to deliver children to him, but as far as she was concerned, her future life story, and the influence it might have on the world, could be written on the back of her paw. Her story was well and truly over already, decided without any care for her interests.

And it made her so terribly afraid.

Although Toriel would probably call meeting the Grandest Thief Alive her luckiest moment, the event that allowed her escape as she was traveling by carriage like a wrapped present to her groom-to-be, was most likely a close second.

A magical rock of condensed mustard had slammed in the carriage as they were traveling along a forest trail, sending her tumbling out the side and into a thick undergrowth. It had taken a few moments for the shock to wear off, and as she looked up, she saw a lesson of overconfidence in display. A group of Highway Tems had launched a raid, wielding tubes of condiments to pitiful effect. Even as she saw one pounce on a guard and heard his screams turn to wet gurgles as the Tem emptied a tube of mayonnaise into his mouth, it was clear the Tem were losing, the bandits having put too much stock in their weaponry and in the process of being routed by her father's guards.

The idea to return to them had occurred to her.

Occurred and then quickly dashed as she took a long look behind her, into the forestry wilderness. None of the guards had witnessed her expulsion from the carriage and were still busy with the bandits. It occurred to Toriel that for the first time in her life she was free to make her own choice.

Without a word she had turned on her heel and wandered into the dark green of the forest, leaving her father's carefully prepared and planned future for her behind.

The next few years had been a blur to Toriel. Being a wanted monster since her disappearance she was forced to stick to the shadows and more hidden parts of the world. She drifted from group to group, gang to gang and outfit to outfit, all being appreciative of her considerable healing skills, but all finding her noble demeanor and manner rubbing them the wrong way, and it was never long before she felt her welcome run out.

It was only when she turned solo she found a measure of stability… and the key to a new life.

She had managed to gain entry to a local baron's new year's party, filled to the brim with pompous human and monster nobles with more in their purses than their heads, which was exactly why she was there. Although she didn't have a ticket, an entire childhood's worth of tutoring in social decour had seen her true. A raised, indignified snout, huff of disappointment, disapproving glare, and a scathing comment aimed at the worth of the gatekeeper's lineage had seen him shamed enough to let her into the party without fuss. Now she was poised to ply her newfound skills in pickpocketing.

She had spotted a young noble, slumped over a chair, drunk to oblivion after only half an hour of partying. Like a tiger moving through the grass towards its prey, she had made her way towards the dancing masses towards him but just as she was ready to pounce a great shadow fell over her as an imposing figure took a steep to bar her way. She had readied her usual barrage of apologies, but they all died in her throat as she looked up, finding a dashingly handsome face ringed by a lustrous and well-groomed golden mane. The intruder had gently offered his paw and asked if he could have the dance. Perhaps it was out of a need to keep up appearances or maybe being accosted so suddenly by an attractive monster had caused her to lower her guard, but whatever the reason Toriel, almost excitedly, took the offer.

While he was nowhere near the runaway noble's level, he still proved himself to be a capable dancer, knowing the ins and out of a classic ball dance, but there was something amiss. The stranger's eyes would dash to and fro to the other nobles in the room, often around their purses and jewelry, occasionally gifting Toriel with a knowing smile. A sense of dread had welled up in her chest, did he know? But how? She hadn't even taken anything yet, was he hired by her father? Or was he some kind of undercover guard, daring her to make a theft so he could bag her?

Before her suspicions could get the better of her, the stranger had flashed her a teasing grin, before suddenly, but not ungently grabbing her by the wrist and waist, stepping to the side and sending her spinning into a pirouette terminating in them holding each other by an outstretched arm.

And with her free paw being just within reach of a fine pocket watch hanging loosely from a noble's back pocket.

Suddenly, knowing without knowing, Toriel was sure of the stranger's intention. She deftly plucked the pocket watch before turning back into the return pirouette that would deposit her into the stranger's arms, using the whirlwind of motion to camouflage her hiding her stolen treasure in her dress. The stranger had laughed a warm chuckle as their eyes met again before quietly declaring "my turn"

He had taken her shimmying and shaking their way near a pair of talking bigiwigs, performing a swift pivot in front of them before turning away just shy of getting too close for comfort. At first, Toriel didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, right until the stranger took her paw into his own for the next part of the dance and she felt the press of a handful of stolen buttons of solid gold inside, somehow ripped straight out of the clothes of the bigwigs by the big monster without them noticing.

The rest of the night had been one joyful dance of theft and larceny for Toriel, feeling a genuine sense of joy and happiness, maybe for the first time in her life, and it conveyed an almost magical touch to their dance. Never before had she felt so light on her feet and never before had she felt so at ease with a dance partner. They flowed into the steps, twists and turns in the most natural way without even having to think. Eventually, they both noticed how many in the ballroom were regarding them with awe, too enamored with the two dancing monsters to notice how their own pockets had gotten a lot lighter.

The two of them had locked eyes, wordlessly reaching the same conclusion, best to stop while they were ahead. With a few graceful moves, they closed in on the doors leading out. The stranger had taken her by the waist and tossed her into the air where she spun herself into a pirouette, one leg stretched out so the enchanted dress was lightly lifted, sending a whirlwind of multicolored fire off, briefly turning the runaway noble's daughter into a living fireworks array just as the accompanying orchestra reached a crescendo. The stranger had gently caught her in strong arms before she hit the floor, swinging her around his body before setting her down, both of them seamlessly flowing into a deep bow before the rest of the ballroom attendees.

Toriel barely even registered the great cheer aimed at them, still too taken by the captivating stranger, and when he gently lifted her paw and asked to 'take 'it' somewhere more private' she knew this was what she had been looking for – new life.

A belief that had only been reinforced all the more as they had sat underneath the moon at the stranger's roofside hideout, sharing a bottle of squeezed snail brandy. Asgore Dreemur was his name, a boss of a small but growing gang.

The look of hesitation on his face told her that he feared his depth of involvement in the criminal underworld would scare her off, but in the end, it had only enticed her even more.

Still to this day, she could hardly fathom that almost fantastical circumstances, her, a troubled noble's daughter, whisked away on a cloud of love by a dashingly handsome rogue to a live of excitement and adventure, like something out of a romance novel.

Over time, she had come to prove herself as more than just the pretty face many of the Don's visitors took her for, being able to temper Asgore's passions with wit and logic. Some even said that Toriel's smarts, beauty, grace and noble bearing lended Ebott an air of credibility and maturity many, even more powerful mobs and gangs could only dream of, easily marking her as the greatest treasure the Don ever had.

But this wasn't a novel, this was her life and had been for many years now. Their dance now might not be as vigorous as the one back then but both of them still felt spark that had first sprung into life in that ballroom so long ago now.

"Every time we do this" Asgore sighed happily "I feel like I'm falling in love all over again"

"And I with you, my darling fluffybuns"

A soft chuckle escaped the Don, sounding more befitting of a flirtatious teen than the venerable crime boss he was.

"We really have it too well" he said.

"The fruits of many years trying to make a dream a reality"

"Our dream" he softly corrected.

She teasingly flashed her eyes at him "Of course, what else could it be? I have everything I have ever dreamed of right here. A loving husband, a life with purpose and our two precious children"

"Ah, and what are our two rascals up to?"

"Little Frisk just got home from her case, another successful ruling"

"Hah, that's our girl" the Don laughed before slowly, almost unperceived turning a tad more apprehensive. Even if she didn't see it Toriel could feel it in his dance, his grip turning a bit tighter and steps becoming stiffer.

"And… Asriel, is he…?"

"Home as well, safe, though not completely worse for wear. Undyne had quite some… choice words regarding the night's escapades"

"Oh golly, he's been out putting himself in danger again? Still even after all this time?"

"At least he is home safe"

"This time" Asgore sighed "I just… it's not easy, getting a good nights rest, knowing he might… he might-"

"Shush, my love, do not think such thoughts" Toriel cooed, resting her head on his chest "I worry too that we might wake up to a morning without him in our lives once again, but I promise you, Alphys and I are doing all we can to ease his troubles"

The Don gently caressed her head, leaning his own down to hers.

"I still feel so rotten. The Flowey Gang, all those years he spent as their thrall - none of it would have happened if I had just-"

"You could not have known the repercussions would have been so severe"

"Bad things happen to those who kill, that's all I know. It did to me, and I'm afraid it'll happen to him as well, if it isn't already"

"And have you not done your utmost to never repeat that mistake? We cannot change what happened, my love, there is no sense worrying over it.

"You're right, of course" The Don softly chuckled "I just… wish I could do more other than standing around feeling sorry for myself"

"He still needs his father, more than ever"

"I'll see about it"

The tone of finality in the Don's voice carried over to the dance. Their steps slowed, bit by bit until it came to a stop in the middle of the room. The Queenpin lifted her head and their eyes met, still as young and shinning as the day they met, as if all the troubles of their world couldn't pierce the sphere around them.

"I love you" Asgore simply stated. Toriel's respone being the climax to the dance both of them had been waiting for; a long, happy kiss.

The day was young. Downstairs, breakfast was waiting and the city beyond held plenty of problems and issues for the crime-couple to take on and solve together, as they had for many years now.

Neither of them realizing that, in a way, the beginning of the end for Ebott was slowly taking shape.


Feels good to finally get the ball rolling on this. Been looking forward to it the past many months.

Hope you enjoyed, and sorry if the chapter seemed a bit long. The next few should be roughly the same length, but after the introductions are done it should get a little more concise.

Anyway, have a good weekend all, and hope to see you next Friday!