2. Off-Guard
[[File 2.1 IH-20150701-3-2 MW 301]]
Snow crunched softly but crisply beneath his feet. Below the weak soles of his slippers he could feel the snow's freezing wet, and more than his preferred share of ice slipping in at the heel. As he shuffled forward, attempting his best to step on the indented footprints of those who had walked before him, he could feel the ice sliding from his heel to his metatarsals and phalanges. The cold burned. Briefly he considered stopping to let out the ice, but knew the slippers would refill just a minute later. Sixty seconds of snow-less slipper would not be worth the effort of dumping it. He continued shuffling forward one damp slipper at a time.
Typically Sans loathed walking places – he was starting to prefer other, far faster modes of transportation – but today he felt the strange inclination to travel by foot. It allowed him more time to avoid work-work. Sure, he could have arrived instantly at his station, pretended to attend to duties, then slipped away for some time in Snowdin's well-frequented restaurant, but in today's mental state, he did not feel like spending his extra time at Grillby's among company. He needed some solitude this morning to prepare for the upcoming day. The best way to achieve that would be to trek through the forest alone and enjoy the weather for what it was.
He could feel some predictive sense stirring inside him. He harbored suspicions about what the day would bring. If situations proceeded as they had in his previous experiences, everything would be changing soon, changing in unknown but likely unwelcome directions. It meant he wanted to soak in this quiet moment while he could. Walking from one location to another also would provide a welcome, nostalgic call-back to simpler times… simpler times where the only thing he could have chosen to do was walk.
And despite the snow's chilly dampness, he could not complain to the woods' weather. No new snow showered from above, and the temperature might have been slightly warmer than usual. Pine trees lined either side of the walkway in a proud line of needles and branches. All things considering, it was a beautiful day in Snowdin Forest.
The silence might have unnerved him once. Elsewhere in the underground, there would be some noise – the constant rumble of rushing rapids in Waterfall; nonsensical babbles in Echo Flower fields; cogs creaking and groaning in Hotland; the constant drone of voices in the crowded capital; the hum of high-powered machines in the desolate old lab; the cheerful chirrup of birds in the Throne Room; the deep, low-frequency bass at the CORE. In Snowdin, though, nothing could be heard. When snow drifted down, it floated silently into snowbanks. No wind rustled needles in the conifers. The road stretched onward between rows and rows of trees without a sound frequenting its path… not unless one chose to journey through the snow. Then the walker's footsteps would crack loudly, painfully, obtrusively into the noiselessness.
Indeed, that strange silence might once have unnerved him. Yet now Sans appreciated the stillness. Here a monster could breathe, relax, and simply be. There would be no maddened rush to fulfill an overseer's demand, no traffic from monsters trekking up and down city streets, no noise of newcomers fiddling with the local area's puzzles. The underground's problem of overcrowding had not yet reached these quiet tree trunks. Here in Snowdin Forest, the most to worry about was keeping warm.
Even that hardly concerned him anymore. Hence wearing slippers on his hike.
Technically he did have duties to fulfill here out in the middle of nowhere. Yet in a world where even the pines remained unperturbed, he found himself wandering idly moreso than attending to any of his boss' specific instructions. None of the puzzles out here had been used in some time, nor did he expect them to be used in some time; no use resetting them, even if he was supposed to have done so eight days back. Papyrus could rant all he wanted. It would entertain Sans, and as work could quickly become boring, he accepted entertainment wherever it came.
He often wondered why Undyne assigned so many sentries and guards to these unoccupied woods. No human had passed through the Ruins for… well, more years than Sans could recount. The last SOUL which had come through Snowdin Forest died well before Sans had been born.
Still, at least all this vigilance provided him an easy job.
Past a small, frozen pond he wandered; past a little garden of round snow poffs; past dog kennels and a few stations manned by bored canines; past infinite trees and a steady snowbank; and the more he wandered, the fewer footprints he found indented in the snow. By the time the pine trees transitioned to tall, leafless oaks, Sans was trekking through untouched terrain.
The indistinct marks of his soggy slippers led way to a small, pointy-topped booth. Behind the stall's counter would be a well-worn chair and countless empty condiment bottles. Perhaps, if he were lucky, a few still held some tasty squirts of ketchup. He could check later. Feeling peculiarly contented to keep wandering the woods, Sans continued forward, sliding past the station and entering the trees.
He veered off-road and weaved between trunks. If he maintained his direction, he could reach the Ruins, lean up against the door, and exchange some conversation with an elderly lady who lived on the other side of the walls. As relaxing as the silence could be in Snowdin Forest, he also appreciated the voice of a friend. It was a good way to pass the boring, uneventful hours… a good way to find something enjoyable and somewhat worthwhile in this world.
hopefully she's feeling better. sounded pretty rough the last time we chatted.
He never reached the Ruins. Never reached the door. Out from the corner of his eyesocket Sans caught an unexpected shifting movement. He halted. Turned slowly. Peered out carefully from between trunks with both eyesockets wide open.
His soul jerked up nervously from his ribcage, pulsating one heavy beat, once he realized what he had spotted.
He should have known.
A small, squat individual in a purple striped shirt wandered obliviously down the path, heading away from Sans and toward the sentry station he had left unattended.
He knew, even before he caught a good sight of them, that they were human.
So much for "no humans had been in the underground since before his birth."
looks like today will be just as interesting as i thought.
Competing and contradictory thoughts tussled inside him. Fear, hope, curiosity, dread. He felt some satisfaction his personal prediction had been correct – there would be a strange occurrence today. But he also felt displeasure situations were carrying out as they were. A human wandered progressively away from him on an unmarked snowy road. He needed to decide – right now – what he would do about it.
He could not know what today would bring. An uneasy sense of apathy clawed inside him, yet he fought against it, telling himself he might as well attempt to make the most of the encounter. Hopefully, by marching optimistically into this situation, all would end well… at least, that it would end better than it had in other prior times. He could still be an agent to a better future.
Right?
Best he could, he shoved aside his initial nervous reaction. He could make this moment fun. Mischievous grin rising over his jawbone, he veered to the right – quietly, carefully – and began creeping behind the unsuspecting traveler.
It was time to play one of his age-old pranks.
He could only see the back side of the strange visitor, their short brownish hair bobbing above soft, rounded shoulders. Small hands swung to either side of their sweater; they were squeezing their fingers together tightly, as though to fistfight off the cold. Legs reached high in labored steps to clear the snow; given as Sans had stepped off the trail, the human was breaking the path of snow themselves.
He followed right behind, gingerly placing one slipper in every footprint. He only diverged from the pattern once, intentionally, to plant a firm foot on a twig and snap it. The sudden crack of noise echoed through the woods.
The human stopped walking.
Before the human paused and tentatively turned around, glancing back apprehensively, Sans skittered back into the woods to dive behind a thick-trunked tree. He could imagine the perplexed expression on the human's face as they stared at the road behind them. There would be no other visible tracks and no other individual in sight – nothing but trees and an unfrequented, snow-covered path.
Only after a long, silent lapse did the traveler move forth again. They had to be feeling confused or scared. Their slower steps indicated some sort of wary caution, but they still kept their eyes forward on the road, not looking behind them once. Body language looked stiffer. Perhaps they were too nervous about what they would discover. Perhaps they were attempting to convince themselves that, if they did not see the potential danger behind them, that danger did not exactly exist.
Sans resumed his journey with a chuckle. What an entertaining debacle. Whatever happened next in life, at least he could take this amusing moment out of it. As the human progressed further into the woods, nearing a tall, large wooden gate, Sans took less and less care to hide the noise of his footsteps. Tiny, muffled crackles became audible footfalls became weighty stomps grew into a menacing crunch, crunch, crunch. By the time the newcomer could hear his footsteps, they had frozen, neck rigid, arms taught at the side, knuckles so white they almost blinded the snow.
Crunch…
crunch…
crunch.
Sans tread ominously up behind them. He inched forward, closer to the frozen human, until he stood less than a pace away. Echoes of footsteps stopped. Silence. If skeletons had had traditional lungs, Sans' breath would have brushed right over the top of the human's hair.
Nothing moved.
Nothing.
"Human." It was a cold, monotone voice, one without any passion, without any sense of warmth or friendliness. He struggled to maintain a straight face while he spoke.
"Don't you know how to greet a new pal?
"Turn around and shake my hand."
Even supposing his stalking through the words had not terrified the traveler, his words certainly spooked them now. The human could barely move. They glanced once stiffly over their shoulder, eyes wide, gaping shocked and unblinking at the skeleton. Sans caught a glimpse of amber irises before the human snapped their head back forward. He could hear them breathing. Could see them pull their body together even tighter, bringing hands up to their chest, and using each finger to fiddle with the edge of the opposite shirt sleeves. The human… finally… turned. After one more tug on the sleeve, they reached out towards Sans' outstretched left hand… and grabbed onto a whoopee cushion.
Sans never left the house without it tucked inside his jacket pocket.
A pathetic, wheezing sound of slowly-escaping gas ruined the ominous mood.
He laughed both at the horrid flatulent noise and the human's startled expression. He had not seen someone so shocked since he vacuumed the living room floor for Papyrus five years ago. Mouth agape, the human stared, before at last their shocked expression gave way to an easygoing grin and appallingly warm smile. The snow might have melted around them as the human let out a giggle and pulled up a timid right hand to half-hide their lips.
Sans held out his culprit toy for both of them to admire. "heheh… the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. it's ALWAYS funny."
Out of both relief and amusement, the human's titters rose to higher pitches. Sans accompanied them with low chuckles. He was beginning to feel a lot better about encountering this human now that they were face-to-face. This short, round creature did not seem too dangerous – perhaps everything would be fine henceforth.
He could hope. He still had that going for him.
"anyways," Sans cut in, before the his conversant's laughter had died completely, "you're a human, right? that's hilarious."
When the human appeared confused by that comment, he continued, "i'm sans.
"sans the skeleton.
"im actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now.
"but… y'know…
"i dont really care about capturing anybody."
The human did not speak much, yet their facial expressions more than compensated communicatively. Every twitch of their nose, blink of their eyes, lick of their lips, directly manifested their internal thoughts. Altogether their reaction expressed exactly what they were thinking.
what did she tell them…?
His mind wandered briefly to his last conversation with the woman behind the door. Her words still rung clearly in his memories.
He could feel his smile waver, forced the bones to stay up in a cheery grin. But inside of him, a bit of his chipper mood disappeared.
ah. so the human was warned, weren't they?
[[File 2.2 SA-20150715-0-# MW 110]]
A full half dozen royal guards stood in the brothers' battered kitchen. Papyrus, only somewhat recovered from recent events, blabbered more loudly than typical in an attempt to overcome his stammering. Sans, meanwhile, loitered wordlessly outside the room, leaning against the living room table and watching the commotion with a noncommittal eyesocket. None of the bones from the incident had been moved – at least, none intentionally, for a few had been inadvertently crushed by the iron soles of guardswoman armor – yet the human SOUL had been shipped straight to the king, in hopes that even in its shattered state it might still be put to good purpose. There was some uncertainty about this prospect. As long as human SOULs were known to last outside a host, and as much as the monsters had learned how to preserve those SOULs in special vats, it remained to be seen whether this SOUL would survive its long trip to the capital. Sans supposed he would learn later. Now the Dogi, Knight Knight, 01, and 02 clambered over the eventful afternoon's evidence, while Undyne marched dramatically outside the kitchen, red and black ponytail swinging to and fro with her martial stride.
Undyne's eye met with Sans' eyesockets. Lips curled in a frustrated snarl, the Captain of the Guard growled in what she meant to be a quiet voice, "Sans. I need to talk to you."
"welp. can't say i didn't expect that coming." He shrugged, folds from his jacket hood rising up with his shoulders. He remained slouched and unmoving beside the table, hands tucked casually inside his coat pockets.
Displeased with his reaction, Undyne insisted, "Sans. Alone."
"heh, sure, cap. i dont mind."
He forced himself to maintain a steady grin. It might have faltered, though thankfully, Undyne appeared not to notice. Back momentarily turned to Sans, she stomped toward the stairs, locating herself far from the other company in the house, before swiveling on her heel and facing him again.
She launched straight into the point – unsurprising, as she had never been one for subtlety and finesse. "Why haven't you joined the Royal Guard?"
Sans blinked. In truth, of all the questions he had anticipated from her, this first one legitimately surprised him.
"I said, why haven't…"
"sorry…" His cheekbones twitched into a bigger grin as he pulled out a mischievous wink. With a bit of a chuckle, he returned, "…your question caught me off-guard."
"NGAH! Sans!" The slivered pupil in her yellow eye quivered. As always, Undyne radiated energy, passion, and not-so-subtle temper. "Now is not the time for jokes!
"Listen. I like power. I like strength. I respect nothing more than the ability to go out and fight strong! We hired you as a sentry because you proved you were… competent… even if you were also, um, impressively lazy. But what you just did tonight… I've never seen anything like it!" With her left hand, she gestured to the kitchen, where the guards remained engrossed in Papyrus' narration. A smile crept onto her face for a moment as she reveled in the beauty of the destruction. But her mouth quickly enough returned to a contorted grimace. "You apparently killed a human SOUL in the blink of an eye. A HUMAN SOUL. I don't even know if ASGORE could do that, and he's the one who trained me!
"I thought ASGORE and I had hired the best and strongest monsters throughout the underground to be in the Guard…
"… But you.
"… How did you do it?"
"heh." It was all he could think to say, at first. When Undyne's hand dropped, he stepped backwards, just enough to avoid Undyne's steamy breath upon his cheekbones, if not far enough to avoid the pungent scent of fish breath. The second sentence he thought of, i caught the kid off-guard, seemed like it might set Undyne over the edge. His jokes were poor quality – nothing as good as Papyrus' clever puns – but even he had enough comical sense not to repeat the same punchline twice in a row. Sans instead replied, "i surprised the kid, was all."
"Was all." Undyne crossed her arms over her chest – quite a feat in a full suit of clunky armor. Skepticism radiated through both her eye and black eyepatch. "I repeat: why aren't you in the Royal Guard with the other elite? I didn't know you could do that. Is ASGORE unaware too?"
Before Sans could respond to either question, she asked a third, more hesitant one, in a noticeably softer tone.
"… Is it because of Papyrus?"
Her ever-present grimace fell slightly. "Ugh… look… I know how much he wants to be in the Royal Guard. It's just that… he's too innocent and nice! ! ! For crying out loud, he just INVITED a HUMAN into his house to cook them SPAGHETTI! You…" and her face noticeably fell this time "… are you avoiding it so he doesn't feel bad?"
"heheh. no." Sans' eyesocket orbs drifted to the right. "hey, you know me, dontcha cap? the royal guard has to do hard work, and i like nothing better than to do nothing at all. quiet ole sentry life is good for me."
"I suppose so," she mumbled. As an afterthought, Undyne admitted, "It wouldn't seem like you, anyway. I can't imagine you standing guard or wearing anything except that stupid coat and pair of slippers.
"It doesn't even seem like you to do this at all. You're a sentry, sure. But even Papyrus is… well, sort of… a sentry, and I couldn't imagine him hurting something small as a flower. Sentries stand guard, but they're not fighting material. Not like this.
"Really, none of this adds up. I don't understand why you did it."
A short silence.
Broken. "welp, it helps ASGORE, doesn't it?"
Staring at him from the corner of her eye, she admitted, "If the SOUL can be used, it does…" Her voice trailed off for a moment, hope glimmering in her eye and a smile twitching at the corners of her cheeks. Hopes and dreams spread across her face. But still, in one last stubborn bout of frustration, she ejected, "Dammit, Sans, I would be ELATED to see this if I knew what was going on! ! ! What the hell are you hiding!?"
He shrugged.
"NGAHHH." She squeezed her eyes shut in a tightly-scrunched frown. She held it for some time. After taking numerous deep, cleansing breaths, she stepped around Sans, heading back toward the kitchen, and grumbled, "I wouldn't hire you into the Guard anyway. You barely even do your job as a sentry.
"… except tonight." Her eyes stared into the kitchen room, examining the utter carnage. Bones covered every inch of every surface, puncturing through the walls in patterns, stabbing the refrigerator, laying splayed over the countertops, piling on the floor in heaps. Only a small corner – the corner in which Papyrus had been standing – was spared. "Except… apparently… tonight."
[[File 2.3 IH-20150622-3-1 MW 299]]
" 'And the underground will go empty.'
"I'm telling you, it can only mean dust. Lots and lots of dust."
Half-sturdy wooden chairs squeaked, and a few monsters in the room might have emitted a squeak-like sound themselves. Yet the room stilled otherwise, metamorphosing a generally cheerful atmosphere into something uncomfortably morose. The sooty sense of death itched at their fingers, and several monsters nervously wiped their hands, rubbing off any imaginary dirt that might have been on them. Grillby leaned over, avoided eye contact, stared deliberately at the rag in his hand, and rubbed at the countertop with all his might. The squeak from his cleaning might have sounded humorous in other circumstances, yet here the unwanted noise only kept customers on edge.
Sans watched a rabbit reach for her fries. She flinched and jerked her hand away upon touching a few specks of salt – the texture must have reminded her too much of dust. She continued shaking her hand in air to fling off the sensation even as another attending monster spoke up.
"The a-a-angel of death symbol doesn't h-have to d-deal with the prophecy," they argued, voice quavering and stuttering so much their words could barely be understood. It might have been a good argument had they spoken with conviction.
"Pah! Of course it doesn't!" Now that the taboo subject had finally been acknowledged aloud, others were willing to insert their voice. A third monster entered the discussion with gusto. He rarely ever frequented Grillby's bar, yet tonight had, and apparently was here to stay late into the night berating others on their interpretation of obscure archaic relics. "You actually believe that little sign (it's called the Delta Rune, you should know that) is the 'angel of death'? Who even came up with that crap anyway? There's no angel of death in the prophecy, there's no angel of death in the history books, there's no angel of death anywhere. It's just an angel, and an angel is a good thing.
"Come on, keep smiling. We've still got our hopes and dreams, don't we?" he pointed out. "The prophecy's talking about us reaching the surface."
Some individuals lifted their heads, including most of the dogs at the table in the center. Though they did not enter the conversation, they all seemed to believe this interpretation over the other. Of course, anyone would want the better alternative to be the right one, in the spirit of hoping, and Snowdin had always been a town that sought to stay positive.
Except for one adamant monster who slammed their empty mug down on the counter. It clattered with a frightful bang that sounded a little too much like a gun. The first speaker returned with vehemence. "Or all dying. Even if there isn't an angel of death, the underground going empty sounds a whole lot like extinction to me." The speaker shuddered. "Our population is growing too rapidly. We're running out of space. Depression has skyrocketed. Did you hear the latest royal science lab reports? They're saying we won't have enough food for everyone within thirty years. Just thirty years! I know Snowdin's still peaceful, quiet, and small, but that ain't the case for the majority of the underground!"
Sans wished it were not so conspicuous to teleport out of the center of the restaurant. He could only predict raised voices and mayhem from here, and he did not relish the thought of witnessing either. So much for a nice quiet late evening snack before coming home.
The discussion continued, if discussion it could still be called. It had almost broken the barrier to be considered an 'argument'. "Come on, you just said it yourself. The underground will go empty. We'll find a way to break the barrier and go home. The underground wouldn't go empty even with… all the… um… problems… we'd just have… um… population… reduction? But it'd only go empty if we all left. Which means it's a good thing."
"That's not the whole prophecy, and you know it. Want me to repeat it to you?"
"I know it."
Yes, it was definitely an argument now, not just a discussion.
"Apparently you don't know it." A voice cleared, and then:
" 'The One Who Has Seen The Surface… They will return. And the underground will go empty.'
"There's only one thing that can see the surface and enter here… a human."
Protestingly: "But humans can't get in."
Though he could have simply stood up and returned home, he did not wish to exert the effort. Sans tried to lift a finger and signal Grillby for another drink instead; that would help the situation a little, at least. However, the monster attending the bar single-mindedly rubbed half the polish off the counter in his vigor to avoid the debate. Sans noticed that the cloth was beginning to smoke; being a monster made of fire made some aspects of daily life… challenging… for Grillby. Even with fire magic, a monster could only control so much.
Thankfully, however, none of the arguing customers wished to incite the other too much. Their voices lulled, taking on a different type of intensity, near-whispers sharp and overlayed with worry.
"ASGORE has s-six SOULs, d-doesn't he?" The stutterer appeared less nervous to speak up to the crowd now, but their voice continued shaking as they considered a possible monster extinction. In desperate hope, they sputtered, "Six humans g-g-got here before. A human c-can come in and m-make the underground go empty."
"Yeah. Through death. They slaughtered us. They locked us in here. They killed both of the king and queen's children last time." The words sounded more dejected than confrontational. No one enjoyed actually confronting their dire situation; it's why most of the monsters in the town attempted to remain lighthearted with innocuous jokes. Not tonight, though. Tonight was a rare moment of staring the prophecy in its ugly face. With no smile at all, the monster concluded, for a second time, "I told you. The underground will go empty, and we'll all turn to dust."
"Or it could mean that ASGORE gets the final SOUL and breaks the barrier…"
Everyone in the bar shifted uncomfortably. Grillby actually did manage to light the rag on fire now. Desperately, he turned around and grabbed another towel, threw it on top of the burning cloth, but failed to completely stifle the flames. Fire flared up again, but before it could spread, Sans reached out and dumped his soda. Grillby provided a succinct nod of thanks, but then stepped away from the disaster area, standing straight and tall as ever and pretending the incident had never occurred.
The restaurant's all-customer conversation had been interrupted. With their emotions bleak, no one wished to quite resume it. Yet they needed closure, too. A rather horse-like customer up in the front shrugged, let out a clumsy whinny, and pointed out, "Looks like it's just about waiting to see if a human shows up. And being extra careful when they do."
One of the white dogs at the center table nodded. Seeming more encouraged than he had been earlier, he declared, "And no human has ever made it past ASGORE."
His wife nodded. "(No human will make it past us, either.)"
The rabbit sighed, resting her elbows on the table and both paws against her white-furred cheeks. "But that'd be so boring. Life's always boring. Wouldn't you want to learn a bit about the human first? Get something interesting out of it before they die?"
"Are you kidding? Risk losing their SOUL?"
"(We aren't in the Royal Guard to play around!)"
The rabbit apparently did not enjoy the dogs' answers. "Well…" After screwing up her face, she turned around in her seat, stared at Sans, and batted her lashes. "What about you, Sansy? You've been quiet. What'd you do if you saw a human?"
Of course he would get dragged into this discussion. After squirting a round of ketchup in his mouth, he pulled out his best toothy grin and responded, "i'm s'posed to capture 'em, of course."
"Hey, be honest with us, Sansy." She knew him too well. They basically lived together in the same restaurant, they frequented Grillby's so frequently. "I can't imagine you doing anything except glance at them and go back to napping. What'd you actually do?"
"i don't know," said Sans. He doubted she or anyone else in the room believed the words, despite the fact they were true. Something unsettling crawled up his spine at the thought. He stared at the counter, now as intent to study it as Grillby had been to wash it earlier. A horrible mess of splattered brown soda pop and crisped black cloth fragments trashed the surface of otherwise pristine wood countertops. It looked like a SOUL had been attacked and broken right there on the tabletop.
i really don't know.