I do not own the rights to Undertale.
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At first, it all seemed like a dream. Sans and Papyrus were given a room to stay in, and a clean gown each. It was about there that the niceties ended. They rarely saw Gaster himself, just his "assistants," as he referred to them, never raising their voices except to occasionally speak to Gaster over the intercom in their strange tongue.
They received two small loaves of bread and two cups of water twice a day to keep them fed. Every now and then they'd receive maybe a small side of protein or greens to add some balance to their intake, but it wasn't too common of an occurrence. Their room was bland and grey, with only a wooden bunk for each of them hanging on the wall. Their door was reinforced steel, with a small, wire glass window to see the wall across the corridor. The door never opened. Their food was slid in through a small flap in the door at the bottom.
It soon became clear that they weren't in a home. They were in a prison. Despite this, they didn't think much of it. The lack of freedom was glum and disheartening, but in all honesty, it was still better than the life they had been leading on the burning streets of Hotland. Even if only slightly.
After a few days in confinement, Papyrus began to call out. He'd call for Gaster, and for the assistants. He'd call for anyone. He'd yell to be let out of their cell. Occasionally, one of Gaster's assistants would bang on the door to shut him up, but mostly, he was ignored. Every once in a while, Sans and Papyrus would think that maybe they heard someone respond from a farther room, but they couldn't quite tell. They shrugged it off as a trick of the mind, or Gaster's assistants talking with each other. With the exception of it being with each other, the brothers' confinement was rather solitary.
This routine continued for weeks. There were no clocks anywhere they could see. There was no real way to tell what time it was. At a certain time, the lights would turn off and soon afterwards, the assistants would stop passing by the cell. Hours later, the lights would turn back on and Gaster's assistants would bring the brothers their bread and water.
Then, one day, the door opened. One of Gaster's assistants entered. He was tall, though not as tall as Gaster himself. He had a blank face, with no eyes, and his thin mouth pressed into a scowl. He pointed at Papyrus. He spoke for the first time in a language they understood.
"Come with me," he said.
"…what?" Sans asked, pointing to himself. "Me?"
"Yes, let's go."
"But…," Sans pointed to his brother, "What about him?"
The man scowled and grabbed Sans by the arm.
"Hey! Let go of him!" Papyrus protested. "Sans!"
Papyrus reached out to stop the man, but was knocked back against the wall. He grunted in pain.
"Pap!" Sans called out, and tried to break free of the man's grasp, moving towards his brother.
"You will follow instructions," came Gaster's voice from over the intercom, "Or there will be consequences. Subject 4, bring me Subject 11."
Subject 4, as he was apparently called, began hauling Sans away again, and Papyrus stood up once more to defend his brother.
"No!" Papyrus shouted, "Let him go!"
"He will be returned to the cell afterwards," Gaster's voice came again. "You will follow instructions."
"But…," Papyrus began.
"It's okay, bro," Sans tried to reassure him, "I'll be back."
"Subject 4," Gaster's voice came again, "Bring me Subject 11."
Subject 4 responded in the strange language and he led Sans out the door before slamming it shut. Papyrus simply looked out the window as his brother was hauled away.
The two exited the elevator, to another part of the lab. Gaster was there with another one of his assistants, a strange, snake-like monster with a large, jagged smile and piercing eyes.
Gaster looked up from his clipboard to Sans and Subject 4. He began speaking in their strange tongue, and Subject 4 led Sans over to a reclined, metal bench. It was adorned with various leather straps, and over it hung a lamp. Beside it was a table with several different pieces of equipment: blades, hooks, mirrors, hammers, and more.
Sans swallowed nervously.
"Get on the bench, Subject 11," Gaster said.
Sans stared.
"He said, 'get on the bench,'" the snake man told Sans.
"…me?" Sans asked.
"Follow instructions," Gaster said, staring down at his clipboard again.
Sans, apparently Subject 11, climbed up onto the table.
"Subject 4. Subject 9. Restrain him."
His two assistants obliged. They fastened the leather straps onto Sans' wrists, ankles, torso, waist, neck, and around his forehead. He was completely immobilized.
Gaster went and stood behind a nearby desk with monitors and cables on it.
"Attach the sensors," he said.
Subject 4 took several plastic cups and placed them at various points on Sans' bones. Seemed kind of funny to think about, being that he was a skeleton. Sans let out a small chuckle.
The snake man, Subject 9, hovered over Sans, glaring at him. Sans quickly stifled the laugh.
Subject 9 turned to Gaster, and spoke in his language. Gaster motioned for the two to step away from Sans.
"What… what's going on here?" Sans asked nervously.
No answer came. Gaster continued speaking to his assistants.
"What are you guys doing to me?"
Again, no answer.
After a brief silence, Sans raised his voice. "HEY!"
All three men looked over at Sans, unamused expressions on their faces (except for Subject 4, given his lack of facial features that most people possess).
"Observations, Subject 11," Gaster responded, "Do not raise your voice again."
"Observing what?" Sans asked.
"Life signs. Energy levels. Aura output readings. Overall health and strength," Gaster listed, "Be quiet."
Sans frowned. He laid silently, and motionless (not that he could have moved anyway). It dragged on forever. After a few hours with only occasional chatter in the strange language from Gaster and his assistants, Gaster handed his clipboard to Subject 4. He directed his assistants, pointed at Sans and then the monitors, and began walking towards the bench. Or rather, the table next to the bench.
Sans began to get nervous. His eyes darted around.
"Uh…, Doc…?" he began, "What… what are you doing?"
Subject 9 said spoke in their language, and Gaster answered something back. All gibberish to Sans, but it made him even more apprehensive.
Gaster's hand hovered over the tool table for a moment, as though he was unsure of which instrument to use. After a brief moment, he settled on a scalpel. It shined under the light of the overhanging lamp, and made a sharp sound while it scraped against other tools as Gaster picked it up.
Sans began to sweat.
"Wha… what is this?!"
Gaster raised the scalpel into the air above Sans.
Sans began to panic. If he had a heart, it would be pounding.
"What are you doing?!" he asked frantically.
"My duty," Gaster responded, and brought the scalpel down rapidly towards Sans' eye.
The young skeleton let out a scream of terror, and closed his eyes tightly. He tried to turn his head, but the strap held him in place.
He braced himself as best he could, but the pain never came. After a moment, he opened his eyes. Gaster had already moved away from him, back towards the monitors. He was writing something down on his clipboard while conversing with Subjects 4 and 9, occasionally pointing at the monitors.
"What… what the hell!?" Sans shouted.
Gaster and his assistants ignored him. They continued making notations and conversing amongst themselves.
"HEY!" Sans yelled at the top of his voice.
"I already told you, Subject 11," Gaster said, not looking up, "be quiet."
"You almost stabbed me!"
"It was an experiment to measure your readings when under stress. Be quiet."
"You did this for an EXPERIMENT?!"
"Subject 11, be quiet."
"I'm not gonna-"
"Subject 4, silence him."
Subject 4 walked over to Sans with a long cloth rag in one hand, and a small, balled-up rag in the other.
"No! Get away from me!" Sans shouted, and began squirming in his bonds.
Subject 4 tried to force the rag into Sans' mouth, but the skeleton refused to open his mouth. Subject 4 turned towards Gaster and spoke to him in an inquisitive tone. Gaster responded to him, and Subject 4 turned to Sans.
"You will be silent," Subject 4 said, his tone menacing.
Sans glared at the eyeless man.
"You will be silent, or you will be silenced," he added.
Subject 4 walked away. As soon as he was far enough away, Sans shouted, "What gives you the right?!"
Gaster spoke their language, and Subject 4 instantly turned back around. He picked up a hammer from the table and brought it down swiftly onto Sans' knee. Sans screamed out in pain, and Subject 4 took advantage of this moment. As Sans screamed, Subject 4 stuffed the balled up rag into his mouth, then he took the other cloth and tied it around his jaw.
"You were warned, Subject 11," Gaster said, grabbing a mug off his desk. He took a sip, and went back to his notes. "You will be kept here for further observation." He turned to his assistants. "Keep watch," he told them, and he left.
Sans shouted at the men, but the gag was an effective muffler. Sans soon gave up.
After another hour or two, Gaster returned. He spoke to Subjects 4 and 9 in their tongue for a moment, while looking at the annotations and observations made. After a brief moment, he spoke again and signaled towards Sans. The two assistants came and removed the straps and gag. Sans immediately fought back, but was quickly subdued. He continued to struggle, and Subject 4 grabbed him by the head. He slammed Sans' face into the bench. Sans suddenly felt incredibly weak. His face stung intensely, and his legs gave out. He fell to the floor.
He heard footsteps grow closer. He heard Gaster's voice speak unintelligibly. Then he heard him say, "I told you before. You're weak, Subject 11. You have a defect. You do not have the strength to stand up for yourself as you are now. You will learn. Pick him up."
Sans felt himself lifted onto his feet. Subject 4 was holding him up, albeit barely. He lifted his head to look at Gaster.
"You will not fight us again, Subject 11," Gaster said, his face unexpressive and his tone deadpan as always. "You will follow instructions. Am I understood?"
Sans wanted to fight back. He wanted to tell Gaster to go to hell. But the man was right. He could barely stand at the moment. Sans sighed. "Yes…," he replied, weakly.
"Wonderful," Gaster said. He looked to his assistants, and spoke in their tongue. The two lifted Sans to his feet and practically dragged the weakened skeleton back to the elevator. Debilitated and disheartened, Sans looked up as he saw Gaster disappear behind the closing doors.
Sans was pushed into his cell, and the steel door slammed shut behind him.
"Sans!" Papyrus shouted, and ran toward his brother. He hugged him crying. "Sans! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, bro…," Sans said, unsure if he was telling the truth. "Just... scared…"
"What did they do, Sans?"
"Just…," Sans paused for a minute. He didn't want to worry Papyrus. "…just observations, bro."
Papyrus narrowed his eyes. "Sans…"
The younger skeleton knew it was a lie. But Sans felt that there was no reason to have Papyrus worry about him. Not yet, anyway.
A tray of rations was slid through the opening in the door. The lights shut off.
It was stressful, frightening, and painful. But it was over. Tomorrow was another day.
I changed the title, you may have noticed. I only put "The Man Who Speaks In Hands" because I coudn't think of a better one. I decided just "Hands" was a bit more fitting with what I was trying to do, and still included Gaster while also at least mentioning the bond of the two brothers.
Let me know what you think. Leave me a review.