Okay, so, we know we said this time would be Snowdin, but that's proving to be a bitch to write. The Snowdin curse is real, DoubleTime's gonna bite it long before we ever get to see the surface. Get ready for 500 episodes of the characters all inexplicably on a boat or some shit. Review time is now.

EpicSlayerGuy99: Thanks homie.
Fixer140.85: Sorry to disappoint, but now Snowdin's next time. Probably. Assuming we don't think of more weird, foreshadowy bullshit. :)
Wingah: thamnk fren w

We don't own Undertale, DoubleTale, or DoubleScramble. Those belong to Toby Fox, XWolf26, and Wingah respectively.

The furious scratching of notes filled the silence of the void between timelines as a burning scientist flicked his gaze between a handful of different screens. On one of them, the anomaly and Marian continued to lollygag in the Ruins. This phase of the experiment wasn't of much interest to Grillby, but it was unfortunately a necessary one. Thankfully, he had many more irons in the fire, and as he looked towards the other screens, he could almost swear he felt a grin tug at his lips. Or it would, if he had any. Being a sapient mass of flames made such matters of physical expression rather difficult. The dull violet of the Ruins reflecting in his glasses was replaced by a brilliant gold as he stared at a particular screen.

Chapter 14: The Colors of Royalty
 "Gaster, these kids you dragged into this completely willy nilly are incredibly volatile!"

Sunlight filtered into the throne room through large, colorful panes of stained glass, reflecting off the ankle-deep standing water that filled it. Faintly glowing teal spears littered the walls and floor, and the sound of screaming, shattering tiles, and splashing water filled the air. Sweat and dust caked the tanned skin of a young human woman, who was locked in a battle to the death with none other than the empress of monsterkind, Undyne.

The blood pounding through Maria's veins roared in her ears with the din of a waterfall, deafening her to the sounds of heated combat around her. She held her bible in a death grip, brandishing more like a weapon than the icon of faith and devotion it was meant to be. She could recite every line contained within without so much as cracking the spine, and she did so readily, filling the air behind her with a sickly golden glow.

"Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil." She intoned, the golden light coalescing into swords of searing, divine light, before streaking out at the demon queen. The piscine warrior stood her ground, conjuring her own array of glowing blue spears to challenge them, and the spectral weapons nearly blinded her as they shattered against each other.

"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." She continued to recite, punctuating each line with another barrage of holy swords, each group larger and covering more angles than the last. It was all the fishy demoness, clad in her gilded armor could do to keep up her defenses. She growled something in defiance, but it fell on deaf ears.

The blonde-haired girl stepped to the side as the wet, tiled floor beneath her glowed a dull cyan, narrowly avoiding getting skewered. She had been skewered at that point last time, a mutinous part of her pointed out. She pointedly ignored it, wanting no part in these heathens' foul games. She raised her free hand, grasping at the sky as she laid the leather bound tome across her heart.

"And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—" As the warrior-queen leapt into the sky with a glowing spear in each fist, a set of glowing golden chains sprang from the earth, ensnaring her and biting into her armored flesh with a faint hiss and sizzle, "he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him."

She threw her hand down and the chains snapped taut, bringing the demon crashing down into the earth. Dust and water scattered as the monarch slammed into the tile, and yet she still managed to fix Maria with a one-eyed glare. Despite her struggles, she couldn't seem to break the chains, and Maria's faith burned bright enough to sustain them easily. The light left the girl's dull gold eyes as she realized the fight was as good as over, the adrenaline slowly beginning to leave her system.

"But when the archangel Michael, contending with the devil, was disputing about the body of Moses, he did not presume to pronounce a blasphemous judgment, but said, "The Lord rebuke you.""

As the last word left her lips a searing light enveloped the throne room, causing a din that left her ears ringing and spots in her eyes as it faded away. Naught remained of the devil that had stood in her way but her ostentatious set of armor, and a sludgy pile of dust.

Maria silently trudged on, grimacing as she noticed how much water had seeped into the bottoms of her sweatpants, and soaked through her socks and slippers. She mumbled a prayer as she trudged onward, knowing she'd need strength to finish the Lord's work in this hellish realm she'd found herself within. But it'd be okay. Because she had her faith, and the gift of her lord and savior. His will would be done.

*But nobody came.

Vincent stifled a yawn as he lounged on the throne, waiting for this squinty-eyed little shit to quit wasting his time. It was bad enough he had to sit through all the reloads as they got curb stomped by Guy Smiley a few dozen times. This heroism gig really wasn't all it was cracked up to be, he'd tell you what, but at least they'd sweetened the deal. He could feel the magic inside him, suffusing his skin, his muscle fibers, his blood, all the way down to the very marrow in his bones, and it was intoxicating. It brought an honest to God smile to his face, and not that crooked, smarmy bullshit one he pulled when fleecing someone for all they're worth with a pen and a dotted line.

Speaking of lines, the pasty young man's thoughts were disturbed as…Frinky? Fiss? Whatever the little shit's name was, they crossed the threshold into the throne room, their boots kicking up water as they silently stepped inside. They looked at him like they were shocked to see him there, and with good reason. They'd stabbed him back in Snowdin for lookin' at 'em funny. He smirked, cocking a brow as he continued to relax. "What? Surprised to see your pal of pals Vinny still kickin' after you shivved 'im? What can I say, I'm like a Timex, take a lickin', keep on tickin'!"

He allowed himself a laugh at his own joke, delighting in the way the kid's expression cycled through utter confusion, recognition, and childish fury in the span of a few seconds. "You should've stayed dead, funny man." They growled out, their knife gleaming in the light as they stomped forward…only to stop dead in their tracks as they felt something grab their leg. Their eyes widened as they looked down, seeing a half-rotted hand protruding from a hole in the now-cracked tiling. A brief tug failed to free them, the appendage's rigor mortis grip proving to be tighter than a vice.

"Y'seem a little confused about how things work in my line'a work, kid, so lemme give ya a hand and learn ya a thing'r'two about Interest! Not every day you get free lessons in economics, kid, so listen up." Vinny prattled on, his violet eyes glimmering with malice and mirth as he watched the kid begin to saw the offending limb with their knife, trying to cut themselves free.

"Go to hell!" Frisk replied, clearly getting fed up with the greasy schmuck in the cheap suit running his mouth like he knew shit. They'd teach him, they thought to themself, and then things could go back to normal.

"When ya make a deposit into a bank, that money you left 'em accrues what's called Interest, makin' it into more money without you havin' to lift a finger. Then, eventually, when the time's right, you pull fat stacks back out of the bank, and you're fuckin' replete with cheddar. Absolutely loaded!" Vincent explained anyways, not batting an eye as he tucked an errant strand of raven hair back behind one of his ears, and straightened his tie.

"So y'see, when you deposit one stab wound into the Bank of Vinny…" He trailed off, murder in his eyes and a cruel smirk on his lips as a shadow began to loom over Frisk. The child felt their blood run cold, and they didn't even have to look at their textbox to know something was very, very wrong. They spotted a familiar pair of blood-stained sneakers out of the corner of their eye, before turning fully to see what fresh hell awaited horrified gaze slowly traveled up, along a pair of long, worn-out jean covered legs, to a bloody, blue and red striped hoodie, before finally resting on a dead man's thousand-yard glare. His hand stiffly reached out to grab Frisk by the throat and lift them up, their legs dangling uselessly beneath them as the skeletal hand disappeared.

Vincent's grin became downright feral as the corpse turned and shitwhipped Frisk into a wall, their body bouncing off it and collapsing with a splash. "You get your deposit back, with interest!"

Aaaaaaaand that's all we got for now. Life's kept us busy, and we just got done being out of work for a week with Covid. Funny how it wasn't until after we went back to work that we decided to update. If you liked this and wanna see more, consider rating, following, reviewing, etc. It means a lot to see people enjoying this weird little project.

Edit (11/22/23): Went back and touched up a few small things with this chapter alongside a few others, as well as porting the other revisions that made it in when we ported DoubleTime to Archive of Our Own. Hope y'all enjoy.

TiredWhiteMayge, over and out.