IMPORTANT:This chapter is NOT CONSECUTIVE. This comes close to the end of the story, when we've finally reached the "lovers" phase of the enemiesfriendslovers arc. At this point, Frisk has been captured by thugs and Sans is forced to pursue a final, desperate option to save her.

Sans hid behind a bush in front of the Division of Magic and Monster Countermeasures, asking himself for the hundredth time how his life had come to this one unbelievable moment. He reflected on all the bad decisions he'd made, leading to this, the granddaddy of bad ideas. The first was coming out of The Underground at all, though it wasn't exactly fair to call that a choice. The next was getting captured alive, a mistake that cost him everything and enabled humanity to enslave monster kind. Then there was the day when Frisk accidentally became his owner. Multiple times, he chose to save her life at the expense of his own freedom and safety. And now here he was, doing it again. Why?

Because his biggest mistake of all had been letting himself fall in love.

Sans couldn't bring himself to regret it, though. Frisk had taken his miserable life and transmogrified it like an emotional alchemist. She made him happier than he'd ever imagined possible.

And then she'd been torn away, leaving a weeping, ragged hole in his soul where she used to be. Sans placed a palm over his chest, bracing for what he had to do. Until today, there had been no power on Earth strong enough to compel him to return to this cursed place.

With a final thought of the woman he loved, Sans stepped into the open. It took longer than he'd expected for a guard to spot him and raise the alarm. Moments later, he was surrounded. A growing crowd of guards in monster division regulation uniform leveled various weapons at him. Some were control devices, some were magical weapons, and a few were just straight-up guns. Half of them shouted for him to put his hands up while the other half ordered him to put his hands on the ground.

"You want my hands up or on the ground? Make up your fucking mind." He growled.

He felt someone approaching him from behind, and it took every bit of his self-control not to move. He gritted his teeth as they snapped a control collar on him with a loud click. He felt the all-too-familiar hum of its mana suppression field, pushing down on him like a weighted blanket. Sticky tendrils of control reached into his mind, and he instinctively began to fight against the twisting and warping of his thoughts.

His concentration was nearly broken when another human grabbed his hands, tying them together with zip-tie handcuffs behind his back. Sans grimaced as their gross, fleshy hands ran over his body, checking for weapons.

"You could at least take me out for dinner first," he muttered, humorlessly.

The guard who'd frisked him pointed at his feet. "Shoes off," he commanded.

"Oh, cmon, really?" Sans growled.

The soldier gave him a threatening look. "Shoes off, monster."

Sans scowled at him. "What, you think I've got a handgun hidden in these Air Nike's? Sneakers are a threat, now?"

The soldier put a hand on the monster stunning device at his belt. "Shoes off, final warning."

Sans briefly considered telling him to take the shoes and shove 'em up his ass. The control collar they'd put on him wasn't attuned to any specific human, and as such, couldn't magically enforce his compliance to verbal orders. With an annoyed sigh, Sans slipped the shoes off anyway. To his chagrin, the soldier picked them up and walked away.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! You can't even let me have shoes?!" he shouted after him.

A hard shove on his shoulders pushed Sans into a kneeling position on the ground. One of the humans kept a firm hand on his collar, as if holding on to a misbehaving dog. The hard plastic tugged uncomfortably on his neck.

"Hey, Earth to dipshit," he growled at them. "Fucking relax. It's pretty obvious I'm turning myself in."

The guard didn't respond. Sans sighed. "You're doing this for Frisk," he muttered to himself. "You're gonna be a nice little prisoner. You're not gonna blast a hole in this asshat's chest."

Several agonizingly slow minutes passed as the guards spoke to headquarters over the radio, waiting for instructions on what to do with Sans. He glowered, watching impatiently. They were wasting precious time.

"If I could make a suggestion," he said to the guard who seemed to be the most in charge, "I'd really like to speak to the director."

When they ignored him, he said louder, "Hey! Get the goddamn director. I need to talk to her, it's important."

The guard met his eyes for a moment, then resumed their conversation over the radio.

Sans turned his skull around 180 to face the human still holding his collar, flashing his sharp teeth in a dangerous snarl. "Call the fucking director, or you start losing fingers."

That finally seemed to get a result. A minute later, two guards grabbed him by the shoulders, hoisting him to his feet. They held his arms as they walked inside the building while several other guards continued to level weapons at him. Eventually, they stopped at a holding cell, shoving Sans inside past the wall of thick, clear plexiglass. Lines of electrified wire ran across the entire surface, humming quietly as they powered up.

All but four of the guards left, the remainder standing at attention outside the cell. Sans ignored them, carefully lowering himself to sit in the center of the room while he waited for the director to show up. The bulky collar felt heavy on his neck and the zip ties were making his wrist bones start to ache.

"Hey!" Sans said to the guards, shouting to be heard through the plexiglass. "Is the director on her way, or what?"

To his surprise, one of them actually answered, pressing a button to activate a microphone. "She'll be here shortly."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a small group of soldiers approached. At their front strode an older woman in a suit. When she reached the cell, she dismissed the soldiers with a wave. She walked up to the clear wall and smiled at Sans with that eerie imitation of friendliness he'd hoped to never see again.

"Well, well, well, if it isn'tSans." she said through the microphone, in a tone devoid of surprise. "What has it been, five years since you were here? I heard you made some trouble after getting released to private custody. Not that it surprised me; you'll remember how adamantly I was opposed to the decision."

Sans couldn't suppress a low, menacing growl at the sight of the human who had caused so much misery in his life. His mind flashed with unwelcome images of his time here. Arriving beaten and only half-conscious, bound by heavy, borderline-painful restraints. The humiliation of being a prisoner, shackled to a gurney while scientists poked and prodded, trying to understand his magic. His abject horror the day they showed him the first control collar, developed by mimicking his ability to manipulate souls. How pleased the director sounded as she demonstrated to Sans exactly how little autonomy his new collar left to him. Her unconcerned voice as she transferred Sans's collar control to the general, knowing exactly what he would make him do.

Sans closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath.

You're doing this for Frisk,he talk. Forget everything else. The only thing that matters right now is getting help.

Sans opened his eyes and got to his feet as gracefully as he could with his hands still tied behind his back. He met the director's gaze and returned her saccharine smile. "Director, it's a pleasure."

The director nodded. "Likewise. I honestly didn't think I'd ever see you again. Imagine my surprise when I heard you showed up at our doorstep, uncollared and apparently surrendering yourself on your own free will." She gave him a quizzical look. "Care to tell me why?"

"Oh, I just missed the painful tests and exploitation," he said with forced cheeriness. "It's been way too long since I've been used as a weapon against my own kind, and I'm running out of things to have nightmares about."

The director's smile remained unaffected. "Aha, I see. And the real reason?"

Sans walked up as close as he could to the electrified cell wall, meeting her unwavering gaze with a burning, hateful stare. Over several silent moments, the fire drained from his eyes, and he spoke in a tone more quiet and subdued than any human had ever heard before. "I need your help."

The director raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Honestly, I thought if you'd ever come back here, it would be to enact a grotesque revenge. I'll admit I'm incredibly curious."

"There's a woman," Sans said. "A human. She's in trouble. We need toβ€”"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, wait," the director interrupted in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Youwant to save a human?"

"Shutthe fuckup andlisten," Sans said with lethal calm. "Her name is Frisk Dremurr. The Ebott Mob's got her, and god knows what they're doing right now." For a brief moment, Sans closed his eyes. Somehow, saying it aloud made the pain sharper. "I can't get to her. They've got some tough fuckin' monsters besides an arsenal of who knows what black market fuckery."

"If I remember correctly, one of your powers is spatial matter displacement," the director said. "You can't just use that?"

Sans gave a derisive snort. "'Teleportation.' Just call it teleportation, there's no one to impress here. And no, I can't teleport in because I haven't been there before."

"Still," the director said, "That's never stopped you before."

"Are you familiar with this fun little hack someone discovered you can do with the collars you invented? You remove one little resistor, slap it on a human, and suddenly the collar becomes a deathtrap triggered by magic use nearby. Do you understand me? I get within twenty feet of Frisk and she dies."

The director wasn't smiling now. "I'm aware of the issue; we're taking steps to address it. New models are tamper-proof, and old models affected by the exploit are in a mandatory recall."

In a movement too flexible for a human, Sans lifted his legs up and stepped over the zip ties binding his arms together behind his back, bringing his hands up in front of him. He jabbed a finger in the director's face. "I don't give afuckwhat 'steps' you're taking. They showed me on a video call. She's tied to a fuckin' pole," he spat, voice shaking with barely contained rage. "She's scared. She was trying to look brave, but I could see she was absolutely fuckin' terrified."

Sans pressed his index finger against the plexiglass, ignoring the sting of electric current over bone. "We need to get her outnow. I've seen what happens in these rooms; I've belonged to humans like these and I've watched what they do to prisoners." Sans's knuckles collided with the plexiglass in a dull crack as he slammed his fist into the window. "So excuse me if I seem a little FUCKIN' IMPATIENT!" he roared.

The director didn't even have the decency to flinch. She watched him, pensively.

"I suppose I already knew you'd had a rough few years after leaving here."

Before Sans could compose a properly caustic retort, she held up a hand to forestall him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I've told you that from the very beginning." She gave a very slight smile. "Believe it or not, I actually respect you quite a bit, Sans." She once again held up a hand to cut off his imminent objection. "I mean it. I've always respected your intelligence and I'm especially impressed by your bravery in coming back here. I don't regret what we had to do to stop the war, but I do regret what happened to you, and how you were treated. Off the record, I'll admit that I should have done more to ensure your health and safety after the war."

"Mysafety?" Sans barked a single, bitter laugh. "After all this time, that's single most heinous fuckin' thing I've ever heard you say."

This time, it was Sans's turn to forestall the director's reply, which he did with another punch to the window. The crackle of electricity over bone was audible in the brief moment of silence. "Forget your perverse hope that I'll forgive you and your government, or whatever bullshit," he hissed. "Help me save Frisk. She's a human β€” that's your fuckin' job, isn't it? Protecting humans?"

The director shook her head. "Technically, it's not within my jurisdiction. It's not like how it was during the war. Nowadays, we handle the regulation and development of collars and other magical technology."

Sans pulled his singed hand off of the plexiglass. "Bullshit. You've got connections. Call in a favor."

The director watched him in silence for a few moments. Finally, she asked, "Sans, did you really come here to offer yourself in exchange for my help?"

"No shit."

"And if I facilitate the rescue of this 'Frisk Dremurr,' you'll be sitting here in this cell when I come back?"

Sans gestured at the walls. "You see a way out?"

"No, I do not. You seem well and truly captured." She cocked her head ever-so-slightly to the left. "Which significantly detracts from your bargaining power, wouldn't you say?"

Sans said nothing. After a moment, the director chuckled softly. "For someone who hates humans so much, you've clearly watched a lot of our movies." She wagged a finger. "Fortunately for you, the real world doesn't work like that. You're right, protecting humansisthe basis of what we do here. I can't help directly, but my assistant has been monitoring this conversation and I'm sure she has already alerted the correct people. Do you know where they're keeping your ...friend? I assume you must be friends." The director shook her head and smiled as Sans watched in dumb silence. "Some day, you must tell me what she did to earn such devotion. I wouldn't have thought it possible."

"She's... I'm pretty sure she's at Gordon Canning, the old building outside Ebott," Sans said. He was hesitant to believe the Director, but she'd never lied to him before β€” just told him about the terrible things that were about to happen and then they happened.

The director tapped a small earpiece Sans hadn't noticed. "You got that?" she said. Sans couldn't hear the reply, but after a moment, the director nodded and said, "Affirmative."

She turned her attention back to Sans. "Unless you have something else of imminent importance, I think we're done here."

"Uh... yeah," was all Sans said.

"Superb," the director said. "Excuse me, I have a lot of paperwork waiting β€” more, now." She took a few steps away before stopping and speaking over her shoulder. "Oh, and Sans? Thank you, by the way. I appreciate the restraint you've shown tonight."

Something about her tone unsettled Sans. "What's that 'sposed to mean?"

To his growing unease, the director gave a smirk of what seemed like genuine amusement. "You know exactly what I mean, Sans. I'm genuinely impressed you waited this long, that's a level of patience I didn't expect from you." She pointed to a camera in the corner of the room. "I look forward to reviewing the footage of your escape, later.

Fuck. Of course she knew. "I don't know what you mean," Sans said. It didn't sound believable, even to his own ears.

"Give me some credit. You wouldn't come unprepared." The director gave him a tired smile. "Whatever you planned as an escape, I'm sure I can't stop you. I won't even try. In exchange, I'd appreciate if you didn't damage anything oranyoneon your way out."

Without another word, she turned and left, leaving Sans to sort through what the fuck just happened. It took ten seconds before he'd organized his thoughts enough to take action. He knocked a fist into the side of his skull, rattling loose the device he'd hidden inside. He opened his jaw and let it drop into his hands. As he pressed a button, the magic he'd stored within it gave a short pulse, temporarily inactivating the control collar on his neck. Without its suppressing field, he easily ripped the cursed thing in half. And then, in a blink, he was gone.