Sans’ mind started to race. His hands started to shake. All he could do was stare at Frisk’s mother like a deer in the headlights. How? Who? When? He wanted to ask, but then he realized - none of that mattered. Asking questions would only be a waste of time right now.
He needed to leave.
The circumstances didn’t matter. Frisk could be with 2 Guards or 2000 Guards. She could be in Waterfall or in Asgore’s throne room right now. Either way, he needed to find her. And fast. He needed to get her out of wherever she was.
Toriel started to get up again, a fireball forming in her hand.
“I will not lose…any more children…”
She spoke quietly at first, then reeled her arm back, her eyes locked on Sans and beginning to fill with angry tears.
“I DEMAND YOU BRING HER BACK TO ME AT ONCE!”
She thrusted her arm forward, launching a flaming inferno towards Sans, but Sans didn’t even seem to notice or care for her attack. Before the fire even reached him, he was gone. The fire crashed into the wall behind where Sans was standing, causing it to crumble like much of the rest of the walls.
Toriel blinked a few times, tears streaming down her face. She clenched her fists, grit her teeth, then let out an enraged scream that echoed throughout the entirety of the Ruins.
------
Sans was blipping around everywhere he could possibly think of that the Royal Guard may be taking Frisk. He wasn’t sure when they captured her, but he was sure he would have heard of something if it had happened longer than a couple days ago. He appeared in Snowdin. Numerous places in Waterfall. Various places in Hotland. All in locations that he tried to remain unseen. He knew the Royal Guard was still out looking for him, so he continued to remain in the shadows - but oddly enough, there seemed to be an unusually lesser amount of Guardsmen out than there should be. This did not bode well. It made him worry…that if so little Guardsmen were out on patrol like they should be…where were they right now?
He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He worried…was he too late? Had everyone gone to the castle to watch and celebrate as they finally captured the seventh soul? The thought made him angry. The idea that they would all gather and celebrate the death of Frisk…it filled him with rage.
His fists tightened. His jaw clenched. The bastards. He wasn’t quick enough to kill them, and now they were probably all gathered in Asgore’s throne room, getting ready to have a stupid fucking tea party over Frisk’s corpse. No…not on his watch. He was determined to stop it.
Without thinking it through fully and fueled by anger, Sans teleported to the last place he could think Frisk would be.
Directly in the center of Asgore’s throne room.
------
Sans appeared, his eyes glowing an almost brighter red and flashing with rage. He didn’t even try to hide himself this time. He was dead center in the middle of the throne room - and as he looked around, he saw he was right. A good chunk of the Royal Guard was here. The higher ranks…and his Captain. His eyes flickered to glare at her. He was so angry right now, the fear didn’t even register. In fact, all the Guardsmen in the room seemed almost frightened of him as the shock of his sudden appearance set in.
Undyne’s moment of shock passed quickly, however, as her expression swiftly changed to one of animosity. She narrowed her eyes at Sans, stepping forward from the crowd of Guardsmen.
“Traitor. You dare show your face here. After everything you’ve done. Bastard.
She bared her jagged teeth, summoning a spear and slamming it into the ground threateningly.
“I ought to strike you down right now. Things may have ended better for you if you had just listened to Papyrus…but now? Tch. You don’t deserve mercy.”
Sans simply continued to glare at Undyne. Her mention of his brother sent a sudden shockwave of emotions through him. Guilt. Grief. Anger. He took a step towards Undyne, his rage starting to build.
“You. Don’t. Understand. Anything.”
His eyes slowly started to pan around the room, looking at each and every Guardsmen, who now had drawn weapons of their own now that Undyne summoned her spear.
“None of you do.”
This was not looking good for him. He had been working on killing everyone by slowly picking them off little by little. Hiding and waiting. Ambush predator style. But facing so many Guardsmen all at once like this? AND Undyne? Not to mention the King who was likely right behind him…he hadn’t even turned around to look at HIM yet. His eyes were slowly making their way to him, though, as he took in everyone’s faces. He knew them all. He trained them all. He knew their weaknesses. Undyne and the King would be the biggest threat…but everyone else? He could take them…Maybe… Maybe he was being too overconfident…maybe he was purely fueled by rage right now…maybe he needed to think. He just needed to get Frisk out of here. Where was she anyway? His eyes kept moving, he remained on guard…keeping tabs on Undyne and making sure she didn’t try anything.
“It’s over, Sans. We got your little pet, and now you’ll pay the price for your crimes.”
Undyne spoke as she took another step closer to Sans, the rest of the Guard followed suit.
Sans showed no fear on his face, only anger.
“Do not. Call her that.”
His eyes continued to move. There were…a lot of Guardsmen here.
“Where is sh-”
Sans stopped. His eyes finally landing on Asgore. He was towering over Sans, a bloodied trident in one hand, and in the other…
A red human soul.
Sans’ eyes immediately fell on the trident covered in blood, then slowly drifted to the soul in his hand. His breath shook, eyes widening. He froze.
“...No…”
Slowly…ever so slowly…his eyes drifted downwards towards the floor, and just like that - the world seemed to shatter around him, and he snapped.
It was almost as if time itself had frozen. There was no sound. No movement. Sans couldn’t even feel anything anymore. He simply stood there, staring vacantly at the bloodied corpse that could only be Frisk laying on the floor. His arms went limp. His eyelids dropped slightly as he just…stared. As he looked at everything he had been fighting for - everything he had been working so hard to keep alive, just…gone. The people he lost. The people he killed. All for nothing. He had lost…so much. And now the one thing he had left to fight for was ripped out from under him, too.
So he stared. He was too late. Too slow. And it was all his fault.
There was suddenly movement, however, in this seemingly frozen timespace. A glimpse of a red tattered cloak and disembodied gloved hands. The hands placed themselves on Sans’ shoulders delicately. Almost as if trying to offer comfort. Sans didn’t immediately notice this new apparition - not until it floated around to be more in front of him, making itself more noticeable.
Sans’ eyes slowly moved upwards, taking in this new manifestation. It was Papyrus. Only…it was just his head…shrouded in his red hooded cloak and floating disembodied gauntlets. His eyes glowed an eerie red, just like Sans’.
Sans blinked once, his expression not really changing. The Phantom Papyrus gently placed one of his hands on Sans’ shoulder again and floated slightly to the side. He then pointed directly at Frisk’s soul with his other hand, all without taking his eyes off his brother.
Sans just stared at him. Processing what was even going on with a vacant and defeated expression. Phantom Papyrus continued to point, motioning at Frisk’s soul that Asgore was still holding in his hand. Then suddenly, realization seemed to hit Sans, and emotions started to rise up again within him again like a tidal wave.
What might have felt like several minutes passing for Sans, was likely only mere seconds in the real world - and suddenly Sans’ body moved before he could even really think. Quick as a bullet, Sans’ head jerked up to lock onto Frisk’s soul in Asgore’s hand, while simultaneously swinging his arm up to grab the soul with his soul magic and snatch it towards him. The moment Frisk’s soul was in his hand, the throne room erupted into chaos. Undyne was the fastest to react, throwing her spear at Sans like a javelin, with Asgore and the rest of the Royal Guard quickly following up with their own attacks - some running directly towards him to try and take the soul back.
But they were all too slow. The second Sans had a hold of Frisk’s soul, he held it close to his chest and focused all his magic into it, not even paying attention to everyone else. He absorbed Frisk’s soul in mere moments, emitting a red shockwave that blew everyone and their attacks backwards - causing some Guardsmen to go flying into the walls.
Asgore, being the closest one standing to Sans, was knocked back several feet and had to use his trident to stop himself from crashing into the wall. Undyne was in complete shock, but didn’t let what Sans just did deter her. If anything, it only made her more pissed.
“BASTARD!!”
Undyne screeched as she, Asgore, and many other Guardsmen, came flying in towards Sans, weapons ready.
But Sans…he just...straightened himself up. Rolled his shoulders. Tilted his head to the side like this was…nothing all of a sudden. Because Sans was…different. He felt...different. Not only did he feel…power. Power beyond his wildest dreams...Power that made him feel like he could take on the world…but he. was. pissed.
And he was about to make them all feel his wrath.
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