#scammerbros

He had some stuff to pawn off to anyone who wouldn’t ask too many questions. And that would have been fine, usually. Because he knew a guy. But he also couldn’t call that guy, and he couldn’t go to the city to meet up with him. Again, because of the reasons. It’s really not important.

So, he needed a new pawnbroker. Simple as that.

The problem was, though, no one outside the city seemed to want to buy his junk. Maybe it was because his junk was a giant 5 ton doomsday device that ascended the fabric of reality itself? He didn’t see why that would be a problem. He thought something like that would sell big. Maybe it was because the thing was busted. But like, then its a conscience free transaction, yeah? Sell it to someone and you can be like “well it doesn’t work haha! I’m not responsible!” when the Guard shows up, and Sans was sure there were plenty of monsters who would love the challenge of a little fixer upper project. Papyrus had loved his little puzzle for months! Until that point where his eyes turned red with rage and he embedded a spanner in the wall with some kinda feral scream and started claiming he didn’t know what “a science” was anymore. Poor guy.

Really, Sans hated to part with it. There were a lot of good memories with that thing. Literally. Because the thing actually ate memories.

But eh, details. It wasn’t really important.

Sans liked their house more than he liked the machine, and there was some saying about growing up and abandoning everything so you can have a good house or something. Sans was 32 years old and not even close to grown up, but he did really want his house.

Papyrus refused to talk about it. (Last time he pushed him,  Papyrus spent the whole day pretending he had no idea who he even was until he dropped a sock on the floor and Paps couldn’t contain the screaming and passive-aggressive post-it notes. That was stayin there now.) So Sans figured he could do whatever he wanted with it without cluing in his brother.

The first stop was with that lady, What’s-Her-Name over at the Snowdin General Goods Store. He really put on the charm with his pitch. Even told her she could bake some great cookies with it which wasn’t actually technically incorrect, but What’s-Her-Name refused.

“Ya know, I can’t really get in the business of buyin’ up junk when I’m runnin this sort of business, but maybe you can try to Hotland or Waterfall? I heard folks sayin there’s some folk out there that’s got some… questionable… tastes? It’s always worth a looksy, right? I’m sure someone out there’s willin to buy your Doomsday device offa ya!”

“okay,” said Sans, and teleported away immediately.

“Good luck, friend! I hope someone out there will help ya!” What’s-Her-Name called out to thin air.

Sans tried Hotland, next. First, he ran into some spider lady selling cookies. They looked good and he wanted at least 5. But they were also the same price as he owed in back taxes, so he decided not to do that, and teleported away before she could eat him for eating the cookies anyway.

Next, he found himself in the MTT Burger Emplorium, but the guy at the cash register just smiled at him and repeated the company slogan over and over again at him every time he asked, like some sort of madness mantra. Then he smiled so hard, a tooth cracked. Sans wasn’t sure he noticed. He got a burger though, and actually paid for it. Guy seemed like he needed a win as badly as Sans did.

Out back, he found a note saying that there were goods for sale in the creepy alley. That sounded like what he was looking for. But the girls there just wanted to talk and sell him a gun, and he told them he already had a gun, and they said oh, simultaneously. Then one asked if that as a glamburger he had, and he ate it and said no.

Next, Waterfall. Now, Sans knew old Gerson was a long shot. Guy used to be a cop a few hundred years ago. But he was retired now, and Sans was running out of vendors to try. There was barely an economy outside of the Capitol. But Gerson laughed and said he was trying to get rid of his junk, not get more of it. He did offer him some sea tea, though, and Sans decided to buy some in bulk because it was cheap and he liked food.

“Say, sonny, since you bought that… listen. Don’t tell anybody I told you about this, but… I might know some people who’s willin to take stuff off your hands. Know what I’m sayin’, kid?”

If Sans wasn’t already grinning, he would have grinned. It was almost worth the effort to ungrin, then regrin. Almost.

Sans followed the old monster’s instructions. He told him he wouldn’t be able to teleport there, which was probably the worst thing Sans had ever heard in his life, but what you need to understand is that he was really desperate. So he walked. And walked. And walked. For a full 2 minutes. An agonizing 2 minutes. And he found the secret path no one had ever told him about before.

Sans closed his eyes, and willed himself just a little further… into the depths of hell itself.

“Hoi!!!”a cacophony of noises filled the air as a sea of terrifying, inexplicable creatures surrounded him upon his approach. He had never been here before. Never heard of it. The feeling of being watched permeated the cavern, and a sound that he could only describe as “unholy” played for him as he walked deeper and deeper into the lair of these legendary cryptids.

“hOI!!!!!! i'm tEMMIE!!”

“hOI!!!!!! i'm tEMMIE!!”

“hOI!!! welcom to... TEM VILLAGE!!!”

“fhsdhjfdsfjsddshjfsd”

“hOI!!!!!! i'm tEMMIE!!”

“hOI!!!!!! i'm tEMMIE!!”

“hey,” Sans replied.

He wandered deeper into the sea of tem, finally finding a sign that said “TEM SHOP.” He thought his legs might give out. It was such a great distance. But he persevered. He needed to sell the machine. He needed to save his house that was not technically his, but felt like it was. He needed to reach this shop, no matter how many minutes he was forced to walk on his own two legs, like some kind of animal.

Sans was filled with detemmienation.

“hOI! welcom to... da TEM SHOP!!!”

The cashier smiled, her face vibrating off of her head ever so slightly at the sight of a visitor to her shop.

“sup.”

“hOI! i'm temmie”

“so, what is this place?”

“yaYA!!! go to TEM SHOP!!!”

Sans looked around. “okay.”

“hOI! i'm temmie”

“i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

“hOI! i'm temmie”

This was not going well.

“listen do you buy stuff?”

Temmie vibrated. “yaYA!!! go to TEM SHOP!!!”

Sans took that as a yes. “listen, i need to sell something. it’s really valuable… and real secret. it’ll make you big bucks.”

Temmie started shaking, then started crawling on the walls and ceilings in a way that was both familiar to Sans and also completely and utterly wrong. No way. No way. Only he could do that. And Papyrus, probably, but he thought it was lazy and actually liked walking. Even jogged for fun and recreation like some sort of freak. But even that was less disconcerting than this.

“Tem want buy item but gota pay for colleg!!!!”

“okay. and this item, it’s gonna help you do that. it’ll go for big bucks. i promise you. and i’ll give it to you for an extremely low price,” Sans said, leaning in and winking, no matter how strong the urge was to be further away from this being.

“tem buy bluehoodiestaineds for...5G!”

“what.”

“tem buy bluehoodiestaineds for...5G!”

What the hell?? The ...temmie? (What even was a temmie?) wanted to buy his hoodie? That was his signature look! No way! Sure maybe he said in one of his pitches he would sell the clothes off his back to save their house but he didn’t mean it! It was a lie. He had been lying.

Did they just not understand? He wanted to sell them a doomsday device that bent the fabric of time and space. NOT his cool signature hoodie.

“no.”

“hnnnn....!!! tem always wanna bluehoodiestaineds!!!...!” The temmie was upside down and vibrating now. It’s face was barely attached. “tem buy bluehoodiestaineds for...50G!”

That was a more reasonable price, but he could not do it. No way. It was his hoodie. He wasn’t giving up what was his. He would rather lose the house. At least that he shared with Papyrus, so it wasn’t fully his own.

“no.”

“b...but…” Temmie sounded like it was going to cry, but it was still smiling as always. Wow. That actually was creepy. What kind of weirdo would be like that. “p!!!!!!!!!!!!”

And a new price was offered. 51G. Sans was almost tempted, but he snapped himself out of it. He would look dumb walking home without his jacket. Papyrus would probably make some kind of smug joke about him finally deciding to throw it in the dump where it belonged, since it was 97% dirt now anyway, and Sans could not let that happen. He refused. The only one who got to dunk on their brother was him.

Sans glared into the face of the crying, smiling, vibrating Temmie, hoping this final rejection would finally intimidate it into dropping the subject and hearing out his own offer of a fabulous new (busted) doomsday device. He let his eyelights darken, and his demeanor change, grin locked into place as he whispered:

“no.”

The ar went still. Cold. Sans never knew a fear like the one that suddenly engulfed him, never felt a chill like the one that seemed to suddenly appear right inside of him. The temmie was not even an inch from his face. Still smiling, but not even speaking from its mouth. The voice seemed to come from inside of his own skull.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But we know what and who you are, Sans Undertale, and we do not forget. You will regret this. You will look back on this one day as the moment that began your eternal torment. You shall never again know peace. Do you think this is funny, Mr. Undertale? Hardly.”

“um.”

His voice was shaking. He was shaking. His bones were rattling but he never felt so paralyzed, so still.

So trapped.

The temie was suddenly feet away again, smiling as if nothing was wrong.

“bOI!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Sans never ran before, but that day, Sans ran.

Sans decided to get a job. Actually, he decided to get 5. Anything was better than ever returning to that place. He threw a sheet over the macine and locked it up, and declared, as Papyrus already had, that it never existed in the first place. Screw it. Screw the whole thing. He prefered having a job over this.

And worst of all, Papyrus was so smug about him finally joining the legitimate workforce like a normal grownup person.

The walls themselves were kinda shabby. Normally his magic coulda busted right through em, but there was some kind of protection spell over the whole thing, so Aster couldn’t break a damn thing. He usually knew his way through that sort of thing, but this stuff was the best and it would take something beyond the normal methods to break the seal and bust out. Pretty much, it was impossible.

Only reason it was even worth the thought was that Aster had both a long sentence and a short lifespan.

But for now, he was just sitting back, avoiding trouble, waiting for an opportunity. Patience was always one of his strong suits. It’s how he got as far as he did (before the part where he ended up imprisoned).

But if Aster was in a hole, his cellmate was in an even deeper one.

Dr. Wingdings was in for life, pretty much. Aster didn’t know if he was a different kind of skeleton that might live a little longer than he could expect to – it was definitely possible– but that didn’t matter. Whether he lived one more day, of a thousand years, probably, he was probably still gonna die in this cell.

A real harsh sentence, but hey, that’s what you get for killing a bunch of guards and shit. Wingdings really flew right off the handle. It was big news all over the Underground for a while, and why wouldn’t it be? You know what the LV of the average monster running around the underground is? It’s 1. Not one point something. Just 1. Because the few monsters with it are such outliers they aren’t even counted towards the total.

Now, Aster knew a lot of rough characters. He ran an illegal casino. Gambling, blackmail, identity theft, fight clubs, burglary, whatever. Aster knew all sorts who didn’t keep to the rules that governed the kingdom. That’s how things are when you’re a part of the Underworld of the Underground. But they were still monsters, and murder was unheard of.

The only killer Aster knew was the one who started at the walls all day and night above his cot and never talked.

It was funny, too, because he didn’t even look that tough. He was a thin, lanky, scrawny kind of fella. He looked deranged most of the time, like someone out of an old sci-fi, but if anything he was kind of nerdy looking. Made sense. He used to be the Royal Scientist before he went off his rocker and killed a bunch of people.

Aster kinda wished he knew what happened there. He was hoping before he died in this cell he could at least get a taste of what went down, because the official story was pretty one sided, and ol’ ‘Dings hadn’t given him a good reason to doubt it, but he knew at least one of those guards, and the official story that he was a hero and community leader, cut down in his prime? Let’s just say that line stunk worse than the walls in this hole.

So Wingdings didn’t talk, but Aster was never the silent type, so they came to an understanding of some sort. Aster could ramble on and on all day, and Wingdings would let him. But if Dings made it clear he wanted him to stop, usually by staring right through him and slamming a fist against the wall, then Aster knew it was time to shut up.

It was a good system.

Aster talked about anything and everything. It wasn’t just breaking about cons and whatnot, though yeah, he was a proud kinda guy and he wasn’t exactly humble. But he mostly talked about funny stuff that happened to him. Weird people he knew. Food he ate that shouldn’t ‘a been eaten. Weird dreams. Dumb facts he knew about the stars. Just… the kinda stuff he would tell someone if he wanted them to be his friend. Not that he thought Mad Doctor L.V. over there would be too interested. But it was keeping him sane, grounded, even if he was already as deep in the ground as it gets.

And Dings was slamming his fists and glaring less and less. Whether he enjoyed his company or got used to the noise was anyone’s guess. But Aster liked to think he was charming enough to win over even the hardest criminals, and Wingdings was as hard as it gets.

“So then Haps says to em, he says: ‘guess we know who the real spook is!’ heh heh heh!” Aster laughed, then looked over at Wingdings, who was looking at least somewhat in his direction. Usually he never even saw the doc’s eye sockets. But he wasn’t glarin’, just… starin’. He felt self conscious, like suddenly after however many months in here, he finally had an audience. “’s funnier if you know Haps is a ghost.”

The doctor didn’t respond.

Aster tried to think of another funny story to tell, since he had a real captive audience tonight (he had to save that one)

“Okay, okay, stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but a coelacanth and a gerbil walks into a bar, and the coelacanth says to the bartender—”

“Stop.”

Aster felt a chill go down his spine. He definitely complied. Didn’t even have to hear the words.

Dr. Wingdings was looking right at him, straight in the eye. That was new. And it was terrifying. Maybe it was intent of maybe it was LV, who could tell, but Aster swore he felt a hole being burned right through the center of his skull, and even through his soul.

Everything was quiet. Aster didn’t think he was breathing anymore.

The doctor tilted his head.

“I have heard that one before.”

“heh… heh… oh.” Aster gulped. “oh yeah?”

The doctor nodded, and looked away for a moment. “yeah… you told it the first week you were here. It was a very funny joke. I almost laughed at it.”

Aster wasn’t sure how to take this guy’s sudden willingness to speak. But he was just gonna have to bite down on his fear and work with it. He was starting to think the intent he thought he felt was a false positive. He never met someone with a high LV before. Maybe he was real sensitive to it. Some people were. (Though Aster never thought he’d stand accused of being sensitive.)

“You shoulda laughed! Then I’d know which jokes to tell ya!”

“Well…” Wingdings leaned back in his bunk a bit, looking a lot more amicable and a lot less rigid all of a sudden. “I said it was almost that funny. I didn’t say it was that funny.”

Aster snorted. “Is that a challenge?”

“No… I just didn’t want to hear that one again.” The former scientist’s expression opened up a bit. “We’ll be in here together for another 3 months and 8 days. I would rather listen to new things in the meanwhile.”

“Uh, buddy? Hate to be the one to break this to ya. The judge really shoulda, but uhh… you’re in here for a lot longer than 3 more months, bud.”

A low rumbling noise crept into Aster’s range of hearing, growing in volume and breaking out into something loud and clattering, paralyzing and all together foreign before he realized what it was. From above him, the mad doctor was grinning beyond what his skull should have been capable of.

“You finally made me laugh! Good job!!!”

“…‘fraid I don’t get the joke.”

“It’s just that you are very wrong and very unaware of it. I’ll be leaving here at exactly the time that I specified.” His grin faded a bit as his laughter died down. “You’re free to join me, so long as you do not stop me.”

Aster gave the doctor a look that likely conveyed the thought “what the hell are you talking about,” but said “Okay, I’m intrigued. Hit me.”

“What? I’m not going to hit you; you would dust, which is completely counter to what I was– Oh.” Wingdings slammed his jaw shut and motioned for Aster to come closer.

The smaller prisoner clambered up the side of the bunked cots until he was eye level with the mad scientist that was his roommate. The owner of the top bunk moved to the side to allow Aster to see what was behind him.

The magic seal of the prison was oddly visible before him, and it was warping and pulsing from a point. And at its center, Aster saw something that should have been impossible.

It was a hole.

Dr. Wingdings, disgraced but brilliant Royal Scientist, spoke as if he was at a meeting with the King himself, and had just done what no one else had managed.  “3 months, 8 days. Are you interested?” In two words: he was cool, and he was smug.

And Aster… well, Aster was almost speechless. His cellmate went from totally nonverbal to this at the drop of a lousy joke. It took Aster a while just to find his words, but when he did, his usual permanent smile was that much wider.