you know my name [open]

[skelebro]

Who: Sans, Sans's double, and Y O U
What: Doubles. It gets bad. Responses from Sans's double will come from fibia.
Where: All over Hadriel
When: 1/16 - 1/25
Warnings: Things are gonna get messy. Since it's Sans, basic warnings for depressive mindset and self-hatred ratcheted up to 11. In the case of his double, threads may involve heavy manipulation, physchological abuse and cruelty, and of course your typical fare of potentials for violence and gore. Proceed with caution!



1/16 - 1/18; just the big time fucko; arm yourself because no one else here will SAVE you

[The crack and pop of flexing knuckles, and his skull rolls on his cervical vertebrae with a series of satisfying popping of air sacs. His phalanges pull in and out again, clenching into loose fists and then - back out. His smile is a fixed rictus, just the same as the monster from which his mold has been cast. The lights buried in his eyesockets glint coolly as he takes it all in - the rock of the walls and ceiling, the light of hte lamps, the staleness of the air.

He rolls his shoulders smoothly.

Tangibility. Weight. Resonance. What a beautiful fucking thing.

For a time, anyway.

He ambles about the city for a time. There's no visible difference between him and the Sans you might know. He smiles, he nods, he's pleasant. He stops to peruse the shops, and passes by the garage full of mopeds. There's no real obvious changes to any one thing as he passes, and he sure don't stop and loiter about long enough for him to have done anything but - you might notice a few changes. Maybe the bolts and bits of your moped are a mite loose, and kicking it to life will cause it to fall apart on the spot. Maybe that can of food you just picked up from one of the shops has had holes pocked through the bottom, causing its contents to leak out all over the shelves. Maybe a few cobblestones have been loosened to trip you up in the streets, or a shelf in a shop is rigged to topple the instant you pick an item off of it.

But it's probably nothing, right? Just a...coincidence.

Sans is a nice guy. He wouldn't put people in harm's way like that.

Right?]

1/19 - 1/21; FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT; you can't deny the prize, it may never fulfill you

His time here is limited. That much is pretty damn clear. In only a few days, he'll cease to have ever happened; a footnote in somebody else's story. And, heh, while the regular ol' Sans might be content with that, this Sans certainly ain't. He'll live forever, one way or another. He'll preserve his legacy.

It's just a way of making sure that people know what good old Sans is really capable of. The monster in question is doin' a real good job of avoiding himself. Afraid of what he'd find, most likely. Or maybe he knows that he wouldn't be able to stand to look at himself for longer than five seconds. Always hates what he sees in a mirror, that Sans. Too many flaws and not enough motivation to a damn thing about 'em.

So the next step, obviously, would be to lure the guy outta hiding.

He waits in a secluded corner of the city and waits for someone to pass by. Anybody, really, he ain't picky. Just take it one at a time, that's all he asks. And should someone be coming his way all alone, he'll tip his skull in greeting, smile patiently, talk 'em through their concerns that he might be the evil clone. It's doubtful that'll work, but that's just fine.

He's not looking for conversation.

[ooc: Sans's Double will be raring for a fight with this prompt. As his cast has dibs on actually killing him, I ask that you only pick this prompt if you're eager for your character to get Dunked. Though since this Sans has a good deal more than 1 HP, you're free to land a few hits.]

1/22; double trouble; the odds will betray you and i will replace you

By the time the real Sans drags himself outta his miserable little hole to check up on the stirrer of the chaos, the causer of the ruckus, the inciter of scurries, it's already approaching the End. That's all right, though. It's excusable. He's lazy. It's one of the defining points of a Sans.

He kicks a pebble across the ground with the toe of a slippershod foot and watches it clatter over the rock, his smile nothing short of utterly neutral.

"So this is me." For the first time, he appraises his double with an upraised supraorbital ridge. "A LOVE-hungry killer bent on destruction."

"You don't sound surprised." The words rumble in his doppelganger's lack of a throat, and his grin approximates a sneer.

"Why should I be?" A weary lift of Sans's shoulders, and he chuckles. "Always figured that's why a guy like me doesn't have it in him to give a damn. Why a guy like me takes it easy."

"You always take it easy." The admonishment should be laden with disgust, but it emerges lightly, like dispensing criticism upon an amateur writer for using too many semicolons.

"Yeah." The pair of skeletons eye each other warily. Sans smiles. And he smiles. "But it was always my choice to. Shit choice, sure, but at least it wasn't 'cause I couldn't."

His clone doesn't reply. There's the faintest stir of a spark in his gaze, a glint of something akin to a cold fury, but it dissipates in the same moment it forms. There's all matter of LOVE caked about his SOUL. He don't have to think about something like that. He's above that. But Sans reads it well enough, and they both know it.

He could judge him, but it'd just be redundant.

"LV 19," says Sans, the real Sans, heavily. "You've been busy."

"So you know what comes next," says the other. The words are conversational, almost companionable, as easily as if they might be discussing the weather. It is, after all - a beautiful day outside. There's no birds about, and certainly no flowers, but both of 'em know that, statistically, there's bound to be birdsong trilling out there somewhere, a few petals opening themselves to a sun's warming rays. There's bound to be a world where a Sans grins beside a Frisk who's surrounded by their friends, living happily on the surface, contented and unafraid.

"Yeah," says Sans.

"Only one monster in the Underground takes you to 20."

"Yeah," says Sans.

His eyesockets slip closed.

It's a beautiful day outside.

And with the charging roar of a Blaster and the bright span of bones springing into existence, the space between them erupts.

[ooc: This last prompt is a two-for-one deal. Characters can try and intervene, cheer from the sidelines, place bets, whatever you like!]

1/23 - 1/24; the real sans; if you take a life do you know what you'll give

[All right, all right. So he's maybe - maybe slightly concerned at this juncture. He was lucky enough to get outta that first confrontation with his life, and there's no guarantee that his double hasn't already gutted a few unlucky bastards.

He's gotta find him and cut him off before he does anything worse. It ain't like anybody he knows is handling this any better but god damn - he hopes voting Confusion in was worth it, that's all he can say.

Sans blips through the city with a remarkable speed and alacrity, popping into shops, houses, checking every inch of the place he can in search of his cruel, LOVE-happy self. Hope you haven't run into the asshole in the meantime and assumed that the real Sans is subsequently out to get ya, 'cause that would be real unfortunate for the skeleton with 1 HP. Just a real awful, terrible, no good thing.]

wildcard; try to hide your hand, forget how to feel

[ooc: Not a fan of the prompts? Hit me with whatever you like! I'll match prose or brackets, either one. Questions and concerns? Hit me at arcaneswearwords on AIM or over at arrpee or with a PM and let's discuss!]

Comments

[fibia]

[That one gives way to another hearty guffaw. Yeah, okay, kiddo. You're bulletproof. Impervious to every inch of it. He keeps laughing, and that smugness simply creeps along and widens his grin by increments, his amusement as hot and bright as acid.]

And you of all people should know.

[He removes his hands from his pockets, and spreads 'em wide in that parody of a shrug his real self is just so great at flaunting.]

You don't need knives to cut.

[somuchlove]

[Yeah yeah, they get it too. Sans was more emotionless than they were. Right now it was easy to miss the real one's appearing to be care-free and slightly annoying self.]

Sticks, toy knives, gloves, books, shoes, frying pans, guns and the Real Knife. Feel free to correct me if I am missing one.

[Chara doesn't un-equip the Real Knife because they're not buying that shrug one bit. Sans's MERCY left them a little paranoid about supposed relaxed natures.]

Speaking of, sticks and stones Sans. Although I suppose I cannot just break a bone and be done with it right now.

[fibia]

[Well, hell. If that's how they wanna go, that's how they can go. Sans rams his hands back into his pockets and strides forward, his movements easy, smooth, and controlled. Wholly confident.]

I figured you'd be smart enough to be the type to pick your battles.

[So if they want a FIGHT, well - he can give 'em one. He gave 'em an out, but they didn't take it, so.

So there's another step here. And if you think a Sans a LV 1 gave you some trouble, then you ought'a see what he can pull at LV 19.

'Cause he don't do one damage anymore. And he sure as hell don't have 1 HP.]

Guess I was wrong.

1/2

[somuchlove]

[Chara's smile shifts to something...goofy? The double no double has the memories of the back and forward of texts over shipping stupid things between Chara and Sans and probably the idea of the stupid look the child had during it. Because it was funny.

Because this is so so damn funny.]

Well you know I'd be Sans all this LOVE if I didn't know how to pick my battles! But you should be careful about the things you say. Throwing acid is wrong, in some people's eyes. But regardless, you do not need to be soy serious. I'm not going to hurt you.

[somuchlove]

[And then abruptly, like that switch being flicked between a nice dinner and being threatened, Chara shoots forward towards the double, attempted to shorten the gap between them as quickly as possible and give it one good slash with the Real Knife.

It's likely he's going to teleport if he sees it coming. Chances it'll be to the side or behind Chara and they're ready for that. Being LV 19 mean this was going to be more than just one strike and done. They knew Sans's attacks but he may have more than expected. Don't rely on the pattern.

But they're not lying when Chara said they weren't going to hurt him.

They're gong to kill him.]

[fibia]

[A pity he never got the tutorial on pressing [x] to skip dialogue, 'cause they're rattling off an awful lotta things he don't care to bother to consider. Overconfident little brat. Yeah. That'll be their ruin.

The instant they shoot forward, Sans ain't there anymore. In fact he's...wait. He's not behind 'em either? Where'd he go, exactly?

Look up, kid.

Time to wake up and smell the pain.

Sans stands on the nearest roof overlooking the playing field, eyeing the kid languidly. That's their big ol' weakness, see, their proverbial Achilles' Heel. They're a close combat kinda kid, and the quickest way to cut out the middle man is to simply not place yourself in harm's way.

But hey, while they're there - he lays out a full round of Blasters, a couple circles of 'em, soaked to bursting with KR as their great maws stretch wide, warming the charge and hum of crackling energy.

He don't deal one damage a frame anymore.

He never really stopped playing dirty.]

[somuchlove]

[Oh LOVE-ly.

A maniacal smile spreads across their face, the one that they wore during that final fight and Sans can likely see from where he is, before they book it as fast as they can. There was a trick to the Blasters, a sort of swish/hum/fire only.....well, only a hell of a lot more. LV 19 clearly gave him more stamina than usual to risk firing off those things this quickly.

Yup. This is fine.

They run, but it's not * FLEE. Just moving to get out of the way of the Blasters while...laughing? Yeah. For some reason it doesn't appear Chara's really taking him seriously. Guess he's not worth much even at LV 19!

A beam slices a little too close and they smell burnt hair.]

Are you trying to give me a haircut Sans?! I know it's long but I can tie it back if you ask nicely!

[He has more stamina than usual. But did that still apply?

* Can't keep dodging forever.]

[fibia]

[There's no real need to answer. There's no flaw in his LOVE, no crack in his armor. It's the muffling, quiet emptiness layered over a heavy apathy that was already present to begin with.

There's one main difference between him and the real Sans that Chara will take not of pretty quick: he's fast. Faster and sharper and more precise than the real Sans ever was.

He don't need to keep dodging if he's never in the way of a weapon. The Blasters haven't even stopped firing before a wave of blue ulnas shoot up from the ground, closing around them in a fencelike pattern - an impromptu, improvised bullet box. And then a streak of white, and another, and another - long, spearlike femurs shooting through the air at them in rapid succession, seemingly random, and with each projectile the box closes an inch more, further limiting their movements.

One, two, three, - nah, better make it four more Blasters laid into place to vomit continuous streams of blazing white magic at the very edges of that little bullet box of his, and then a fifth and a sixth joins them.

Only they aren't aiming across on an x-axis, oh no. They're poised directly above Chara's head, and they're firing straight down.]

[somuchlove]

[Close combat was detrimental to them. Need to change that. Later. Right now--

Move.

There's no real choice what has to be done here. That Determination Chara possesses was not their own but they could use it. For once in their life, they were going to live.

Watch the bones for a bit. Swish. Hum. Move.

Chara charges forward. Slipping by the bones as best as they can and continue on, even if they get hit. There's a sort of recklessness in it from someone who didn't care about their personal safety. The Basters that are continuously vomiting energy stop them from getting to far with this 'strategy' by it's getting them by from having pure white magic dropped on their head. Eventually they have to tank the blue bones as not moving would kill them.

But that was part of their plan. Chara knows there won't be any pity given, no MERCY or an offer to SPARE them. If this did not work the way it would, they would die. Plain and simple and this guy would mock their corpse. Like hell.

But still, there was one last bit of hope. Ever heard the story of Sisyphus, Sans? Push that boulder up and up if you want. Wrap yourself in as much LOVE as you want.

It will not stop you from getting tired. And as you know better than anyone, Chara will not Quit.

Come and get them.]

[fibia]

[Funny, how a kid so bent on QUITTING, permanently, is saddled with the natural, psychological, physiological predisposition to do precisely the opposite. "Funny" is a word for it. "Ironic" is another.

He's not a sad sack of self-pitying, exhausted garbage like the real Sans is, and he can last a good deal longer. His next move is to seize a firm hold on their SOUL with the bright, sickening ping! of it going blue, and wrench them into the air.

And hold them there. Suspended.

No surfaces to push off of. No leverage or friction to employ. It's just - science. It's basic physics. When your quarry goes to ground, leave no ground to go to.

Ever heard the story of Sisyphus?

Here's a better one for ya.

A real catchy, well-trodden tale about a child who flew too close to the thing that killed him. Only people keep disagreeing, confused all to hell about why he'd do such a stupid thing, even after getting a warning. But see, people get all muddled up. They get all confused. It wasn't 'cause he was prideful, or 'cause he was trying to impress anybody, or even 'cause he was a fool.

It was 'cause he was just a kid who didn't learn how to QUIT.

Four blasters around their body as it hangs there in the thin air, in the shape of a cross, and they open fire with a familiar searing blast.

Dodge that one, Chara. If you can.]

[somuchlove]

[A child who flew too close to the sun. Some say it might have been out of amazement. Out of love. Or just plain stupidity. Humans are curious, awful beings. Chara knew first hand about how something like hate could drive them, how it drove them and other children to a mountain. Even Monsters were guilty of this. They put their Hopes and Dreams on the backs of murdered children and told Frisk that their only worth was their SOUL. That 1% was a fail rate, if they killed one Monster then they were an awful thing.

* But despite everything...
* You will not lose Hope.

Chara can feel it beating, right where it always is. The one thing that they owned that was given out of love. And despite the fact that they were being pulled by Sans's blue magic, they feel unbelievably calm. One thought is going through their mind. And that's all Chara needs.

* I refuse.

The chain snaps as they yank the Locket off before they chuck it at Sans as hard and as fast as they possibly can. It's not a move they'd make normally. Tossing away 99 defense. Tossing something they love. But it's what they have.

So. They've got a better joke for you.

Duck.]

[fibia]

[That's the one thing you can get to learn about humans, after a time - they're unpredictable. They fly in the face of every expectation and do so with a manic sort of glee, knowing full well that they're subversive and impossible to get a bead on.

So he doesn't see it coming. He'd be ashamed to say it, except - humans, y'know? They really are freaks. The unspooling golden trail of a locket chain flutters behind the thing like the tail of a comet, and he only sees it when it's too late to stop its inevitable trajectory.

It toks him solidly in the face, directly above the left eyesocket, and the amber flame coiling out from it gutters and dies, and his hold on the human's SOUL is severed.

He catches the offending object as it drops, ignoring the pulse of agony - the crack that's formed over his left supraorbital ridge, a dark filigree that cobwebs out from the point of impact in a creeping inflorescence.

For a moment, there's a dark flare of malice twisting his features as he appraises the Locket coldly.]

Best Friends Forever. That's sweet.

[He pockets it.]

Hope you weren't too attached.

[somuchlove]

[Much like Sans not bothering to respond to Chara's quips, the child isn't going to bother to respond to his taunts. There was a risk in doing that. There was a good chance it would be lost forever, to a Blaster, to Sans himself and so on. There was a good chance they weren't going to get it back.

But at the very least his comment is allowing them to fuel Rage like never before. Chara keeps their own smile firmly in place as they hit the ground again, stumbling only once. They then book it as fast as they can to the door of the building Sans was standing on, slamming it shut behind them.

Stairs, the stairs were next. There were four likely things that could happen as Chara ascends. Sans could simply teleport away from them. Not that Chara wouldn't hunt him down, but he could still leave and end things here. Next he could teleport into the stairwell itself but that put him in close quarters with them. Hopefully LV 19 didn't leave Sans that stupid.

He could fire those Blasters into the building itself, like shooting fish in a barrel. Or finally he could turn out to be just as lazy as the real one and wait on the roof. There were probably more options that Chara wasn't thinking about them just yet.

This is the same sort of rage that was shooting through them during that fight in the golden hallway. So if that was the case....submerse yourself in LOVE Chara. The LOVE that LV 20 gave you. That flimsy armor, all of it. Discard how you feel about the real Sans. Unimportant. Focus.

* Determination.]

[fibia]

[Well, whaddaya know? He's going for the option behind door number three. A round of Blasters circling the building itself, firing off on all cylinders and blowing out the supports until, at long last, he feels the roof tremble as the structural integrity finds itself just - just horribly compromised.

And then he's on the ground again. Fires off a quartet of Blasters just to speed things along, and then shoves his hands into his pockets, phalanges curling around the hard pit of the Locket in his fist.

Don't much matter if they make it out of the building or not.

He got what he came for. Or something like that.]

[somuchlove]

[Chara was on the second floor when Sans attempts to bring the roof down on them. Only it's not an attempt. He really will kill them if they stay here.

There was a window. There's no other choice.

The glass panel shatters into pieces as Chara throws themselves through it. It's not the most graceful thing in the world they've done but Chara's never been one to go quietly into the night. They hit the ground with a nasty crunch but it's a fall that has yet to top the Fall. But it's far enough to keep them out of the range of the Blasters for now.

Chara doesn't know if Sans is still here or not. The sound blaring around them was blurring into one noise just like their vision. But they struggle to their feet regardless. The Real Knife is still in their hand, held there by instinct alone. Body was a broken thing, low on HP.

Still. Continue.]

* It...refuses.
* I r...refuse...

[They will not allow him to continue. Not like this.]

[fibia]

[Well, he sure was on his way out. Only they land like that, heavy and desperate, the whole of their body trembling like the broken, battered thing it is. The structure crumbles to dust (or Dust) with the low creaking roar of buckling supports, shattering rock, dulled and emptied and ground away.

A heap of detritus. Nothing useful.

He eyes them dispassionately as they strain to keep themself upright, Knife clasped in one hand.]

Nah.

[There's only one monster that takes you to 20. Anything else is just - a waste of his time.]

You're done.

[And in another moment, he's gone.]

[somuchlove]

[Chara only manages one single step towards Sans before their legs give out, a scream of rage turning into one of pain as they fall into a heap once again. It's probably the last thing he gets to see before he warps away.

They stay there, curled up as the dust coats them like before. It's not the same pain as when Chara Fell. Nothing was truly broken that Sans's gift couldn't fix, once they dragged themselves together long enough to dig it out of their inventory. It wouldn't be much, but it was enough to keep them going.

So why wasn't Chara getting up right now?

The urgency was there. Frisk and Asriel were in danger. Sans too. Chara knew better than anyone what LV 19 meant. Standing above the cauldron to hell there was only one way to go and that was down. And the real Sans had enough EXP to make that jump, the only one who had it. There was no doubt that it was this one's goal. And Alphys too...she probably had a double. Chara didn't know her but it's not like she didn't have any skeletons in the closet either. Maybe not as destructive as them, but they shouldn't count their chickens after this.

...they're not getting up, despite it all.

"You'd think everyone's learned by now, what happens to the people you claim to love..

Chara had refused to acknowledge that. It wasn't like they didn't know already. Asriel lost his life because of them. A wedge was formed between Asgore and Toriel because of them. Frisk's SOUL had been tainted because of them. Sans lost his family because of them. Papyrus and Undyne lost their lives because of them. Alphys and Mettaton lost everything because of them. The whole Underground went dark.

* Look at what you've done.

Sans didn't have to spell out what Chara told themselves everyday. Didn't have judge them when Chara already condemned themselves. After all, everybody knows that those who commit suicide don't get to go into heaven.

It really is just a punchline, in the end, isn't it? It's funny. It's so funny you can't stop laughing! And as much as they despise themselves for it, Chara can't stop crying.

* You can feel it beating, somewhere out there.

They lay there for awhile before surging back to their feet. No. Not yet. Not just yet.

It's not game over. There are many miles to go before Chara gets to sleep.

The Hot Dog tastes both wonderful and awful.

And then they start to walk.]