Chapter Text
Testingly, Sans shifted against his bindings for what felt like the millionth time, twisting his wrists in the metal loops keeping his arms pinned to the chair. The restraints grated painfully, carving shallow, bloody scratches across his wrists as he struggled. Whoever had trapped him had left them just loose enough for him to twist his arms, but tight enough that every movement scraped against his soft bones.
Honestly, they probably didn’t even need to bother with the restraints; the small bead pulsing deep in his soul, keeping him from using magic, would be more effective at keeping him put than anything else they could do. Sans had strong magic, but he was completely helpless without it. A toddler would have more chance of escaping than him.
The creak of a door swinging open abruptly caught Sans’ attention. He snapped his head towards the sound, squinting at it through the thick cloth of the blindfold that was tied punishingly tight around his eyes. He couldn’t even see if the light changed, completely blinded.
Sans could feel his anxiety spike as slow, heavy footsteps made their way over to him, struggling not to hyperventilate. He had no idea what was going on or where he was or who exactly was walking around the room he was being kept in.
“Calm down, Sansy,” a deep, androgynous voice said. It might have been soothing, maybe, only Sans knew for a fact he’d never heard this person’s voice before and they sounded more amused than anything. They weren’t there to help him, that was for sure. How did they know his name?
Swallowing, Sans went to talk to the hopefully-nice stranger, but all he could make was a pathetic clicking sound.
The person chuckled softly. “Take your time, sweetie. You’ve got plenty of it, after all.”
Wow, that sounded sinister.
Coughing lightly, Sans tried to talk again. This time, his voice worked, though it sounded awfully thin.
“h-hey, buddy. wouldja mind lettin’ me go? i’ve got some appointments i gotta keep and i’m feeling a lil tied up here.”
He wiggled his bound fingers for emphasis, though he wasn’t sure that the person was even looking at him. He’d never have thought being kidnapped would be this awkward. Maybe it would be better if he could actually see who he was talking to, but he kinda doubted it. Were kidnappings just inherently awkward?
His captor chuckled again, this time sounding more genuine. “Your puns are always amusing,” they told him, voice almost fond.
Confused, Sans squinted into the darkness before him, trying to remember if they’d met before. “uh… did you attend one of my comedy skits or something? i don’t recognize your voice, so… er… sorry if we know each other?”
This time, their laugh sounded different, deeper and fuller, like he’d said something legitimately funny. Flattering, but this whole situation was really creeping Sans out. How did this person know him?
“No,” they said, voice thick with amusement and something else, something heavier. “We’ve never met.”
“uh… nice to meet you, i guess?” Sans offered, turning his head to try and locate where his captor was standing. “i’d shake your hand, but i’m a bit tied up.”
Dang it, he’d already used that one. Normally he was much better at coming up with puns than this, but he guessed he could give himself some slack. Being kidnapped wasn’t exactly an everyday situation for him by a long shot.
“s-so, uh… as much as i appreciate your chair -ity, i’m feeling a bit in the dark here. mind shining a light on what i’m here for?” he asked, straining his nonexistent ears, and listening intently for any hint of movement, struggling to identify what his captor was doing.
“One more minute, Sansy,” they said, sounding unfairly amused. “I’m just finishing up.”
Well, that sounded menacing. Still, Sans didn’t really have a choice other than to go quiet, waiting with dread for his kidnapper to turn their attention to him.
It seemed to be far too long and yet far too soon before his captor turned their attention back to him, heavy footsteps making their way across the room and stopping in front of him. This close, he could hear them breathing, a little too fast and heavy. Were they scared? Worse, were they excited?
Sans went still, eyes widening as gloved hands settled on his cheeks, thumbs gently circling over the curved bone. The gloves were made of what was probably high-quality leather, thick enough that he couldn’t tell the species of the being wearing them. All he knew was that they were significantly larger than his own, the tips of their fingers almost touching behind his skull.
He didn’t even dare to breathe as the hands crept higher, making their way around his skull to the knot tying the blindfold to his head. It almost felt like they were hugging him, arms and hands surrounding his head.
Slowly, they pulled at the knot, loosening it until the cloth fell away in their hand. “You ready, Sansy?” They asked amusedly.
“yes!” he said quickly, tilting his skull up to give them better access. “please,” he belatedly added.
“Of course,” they said, pulling back and taking the blindfold with them.
The first thing Sans saw was red, to his confusion, startlingly bright. It took several blinks before he could even stand to keep his eyes open, squinting confusingly at the red walls. Why the fuck were the walls red? He’d never seen a place with red walls before- at least, not like these walls. He couldn’t tell where the light was coming from either, just that it was incredibly bright.
A shift in the corner of his vision reminded him very suddenly that he wasn’t alone in the room, his head jerking to face the dark shadow.
His captor was several feet taller than him, but only a little broader, closer to a lithe human than a skeleton, with an androgynous build and dressed from head to toe in black leather. Over the leather was a long, dramatic black cloak with a hood, covering their face. He couldn’t see any of their body at all, not even a glimpse. The cloak must be enchanted.
“Hello there, little one,” they said, voice thick with amusement.
“uh… hi?” Sans replied, trying hard not to tense as he looked around again. There were expensive-looking cameras in several places around the room, all facing towards him. Their lenses shone menacingly in the bright light, unnerving him enough that he looked away.
“Have you figured out what’s going on yet?” they asked, taking a few steps closer to Sans.
Sans turned his gaze back to them, struggling to not lean away. “uh… nope. sorry, buddy. ‘m not interested in whatever this is. could maybe introduce you to some folks who are into it, but-”
He was cut off by gentle laughter, his kidnapper walking around him and disappearing behind his chair briefly. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t work, Sansy,” they said from behind him.
Twisting as much as he could, Sans tried to look at what they were doing, but the shackles keeping him pinned to the chair kept him from turning enough to see anything. “why not?” he asked, knowing that he sounded sorta whiny. This would be embarrassing as fuck to look back on later.
Finally, they came back around, pulling a wheeled stand of some sort with a digital screen bolted to it. The screen was square, about two feet by two feet, and looked pretty securely attached to the stand.
Squinting at it, he caught sight of something that may have been a plastic screen over it, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“You know, sweetheart, for someone whose primary trait is patience, you really are quite impatient,” they said, sending a thrill of fear down his spine.
“h-how do you know my trait, buddy?” he asked, cursing the small shake that made its way into his voice. Sure, someone would have had to touch his soul to put the bead inside, but it was difficult to tell someone’s trait just from looking at their soul, and he really, really didn’t want to think about them doing what they’d have had to do to be able to identify his trait.
“Never mind that, Sansy,” they said, finally seeming satisfied with the placement of the screen and making their way back over to him. Sans couldn’t help leaning back into his chair as they approached, soul thrumming with fear.
To his surprise, they stopped several feet away, looking him over. Sans shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, feeling incredibly exposed. His zipped-up jacket, the only article of clothing they’d left on him, didn’t feel like nearly enough, especially since the sleeves had been pushed up to make room for the cuffs on his wrists.
“This is going to be perfect,” they said, looking him up and down one more time.
Sans’ eyes shrunk, a small, hastily smothered whimper escaping his dry throat. Oh fuck. Fuck. He’d wondered, briefly, when he’d woken up, if his state of undress meant that they were planning something inappropriate with him, but he’d almost entirely forgotten about it.
“you’re going to fucking rape me?!” he cried out before he could think, pressing his knees together as best he could.
“Well, that depends,” they said serenely. “I have a great variety of toys and tools and machines I could use on you, but only if the viewers ask.”
That really wasn’t much of a relief, Sans thought bitterly, before comprehending the rest of their sentence.
“v-viewers?” he asked, hoping desperately he’d misheard.
They sighed, almost fondly, crossing their arms. “I suppose I’ll explain to you, though you’re absolutely adorable when you’re confused.”
Sans sputtered, feeling heat rush to his face. Why were they complimenting him?! He wasn’t adorable in the slightest!
At least they hadn’t gone for anything worse.
“So,” they said, drawing Sans’ attention back to them, “you are currently in a place called a ‘red room’. A red room, since you don’t know, is a place where we livestream the torture of an individual or several individuals, usually until their death.”
Sans’ eyes went so wide they hurt, mouth going dry. Torture?!
“y-you can’t!” he cried in desperation, “i won’t make it!”
“Yes you will,” they said, voice so certain that he fell silent. “We know about your hope, Sansy. We know a lot about you- including exactly how much you can take. Trust me, you can handle a lot more than you think you can.”
The fuck did that mean? Had they been stalking him or something? Maybe they had been. Maybe they’d been watching him for weeks, months, even years. Had they been watching him since he’d come to the Surface? Before that?
Before he could spiral too far, they continued, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Red rooms are specifically designed to be interactable. Viewers join the livestream and give me actions to perform on you, though I do have the power to veto their requests.”
They stepped forward. They’d been close enough already that Sans couldn’t help but squeak, pulling in on himself as much as possible as they stopped a mere few inches from him. A gloved hand gently grabbed his chin, tilting his head up to look into the blank space inside their hood.
“Normally,” they said, voice soft and affectionate in a way that would have made Sans’ skin crawl if he had any, “These tortures end in a long, brutal death.”
Sans’ breath hitched, but they weren’t done, continuing on. “You, however, we are all very, very fond of. You won’t need to worry about dying for a long, long time.”
Sans stared up at them, feeling hot tears well up in his eyes and blur his vision. “why?!” he cried weakly, “why me? why am i so special?!”
“Aw,” they cooed, bringing their free hand up to pet the dome of his skull. “It’s not anything you’ve done, not really,” they informed him gently, “it’s who you are. We’ve known you for a long, long time now, and we have seen you at your best and your worst.”
Eyes shrinking, Sans tried hard not to whimper. They’d been watching him for a long time? That sounded very, very frightening. That meant they might have been watching him since he was a teenager, or perhaps even a child . Maybe he was being too conservative, even. Maybe they’d been watching him since he was born.
His captor’s hand slid down from the top of his head to his cheek, the other one shifting up to match it on his other cheek. “We all love you, Sans,” they said, their voice so genuine it burned, “and we love seeing you like this. There’s no way we’re letting you go.”
Blinking back the same useless tears from before, Sans dropped his gaze as best he could, staring down at his bare knees. Who the fuck were these people? If they’d really been watching him for most of his life, they should know what a useless, shitty, selfish person he was. Even without including the Resets, he’d made hundreds and hundreds of stupid, selfish decisions, mistake after mistake after mistake haunting him.
If they’d been watching him, how could they feel so positively about him?
Maybe they just loved to hurt him because he was a bad person. Maybe it was the satisfaction that came with seeing an evil person get their dues. That made more sense than them actually loving him for who he was.
The hands fell away from his face, his captor stepping back. He still couldn’t see their face, still couldn’t gauge what they were thinking, but their body language screamed of satisfaction.
“We’ll start in about three minutes,” they informed him. Sans sat up straight in shock, casting wary glances at the multitude of cameras pointed at him.
“i…i’m not ready,” he pleaded. “please don’t make me do this, i can’t do this, i don’t wanna…”
He trailed off weakly, feeling the tears finally spill over the edge of his sockets, carving warm tracks down his cheeks. “please don’t hurt me,” he begged pathetically, hearing his voice wobble.
“Don’t worry, Sansy,” the cloaked figure said in a soothing voice, reaching out to pet the top of his head again. “Everything will be okay.”
No, it won’t, Sans thought, but carefully kept silent. He’d been compliant so far, knowing he had no chance of escaping. If he just kept quiet and played along and survived long enough, maybe he’d be given an opportunity. If he could somehow manage to rip that bead from his soul, he’d be able to teleport away, hopefully to safety.
Still, Sans could feel himself trembling, bones rattling quietly against his shackles as he waited for his time to run out. What kind of horrible tortures would he have to go through just in this one session? He assumed he’d be getting breaks to eat and sleep and the such, but what if he didn’t? What if the rest of his life was going to be spent here, chained to a harsh metal chair in a red-walled room, cameras pointed at him from all angles while unspeakable deeds were carried out on his small form?
He’d rather Fall.
“Thirty seconds, Sansy,” his kidnapper told him, moving to stand at his right. “Don’t worry, we won’t let you die.”
That was more horrifying than reassuring, Sans thought, focusing watery eyelights onto the digital screen and watching as the numbers ticked down.
Twenty seconds. Ten. Five. Three… two… one.
“And we’re live!” his captor proclaimed, dramatically stepping forward with a swoosh of their cloak. They paused for a moment, likely judging their position, then continued speaking with an unfairly bright tone. Were they… happy to be doing this to him?
Sans couldn’t figure out if that would hurt more or less than them being entirely impartial.
“Greetings, everyone. If you are here, then congratulations. I am sure it was quite a difficult task.”
They made a quarter turn, gesturing at Sans. “By your presence here, I would assume you know exactly who this is and what we are doing here. If you do not, then I would advise you to either leave or keep your mouths shut. There are some very, very dangerous people here who you would do well to avoid angering.”
Turning to face a seemingly random camera, they continued, “Now, for the rules. As you can see, you can submit requests for what I should do to our lovely skeleton. Anything that would kill him will immediately be discarded- we want him alive. I have the final say on what we do or do not do to him, with no exceptions. Beyond that, I will add rules as necessary.”
With a long, dramatic pause, they added, “Hopefully, that will not be needed. I will be greatly disappointed if I have to add more rules to our sessions.”
Despite not even being the one they were talking to, Sans felt shame curl in his soul, lying heavily next to the fear and anxiety that had been rising the longer he waited. That didn’t seem like enough rules. It really, really, didn’t seem like enough.
“please,” he begged as his captor turned to the digital screen, watching in horror as the first requests started to appear. “please, have mercy.”
They chuckled, turning their head so the darkness beneath their hood stared directly at him, featureless and cold, before turning back to the screen.
“Alright, I think we have our first one,” they announced, gleeful delight barely hidden under their calm and collected demeanor.
Oh no. He wasn’t ready. He really, really wasn’t ready.
“please, no,” he tried again. “i can’t-”
“You can,” they told him with confidence. “If you couldn’t, I wouldn’t let you. Now hush and let me read.”
Sans shuddered, dropping his gaze to his lap, and went quiet in defeat. There was nothing else he could say.