The Sundancing Timeline [The Bad Sanses and other Undertale AUs]

Chapter 10: Heroes and Villains

"Finally back up, aren't we? Something about your face tells me you had a miraculous revelation. Oh no! Whatever shall I do? Heh."

He looked at Dust with a bitter gaze and swung his hand to thrash him against the ground. Dust had never worn an expression, let alone that painful.

I shook violently once again.

He was busy rubbing his forehead to clean the shoe print on it. His right eyelight (which was a small black circle) was motionless and the left one was at the top-left corner. He cursed himself before looking back down at me from the distance. He flashed a cocky grin (similar to Killer's. But it didn't make me adore it and pinch his cheekbones).

I shuddered. The air was cooler now. It must have been nighttime by then. Not that I could figure out.

"Why? Lost your backbone so easily? Pa-the-tic." He sneered with a growl. I didn't like being called that even though I openly accepted what I truly was like.

It irked me. I tried to step forward. My knees were crippled. I squeaked sharply. 

The maniac laughed. Condescendingly. And I felt that. I wanted to bury myself somewhere. 

The air whipped, and a flash happened. I choked on air. The moron grabbed a fistful of my hair and gave it a jerk. My shudder turned into a cry of pain. I wanted to beg him to let go of it, for god's sake.

"Now, tell me, Pastora. Where is your soul redeemer?"

My finger shook and pointed to the crystal. I was weeping. His eyes seemed to have widened. The oh-so-genius skeleton took a moment to process.

"...Can I have a mirror?" His accent got very 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓱𝔂.

"Wh-wa-WHAT??"

"Tch- I am serious, I need to look at myself." Didn't know he was that big of a narcissist, but oh well.

"H-How- Why- du- WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? A HAIR DRESSER?? ALSO. I AM NOT LENDING YOU MY HAIR!"

He responded by pushing me face-first on the carpet. I thought my nose just got dislocated.

"Just tell me... did something happen in my eye?"

I've never wanted to put someone in a mixer grinder and use them as a condiment to feed my school bully. (The senior bully in our school is now an architect with a wife and three children.)

I looked up behind me and squinted my eyes. Yes, his left eye socket had earned a glowy green stripe.

"..Ye- your- l-left socket-"

"...Wait-"

He looked around and stomped up to Cross (fatigued, in the corner) beside Killer (also fatigued, in the corner).

Cross blinked blearily, while Killer grinned and lifted his fingerless gloved hands, holding his knife with the middle finger out and merry. 

The dude didn't pay much attention when he grabbed Killer's wrist and brought it to his face. The emerald light bounced off the blade. He blinked twice. Then gave a cheeky look, turning his face to different angles. Cross was tired to the bone but managed a scoff. Killer giggled.

"Yeah- that's how horrible you look, you idiot."

"I have a name, you know." He let go of the wrist and turned around. His expressions hinted at subtle danger and gallons of confidence.

"Sans. Sans the Soulstealer skeleton."

"Th-that's not what "Soulstealer" is supposed to mean!-"