Ace in a Hole (Undertale x Hazbin Hotel)

Chapter 22

The punishment was as fitting as a slap on the wrist, the court case all but swift and bullet-pointed. Sans had to brush up on the suit he had worn to Papyrus' wedding for it, which he thought was just downright stupid, but at the very least it made him look professional enough for the judge to just toss away the demands of the parents. Thus, Sans left without any worry for jail time or a successful lawsuit from the other party. And with new guilt, as he heard from the medical records that the boy would never be able to use that hand again.

Sans permanently disabled a kid's hand. Sure, the brat did attack him, but Sans knew what it was like to be attacked and lose a part of yourself from it. That fear is what caused him to lash out.

It made him feel queasy, especially when he trudged out of that damned courtroom as the victor. Congratulations, Comic Sans. You didn't end the generational loop of trauma. Great fucking job.

The 'slap' his wrist obtained came in the form of a new prescription he had been dreading. An increase of his dosage for his current pill, and a newer capsule that was white with a groove in the middle. Taken once daily.

The first day Sans took it, he was at home. Alone, with the quiet humming of his dishwasher rumbling as he tugged out ingredients for a breakfast. Omelets were such an easy classic that Sans delved into the familiar dish once more, the taste of water with a pill still fresh in his mouth.

An hour later, Sans was halfway through the omelet and picking at his plate. His movements slugged, and his mind trailed to follow. When a piece of spinach and egg fell to the ground, Sans went to scoop it up and missed the first, second, and almost the third attempt as well. The third had him barely scrounging it up, all but waddling to the trash to dispose of it.

The pill was a mix of an antipsychotic and various other things, which in a broad sense would be anything related to pleasant for the right person. But it was, in his opinion, too strong for him. It was a pill meant for people constantly trembling with anger or hallucinations. And combine that with the overly dosed depression medication?

Sans was dull. His whittle wasn't sharp; his blade aged and couldn't even slice through butter. Sans liked his other medication; it helped him climb from the depths of depression easily but kept him as... himself. This made him anything but himself.

It took him half a day to decide that yes, he quite hated it.

It didn't fully remove Sans from his life. Memories persisted; every decision he made still was his, but it felt as if a murky gradient silken sheet was tossed over him and his legs were weighed with chains. Sans was never removed from the present but was never there, either.

Sans called Papyrus at the end of the night. Papyrus greeted him, as pleasant as usual, and Sans returned it.

It took a total of three seconds of silence before Papyrus asked, quietly, "Are you... on the medication now?"

Sans took two to answer. Just because he was still processing.

"Yeah."

Sans sagged his head against the table. His limbs ached, and his skull felt a bit too heavy for the particular moment. If he were born like this, the outcome of him being the Royal Judge simply wouldn't have been a choice. His reaction time was cut in half, and that was the shit that kept him alive. It was an unsettling realization that his main defense was stripped from him, and he didn't have the full coherency to be truly upset about it.

He lifted his skull enough for his chin to rest against the wooden surface.

Yeah. The pill was stupid.