The Kidnap: Psychotic!Sans x Detective!Reader

Chapter 8: What She Knows

It was as (Y/N) walked back to the room that she began to think about what had happened, knife safely in her pocket and face void of emotion. 

It was as she was crossing the street that she stopped shaking. 

As the elevator rose, so did her mood - at least, on the outside. 

As she stepped into the room, where Frisk was asleep, that she stepped outside and was finally able to relax. 

She came to several conclusions. 

The first of this was that, though the person knew her, she didn't know them - not personally, anyway. Secondly, she knew her knife was sharp, based on the resistance of their chest. That, or they had very thin skin. The third was that she would face no legal repercussions, since Undyne was used to her less-than-traditional means of solving cases. 

The last decision? That whoever she had stabbed wasn't real. The body had dissipated shortly after being stabbed, as had the blood. Which, naturally, led to some questions - why was she hallucinating? Who had she dreamed up? Was she meant to stab them?

Of course, there was one thing she didn't know. In the shadow realm, a figure clutched their chest, wheezing and trying to expel the blood that rose. It took a few minutes for the wound to close, and they could feel the last of their soul return as it did. A sigh, both one of relief and frustration, as (Y/N) slowly left the alley. This is what I get, I suppose,' thought the shade as they cleared their viewing screen, 'for trying the 'My Little Monster' approach. Nonetheless, I suppose it's good that I regenerate. Would have been nice to have a proper conversation, but that will come in time.' She walked through the emptiness, chewing her bottom lip and narrowing her blood red eyes. It had been a long time since she had been alive, but she didn't feel particularly upset over that. The only thing she was upset about was leaving her sister behind. 'No time to dwell on that', she told herself, moving swiftly through the dark. She paused, summoning an icy screen, the closest to a mirror she could manage in this place. The healing process of damage dealt before she died was slow, and she had just recently regained her former form. 

Moving faster, almost jogging, the spirit considered her next move carefully. Sans, once she opened up her viewing window, was fast asleep. As was (Y/N). Well, she was never one to pass up a chance to mess with people, so it only made sense she intrude on the other's dream. 

It was foggy at first, only a few shadows moving around. Gradually, shapes became more defined, colors and details coming into focus. (Y/N) was held by her throat by a large, brutish man; someone the detective had apprehended in the beginning of her career. The detective didn't seem particularly worried - in fact, she didn't seem to care what became of her. A knife was pulled from the shade's pocket, run clean through the man until he was nothing but a pile of dust on the floor. (Y/N) seemed slightly confused, head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed. She looked tired, hair frizzy and eyes weighed down by black bags. The shade pushed her knife back into it's place, taking a casual pose. She could see (Y/N) dying, from fear and pressure and a hundred things she wasn't in a position to name. Normally, she may have relished in the other's pain, but now? Well, it wasn't the time for the cop to die, not while she had a job to do. 

"Do not go gentle into that goodnight," Chara finally said, blood red eyes boring into (Y/N)'s (E/C) lights, "Rage, rage, against the dying of the light." (Y/N) narrowed her eyes further, clearly confused by the dead's message. Chara nodded, slowly, then turned and walked away, waking (Y/N) as she went. 

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Chara knew (Y/N) had killed before. She also knew the cop had never killed anyone she knew personally, which was why Chara decided to scare her. She couldn't help but wonder if (Y/N) could kill while someone she knew watched. 'Being in a personal purgatory,' thought Chara as she goaded (Y/N) to walk outside, Frisk following closely, 'Certainly has it's advantages.' From her unseen world, she could whisper to whomever she wished, giving them ideas and little suggestions to further her own agenda. 

Admittedly, she preferred to hang around (Y/N); in Chara's mind, they were fairly alike, the difference being (Y/N) hid the insanity while Chara embraced it. The pair walked down the street, renewed in their search for Mettaton. Slowly, the shade let them towards an alley, albeit different from the one last night. Frisk declared they should use it as a shortcut, since this was one of several connectors from the upper and lower parts of Manhattan. A mugging was taking place in the alley, old bald man, Pops, Chara believed his name was, held at gunpoint by one of the various riffraff of the world. 

(Y/N) and Frisk stood at the mouth of the lane. (Y/N) was much like another girl Chara knew, though she couldn't remember her name. Something like Tarzan? Tarzan Pyromatic-shit? Who knew, but her point stood; they both valued justice, and were not afraid to cause some damage in the process. Though, Chara knew well, (Y/N) was fully willing to hurt others in this pursuit. 

Chara offered no advice, no words of wisdom, choosing instead to spectate. Watching, silently, as (Y/N) seemed to float across the length and stab the gun-toting man in the shoulder. She took the gun, slipping the knife into her pocket, and the gun as well. She silently helped the old man to his feet, then walked away silently. The dead girl heard a soft voice, (Y/N) mumbling to herself, "No need for death here - I'm honestly not sure I could do it again." Though it had been a long time since (Y/N) had stopped the heart of another, it was the previous night's events that shook her out of her routine; of that, Chara was certain. That really wasn't good. 

Was it?