Through The Mouth (Yandere Mafiatale SansX Reader) SECOND ACT

Chapter 20: Grotesque Prayers

As the two monsters besides us chatted like old friends, the both of us just stood in front of each other for what seemed like forever. Something about the kid just set them off as almost intimidating in my head for some unknown reason. They looked so harmless, but I guess something in my gut reminded me how much looks can be deceiving. "So...." I began, as I went slightly down to their small height "you're the kid I've heard so much about? " they nodded to my question "My name's Frisk" they said straight forwardly, shooting their tiny hand in front of me for a hand shake, which I took with the warmest greeting I could muster at the time.

As the attempts of casual chatting with one another, and watching small children slipping on ice every three seconds went on, I thought about Frisk, how their voice sounded so familiar for some reason. It bothered me so much, as if the answer was right on the tip of my tongue,  but as the game went on, I just couldn't seem to figure it out, but god did it haunt my mind.

Halfway through the game sans got a call, yet out of all the calls he took, he acted different by this one. It was as if one side of him was acting casual and composed, as the other was clearly nervous and upset over something. His cold arm nudged his brother's as he whispered him silent but urgent words, his brother nodded as they both kept the secret away from everyone else.
He leaned into me before saying "We need to leave. Now." It almost made me fear that I was the problem on the table.
He took my hand without warning and dragged me across the bleachers to the closest exit. All the way back to the house he muttered his grotesque curses and prayers.
His hands were kept on his pistol the entire time, as if they were his equivalent to rosary beads, as bullets started decorating the car windows like rain drops.

My instincts rushed through me by the first bullet, my head and my spinal cord whipping down to the carpet of the car as any sound after that was rather a grown man's yell for backup or cover, or a bullet's echo through the thick knarley forest. My heart pounded from my chest into my head, this is what I had wanted, wasn't it? For someone to finally rot away, in the end, I think my unconscious would have been satisfied if sans or I would have ended up dead in this scenario, but for one of the rare times in his life, sans was determined.

His skill with guns and ammo was just as astonishing to witness as his skills were with brutally killing everyone on sight. Yes, my point of view may have been from the bottom of a darkly lit car, but being next to him, anyone could sense the intense fearsome rage that flowed through his veins. Through all the fighting, all the bullet shells falling to the ground, all the corpses piling at our doorstep, it was soon obvious which side would win this gun fight. Sans was persistent on being one stubborn bug to squash, as if he saw all of this through his eyes as simply a board game that he's played time and time again, his smile was still on his face even when brain and blood stained his bones red, and god did it drain the color from out of me.