When Asgore hosts the gathering, his front lawn is lavish with greenery. Next to his porch stands tall flowers of all species, their leaves thick with health and their petals ripe under the sunlight. It's the first time since getting onto the surface that Sans has been to his house. It's nice. Cozy. Two bedroom, one bath sort of deal.

It's cute.

There are little tidbits of evidence thrown about that Asgore and Tori are definitely in a relationship again. A sweater of hers was thrown over the back of a couch. Little smudges of dough for pie crust on the edges of the oven handle. Fur longer than Asgore's caught in the drain. Tiny hints that made Sans smile and chuckle as he looked around, not commenting on it.

The two of them have been in a weird back and forth since they met after losing contact with one another. At first, they had been insisting that they were just working together to run the monster Kingdom. After all, Toriel was never officially removed as Queen, so she still was able to enforce all of the rules and make changes like she had been able to previously.

Then, after they became closer, they insisted they were just becoming friends. Working through their issues to better run the Kingdom and parent Frisk better.

Toriel and Asgore probably were still toeing the lines of a romantic relationship once again, so Sans didn't press the topic. There was likely a good reason neither was coming out about their newfound romance. With that kind of sensitivity to the past, best if they take it slow and carefully.

It's a simple dinner party in the backyard, with a grill intended for show more than use. Asgore, as it turns out, was a shit cook on the grill. Undercooked burgers like no one's business. Somehow, out of everyone, Undyne was the best cook on the grill, despite her... adoration, of fire. She quickly whipped out the frozen burger patties and tossed them on with a glint in her eye that spoke of trouble and mischief.

One backyard fire later, and everyone had freshly made burgers. A bit burnt, but tasty nevertheless.

Sans is better, at this gathering. His eye sockets were finally free of the shadows that clung to them from lacking sleep, and he wasn't avoiding using his wrist now. He wasn't sure if anyone noticed. Either way, Grillby had been given a new folder of everything Sans has gathered since last time, the animatronics are manageable, so life was decent.

He's been dodging work talk for the most part. He's starting to run out of excuses for what work is like other than "boring" and "dull", so he mostly just dodges the topic and brings up other topics to focus on instead. All the others knew was that work was dull, the building was big, robots were boring, and so forth.

At least now he was making decent money. Livable. Not much for extra expense, but enough to not stress and budget until his next paycheck.

He tries to not be jealous of everyone else, but it's hard when he hates his job and they're all living rather comfortably now. Papyrus and Mettaton have been going on tour. Undyne and Alphys both ran the police and science departments for all of the monsters. Asgore and Toriel literally were the Queen and King.

None of them had to deal with snarky fox robots or staring bear robots. None of them had their wrist broken twice or had to watch their coworker get dragged away, bloodied and sobbing.

Sans still has nightmares about that. He's gotten better at dealing with them, but fuck.

So, at the gathering, Sans keeps work talk low and keeps his head down. Frankly, it's difficult to talk to these people and pretend that nothing is going on. He still has no idea if he wants to leak the evidence just yet or not. Should he try to talk to the animatronics more? Figure out if they deserve it or not? He has no idea.

Sans knows, that if he were to leak it now, they would probably be disabled. Destroyed. Which he had wanted from night one. Now? Now, Sans wasn't so sure. They hurt him and they hurt Liz, but they were doing so out of a twisted sense of self-defense and revenge. And Sans couldn't say he would never do exactly what they had done in their shoes. If Sans was murdered in the back of some shitty pizzeria, he knew he'd be out for revenge as well.

He's going crazy from this sudden ethical dilemma he was thrust into. To compensate for his raging mind, Sans takes another bite of his burger and tries to focus on the burnt parts to keep himself focused. It works about as well as one would expect.

It might be best to try and work with the animatronics. Enemy of my enemy is a friend, Sans supposed. He wasn't going to save them out of some sense of 'justice' or empathy. More so because they could be useful to him.

"Sans?"

And there's Undyne. Standing with another burger on a plate, hand outstretched. He accepted the offering, with a sly grin that's part of his brand at this point. Sans central smiles. 20 gold per smile. Maybe he could sell that, and get some extra cash on the side.

"Thanks, 'dyne," Sans grumbles. He didn't mean to grumble, but his mind was still in a fog from the amok thoughts running about.

Undyne stares. Her single-eyed gaze is heavy with suspicion and intrigue. He wants to throw himself off of the face of the earth and never return.

"You okay?" She asks, in Undyne grunt fashion.

"Yeah. Just bone tired."

The pun doesn't alleviate any of the suspicion. Puns had worked great before, but recently, too much has changed for them to be quick, witty ways to divert attention as they had once done perfectly.

The backyard party continues. Sans knows his friends linger staring longer than they normally do.

His phone gives a sharp buzz halfway through the event. Frankly, Sans doesn't think much of it at first. He has the numbers of all of the regulars who play poker at Grillby's and he has an ungodly amount of phone apps he keeps forgetting to disable notifications for. So he doesn't pay any mind to it when Frisk hands it over, confusion etched onto their face but no questions coming out.

The world, for a moment, goes still when he sees the sender. Liz.

'Tell me what's really going on in that damn Pizzeria. 20 minutes. Park on North Street, by the water fountains. - Liz'

"Oh, uh..." Sans is quick to stand up, his phone screen tilted to hide the text away from Frisk's prying eyes, despite the fact that Frisk 100% saw his little message. "Guys, I gotta go. Co-worker needs some help."

There's a heavy frown on Papyrus' face. He wrangles his fingers together into a tight, soul-crushing grip on his scarf. "Are you sure? Can't... someone else handle it?"

They were so onto him.

Sans was, for the most part, good at keeping secrets for most of his life. At least, until Frisk crash-landed Underground. Now that the entire group was herded together like some danger watch party, they had become as observant as hawks. Especially since Sans' new job has him working at odd hours and with even odder words to use as excuses.

He's fumbling, really. Flailing about. And they can tell. They know he's been tired, that he's exhausted with no particular good excuse, that his wrist was broken to fuck, and that Alphys wasn't fully sold on the spring lock failure due to water.

They know he's lying to a degree, and he knows, and they know he knows. But Sans doesn't bring up the truth, so as much as they poke and prod, they won't outright ask, so Sans won't outright answer. It's a balancing act both sides partake in, willingly or not.

"Nah, she needs me, I'm the only one trained enough to help her," Sans explains. He gives a curt wave as he steps away, already escaping from any more excuses or explanations. "See ya, bro."

Despite the healed injury, his hand aches with his words.

The water fountains greet Sans when he arrives, old crooked things that are littered with small bits of weed and smeared with graffiti, yet were more ripe with personality than anything in that damn Pizzeria. Sat next to those old pieces of hunk that likely didn't produce drinkable water was Liz. Her leg completely healed as well, likely due to some influence of monster magic. She's wearing a stoic expression, lips pressed thin and hands clasped together.

"Hey," Sans greets, the most formal as he will ever get in his life. Liz nods at him, slow and monotone with her movement.

After a moment, Sans moves to sit down next to her. The old, wooden bench she was sitting upon faced a small pond, riddled with small frogs any kid would have a joy chasing about.

"You know, I did some... some thinking, in the hospital," Liz mutters out. "The old security guard - he was nice, ya know? Real nice. I liked him. He helped me with my schoolwork sometimes if he got there early. Worked there longer than I have - just a part-time job in the area that lets me dick around on my phone. But there were signs, Sans. Signs. He sometimes would jump at nothing. He avoided the animatronics like the plague, I... I didn't pay attention too much. Just thought they freaked him out because they look a bit creepy. I never - if I had known, I could have -"

"Could have what?" Sans interrupts. He didn't mean for it to sound heated, but it did. "Broken your leg? Almost got killed?"

Liz shoots him a glare. There's no bite behind it, though, and soon she wilters.

Her gaze stretches out across the pond. Sans thinks he can see little tadpoles dancing about under the surface of the water.

"You're a kid, Liz, you couldn't have known," Sans says. "It's not your fault he died. I don't think he knew. Well, he didn't know the full extent of Freddy's Pizzeria's dangers, but... that wasn't your fault."

"I just -" She bites her bottom lip, and she looks like she's about to cry. "I keep thinking about it. The last time I saw him. He was moving, quitting, and he looked so darn happy... all excited about going to see his Aunt and his nephew. Surprise them. And I thought he did."

He didn't hangs in the air, unspoken.

"What do you know?" Liz asks. She looks more stern now, more confident. Words more heavy with each passing second. Her eyes lock onto Sans' form, and she sucks in a breath. "I want to know so something like this doesn't happen again. I get that I'm young, and I get that it isn't my responsibility, but I don't want anyone to do this alone. If I can help you, just even a bit, I... I would like that."

Sans takes a moment to collect himself. He's never had any conversation to this degree of seriousness before. Even when confronting Frisk Underground, he peppered it with jokes and possible deniability. Ever since he started working for the shitty hellhole of Freddy's Pizzeria, he's found his sense of humor slowly drying out of him, like a well that finally ran out of water. He hates it. He hates how he can't think of a joke for this moment, or can't think of much of anything that'd help, because this is too serious to just ignore.

"I found him dead when Bonnie dragged me back there."

And so, the floodgates open.

Liz's hands tighten on her lap, still grasping one another like she needed to hold herself present.

"He was shoved into one of the suits. I won't give the details, but it was... it was gruesome. Like, a real ugly sort of deal. Bonnie started trying to put me in there, but I bailed. Called the police. And you know what they did?" Sans glances over at her. "Liz, they arrested me. Threw me into a jail cell. Wouldn't listen to a word I said. At first, I thought it was just racism, typical shitty behavior. Then this prim and proper lawyer showed up and I fucking knew, on sight, that the whole police department was in cahoots with them. They pay them off. Anything that deals with Fazbear Entertainment is immediately dealt with differently. I got threatened. I speak a word of this to anyone, and I'm thrown into prison for life and they twist the story in the news."

"That lady that showed up, was she..." Liz trails off.

"Yeah. She was the one who threatened me. Didn't even blink when she found out the last night guard was dead. Instead just threatened me and acted all pissed when I threatened her back. Either way, we have an agreement now, because apparently, they can't keep a night guard alive for more than a few months at most. So I'm stuck there, for the time being. Been gathering evidence and shit to get the entire company shut down. They... this is a history, Liz. Those animatronics have been killing people for years. Since the fucking place opened, I'm pretty sure. The company hides 'accidents' and death just to keep a quick buck. They don't care. They never have."

"And there isn't anything we can do? Is there enough evidence?" Liz asked.

"There... there might be, now, but not the amount I want," Sans explains. "The animatronics - they aren't programmed to do this, and I don't have any proof of the company intentionally letting them kill and hiding it. And there's something else that... that's coming into play as well, regarding the animatronics. Either way, with what I have, I can get the place shut down, but not all of the establishments, and I... We need more information."

"Then let me help."

She stands there, tall and firm. Her cheeks were round and full, her eyes gleaming with determination rivaled by the brat Sans both loved and hated known as Frisk. Posture slightly crooked as she stood on her two feet, as if she wasn't quite used to having access to both of them quite yet.

For all he knew, she very well may have come here to meet the moment she got her cast off. It sounds like a Liz thing to do.

"I can get evidence during the day, I can... I can help."

"Liz -"

"They don't know I'm on your side. They have no idea I'm in the loop. I have access to things you don't, I know I'm young, I know I'm just seventeen, but -"

"Liz."

She blinks. Sans moves to stand up, across from her.

"As long as we set some ground rules on how to keep ya safe," Sans says, sticking out his hand for her to shake, "I'm in."

She grins. Her grip is firm and demanding all at once.

___

They spent the rest of that day going over every detail Sans knows from his experiences, showing her the evidence he's gathered. It's nice to have someone in his corner who knows everything. Reassuring, in a way. As long as she keeps out of the main danger known as the night shift, he's okay with getting her involved. So he shows her. He replays the audio clips, he shows the recordings he (and she) gathered, and he shows the printed news reports and other facts he gathered from old chatrooms about the mysterious history of the pizzeria. And, of course, he tells her about the truth behind the animatronics - who they used to be. Liz gets real quiet at that part, not quite understanding the logic behind it, but fully understanding the danger that still clung to them. Smart girl.

While Sans, the actual adult in their little forming group, would be working with the animatronics and gathering evidence there, Liz would be gathering evidence from behind the scenes. On computers, where her receptionist account is actually in the system can gather much more than Sans could riffling through old newspapers and forgotten paper files. He gets the close and personal evidence, she gets the emails, the dates, and anything else she can hunt for within their digital system. She's also more in tune with the dayshift workers and might be able to get some stories from them if she fishes around for them.

Honestly, it's good to have Liz in his corner. She's good with people. She's good with lying. Liz came up with a lie on the spot in the hospital and weaseled her way out of trouble entirely. And hey, she's a teenage girl. Teenage girls are fucking good with gossip. She'll know where to look.

They plan. They plot. The two, eventually, come to a decent agreement and shake hands on it once more. They're partners in crime now, it seemed.

Sans creates copies of all of his evidence and goes over how she can store it, how Liz can create backups, and that she should find someone she could trust to give backups of the evidence to in case she disappeared. He'd rather not she disappear - there's a reason why Sans has been throwing himself alone at the wolves for all this time - but he's not ignorant enough to believe that she absolutely wouldn't get herself killed. That she won't get caught. That everything will go perfectly and the animatronics just wouldn't touch a hair on her head. He knows, though, he's wrong.

She doesn't know anyone who won't open the contents, so, she instead opts to hide a folder in her room in a drawer of hers. So, if she does disappear or die, her parents will find it. They don't go through her room without her permission, so they wouldn't open it otherwise.

He's not fully reassured, though. Sans knows how parents may act in that event. Some might not be able to even handle looking into their child's room for weeks on end. It's not a reliable source. Not fully.

Sans takes Liz to meet Grillby during a full moon.

The bar is ripe with dog monsters playing endless rounds of poker and shots when he and Liz step inside. Granted, he knows a bar isn't a place for a teenage girl, but judging by her casual look she has some fucking fake driver's license somewhere in her purse. And the dogs are pretty harmless. And, of course, Grillby never fucking leaves the bar. How else was Sans supposed to get the two to meet when the guy rarely went out? Sans didn't want to play a game of 'hunt the fire' when time wasn't a guaranteed factor in their little battle.

"You look far too at home being here, kid," Sans grunts out.

"Got no proof," Liz says back.

"Uh-huh."

It doesn't matter, because when Grillby spots her, Sans can see his flames pick up a little. He looks mildly annoyed, huffing as he sets down a glass on the counter.

"No, no, you didn't magically become twenty-one in a month. I told you to not come back here."

Sans snorts at seeing Liz's slight pout on her face. No kid got past Grillby. He can always spot a fake I.D. card, and he makes it a habit to check everyone before he serves them and memorizes his customers. He's good like that. But it means no kid can weasel their way into getting alcohol from him.

"She's with me," Sans says, giving him a little wave.

Grillby looks between the two of them, sighing gently to himself. He picks up the empty glass cup and continues to polish it, despite Sans seeing no obvious smudges on the glass. Just fucking put it on the shelf already. Why did Grillby have to share Papyrus' need to meticulously clean until perfection?

"Did she manage to talk you into getting her some alcohol? Sans, even if you're a loyal customer, you know my stance on underage drinking. I know you're more lenient than I am, the whole 'as long as you're doing it while I'm aware' stance is fine for you, but you can't do that kind of stuff under my roof -"

Grillby shuts up pretty quickly when Sans slides over a new folder and a new USB stick. His cloth pauses, drifting across the glass slowly before it halts. He's staring. At the folder, first. Then the USB stick, like a gun and a bullet was laid out before him instead.

His eyes are sharp when he glances up at Liz and Sans. "She knows."

"Yep," Sans says.

Grillby's eyes narrow. "She had a broken leg shortly before I heard you went to the hospital, Sans."

Sans shrugs. "Yeah."

Liz rocks back and forth on her feet, her face stern as she watches Grillby.

"You wouldn't randomly just pick up some kid to involve with whatever you're..." Grillby said, his voice more strained than before.

"I work with Sans. I... it's okay," Liz says. "He didn't pick me up off the side of the road, it's..."

"Complicated," Sans finishes.

Because what else can he say? Grillby already knows a bit too much more than Sans would like. But he's doing this because they need a backup plan. Sans needs to know that if Freddy or Chica or whatever decided to snap his neck, he could trust Grillby to keep an eye out for Liz in the aftermath. And there's no doubt that Grillby hasn't already connected some dots regarding Sans' sudden shift in attitude and his new job. Everyone has, it's not that hidden. Sans can only pretend to an extent.

"So it is your job," Grillby murmurs out, as if puzzle pieces are connecting in his brain. He sighs and gingerly accepts the folders as if they were water to his flames. He tucks them underneath the countertop. "I... I don't like this, Sans."

"It's fine," Sans explains. "We're handling it. I just wanted to let you know that Liz will be involved now. She'll be giving you some stuff from time to time like I have been. If I... disappear, at all, keep an eye out for her for me."

Grillby's face twists up as if he's battling against himself to not leap across the counter and strangle Sans until he spills everything. Instead of doing what the animatronics couldn't do, he sighs. "Fine."

And that is that. They don't linger, not when the bar is busy on that night with poker games and dog monsters that ramble on and on about the merits of bones and fetch. 

Next upload: December 25, 2023