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Angel sat, alone in the Red Tower. Alone, save for the thoughts which threatened to consume them. Their fears. Their doubts. All of it… it was just… too much.
They raised their head from their knees, and drew a shaky breath. “…To hell with it. To hell with all of it!” They paused, “...Mercy was never an option, was it?”
…
“They deserve this…”
Sans yawned and stretched. He was beat. His mid-early-morning nap was exhausting. “welp, guess it’s time for my late-mid-morning nap.” How could any one skeleton be expected to survive just a criminally-busy schedule? Sans was sure he’d manage. Somehow.
Before he could start his nap. A familiar face appeared.
“'sup, kiddo? ya need something?”
“Here, for you.” Angel replied, tossing a bottle of ketchup to Sans.
“a gift? how thoughtful. and here i didn’t get you anything.” Sans chuckled, popped the cap off the bottle, and chugged it down in one gulp.
Or at least, he would have. Instead, he felt a terrible burning sensation in his (non-existent?) throat. He coughed and gagged and spat up the offending material. “Wh-What the hell--!?”
“April Fools!” Angel cheered, “I swapped the ketchup for Grillby’s famous ‘Walking Inferno Hot Sauce’!”
It took Sans a moment to recover from his ordeal. “heh, good one. you got me real good, kiddo…” Sans’ eyelights disappeared. “Now start running.”
Megalovania intensifies.