Frisk: God of the World

Redacted

"Oh, alright. I'll let you go see my brother, but be sure to come back soon!"

Frisk couldn't bring himself to say another word to Papyrus. He turned around and went back outside. The cold suddenly didn't feel so bad anymore. He walked to the back of the house and found the basement door hidden behind it. He opened it and let himself in.

Inside the basement was a counter with four drawers. Some kind of blueprint was sitting on top of it. In the back was the machine Sans was talking about. The machine consisted of a circular platform surrounded by flux capacitors or something. Uh, yeah, Frisk was certainly no expert here. There was also a large computer console attached to the machine. The Gaster fragment was placed on top of it. Sans was there too, working on the machine. He heard them enter and turned to face them.

Sans noticed the new bloodstain on Frisk's leg. "Hmm, ran into more trouble on the way here?"

Frisk frowned. "To put it mildly..."

Sans read Frisk's expression. "Oh... I see..."

"... Undyne is dead," Frisk said quietly. "Mettaton killed her."

Sans didn't look terribly shocked to hear that. "Heh, I always figured that robot would take over if anything happened to Undyne... Oh, jeez. This is gonna get kind of disturbing, isn't it?"

Frisk didn't envy them. He'd always liked Mettaton within limits, but at this rate, they were doomed to a world where just about everything was plastered with Mettaton's face.

"You know," Sans said, "I bet things wouldn't be so bad if my brother were in charge."

Was he suggesting...? Oh, God. Frisk was so ready to leave.

"Nah," Sans said. "I'll probably just become his agent. If you can't beat'em, join'em. Right?"

"That's not much better!"

"Well, if some kind of hero manages to overthrow him, I won't complain."

Frisk sighed. "Just let me go home already. I'm sorry, but I really don't want to get involved."

"I can relate." Sans continued working on the machine, typing commands written in strange symbols. "Just wait a little longer. It'll be ready soon."

Frisk looked closer at the symbols. There was a thumbs-down, a cross, a skull and crossbones, a neutral face, a hand pointing left, another thumbs... Wait... was this...?

He pointed at the screen. "Is that wingdings?"

"You tell me."

"That's wingdings."

"Yeah, so?"

Frisk couldn't believe this. "Wingdings?! Are you kidding me?!"

"Nope."

"I cannot take you seriously right now."

"Why not?"

"Because it's freaking wingdings!"

"Yeah, and what's wrong with that? It's just another font."

"I'm pretty sure any good font needs to be legible."

"It's perfectly legible; you just have to know how to read it."

"It's not even English!"

Sans made an apathetic shrug and went back to work. Frisk had to admit, it was kind of impressive that Sans could actually read wingdings. Still, why wingdings? Was it a design choice Gaster made? Frisk glanced at the creepy. smiling head that was apparently a piece of Gaster. The more Frisk learned about him, the more eccentric he started to sound.