There's a choked snarl as the skull yanks him off his feet. He'd gotten far too worked up to watch his back. Though he won't admit it, Sans is right: Mr. Universe is not a man with a fighter's instinct. That doesn't slow the anger or aggression though.

This isn't a physical fight; he doesn't need to be on his feet to keep it up. Sparks fizzle at the blaster's jaws, and Mr. Universe keeps his eyes locked on Sans. The skulls are just puppets. He can't forget who's making them move.

And how to make him stop moving.

Suddenly, the gravity in the dank alleyway triples, yanking them all flat to the ground.