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The door had shut. Steam billowed out of the bottom, flowing through the vents. A sharp whine filled the air. His sweat stuck fiercely to his skull. The radio squeaked in his hand, bursting out a countdown.
* 5.
He swung open the container. Two syringes, both glowing red, carbonated. He grabbed one.
* 4.
He grit his teeth, the needle shining in his eyes. He thought of a good needle joke.
* 3!
A sharp twinge inside of him. False blood flowed through false veins. His SOUL hammered in his chest. He felt DETERMINED. He lost the joke, though.
* 2!!
* Someone get him out of there!
* NO! We must continue!!
The wires outside roared. The shouting overlapped. He tried not to focus on it. The lights flickered, then glowed. Static filled his vision. Sparks shot out from the walls, from his bony fingers. The electricity rang inside of his head. What was a good spark joke?
* 1!!
A bolt plummeted down.
It was so, so bright.
He saw the light. It was faint, a mere glimmer within the vast expanse of darkness surrounding him. He chuckled. Everything was just like Gaster had predicted it would be. He tried to move his arms to touch it, but he couldn’t. He felt constricted, like he was cocooned, but he couldn’t see anything except the light. Yet, somehow, he knew he was heading towards it, slithering through something smooth and leathery, the light growing a little bit closer and a little bit bigger with each passing moment. He didn’t know if he could go back, but he did know it was all out of his hands now. Thus, he didn’t resist as he swiftly slid through the void, propelling his way through the small, imperceptible corridor.
Then, the light widened like an expanding star. It seemed to open up, inviting him in. He poked his head through.
His eye holes turned black with fear.
Smoke surged over the horizon like a grasping, inky hand. Red flashes–laser fire, he realized–erupted and zoomed through the clouds. Winged creatures blotted out the sky, chittering and chattering; no star could possibly poke through the advancing, mutated morass. Jagged metal ships of red bombarded the planet: a world of melting gears fading into shadow. Screaming, there was so much screaming.
Then, something tugged him back from the horrible sight and he fell down into nothingness.
He did not stay within the infinite black for very long, however.
After only a couple of moments, it all seemed to chunk away, first in small grains and then in increasingly larger squares, as if the entire thing were made out of pixels on a computer and everything was slowly being rebooted. Soon, the void was gone, and in its place he saw thick and slimy rock expanding and forming walls around him.
Twisting his body, he managed to adjust himself so that he could look down to where he was plummeting into, hoping it would not be something that would smash his poor, delicate bones into pieces. To his relief and mild amusement, he noticed, and subsequently careened into, a conveniently-placed flower bed, stopping his descent with a soft, flowery cushion and a puff of pollen dust. Thankfully, skeletons couldn’t sneeze; no one really nose why, though.
That said, the softness of the petals wasn't enough to keep his bones from aching from the collision. Groaning, he tried to stand, but with his noggin feeling a little too throbby for his liking, he decided to just flatten himself face first against the floor instead.
* ah… ow… guess i’ll just… plant myself here. heh.
Unlike his humerus, his humor remained unbruised.
Sans the Skeleton was not having a good day. As he laid there, arms and legs splayed out like he was going to make an angel in the snow while lying on his face, his mind worked over the various events that he had bore witness to within such a short period of time. It was as if, one moment, he was back in the machine, awaiting the teleportation and, in a blink of an eye, maybe two blinks, he was here, on the ground, his memories blanking out almost everything that connected the two events together. That planet, though, was not one of those missing thoughts. How could it be? The massive ships, their metal as red as blood, and the ocean of aliens converging on the withering clockwork that comprised the planet’s surface had stamped themselves into his brain the moment he had the misfortune of perceiving them. Somehow, that planet felt familiar. It matched the description of something he remembered reading about at some point but couldn’t place the name of. It was right on the tip of his tongue, or, as Dr. Gaster would’ve said, he was experiencing mild CDF– Code Dimensional Familiarity, or Crap Down Food for Sans, as he could never bother himself with remembering the whole damn term.
With his mentor on his mind, he reached for his radio and inspected it, hoping to possibly contact the rest of the team. Unfortunately, the whole thing looked corroded, like it had been dumped in a vat of rust. He saw blue sparks shoot through the tiny holes of its speaker. The volume knobs and most of the buttons had popped off at some point, and when he turned it around, he saw that the batteries had melted through the back. In short, the radio was fried, but at least it was not corrupted by the very dimension he had journeyed through. Maybe he should be writing that down…?
He sighed. From what he had heard, something had… happened. Precisely what was impossible to know now, but considering the yelling and the sudden flare-ups in the equipment, it had been completely outside of anybody’s attempts to control it. It was probably only through immense luck that they had managed to complete the experiment at all. That, or it was the immense skill, ingenuity, and the hard-boned determination of Gaster that saw it all through. He just hoped they were all okay.
He lifted his head up from the garden of butterscotch-smelling golden flowers underneath him and took a look around. He felt warmth rolling over his back and, gazing up, he saw a shaft of sunlight rushing down from a large hole up in the ceiling and illuminating the chamber he rested in. Grass grew around the edges of the hole, stubborn roots trying to dig deep into the chasm, and dirt occasionally streamed down through it thanks to an errant, whistling wind or the scattering of some small animal just out of view. He could vaguely hear birds chirping in the springlight above. The chiseled walls, well-worn and indigo, glinted, slick from the dampness of whatever precipitation had entered at some point before his arrival. Moss grew through the cracks of the stone and along the various pillars that rose to the rock above, slowly displacing the carved rock and replacing them with its green fuzz. He couldn’t quite recognize it, but at the same time, something within his SOUL flashed bright at the sight of the aged, ancient place before him.
Unfortunately, the room lacked another, quite important thing: the time machine.
The time machine– round and bulbous, with sleek, steel walls tall enough to house any monster, with wide grates on its bottom to breathe out any excess steam, and almost looking like an elevator from the future if it weren’t for the massive, ridged lightbulb sitting on its top and the many wires and tubes that connected to various sockets on the outside of the machine’s frame– was an invention unlike anything monsterkind had ever seen before. While Sans did work on it, it was almost entirely through the realm of taking notes and organizing folders. Most everything, from blueprint to construction, was overseen by Dr. W.D Gaster. It was, in many ways, that old bones’ baby. If it was supposed to come with him on his journey through time and space… oops.
* sorry, wing-ding. maybe if we’re lucky it’ll zap back into being soon?
Then again… where was he? Like the planet of machinery, the cave felt familiar, but in a more profound, more personal way. He had not read about this place. He had seen no pictures. No. It was like he had lived here, and he could sense the past prints of his hands in the stone.
* wait…
He lowered his bony hand and took hold of one of the flowers, his fingers rubbing its healthy, green stem before massaging its delicate, radiant petals. He narrowed his eye holes as a name formed in his head: buttercup flowers. They were part of a legend that all monsters knew of the first time that a human had visited them after the war. They had fallen down and the rulers, the Dreemurrs, took them in. Their child, Asriel, found them in a field of buttercups. They were in Mount Ebbott. They fell… here.
His white, dot-like eyes widened a little. If he was back home, then that meant that Gaster and the others would also be here and he could report what he saw to them! In fact, the more he processed it, the more he couldn’t shake the feeling that Gaster needed to know, if only because he would be the only one in the room who could understand its possible significance and follow up on it. To Sans, it just felt all too much like a premonition of something to come.
Maybe Gaster could also remind him of that gear-planet’s name. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention in class? Gaster would have encouraged him to keep up with the studies, but maybe he was just in a bad mood that particular day and he never bothered to pick up the pieces from there. Whatever. He made a mental note to promise to rectify the problem to Gaster once he informed him and the others about what he had experienced.
Thus, he slowly picked himself off of the flower bed and started strolling out, his hands in his pockets. If he remembered correctly, the station they had set up would not be far away at all.
* 5.
He swung open the container. Two syringes, both glowing red, carbonated. He grabbed one.
* 4.
He grit his teeth, the needle shining in his eyes. He thought of a good needle joke.
* 3!
A sharp twinge inside of him. False blood flowed through false veins. His SOUL hammered in his chest. He felt DETERMINED. He lost the joke, though.
* 2!!
* Someone get him out of there!
* NO! We must continue!!
The wires outside roared. The shouting overlapped. He tried not to focus on it. The lights flickered, then glowed. Static filled his vision. Sparks shot out from the walls, from his bony fingers. The electricity rang inside of his head. What was a good spark joke?
* 1!!
A bolt plummeted down.
It was so, so bright.
He saw the light. It was faint, a mere glimmer within the vast expanse of darkness surrounding him. He chuckled. Everything was just like Gaster had predicted it would be. He tried to move his arms to touch it, but he couldn’t. He felt constricted, like he was cocooned, but he couldn’t see anything except the light. Yet, somehow, he knew he was heading towards it, slithering through something smooth and leathery, the light growing a little bit closer and a little bit bigger with each passing moment. He didn’t know if he could go back, but he did know it was all out of his hands now. Thus, he didn’t resist as he swiftly slid through the void, propelling his way through the small, imperceptible corridor.
Then, the light widened like an expanding star. It seemed to open up, inviting him in. He poked his head through.
His eye holes turned black with fear.
Smoke surged over the horizon like a grasping, inky hand. Red flashes–laser fire, he realized–erupted and zoomed through the clouds. Winged creatures blotted out the sky, chittering and chattering; no star could possibly poke through the advancing, mutated morass. Jagged metal ships of red bombarded the planet: a world of melting gears fading into shadow. Screaming, there was so much screaming.
Then, something tugged him back from the horrible sight and he fell down into nothingness.
He did not stay within the infinite black for very long, however.
After only a couple of moments, it all seemed to chunk away, first in small grains and then in increasingly larger squares, as if the entire thing were made out of pixels on a computer and everything was slowly being rebooted. Soon, the void was gone, and in its place he saw thick and slimy rock expanding and forming walls around him.
Twisting his body, he managed to adjust himself so that he could look down to where he was plummeting into, hoping it would not be something that would smash his poor, delicate bones into pieces. To his relief and mild amusement, he noticed, and subsequently careened into, a conveniently-placed flower bed, stopping his descent with a soft, flowery cushion and a puff of pollen dust. Thankfully, skeletons couldn’t sneeze; no one really nose why, though.
That said, the softness of the petals wasn't enough to keep his bones from aching from the collision. Groaning, he tried to stand, but with his noggin feeling a little too throbby for his liking, he decided to just flatten himself face first against the floor instead.
* ah… ow… guess i’ll just… plant myself here. heh.
Unlike his humerus, his humor remained unbruised.
Sans the Skeleton was not having a good day. As he laid there, arms and legs splayed out like he was going to make an angel in the snow while lying on his face, his mind worked over the various events that he had bore witness to within such a short period of time. It was as if, one moment, he was back in the machine, awaiting the teleportation and, in a blink of an eye, maybe two blinks, he was here, on the ground, his memories blanking out almost everything that connected the two events together. That planet, though, was not one of those missing thoughts. How could it be? The massive ships, their metal as red as blood, and the ocean of aliens converging on the withering clockwork that comprised the planet’s surface had stamped themselves into his brain the moment he had the misfortune of perceiving them. Somehow, that planet felt familiar. It matched the description of something he remembered reading about at some point but couldn’t place the name of. It was right on the tip of his tongue, or, as Dr. Gaster would’ve said, he was experiencing mild CDF– Code Dimensional Familiarity, or Crap Down Food for Sans, as he could never bother himself with remembering the whole damn term.
With his mentor on his mind, he reached for his radio and inspected it, hoping to possibly contact the rest of the team. Unfortunately, the whole thing looked corroded, like it had been dumped in a vat of rust. He saw blue sparks shoot through the tiny holes of its speaker. The volume knobs and most of the buttons had popped off at some point, and when he turned it around, he saw that the batteries had melted through the back. In short, the radio was fried, but at least it was not corrupted by the very dimension he had journeyed through. Maybe he should be writing that down…?
He sighed. From what he had heard, something had… happened. Precisely what was impossible to know now, but considering the yelling and the sudden flare-ups in the equipment, it had been completely outside of anybody’s attempts to control it. It was probably only through immense luck that they had managed to complete the experiment at all. That, or it was the immense skill, ingenuity, and the hard-boned determination of Gaster that saw it all through. He just hoped they were all okay.
He lifted his head up from the garden of butterscotch-smelling golden flowers underneath him and took a look around. He felt warmth rolling over his back and, gazing up, he saw a shaft of sunlight rushing down from a large hole up in the ceiling and illuminating the chamber he rested in. Grass grew around the edges of the hole, stubborn roots trying to dig deep into the chasm, and dirt occasionally streamed down through it thanks to an errant, whistling wind or the scattering of some small animal just out of view. He could vaguely hear birds chirping in the springlight above. The chiseled walls, well-worn and indigo, glinted, slick from the dampness of whatever precipitation had entered at some point before his arrival. Moss grew through the cracks of the stone and along the various pillars that rose to the rock above, slowly displacing the carved rock and replacing them with its green fuzz. He couldn’t quite recognize it, but at the same time, something within his SOUL flashed bright at the sight of the aged, ancient place before him.
Unfortunately, the room lacked another, quite important thing: the time machine.
The time machine– round and bulbous, with sleek, steel walls tall enough to house any monster, with wide grates on its bottom to breathe out any excess steam, and almost looking like an elevator from the future if it weren’t for the massive, ridged lightbulb sitting on its top and the many wires and tubes that connected to various sockets on the outside of the machine’s frame– was an invention unlike anything monsterkind had ever seen before. While Sans did work on it, it was almost entirely through the realm of taking notes and organizing folders. Most everything, from blueprint to construction, was overseen by Dr. W.D Gaster. It was, in many ways, that old bones’ baby. If it was supposed to come with him on his journey through time and space… oops.
* sorry, wing-ding. maybe if we’re lucky it’ll zap back into being soon?
Then again… where was he? Like the planet of machinery, the cave felt familiar, but in a more profound, more personal way. He had not read about this place. He had seen no pictures. No. It was like he had lived here, and he could sense the past prints of his hands in the stone.
* wait…
He lowered his bony hand and took hold of one of the flowers, his fingers rubbing its healthy, green stem before massaging its delicate, radiant petals. He narrowed his eye holes as a name formed in his head: buttercup flowers. They were part of a legend that all monsters knew of the first time that a human had visited them after the war. They had fallen down and the rulers, the Dreemurrs, took them in. Their child, Asriel, found them in a field of buttercups. They were in Mount Ebbott. They fell… here.
His white, dot-like eyes widened a little. If he was back home, then that meant that Gaster and the others would also be here and he could report what he saw to them! In fact, the more he processed it, the more he couldn’t shake the feeling that Gaster needed to know, if only because he would be the only one in the room who could understand its possible significance and follow up on it. To Sans, it just felt all too much like a premonition of something to come.
Maybe Gaster could also remind him of that gear-planet’s name. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention in class? Gaster would have encouraged him to keep up with the studies, but maybe he was just in a bad mood that particular day and he never bothered to pick up the pieces from there. Whatever. He made a mental note to promise to rectify the problem to Gaster once he informed him and the others about what he had experienced.
Thus, he slowly picked himself off of the flower bed and started strolling out, his hands in his pockets. If he remembered correctly, the station they had set up would not be far away at all.