I.D.'s Fantasy: Thank you! :D

Bit of a calmer chapter here, after that madness~

Chapter Twelve: Mistake

One after another, Sans had found himself thrown into a number of situations. Scarcely had he had the chance to take a breath before he wound up in the shadowy halls of a decrepit mansion. After facing phantoms nothing like Napstablook, there had been a velociraptor to take care of, with effective guns. Then came bigfoot hunting; the search ended in failure. A circular area produced an anti-gravity field as well as rabid ferrets. Now alone in "his" office, he sank into the chair with an exhausted sigh.

He checked the phone. One thirty.

"You gotta be kidding me."

He wasn't sure how much time he would have to himself. Judging by Kira's behavior, he had a little while. His aching feet were thankful for that. At long last he could sit and think, though it didn't escape him that he was expected to be productive with this time. Staring at the black computer screen, he noticed a bit of a distant look in his reflected features. To be expected, with all he'd witnessed in the past morning. He needed a break. He needed a nap. Staring at the phone, he debated setting a ten-minute timer and sneaking in some much needed sleep. Kira barged in with a paper bag bearing the logo of some restaurant he didn't recognize.

"Brought you some lunch," she said, hastily placing it on the desk before leaving.

Oh yeah, he needed to eat.

It was in this moment that he realized how hungry he was. No use trying to nap when anyone could walk in and question it, anyway. So he dumped the bag's contents, and could tell immediately that the food was cold and stale. He cared little for that detail. Sans shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. He took a bite of the burger and squirted a ketchup packet on top of it. His eye sockets wandered about the room. It was simple, neatly organized, and he wondered how Other Sans found the time to keep it that way. The desk held a computer setup and tiny wire basket of pens. The walls were a pale yellow, barren. A familiar scent found his not-nose, whilst he stared blankly at the multiple filing cabinets.

Another bite of food, which he promptly spat out. Pickles. Stale, disgusting pickles. Glaring at the burger, he dropped it on the desk to locate the offenders. He picked off the green discs someone had dumped onto one side of the sandwich. He tossed them nonchalantly, too tired to care about cleanliness.

As he ate, he thought of the strange sensation from earlier. What was that force resembling instinct, that had saved him more than once now? Fighting was chaos. It was unpredictable. No matter the training, one could still lose. Or win. The latter was highly improbable without the right preparations, and there was no way his survival could be attributed to luck. Nor was his mind entirely to thank. Much as he would've loved to reach that conclusion. No, he had been frozen in place, unable to act in the slightest. He'd never seen such a beast, let alone been faced with the task of killing one. Yet something had gripped his soul, steadied it. Allowed him the mental clarity to formulate a plan. It happened with the goat thing. It happened with the ghosts. It happened with the ferrets. Not with bigfoot, as he never did get to see one, but that was beside the point. Fear wasn't what brought it about; he'd been excited to see a dinosaur. Whatever this was however, it seemed to be consistently triggered.

Leaning back as far as the chair would allow, his arms hung limply, dangling while he again imitated the final calls of a dying whale. After a few moments in this position, he allowed the last bite of food to fall to the off-white tiles below. Forcing his attention to the computer, he booted up the device. He yawned as he waited. A beep and a faint humming droned through the air. He tapped his fingers on the desk.

Welcome, Agent

Password:

"Ah, crap."

Would asking Kira be suspicious?

An idea manifested, which he considered worth a try. Grabbing the car keys from a well-organized drawer, he shoved them into his pocket and headed for the room's exit. He ambled over to the door, reached for the knob, and halted. Again came the unspoken voice telling him to keep his identity a secret from these people, and Other Sans wouldn't leave such a mess behind. He reluctantly picked up the discarded foodstuffs and garbage. He wiped off the desk with his shirt and turned the computer back off. The room presentable, he left it without issue.

It wasn't until he'd nearly made it to the exit that Kira stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

"Takin' the rest of th' day off. I'll catch up on everything tomorrow."

"You're…. What?" She could hardly believe what she was hearing, blinking as though she expected to wake herself from a dream.

He feigned impatience. "Can't think straight. Probably th' ghosts; about four of 'em tried t' possess me."

"Th-you…. You need to see a doctor!"

She took his arm and began to practically drag him across the hub. His eye sockets went dark. He silently cursed, loathing his lack of information, as well as the foreboding feeling in his soul. He pulled his arm from her hand more harshly than he'd intended and put on his most terrifying glare. She appeared unfazed by the expression, and clenched his wrist before he could utter a single word. He struggled to free himself again, finding that her grip had become inescapable. He repeated his explanation (as changing his story wouldn't help) whilst the human dragged him into a new set of hallways. He felt eyes burning into the back of his skull as he was taken from the room.

The dried blood here and there didn't soothe his nerves.

This section of the structure was much more heavily protected. Metal everything, and all of it dull and dirty in appearance despite the many cleaners they passed. Many of the doors looked to be password protected, leading him to wonder how many of them he was meant to know. The panels glowed various colors and portrayed symbols he didn't recognize. Some sections of wall held windows here and there, views into rooms full of injured fighters. He didn't stare long at the horrific scenes, only just enough to see what he wished he hadn't. His unseen stomach threatened to spill its contents. He shuddered, wordlessly calling to the unseen force.

*You called for help