PROLOGUE
Sans felt lightheaded and weightless. Stumbling blindly, he threw out his arms and heard a clack as his skeletal hand hit a wall. He sat down as the whiteness began to subside only to be replaced by doubled vision. Sans flickered his eyes until he could see clearly. He was in a dark metal room, blue light pulsed lazily from various machines surrounding the him. papers were scattered across the room, along with a few Styrofoam cups that smelled of spices and very faint pasta. The smell made him feel sick. Sans had learned to pick out the scent of pasta, probably a survival mechanism to know when pap's making spaghetti so he can leave the area.
He looked around until his eye settled on the open doorway. He got up and snuck across the room before cautiously peeking his head out the door. A hallway stretched out in both directions the right side ending abruptly. He quietly slipped out the door and headed down the left hall. He made a few wrong turns and had to turn back but eventually he saw a white florescent light peeking through the darkened hall through a large slit on the ground. He slowed his pace until he was near then bent down to peer under. The door split down the middle and opened pouring light into the hall. Sans jerked his head back, not expecting it to move. He stared out for a moment before getting up and entering the room. Tall white walls and tiles surrounded him. a moving staircase rose up on each side of him, connecting to another room overhead. Nothing up there looked like it would get him out of there so he went to the nearest door. It opened as he approached. Searing hot air shot in through the door and into his eye sockets, filling his skull with torrid heat. Being a skeleton he had resistance to such things but it was still very uncomfortable, especially with a thick jacket on. "Papyrus does always say I'm a hothead." Somewhere out there, Papyrus is probably screaming.
He winced as a pain shot through his sternum. 'What was that'. he rubbed his chest trying to soothe the pain until it faded away. He felt fear wash over him for a moment.
More confused than ever he walked to the other side of the room. there were more styrofoam cups and papers. A massive screen caught his attention. There was a human on it, they were talking to someone. 'That looks like- No'. Sans discarded the idea when the human smiled. "She doesn't do that," He said.
The heat came rushing back as he stepped outside the white building. Farther off were two heavily armored guards. They didn't seem to notice him. He decided to avoid them until he knew what was happening. The sound of rushing water breached his earshot. Perfect, This seemed to be part of the Hotlands. If he could get to the water he might be able to follow it home. After all, the underground has only like one river, regardless of how large it was. 'If I can just teleport past them,' he thought. Sans tried to focus his magic in the direction of the water, but nothing happened. He was begining to feel even more nervous. "Come on." He mumbled under his breath as if would help. Still nothing happened. "I'm going to rip the limbs off whoever did this." He whispered, His smile stretched further and his eye burned crimson red with rage and unease. Sweat dripped down his face. His non-existent stomach churned and he felt ill. He squeezed the handle in his fist for comfort, something was very wrong. Sans looked for any way down. The door on the other side of the building offered no way unless he wanted to take a leap of faith into a fiery chasm. His eyes sought out the steep slope to his left. He mentally sighed, there was no lazy way out.
He carefully picked his way over the jutting rocks and stones, placing his beloved comfort object between his jagged teeth. It gleamed against the fires, the wooden handle worn and frayed from time long passed. lying down on his ribcage to help aid his decent, he slowly climbed down the rock face. Someone like Sans had to exert extreme cation during any activity with HP as low as his. He dangled from the edge for a moment before dropping, his worn muddy slippers hitting the searing stone floor. 'I need to make sure papyrus's okay,' Sans thought, Taking the weapon out of his mouth. He turned around and stopped when he saw a cloaked figure standing on a boat in the water. It looked at him, "Would you like a ride?" It asked, before making a "Tra La La" noise that it apparently thought to be music. All Sans instincts screamed "HELL NO." But Sans felt too weak to do anything. For once he didn't feel the familiar clawing of crazed hunger. He felt empty. It awaited his answer. "Where am I?" Sans asked. "Hotland," It replied. Sans had never seen this part of Hotland, although it did seem familiar. "Would you like a ride?" It repeated. Sans glanced up the stairs. He shook with exhaustion. He sighed and rubbed the aperture in his skull. "I guess I do."