Sans chose not to comment on Chara’s words and she handed him the wrench. Sans worked on the machine while Chara handed him what he needed. Other then Sans saying what to hand him, the room was quiet. During this, however Sans managed to discreetly rest his tail in a semi-circle around the small girl without her noticing, hopefully, if she had noticed, she made no indication. Several hours passed like this, both taking a small amount of comfort that the other’s presence brought. Sans eventually slipped out from under the machine, taking Chara by surprise. Sans stood up and placed a hand on the wall to the left of the machine at about chest height. He pressed on it slightly, a small clicking noise resonated throughout the room as a small panel opened and Sans pulled out a small glass vial, filled to brim with a bright glowing red liquid.

“What is that?” Chara asked, although she seemed to already know the answer.

“Liquid DETERMINATION.” Sans replied simply. He inserted the vial into a slot and pressed a button. The machine roared to life, wind blowing from it and whipping Chara’s hair every which way like a wind storm. An oval, ocean blue surface appeared inside the machine about six feet tall. It seemed to be constantly moving like the ocean in the breeze.

“What the…”

“Why don’t we go through?”

“Are you insane?!” Chara shouted. “It’s a strange machine that made a weird oval thing and you want to go through it?! It could kill us! There are no more RESETs Comedian! If we die, we die for good!”

“I know, but what if it leads somewhere? It’ll be something new, something that the RESETs could never give.” Sans said this because he knew that this would push just the right buttons in the child to at least keep her from keeping him from going through. The curiosity was almost too much for Sans.

“Fine, but if we do this,” Chara made direct eye-contact, “you have to promise me that if dangerous things start happening we’ll bail immediately.” Sans sighed, he hated making promises but he was really curious. He inwardly cursed himself.

“Alright.”

“I want to hear you promise.” Sans huffed silently, there went any chance he had of getting out of it.

“I promise.” With that, they stepped through the watery surface.

On the other side, they seemed to have stepped out of an oak door. In the doorway of a mahogany door, stood what looked like Papyrus in khakis and an orange sweatshirt and Sans in a grease stained, grey, short-sleeved shirt and torn, dark blue, also grease-stained jeans. They all stared at each other, confused, to say the least. Then the final door, a rosewood one, opened.