UNDERTALE YELLOW: The Wild, Wild East

Chapter 2. Through Sandstorms We Meet.

Having escaped through sand and dirt, you came up from the ground gasping for air and spitting out grit you got stuck in your mouth. Then you threw the wheat bag over in some corner and proceeded to fall paralyzed onto your small couch.

...
A few seconds pass.
...
Then a few more.

...god, you just can't stop thinking! Your mind is racing even though your body's pretty much ready to drift into the sweet sweet land of unconciousness.
You groan, grabbing a pillow from behind you and practically ready to suffocate in it, throwing it right onto your face.

...
And suddenly, it was morning. Or at least, you think so- there's really no easy way to tell, considering how the Underground is completely devoid of any real sunlight. But you reluctantly sit up anyways.

You passed out pretty much immediately yesterday, having no real memory of when, just those few moments before. At least you felt awake, so that's a good sign.

But now you had the chance to take a real close look around you, taking in the rash and deteriorated walls of your secret base, hidden in the abandoned part of town no one goes to. There was only this main room and the unused 'guest room' but even though it's not much, at least it's yours. There's an old wardrobe with a stray matress you found, the couch you're currently sitting on... and of course, your make-shift coffee table that just sorta sits in bad condition right in front of it.

Brushing that last bit of drowsiness off, you get up from your seat and decide to look into the only mirror you have, hanging on the wall right beside your door and let out an audible sigh. Yet, you couldn't help but smile. It was you in that reflection, not just some bandit covering their face with that classic western eye-mask. Though you knew you couldn't just go outside without it, so! you quickly got ready, threw on your cowboy hat and tied that snazzy scarf around your neck. Strangely looking forward to seeing your rival again..
.........................................................................

The sound of cups lightly tapping on tables and cheers, entranced you to find the source. Through the dark corners and alleys you swept with ease, that's the only way to go around this town after all. Well, if you're you and have your face plastered on handmade wanted posters at least. The sound came from the very same place you knew all too well, the Saloon.

Creeping around the wooden building, you manage to find a crack in the wall. Which for your credit, is something you put there for totally normal reasons. Since you didn't have much of a social life, being a semi-well-known bandit and all, this was the only way to actually know what the folks do around here.

...and there he stood, front and center. The very same sheriff you encounter at least 7 times a week, North Star. He stood there on a small stage, announcing...something. The chatter was a bit too loud to hear from where you were standing, but then a band you could've sworn you'd seen before, went up on the stage and started to play some music.

Now that you could hear. It was smooth, like jazz- maybe some kind of blues? Either way, it wasn't often you heard music. At least, from other monsters. You play the guitar yourself, but it's only ever rarely and the only one who's ever heard it is you. But it just felt nice, a moment that would soon fade away as you saw the sheriff leave the Saloon, and your attention automatically shifted to him.

You decided to follow him around for a while, from a distance. Seeing how he went around, talked to others, rounded up his posse and continued to socialize. You picked up on his mannerisms, like the random fidgeting of his gloves and other things he'd do idley. Not even realizing it at first either, you just liked watching monsters do stuff. As weird as that may sound.

It had been about an hour now and the 'Feisty Five' as they call themselves, was finishing up some target-shooting. You were watching from afar in the shadows behind the town's jail. Or as some monsters call it, 'the slammer.' And out of nowhere, the ground started to rumble again. But it wasn't the same kind of rumble you're used to. No, this was different. And it only grew heavier until-