Ace in a Hole (Undertale x Hazbin Hotel)

Chapter 2

The months passed in a blur as Sans began to fix up the room. He didn't necessarily throw himself into the work, and there were days where he completely skipped out on progress in favor of visiting his friends or taking a break. But it wasn't too uncommon for Sans to find himself hunkered away in the big room, bent awkwardly underneath a desk as he prodded and tugged on random wires or screws.

The first thing Sans did was dismantle the audio processing machines in the back of the room for parts. A few pieces sold for good money, and the rest he either had to pitch or repurpose for the main desk. A bunch of shattered bulbs left broken glass in the bottom of the displays, pieces that Sans had to sweep up and toss out with care. After that, Sans tucked himself into a crawlspace, knees padded with washcloths, while he tended to the issue of wiring that would inevitably result in a house fire. Once he drew away and patted his knees, that was that. And his focus shifted from the environment of the old, dusty room onto the decrepit masterpiece itself.

It was nothing new for Sans to have to fix something old or busted. Heavens knew Gaster, the old Royal Scientist with a new hyperfixation every week, would always come bumbling into work with a chatter of an idea and a box of scraps to boot. Machines tossed into the dump from the surface often came with that. Sans couldn't count how many times he'd been sitting there, minding his own business, before some metal hunk clattered onto his desk with Gaster rambling on and on about how fascinating this discovered machine was. While the tech was often new instead of near rotten, Sans always had less to work with down there. Materials were sacred Underground; you didn't waste them on a whim. Especially with a hardass like Gaster overlooking you, who would pinch pennies whenever necessary.

Like guardrails around a core reactor, for example.

It was almost nostalgic to take a crack at fixing up an old radio station. Reminded him of his old intern days, when he figured out how to make things tick and felt a thrill at figuring things out. Just like when he was sat down in his old Snowdin basement, surrounded by diagrams as he tried to build that one machine that would never come to fruition. Sure, equations and calculations came easily without physical exertion and made him money, but there was always that little thrill of figuring things out. Knowing Comic Sans had done something.

His sleep schedule became one that less followed the light and darkness of the day and instead became one that happened when it happened. Sometimes Sans found himself balancing a ramen bowl on his lap while watching the stars from the radio broadcast room, his feet tucked up while he slurped on overcooked noodles. The stench of wiring and grime-encrusted materials mixed together with the distant lingering static that crawled around his inner skull, a pest of his life.

The process of fixing the ancient machinery led to an entire disembowelment of it, where Sans had to undo over half of the interior and yank out old, rigid wires that would probably explode or shrivel up if he ever tried to use them. The metal stunk of age, and there was so much dust inside of it that Sans sneezed for a few minutes straight. His eye sockets watered as he rolled out from under the desk in a desperate flee. Kind of funny, looking back at it, but at the time he got a faceful of dust and wasn't having it.

Too many bad memories, he supposed.

Sometimes Sans drove down to meet up with Paps and Grillby to have dinner parties or to go out and enjoy the upcoming summer festivities. Usually he picked up extra parts or books during that time, since delivery to his house was a bit of a bitch because he always had to give detailed instructions. Sans had tried to persist with his laziness, but after the fourth package was lost to space and time, he bit the bullet and rumbled down in his car to the local stores for supplies. If he had to order online, Sans settled for his brother's address. A fancy excuse to travel down again and see his favorite little bro.