[It's a madhouse in the hallway. Mettaton blocks a few stray bullets from hitting Sans and hazards a glance to his alternate self. The king's face is turned away from him but the bullets say enough as they connect, almost burning into his arms with the loathing put into them. There's so much more emotion past that however, just from a cursory feeling, a darker depth of complexity and it chills him.

What happened to him? How did he become this?

His question doesn't get an answer. Sans grabs his hand and he feels the world turn on a dime, and when he gets his bearings back they're both in the Throne Room.]

It's all right. Let me guess- the zombies were chasing you? It happened with me earlier as well.

[He's stumbled into quite a few tears himself that way and had some horrible and interesting sights with people.

The tear is only a few feet away and Mettaton is already turning to walk through it. Idly he looks over his shoulder and sees Sans... not moving. He stops, looking at the skeleton with muted confusion.]

Yes yes, we'll have more time for proper thanks when we're out of here. Let's get going.