Sans was watching the world burn while eating ketchup.

There he sat, eye sockets watching as a woman tripped on the uneven sidewalk outside, a cup of ketchup carefully grasped in his skeletal hands as he watched. The horde of zombies finally closed in on her, a fresh scream tearing through the air. Distant light from a cackling flame burned in the distance, a building covered in utter fire down the road. Screams echoed across the street, cut out by the feral sounds of flesh being torn open and organs being consumed.

Sans. That was his name. The skeleton looked down, blood dribbling down from his right eye socket onto his lap from earlier that day. A wallet was thrown open against the table, pieces covered in blood splatter. The money had proven to be useless, utterly drenched in blood, blood he assumed to be his own. Maybe, maybe not. Sans didn't remember

He didn't remember anything. That was the problem. All he could know was what he found when he woke up, his skull hanging himself from a counter and his shoulder aching terribly.

Sans Font. At least he still knew how to read. All of his usual functions were still intact, but memories eluded him. A font? Did he have a family before? Why did he feel like he did, but when he tried to remember, he couldn't see any faces? Was he always a skeleton, or did being bitten turn him?

Sans didn't remember being bitten, but he remembered what it felt like to wake up after being turned. Everything burned and ached, an intense pain bleeding from his shoulder into the rest of his body, where he had been infected. However, almost instantly, the pain faded away into a dull hum, soon disappearing entirely.

Sans knew how he had been turned. He had been bitten, and fell back onto the counter when he finally blacked out from the virus, having caused his skull to be punctured from the sharp edge and left him at an awkward dangling angle. He wondered around confused after waking up, and quickly learned what was going on. A zombie apocalypse had occurred on the surface, and when monsters escaped, they were thrown into the middle of it without any chance. Sans must have been one of the monsters who were first turned, he probably have been caught off guard by the sudden apocalypse.

Everything from his past was gone, but at least his wallet had given him his name and what he looked like before he was infected. He didn't have any of the scars he did now, nor did he have the small hole in his skull.

It was actually rather convenient to have. Since he was a zombie now, he couldn't feel pain, so sometimes Sans stored items in his skull. His clothing wasn't very useful to store things, as it was mostly torn and covered in blood, rendering his pockets useless. It wasn't his blood, as it had long since dried, but other people's blood. His shirt was torn, showing the top half of his ribcage, and his pants were barely clinging by strings. Did you know how hard it was to be careful not to rip his clothes when he had fallen down an entire flight of stairs?

The streets were exactly how one would picture the end of the world. Covered in blood and bodies, dust piles littered left and right. Screams did petrify the air at first, but since now has often quieted down. The apocalypse has been running for awhile now, it's killed off the most vulnerable, which had included Sans.

"Gajsgdssgh (Hey dude.)" A zombie said, leaning in through the broken wall of the building. "Akgusgdygdfuh (We just got a live human, organs still good if you want to join in.)"

"Idaslhfuwshe (Nah, I'm good.)" Sans said, holding up a slightly bloodied hand. "Hjgeyuffgsjh (I have ketchup.)"

Odd, wasn't it, how Sans didn't find eating people enjoyable? He just didn't get the craze. Just the smell alone was disgusting, and imagining eating skin or organs had made Sans throw up when he had first realized what being a zombie meant. Instead, he trudged himself to a fridge within the house he had woken within, pulling out food to try.

And sure enough, it was all still good! Sans could eat normal food, hooray! Somehow, he found himself intensely relieved by that, and found he wanted... something. Something delicious, something from a fridge.

That was how he discovered his love of ketchup. It was one of the few connections Sans could make to his past, so he held the desire dearly, shuffling from one building to the next in search of the delicious red topping. Ketchup was one of the few things seemed untouched by survivors who scavaged buildings, so Sans never did run short. He would stay at a building, watch the world around him as it slowly fell apart at the hands of an infectious virus, then move onto the next once the ketchup supply was low.

What else was he supposed to do? Sans never got hungry for humans or monsters, and he had no family or memories to speak of. All he had was ketchup, and the constant entertainment of everything around him to watch. Sometimes Sans would pick up a tattered newspaper from the ground and would sit down, reading one of them wherever he was. They were pretty much about the end of the world, but he did like the funny pages.

Wondering around was all he really did, but in his own way. The other zombies acted more zombie like than him. They were slow and sluggish, but did have their own sense of coherence. Zombies were alive, they could still think and talk. Normal people couldn't understand them, but that was because their ability to talk was downgraded with the virus. Sans assumed it was their diet that made other zombies become more walker like, with sluggish paces and their intense hunger for humans. A hunger Sans didn't contain.

Sometimes Sans would get snippets of his past, but they were often fleeting, and were gone the next moment. All he could really do was wonder, so he did. Place to place, building to building, walking alone street after street.

He's seen a few survivors from time to time, and they were typical survivors. Running away from other zombies, carrying guns and holding them up to defend themselves. Sans never did go after them, he had no motive to. They often attacked zombies on sight, he didn't want to die. Well, die again, anyway.

Why did he continue to wonder about? Hell if he knew. It was pretty lonely, he had to admit, traveling around without any friends to call his own. Zombies seemed to be obsessed with just eating, something Sans wasn't interested inside of, so he never really spent time with many other zombies.

Well, actually, that was a lie. There was one zombie Sans did spend time with, one that never ate people, just like him. The zombie was a child, and only ever stayed within a gaming store, so Sans usually had to travel there to encounter him. The guy liked to game, how could he judge?

Maybe the gaming store was his base, in an odd way. It's often where Sans went when wondering around got boring, and he returned there often to speak to his only friend. Was the boy his friend? They shared interests in games, and enjoyed making each other laugh.

Unusually, Sans felt like he's played some of those games before. When he picked up his controller, he knew what it was, but couldn't ever recall playing it. Yet the moment he entered the world, he was playing the game like a natural. Controls and movement came easily, like he's done it before. And maybe he has.

Sans took another slow drink of his ketchup, watching the human get torn apart and eaten alive. How did they find that appealing? Just seeing it made Sans recoil from disgust, choking on his ketchup. Looking at dead bodies and blood all day was fine, but the idea of eating people and dust was something he'd never like, no matter how often it was shoved into his face.

Now he lost his appetite. As much as Sans adored the taste of ketchup, seeing a body being torn apart in front of him just ruined it.

Might as well head back to the gaming store, see what his buddy was doing. They spent all day, every day, within those walls. It really was the perfect place for a child zombie to hide from the world. With no supplies or defenses, no one in their right mind would go to a store meant for video games during a zombie outbreak. So his friend was free to hide away, gaming constantly. It was hard enough for zombies on the streets, Sans has seen how strong people with guns could be, despite a horde closing in. Heck, the girl they were eating at least took down two larger zombies with a golf club, imagine if a survivor attacked a younger zombie with a stronger weapon. It wouldn't go well.

Sans wasn't sure what to do when the town was thoroughly explored, but he hadn't made much of a dent yet, so at least he had a good amount of time to plan it out. Would he go into hiding like the younger zombie, ducking away into a store to game away his problems until the world finally died like his friend was? Sans liked gaming, and his friend was pretty cool, but he felt like he should get out more. Look for...

Look for...

Who was he looking for?

Heck if he knew.

"Sans, I-I... I don't want to leave you! Please, please don't make me go! You're going to be fine, I- We can figure out-"

"I've been infected... just... just g-go! Now! Before I turn!"

A flutter of red appeared within Sans' mind before he stopped, turning towards the darkening sky with a scowl spreading across his face. Another memory, it seemed. At least this one stayed, and he was remembering it after it had flashed across his mind. He didn't remember who he was talking to, but he knew he was the one turning. A single red flash crossed his mind, fluttering away. Fabric, maybe? Like a flag, or a blanket. He wasn't sure.

The shop was just down the street, Sans trudging across blood with his hands in his blue hoodie pockets. They hung out of the many holes scattered across his clothes, having been torn through encounters with some walls, survivors, and one very mean staircase.

Survivors were pretty mean. He's only seen a few, but one had almost shot him in the head when Sans hadn't even been near him! Rude much.

"Oh, you b*tch!"

Another survivor, it seemed. Uh oh.

There seemed to be another survivor female standing above the previous body down the street, making Sans turn. Oh no.

Not another! Her back was to him, but he could see the weapon glistening in her hand. Survivors for him were the worst, always attacking every zombie in sight, not caring that he hadn't even tried to attack them. Why were they so mean? Sure, it was the end of the world, but it should go without saying to not attack unless you are attacked!

Much less attacking someone who didn't deserve to be attacked, someone innocent, someone who shouldn't be judged. For some reason that riled Sans up the most, thinking about how easily survivors were turning on one another the moment they were bitten.

Was that what happened to Sans? It could have been. That might be why the mysterious person felt so regretful, because they had caused Sans' death.

The survivor was yelling down at the body, ripping the battered golf club from their lifeless hands before she tossed it to the side, effectively slamming it into an approaching zombie and killing it in one fell swoop.

Okay, that was terrifying. She hadn't even swung with both arms, and didn't even look like she put any effort in. Scary woman.

"Stupid b*tch being stupid worthless," The woman muttered, kicking aside the body. "Stealing my stupid base and getting it infultrated. Thanks a lot, now I have to find a new place!"

The woman turned slightly, revealing off a rather interesting sight. She was attractive, despite the blood that stained her black dress and black jacket, thick black hair tumbling down her shoulders. Her entire outfit seemed to be based around the color black, with pale white skin in comparison. However, what she was doing had caught Sans the most off guard, seeing that the pretty lady was applying black lipstick in the middle of a zombie infested street.

Wait, she was wearing heels too? What?

By far this was the most interesting, and unusual, survivor Sans has seen yet. She was putting makeup on at the end of the world. She was also wearing a dress and high heels. Pretty impressive, Sans had to admit. He had been wearing loose, easy to run in clothes and he still f*cked himself over and got infected. The girl looked to be strong, that was rather obvious by how she just managed to kill three more zombies.

Wait...

Sans noticed the knife in her hand, watching her turn around and stab another zombie while still applying lipstick, using the reflection from her weapon as a mirror. That was...

Okay, Sans had to admit, it was hot. Seeing a woman covered in blood, effortlessly stabbing away a zombie that was trying to eat her while simultaneously applying lipstick? Pretty awesome.

However, that's not what really drew his attention. What did was the knife she was using, making Sans perk up. Knife, knife...

Knife!

It was a knife!

Something from long ago bubbled inside of him, and before Sans could stop himself, he was running into the nearest building in search of something. It didn't take long to find, pulling out a large piece of paper and a pen from the desk and scrambling back outside.

Once he was done writing, although sloppy, the words were clear enough. So Sans stumbled back onto the middle of the street, turning the sign towards her with utter excitement as he made loud zombie noises.

Sure enough, it got her attention. The woman turned, a wild look in her dark eyes as she likely planned to attack the nearby zombie, thinking he was going to try and infect her. Instead, she found Sans standing there a bit of a distance away, wide smile on his face as he showed her the paper.

'Knife to meet you!'

"Was..." She looked up at him with a deadpanned expression, "Was that a pun?"