Under the protection of his bright pink umbrella, Mettaton sighed towards the grey rainy sky.
The glam bot thought the past month couldn’t get any worse, and yet the current predicament managed to top it all. Every single one of his broadcasting devices stopped working when the discussion forum began. And he’d even swapped into his humanoid EX form for the occasion…
Then, there were those flares. Oh, what a missed opportunity to broadcast live! While his camera crew did manage to record the event, providing live uncut footage under his name would have put his credibility high above his Surface competitors, big or small.
At least, he hoped so. Public perception had always been a tightrope to walk on. Plus, it was no longer just his own franchise at stake here. Alphys’ reputation was on the line too, and by extension that of his entire race.
Turning towards his diligent staff, he asked, “Is the net not back yet, honeys?”
They replied: “No, Mister Mettaton.”
“Dearest dears, what a mess. I’ll go back inside then and check up on our Alphys-darling. Maybe she found something in the meantime.”
Mettaton used that as an excuse to make his leave. Once inside, he dropped the umbrella in the nearest stand, then made a quick detour to the children’s book section where it’s devoid of visitors. He will definitely meet up with the lizard lady… after taking a quiet moment to recollect himself.
He wondered why the happenings were taking such a toll on him. Didn’t he survive much worse before with much less hesitation?
Transforming into his battle-oriented NEO form?
Carrying a car towards the Magus capital?
Blowing a hole through a burning building with the power of magic and Determination?
Mettaton had done it all. He even became a hostage at one point. It was all the razzle dazzle of action movies, except in reality. And he came out quite fine, if he wanted to evaluate himself.
Yet here he was, teetering on the edge over a simple broadcast blackout. Deep down, he felt quite silly.
“Why am I getting the heebie jeebies now?” He tried to psyche himself up. “This is what I do for a living! All this background stuff doesn’t just pop up overnight. It should be normal routine for my glamorous self~”
After boosting his own morale, he tried to stand. But just as he stood on his feet, a sharp pain stabbed through his head and static clouded his vision.
“W-what in the--”
Startled, Mettaton managed to grab the shelves to steady himself. A book or two dropped off the rack, missing his head.
The glitches vanished as quickly as they appeared. He stayed there for the next few seconds, unsure if it was safe to start walking again.
“Oh goodness me-darling! What is happening?! I must perform self-diagnostics, on-the-double!!!”
He took one step. Then two steps. And then he struck a bunch of poses, picking up the dropped books with the grace of a ballerina and putting them back. Everything went smoothly. At least his arms didn’t spontaneously turn into legs.
After going through the checks, he received a nice, green ‘ALL SYSTEMS CLEAR’.
“…Phew! Looks like everything’s fine! I don’t need to visit Alphys-darling. No sirree.”
Considering she had been working her tail off trying to get the net back online, it wouldn’t be right to bother her with a minor glitch caused by his own stress.
He happily strutted his way towards the library’s computer room, where Alphys should be busy troubleshooting. Upon arrival, he found his lizard friend talking to Undyne and the Aratet boys. They seemed to have rushed to the library.
Undyne blinked and asked, “Nothing? Really?”
Alphys replied: “N-nothing at all. Everyone was very cooperative.”
“But Papyrus told us to come here for a reason! And ever since he became superpowered, he’s NEVER been wrong!”
Alphys pushed her glasses up her nose. “Did he specify how, or when, or what incident would happen?”
“…Darn.” Undyne hunched in deflation. “He didn’t… and we left without asking. We’re not too late, I hope?”
Alphys then said, “It seems to me that you’re early. W-which is good! You get to take preventive measures. I suggest looking for suspicious people in the crowd.”
“That’s a GREAT idea! Me and the boys will go do that right now.”
A lightbulb lit up in Mettaton’s mind. Didn’t Dayton and Niton come from a faraway land, from a group of people often misunderstood? A forum of discussion and understanding would be a perfect place for them to lift up the standing of their tribe!
“Wait an MTT-brand minute!” Mettaton jumped out from his corner and skipped over to the boys. “Niton dear, why not stay with me instead? You could perform a wonderful song about love and peace for the world! A special interlude, you could say.”
The boy’s face immediately lit up with joy. “Yes! Yes! Idea very good! I think of song to sing.”
Awkward seconds ticked by. Niton’s initial sparkling enthusiasm faded into what Mettaton could describe as a mini-existential crisis.
The glam bot asked, “Darling?”
“No song,” the boy muttered. “Have war song, have family song, have harvest song, have love song too, but no peace song…”
“B-but you just said you have a love song.”
Dayton cleared his throat and explained, “They’re romance songs. First meeting, falling in love, getting married, that kind of stuff.”
Realising that, Mettaton blushed a bit. “Oh! Well, I can see why it didn’t fit my request. Nevermind that! A harvest song is happy enough for the occasion.”
The brothers nodded to each other, agreeing with the alternative. So Dayton said, “I’ll stay by the fish lady’s side and keep an eye out for trouble. Meanwhile, my brother will prepare for the performance.”
Alphys added, “I-I think it’s best to put any music at the end of the discussion. It would be too much of a rush otherwise.”
“Good point, good point.” Mettaton nodded. Clasping his hands together, he scooted over to the scientist. “Anyways! Alphys-darling, we still couldn’t get the internet back. Do you want to keep trying, or do you want to continue the talks offline?”
The lizard wrung her hands in anxiety for a moment. “L-let’s continue offline. We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.”
Alphys had gained a sense of assertiveness ever since she migrated to the Surface. Mettaton was happy for her, yet at the same time he felt that they were slowly drifting apart.
He brushed that lonely thought aside. Wholeheartedly, he believed that he should be cheering for her happiness. It’s only fair after all the hardships she faced in The Underground… and after what he himself had put her through for his own selfish whims.
The location of the main event took place at the library’s lobby. The panel -- where Alphys and Mettaton would sit -- consisted of a couple of joined tables at the back wall, and their respective seats facing the crowd. Five rows of ten chairs used up the library’s remaining space. Any extras over fifty would have to stand around the sides.
They announced the continuation of the event and waited for the crowd to return. The majority of attendees consisted of reporters, working either for big companies or their own personal channel. The rest consisted of regular human civilians.
Mettaton noticed that the Captain of the Royal Guard would scan every face that entered the lobby. And, in her vigilance, didn’t seem to be alarmed. Not much later, she slipped outside into the rain with Dayton in tow.
A double confirmation of their safety, thought the glam bot. Knowing Undyne, any suspicious character would have been pinned to the wall by now. Mettaton’s electronic heart rested in ease.
With everything said and done, Mettaton picked up his microphone and began his introductions. “Beauties and Gentlebeauties! We’re back for Part 2 of the MTT-Roundtable Discussion, sponsored by Alphys Labs. To summarize Part 1 for all those who missed the show, it revolved around the unexpected earthquake that happened ten years ago due to a colossal explosion down in The Core!”
“My oh my, the catastrophe!” He dramatically posed with his hand to his forehead, invoking the image of woe. “This part of The Surface was not built to withstand earthquakes, or so I heard. So much destruction! So much chaos! Not to mention those poor, poor souls lost to the rockslide on the south side of the mountain. Talk about a domino effect of doom!”
“As such, we monsterkind have officially acknowledged the subpar safety standards in our fledgling scientific field. Humanity is our senior in this case, and we wholeheartedly accept any guidance offered to decrease the risk of accidents, major or minor, in the future.”
“Now,” he continued, “Despite some ‘technical difficulties’, we’re moving onwards to the next segment. Power of local recording, baby~~ Now, my wonderfully lovely human fans, please share your magic-related stories with us. After all, that’s what Part 2 is all about.”
Someone in the crowd raised their hand. Spotting it, Mettaton dramatically posed his microphone in that direction.
“I see you there, sweetheart! Come on up and introduce yourself.”
The person stood up and walked to the front. It was a tall, lanky man with caramel hair and a bright orange suit. He leaned to the senior side of life, though it could be difficult to tell from his well-cared skin. The man sported a pair of tinted fashion glasses, and he had his hair styled by a professional. A white scarf draped loosely over his shoulders, further adding to an air of class.
Where had he seen this figure before? Where oh where?
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
After receiving the microphone, the man said: “Hello everyone, I’m Zack Conroy, a dance choreographer.”
“Oh my!” Mettaton exclaimed, “I didn’t expect to meet YOU here of all places!”
Understandably lost, Alphys asked: “You know that man, Mettaton?”
“Indeed, darling! In fact, I’m a member of HIS fanclub! I met Monsieur Conroy at one of my debut performances on The Surface. If it weren’t for his recommendation, I wouldn’t have been able to book a stadium for my upcoming major concert~~”
“Oooooh!” The lizard marvelled. “Thank you so much for helping out Mettaton. I-I really appreciate it!”
Zack smiled and replied, “No problem. Just looking out for a fellow artist.”
“So, my fabulous friend,” said Mettaton, “What are your concerns surrounding magic?”
“Well… first thing’s first, how much do you know about DEMONS?”
Mettaton was caught off-guard by the question. “Alphys-darling? I know a fair bit, but I think this is your area of expertise.”
“Y-yes!” Alphys switched on her science nerd mode. “DEMON stands for Determination Monsters. W-we’ve actually dealt with one last winter. It was, um, quite the incident.”
Oh, how Mettaton remembered that wild night. It all began when The Magus Association contacted him personally.
Frisk, drugged to sleep for their own safety.
Chara, turned into a talking flower.
Papyrus, freaked out over a comb.
And that was just the tip of the chaotic iceberg!
Perhaps it was best not to talk too much about that minefield of confidential information. He let Alphys take centre stage to spout the publicly approved facts.
Zack nodded. “Alright. So, I suppose you know how humans turn into DEMONS then?”
“Well, we’ve learned that DEMONS are made up of souls who refuse to pass on. W-when a normal human passes on, their Psychia fades away within the body. But when it becomes fuelled with excessive Determination -- either through intense negative emotions, the will to survive, or through artificial enhancement -- the Psychia lingers beyond its limit. As a result, it shatters instead of dissipating, releasing their Determination in full, which then reforms into an image of their former selves.”
“I see. I see. And why do DEMONS attack humans?”
“Since DEMONS stem from Corruptive Determination, i-it’s very difficult for them to maintain their sanity. Memory degradation, resentment, erratic behavior, murderous inclinations, and more come from a lack of other Aspects keeping their minds balanced. The older the DEMON, the more unpredictable they become.”
“F-furthermore,” Alphys continued, “One of the main methods for DEMONS to empower themselves is to prey on the living. Whenever a DEMON kills someone, they absorb their victim’s lifeforce to feed their spirit. I would assume that they primarily seek out children and young adults, as they would be at their most vibrant phase of life.”
Zack raised his eyebrows. “You’re correct on every point so far. It appears that you monsters are pretty updated.”
Spinning around once, Mettaton exclaimed: “Darling dearest me! Did you just give us a pop quiz and we passed it? Are you a former Magus, gorgeous?”
“Nope, never been one. But my dad, a humble wheat farmer, was also a part-time Magus. He made magical tools as a side gig.”
Blinking in confusion, Alphys asked: “B-but… why are you in the anti-magic camp then?”
“I’ll show you why.”
The man took off his coat, turned his back towards the panel, and lifted up the base of his shirt. A hideous web-like scar sprawled across his lower back.
Then, he showed it off to the rest of the public. His actions stirred a frenzy of photography. How daring, thought Mettaton. Not everyone had the guts to display such a defect out in the open, especially in a field where the physique mattered as much as it did.
“The family farm was near Mount Ebott. I grew up watching ghosts wandering the perimeter, kept at bay by anti-DEMON wards. Those defences happened to fail when I was eight years old, causing DEMONS to swarm our home. I got this scar from trying to protect my twin brother.”
After making his point, Zack put his coat back on. “Years later, I found out that the incident stemmed from a magical experiment gone awry. Someone commissioned my dad to make a device to draw in spirits. He had no idea how powerful his creation really was.”
“The return of monsters could make magic popular again, and misuse will put many lives at risk. For every good Doctor Alphys, there’s always a dodgy Doctor Gaster. That man ran rampant enough to usurp a throne and resurrect six dead children.”
“…I understand,” Alphys replied. “Even though I call Doctor Gaster ‘sensei’, meaning ‘teacher’, I knew what he did was extreme and unethical. And I was powerless to stop him. That’s why I’m determined to have this rapport with human society, so I can do things the correct way from now on.”
“In my opinion, magic is both a science and an art. As a monster, I know the joy of expressing my emotions through magic. But, as a scientist, I’ve also seen both the wonders and horrors it could bring.”
“T-therefore, I agree that proper discipline must be cultivated. Safety and conduct come first. If anyone abuses or misuses magic, then we -- monsterkind -- would do anything we can to combat that. I won’t be able to tell you exactly how we’d do it, but we will. That I guarantee.”
Zack stood there pondering for a while. “Hmmm… I guess we can only predict so far into the future. Doctor Alphys, do you think it’s possible for monsters to completely do away with magic? To live like normal humans.”
The lizard shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. For monsters to completely abandon magic, it would require a complete change of physiology.”
“I see…” A twinge of disappointment coloured his voice at first, but then he raised his head with a glad sigh. “Maybe that’s for the better. It would be too easy otherwise. Being stuck as funny-shaped humans… that would be the most boring existence I can think of.”
Mettaton didn’t expect Zack to turn around at the last moment, and yet he did. The glam bot was eternally grateful for the man’s kind gesture. “Thank you so very much for your valuable input, Conroy-darling! We will take everything you’ve said to heart. Hopefully as time goes by, there will be more good doctors than bad ones. Next!”
The conversation moved on to the queries of other humans. One asked: “When Doctor Gaster revived those six children, is it true that he also transmuted them from humans into monsters?”
To which Alphys replied, “Honestly, we’re not sure if we should qualify them as ‘monsters’ yet. They could very well be a different breed of humans. This is a new phenomenon for us as well, so it requires more investigation. We are committed to give them the best quality of life no matter the outcome.”
Then another chipped in. “Will you return them back to their families?”
“That will depend if there are any willing family members still alive today. Some fell into the Underground decades ago. Plus we have at least one confirmation of a parent’s untimely demise. If nothing else is applicable, the citizens of Ebott will adopt them.”
“What about the accountability of King Asgore for his failure in leadership?”
Alphys tensed up. “Gosh! T-t-that’s not a question I can answer in His Majesty’s stead! I-I’m just a Royal Scientist, and not a shadow ruler like sensei. I’m afraid you will have to wait for the official press release.”
The crowd seemed to have accepted her response. The rest of the questions were quite minor in comparison, and Alphys held her own just fine. Part 2 thus ended amicably with both sides gaining a little more understanding between each other. Mettaton took charge as the emcee to move the event along.
Clapping his hands together, he announced: “It’s now time for a special interlude! A bonus, baby! We have in our presence, a young musician from the far away lands of the Great Plateau. Please welcome our little sweetheart, Niton of Aratet!”
Niton’s presence brought forth mixed reactions of intrigue and apathy. Some considered the talks to be the only cultural exchange they’re interested in, while others would accept anything to break up the monotony.
Fortunately, Zack was friendly towards the boy. “Aratet? That’s the south side of The Great Plateau. As I understand, they’ve got a strong tradition of overtone singing there, which gives them a wildly different lyrical sense compared to their neighbours.”
Just that little factoid made the boy delighted. “Ya, ya! Listened before?”
“I have indeed. Worked together with musicians who learned similar arts back in the day. They were always quite a unique experience.”
After a brief chat, the panel grounds became a stage. Niton’s instrument of choice was a deceptively simple standing fiddle attached to a modern soundbox. It’s light, easy to transport, yet so sonorous in quality.
An energetic, hopeful melody soon filled the air. The young boy’s fingers pressed against the strings at the perfect pitch, while the rhythm of his bow hand remained upbeat. No one needed to understand the lyrics to appreciate the innate joy of a new and fruitful harvest.
Mettaton observed the crowd. Overall atmosphere was positive. Many of them got into the groove, Zack included.
But somehow… the quality wasn’t right. Mettaton had heard this lad perform before, having since become innately familiar with the clarity that came from within. That crispness had gone missing.
Hesitation? Nervousness? Certainly not stage fright. Neither was it performance anxiety. It was an emotion so extreme that Niton was determined to hide it at all cost.
It seemed to be… terror?
Thus, the glam bot jumped to the rescue. “Niton darling. How about a little improv? Fiddle away to my moves, set your heart free!”
The boy happily accepted the offer. In response, Mettaton burst out into a dance.
“Come on everyone,” he urged the crowd, “It’s harvest time! Imagine your hard work paying off a millionfold!”
At first, he was dancing alone like a fool… but then Zack started tapping his feet and clapping along. Others soon joined him. It snowballed from there. Even awkward Alphys picked up the courage to let loose.
Niton’s performance improved. Whatever held him down lost its weight, and the boy’s voice soared like a bird in the air. This was how Mettaton remembered it!
For fun’s sake, the boy broke tradition to slip in an impromptu remix of Mettaton’s debut title. It had a beatboxing quality that surprised the bot himself.
“Ha!” Zack yelled in excitement, “It’s Death By Glamour! Your song actually reached the middle of nowhere! Talk about going global.”
Flattered, Mettaton replied, “Why thank you, gorgeous. Hmm, maybe ‘Death’ doesn’t quite fit anymore. I should call this remix ‘Peace By Glamour’~~!”
Midway through the performance, however, Undyne and Dayton charged into the room with a band of human policemen. Among them were Mezil’s friends, Edmund and Victor.
The Captain ordered: “Cancel the conference! Point Beta isn’t safe anymore!”
“W-what do you mean?” Alphys asked.
“The root of the blackout is here somewhere. In the library. The device might be rigged with a bomb too, so everyone’s gotta evacuate! NOW!!!”
Just the mere mention of a ‘bomb’ was enough to wipe away any hesitations. The guests scurried out of their seats to leave the building. It required some calm orderly restraint to prevent everything from escalating into a panicking stampede.
In the midst of all this movement, Edmund and Victor crept up to a male reporter, preventing the man from slipping out.
Dayton rushed to his brother, hugging him close. Reassuring words in their native tongue flowed from his lips. That’s when Niton could finally relax, breaking out into a series of heavy panting.
Angrily pointing towards the restrained reporter, Dayton revealed the truth: “That guy is one of my aunt’s henchmen. They’ve been trying to kill us since her and Dad parted ways!”
Mettaton recognized that particular bloke. He was there when the studio got vandalised. Quite aggressive in his questioning, that one.
What a circuit-boggling situation. One moment, he was having a blast building bridges of communication. Next, it became a hardboiled crime drama.
“Where is it?” A glaring Edmund questioned. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it right now!”
But the malicious reporter merely snickered. “Madina was right. You’re too late. Way, way too late. You can’t stop what’s already happening. Try as you might, my handiwork won’t go away. Not even if you turn back time.”
A sharp headache zapped through Mettaton’s head. Static clouded his vision yet again. And it refused to pass.
He started to hear a mechanical voice. Friendly, yet convincing. Just like a… commercial advertisement.
“FEELING [[Out of Pizzaz]]? JUICE YOURSELF UP WITH THE POWER OF [[Heart-shaped Object]]! GET IT NOW FOR THE FINE PRICE OF [[$14.99]]! TODAY ONLY FOR [[Fifty-Percent Off]]!”
Mettaton looked left and right, searching for the source of the voice yet finding none.
“A-are you talking to me?”
“YES, YOU [[little ghosty sponge]]! WHO ELSE CAN IT BE? LOOK AT THAT ABSOLUTELY EXQUISITE [[Metal Crusher]]! WOULD BE QUITE A SHAME IF [[Silly Strings]] CAUSED A [[Colossal Cungadero]].”
Assorted dinging and pinging sounds blared into his audio receptors. The glam bot tried to no avail to silence them by covering up his ears with his hands. Instead they rang only louder.
“OH MY [[Sweet Baby Corn]] DID YOU HEAR THAT?! WE HAVE A [[First-Prize Winner]]!”
“AND THE [[Lucky One]] IS YOU!!!”
“M-me?” Mettaton muttered.
“WHY YES INDEED! YOU! WITH YOUR [[Lot Entry #000001]] INSTALLED TOGETHER WITH YOUR [[MTT-brand Breakfast Delight]]! COSTS A WHOLE [[MTT-Brand Van]] AND YOU TOTALLY DIDN’T MIND. IN FACT, YOU WANTED THAT [[Hyperlink Blocked]]!”
“Wait, darling! Wait, wait, wait! I don’t understand a thing you just said!”
“THANKS TO YOU [[Super Star]] I’M GONNA BE A [[Big Shot]]!”
YOU HAVE [[Lost Control of Your Life]]. THIS BODY IS NOW MINE! MIN3 M1NE M1N3!!!”
“AHAH4HAHAH4HAH4HAH4H4HA!!!”
The innumerable voices of the internet filled Mettaton’s mind. It flooded his consciousness. Before long, he had lost all agency, drowned in the never-ending whirlpool of noise.
The glam bot could only sense his body move against his will.
Speak against his will.
See against his will.
Hear against his will.
Transform against his will.
Magic shifted parts around. The wings of NEO stretched wide open. Boosters ONLINE.
Then… his in-built speakers began to play a song. From them blared a corrupt remix of his own tunes and the invader’s twisted obsessions.
A strange red symbol bloomed on the chests of everyone who heard it. The image constantly shifted between assorted random computer icons.
Horror dawned upon Mettaton when he recognized its nature: a Mark born from utter chaos.
A moment later, his arm turned into the MTT-brand Buster. It aimed towards the ceiling and fired a blast so powerful it burst through solid concrete.
Daylight beckoned from the ruined rooftops like a spotlight. The clouds had parted and the cold showers were no more.
His next stage was the wide open sky.