When Gaelic saw Mettaton flying out of control in the far distance, he started moving all the non-Magi personnel to the ‘True Lab’ zones of Doctor Alphys’ facility: the most secure section of the building.
Times Roman and Helvetica balanced three babies each, while Gaelic himself carried the blanket-wrapped, sleeping Malaya. In addition to that, he lugged a large military-sized backpack of supplies on his back. They may need to wait for an hour, or they may very well need to wait for a whole day.
It was a fortunate coincidence that this latest incident coincided with her noon nap. Otherwise, she might have panicked and ran off somewhere. Her hours were still erratic, hinting that she did not have a consistent sleep schedule, possibly due to continuous sleep deprivation.
Hearing the commotion outside her room, Lady Lucidia opened the door slightly, peeking through the gaps. “Gaelic? What’s going on?”
“M’lady,” he readjusted Malaya’s head to better rest against his arm. “That glittery pink bot went ballistic. Methinks his systems got tampered with.”
“That does sound likely.” She opened the door a bit more with the seeming intention of leaving. “Should I attempt to disable the robot body?”
“Nay, that may not be required. That lizard scientist be there at Point Beta.”
Lady Lucidia paused to think. “Doctor Alphys should be able to handle it on her own. As the creator, she’s more knowledgeable about Mister Mettaton’s functions than I am.”
“Aye, indeed. M’lady should stay here to protect M’lord. Ah be bringing the children and civilians to the True Lab where they be safe.”
“Acknowledged. I believe that to be the best course of action. Thank you, Gaelic. Please protect them.”
“Yes, M’lady.”
Lucidia sighed as she glanced to the side. “I hope The Hammer of Justice is doing well. He told me that he would gather those who had lost their homes at his son’s church.”
Gaelic reassured, “Not even I could break the confines o’ The Law. The veteran hero should be fine.”
Not long after, the footsteps of others were heard rushing towards Lucidia’s chambers. Turning around, he saw Cenna Caraway and Lucas Fennel.
Cenna said, “Oh boy, it’s getting crowded here. Sorry, but can y’all step aside for a bit? I really need to talk to Lucy. We got another damn Code Red on our hands.”
Step aside, they did. Roman, Helvetica, and Gaelic gave way for Lucas and Cenna to approach Lady Lucidia.
Lucidia said, “Report, Judge Caraway.”
“Mettaton is possessed by a man-made DEMON, and that glambot signed a contract with it!”
Gaelic would have planted his face in his palms if he wasn’t carrying Malaya. “Did that pink fool trade off his soul fer fame?”
“Fortunately, no!” Cenna flashed a hopeful grin. “He only sold off the robot body. The pilot should have evacuated by now. I hope. Alphys was doing her best last I heard.”
Lucas nodded. “Lady Lucidia, we’re requesting your authorization to deploy Caraway’s Ascension. I’ve already given mine. We both believe capture is impossible.”
Gaelic frowned, “Ya two serious about this? Cenna’s quiver be runnin’ empty. What about the Spring Mission?”
“The Spring Mission cannot proceed if the situation persists.”
After a brief contemplation, The Chronographer replied: “Insufficient data to authorise deployment. Please elaborate on the current stakes.”
And so, the Crimson Keeper elaborated: “The DEMON has the ability of mass-casting False Marks through the use of sound. These Marks, seemingly maintained by the victims’ own Determination, flood the victims’ minds with garbage advertising until they lose awareness and sanity. This directly prevents the Keys of Fate from being utilised. Should the DEMON use Mettaton’s body to fly out beyond Ebott’s borders, we will no longer be able to curb its influence.”
Looking longways towards Cenna, Gaelic asked, “Hostage Marks, aye?”
Cenna hunched her shoulders with an annoyed groan. “Ahuh. Hate ‘em.”
“Why capture not be possible? Cannae clip his wings? Destroy his fuel?”
“We could… But that won’t stop the DEMON from passively Marking everyone around it. The risk of its Mark spreading again is far too high. If it can Mark, it will Mark. That’s its nature, whether it wants to or not. Plus, no matter what we do, there’s no guarantee any of the Marks will dissipate by themselves either. If we leave even a single Mark intact in the aftermath, we’re toast.”
His Lady hesitated to make the decision, and for a good reason. The arrow used on Malaya was undone by the Keys of Fate. She would prefer to keep it that way.
In the end, however, she resigned herself to circumstance: “Authorization granted. I shall prepare a report.”
“Thank you, Lady Lucidia. Judge Caraway and I will head to the rooftop.”
“Godspeed, everyone.”
With the impromptu briefing complete, the Magi went ahead to execute their mission.
Once she closed the door, Lady Lucidia activated a defensive Arcanagram. A large, complex, and beautiful magic circle bloomed, sealing the room.
Gaelic ushered the rest of the group to what seemed to be Doctor Alphys’ secret recreation room. Her house was already filled with bountiful entertainment, so this additional space deep within her True Lab was rather curious indeed. Perhaps it once served a more mundane function. Reviewing lab footage, perhaps? But now, the room had been completely revamped into a nice, relaxing, and cosy den. Bean bags and mini-fridges included.
The adults began settling down. Roman and Helvetica used the beanbags lying around as an impromptu soft bed for the newly reborn Six.
Gaelic looked around for one big enough for Malaya to sleep on. Alas, there was none, so he had to make her continue her sleep on the floor.
The girl started to move. He thought she was going to wake up from the discomfort. Instead, she rolled to the side and curled up.
Helvetica handed over a cushion, whispering, “Use this as a pillow, if it’s not too high.”
“Thank ye.” He carefully slid it beneath Malaya’s head. So far, so good.
With everyone safe, Gaelic placed his supplies down and rested beside it. He thought to close his eyes and settle down for a few moments. The skeleton brothers’ parents seemed to have other plans, however.
“Sir Gaelic,” said Roman. “We humbly apologize for all the trouble our sons have put you through. Sans and Papyrus caused you much grief, directly or otherwise.”
Helvetica added: “Not to mention Doctor Gaster, goodness gracious. We’re quite ashamed over the whole deal.”
Once upon a time, he remembered, they were hostages of Doctor Gaster, meaning that they had witnessed the whole ride.
Gaelic started to feel uncomfortable. Looking away while clutching his own arms, he grew snappy. “Out o’ those three names, the only repentant one be Papyrus. The other two, lost causes in their own ways.”
Roman said, “All the more why my wife and I thought it’s only fair that we acknowledge their wrongs. Hopefully, that would give you some closure.”
“…Closure, aye?”
The more he observed the couple, the more he was reminded of his own departed parents. They were so loving. Caring. Despite their advanced age, they tried their best to raise and educate him.
Of course Roman and Helvetica would try to mediate for their sons. Didn’t his own parents do the same for him toward his own community, the Blanc Clan? Garamond was in his life because of their earnest efforts.
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“…Apologies fer me harshness,” said Gaelic. “It dinnae sit right with me that ye be lowering yer heads in their stead. ‘Twas unfair o’ me. Sans Serif and Gaster started as our enemies. They just be doing their job, desperate to protect their homes. ‘For king and kingdom’, as the ole saying goes.”
He slumped against the bag, reminiscing. “…Did ya know, that ah snuck into Ebott, neglecting me orders?”
“Oh?” Roman raised his eyebrows. “You weren’t sent here by Judge Thyme?”
“Nay, ah came here o’ me own volition, against everyone’s wishes. Things had begun to stir away from predictions. Twist. Change. Equal measure o’ restlessness and eagerness stirred, heaped with frustration. Wanted to help me king, but me king said nay.”
“You weren’t punished for that?”
“Getting all me bones broken by yer elder son was punishment enough, ah guess.”
“What?! How?!”
“That shortie o’ a lad tossed me up high into the sky and had me crash to the earth. Fortunately, the drop be far from fatal and me tolerance fer pain be high. Could escape thanks to me steed. Was placed on formal active duty since.”
Roman cringed. “Once again, I’m so, so sorry… As a father, I don’t even know what to say.”
Gaelic flustered in response. “Nay, nay! Me saying, ye should be proud. Glowing, even! Not many notice me presence, fewer still could keep up with me speed. The fact he had done both proved that he be a mighty rival. By the standards o’ me profession, that is. And your youngest be built o’ equal measure.”
Hearing him speak so highly of her sons brightened Helvetica. “Does that mean you would be willing to befriend my sons? If they’re on your side?”
“Papyrus, he be a good egg for sure. M’lord trusts him still, so ah be willing to give a chance. But Sans Serif… ah still be wary. I cannae tell where his exact allegiance be. Fer the Dreemurr Nation? Fer his Queen? Fer Frisk? Fer his brother? All o’ them? Or none? Grrr, it frustrates.”
Her joy faded to regretful sorrow. “I… don’t know either. Sans had always been hard to read, and Gaster’s training honed that trait even further. He’s been avoiding us since the surgery as well.”
Roman said, “I wonder if it’s because he resents us for sending him to his training?”
“Nay,” Gaelic replied, “If anything, his instincts as a big brother be stronger than steel. Even if ye dinnae send him fer training, he might join on his own. Ah understand that much about the lad.”
“Yet, there be this strange moment recently, when Persona brandished his wrath. Sans, he took the Seraph System with him. But… he dinnae charge in like a hero. Nay. Instead, he gave it to Lady Lucidia and said: ‘You have more talent and experience than you give yourself credit for’.”
Both parents dropped their jaws. Roman’s eyes bugged out, Papyrus-style. “Sans did that?!? I thought he would never entrust anyone with his dangerous masterpiece!”
“Odd, aye? It baffled me and M’lady’s mind! Ah just don’t understand the guy.”
“Well…” Roman flashed a thumbs up. “All the more why you two should hang out! Maybe, over a can of beer? I heard beer is popular.”
Oh how Gaelic winced and writhed over the mere suggestion of drinking with Sans. He would rather go salvage a carcass. For him, even the stench of death was better than the pervasive lingering of stale ketchup. Vinegar was already a form of rotten liquids anyway.
But, in the midst of his involuntary disgust, his other senses rang their alarms at the loudest volume. Paranoia forced him to stay perfectly still, while every bone of his body began to quiver.
Odd; Seers would not make their presence known. Even Papyrus, as greenhorn as he could be, unconsciously distanced himself from his targets when peering through spacetime.
He stood up and scanned his surroundings, alert.
The couple grew concerned. “Are you alright, Sir Gaelic?”
Gaelic placed a finger on his mouth. “Hush. An evil eye lurks, spying on us."
“An evil eye…?” Roman shuddered. “Oh! Now I sense it too. W-what is this weirdness?”
Helvetica’s bones rattled as well. “Th-this reminds me of the time when that fool Gaster barged into the women’s dressing room. So rude!”
“It bodes ill if Blanks like ye can sense it. It be powerful, yet unstable. No effort to hide. No subtlety.”
The weight of oppression intensified. The gazer’s wrath further inflicted its punishment: attempting to cloud Gaelic’s mind. Should he lose his wits here, lives would be in danger, and he refused to fail Lady Lucidia again.
“Curse ye, filth,” he muttered, “Me resolve versus yer cruelty, let’s see who wins.”
The blanket roll began to stir. Malaya sat up, groggy. But the moment she noticed the strange aura, she scrambled to her feet and stood straight. Arms, locked by the side. Head, straight and unblinking.
“Malaya?” Helvetica reached out to her. “Is there something wrong?”
She refused to respond, locking all her attention upon the entity staring down on Gaelic’s shoulders. At the same time, confusion stretched across her face. Her body compelled her to behave on imprinted instinct, yet she likely had no memory behind her actions.
There was only one person who could make her act this way: her direct superior. ‘Master’, might be the better term.
Gaelic spoke in the language of the Seers, slow and deliberate: [I am not your master.]
She stood there, growing more and more puzzled. It seemed that she expected a different response. Perhaps she thought the ghost of her boss had possessed her caretaker.
[I shall back away as proof.] And so, Gaelic retreated himself to the furthest corner of the room, far away from Malaya.
[I will protect you.] He signed. [Lie down. Cover yourself. Wait. Your master can’t reach you here.]
Eventually, she laid back down and hid under her blanket. Seeing that brought relief, because it meant that she was not receiving conflicting orders from a disembodied voice.
Turning towards Roman and Helvetica, Gaelic said: “‘Tis best ye not speak to me further, lest ye incur undue wrath. Focus on the wee babes.”
Roman and Helvetica exchanged whispers. Then, the husband scooted over and sat down in the same corner as Gaelic.
He said, “The missus and I have come up with a little plan. You see, if someone is spying on you, why not bore them to death? Hang out. Chat about random nothings. Let Helvi watch over the children in the meantime.”
“Are ye not afraid?” he asked. “O’ this stalking gaze?”
“Actually, I am,” Roman confessed. “But I thought you needed the company. Besides! We’re already targets either way: eight subjects of questionable science that were supposed to be long dead. Imagine all those angry people storming for us! Being near you in this room is safer than anywhere else.”
"You’re the one being spied on, right? That makes you the biggest threat here! Not Frisk, the other Magi, or even my sons! I mean… I wouldn’t pay any attention to someone who can’t foil my hypothetical dastardly plans. Isn’t that right, Helvi?”
The woman paused her childminding to reply. “My husband is right. Were I the villainess, I would do everything I can to hammer down the tallest nail! You must have something that your opponent fears. Experience, perhaps? You seem to know plenty. Isn’t that right, Roman?”
“Indeed, indeed! Like how you ushered us to safety the moment you caught a whiff of danger. If it was just me, I would be standing around like a doofus until it was too late.”
Hearing the couple hold him in such high regards made Gaelic blush bright. Sir Grillenn thought the same as well, and that was just yesterday. “Heh… So this be where yer sons got their silver tongues.”
Roman smiled. By the side, his wife giggled at his bashful reaction.
“That’s why I fell for him and not Gaster, nyee hee hee.”
One of the babies started to fuss. Immediately, Helvetica picked up the bundle and rocked the child back to sleep.
Gaelic grinned a bit. “Certainly yer younger son took on yer laugh, Madam Helvi. And yer penchant to act as well.”
Proudly patting himself on the chest, Roman exclaimed: “But he’s got my handsome face! Looking at Papyrus felt like looking in the mirror.”
“Dinnae know where Sans Serif got his… stocky roundness.” With his hands, Gaelic gestured the shape of a ball. “Aye, both o’ ye be slim and fit. His grandparents, maybe?”
“Sir!” Helvetica pretended to be offended, for dramatic’s sake. “I’ll have you know that Sans takes after his mommy’s graceful beauty! I’m telling you now, all he needs is a wardrobe makeover and he’ll be a massive hit with the ladies.”
Roman cleared his throat. “Excuse my wife, Sir Gaelic. She clearly has her Mommy’s Glasses on. They add extra sparkles to her children. Though she does have a point. A man’s real attraction is his charm! And Sans certainly has a bit too much of that.”
“Ehhh. None o’ ye gonna take notice that he be eyeing fer Queen Toriel, who happens to be a voluptuous mother?”
“Noooooo! That’s too scandalous to be spoken in front of so many little ears!”
Gaelic couldn’t help but laugh. These were definitely the parents of Sans and Papyrus. Their sons were the same deck of cards, split and rearranged.
The skeleparents’ presence lessened the burden. Did the enemy become cautious from this unexpected tenacity from a pair of Blanks? Or was their company alone enough to lighten the load?
Feeling a bit more confident to do as he pleases, Gaelic took out his phone to review a list of words written in Malaya’s language.
It caught Roman’s attention, stirring his curiosity. “What’s this? I don’t recognize any of them. Leh… ‘Leh-ray’?”
“This one be ‘Lari’, meaning ‘Run’."
"Ooh. What about these then? Those super long words… that keep getting longer.”
“That be ‘Sembunyi’, ‘Hide’. ‘Bersembunyi’ be like, ‘to hide oneself’. ‘Menyembunyikan’, ‘to hide something else’. ‘Tis language contains a complex system o’ suffixes and prefixes. Though, not as silly as some tongues, where ye could make a sentence in one breath.”
“Wowie…” Roman beamed with wide amazement. “It didn’t even cross my mind that such language structures exist. We only have one common tongue in the Underground, after all.”
“There be many out there, aye. Anyhow… Ah was afraid that Malaya may not remember me tongue. So, ah thought to learn some o’ hers instead. ‘Tis vital fer emergencies.”
“Oooh! I can see how that could come in handy! Let us learn some too. Do you think you can memorise enough of this so soon?”
“Considering the number o’ times ah had to relearn English, here be hopes that ah acquired the skills to learn quick.”
At the very top of the list, it read ‘Ayah sayangmu’: ‘Father loves you’. Gaelic wondered if he could ever have the right to utter those words.
Perhaps one day. Perhaps never. He would be content either way.
“About Malaya…” Gazing at the teen, he said, “It be a lie if ah say there be no personal stakes. Should her master retrieve her, all be lost. That error would be me sins personified. I cannae lose her. Yet. If me bad luck continues, some hidden trump card will be me undoing. ‘Tis what fills me with dread. Already, I feel me foes closing in.”
Roman asked: “Sir Gaelic, do you care for children?”
Does he? He can’t say that he had much experience with them. Despite giving a part of his salary to a children’s home, he lacked the reputation and social acceptance to meet any of them in person. Imagine what the poor little ones would suffer through if someone knew Gaelic the Beast had paid for their meals.
“Truth be told…” he answered, “When ah was young, I found other children to be o’ the cruellest. They bully kin without remorse. But as the years went by, ah realise most just dinnae know any better. Raised bad, y’know. Malaya too, just needs a second chance. And…”
Gaelic paused for a moment. “…Ah know how it be as a lost child. To fall through the gaps and ne’er to return.”
Despite the decades of help that House Berendin had graciously extended to him, he still failed to fit into Lemurian society after all this time.
The father rested his hand on the Seer’s shoulders. With a thoughtful smile, he said: “Seeing you put so much of yourself on the line has moved our hearts. We’ll help you as much as we can. I’m very sure my sons and their friends will do the same.”
All the while, he imagined that protecting Malaya would be an eternally lonesome endeavour. But, with the support of Ebott, that country of eccentric outcasts, the future may yet turn out different.