by GR Griffin
Fleck slipped underneath the two guards, struck one in the ankle, the other painfully in the side, and retreated further on while the guards were stunned.
“Come on, they’re just a kid. A kid with no combat training whatsoever,” Flowey spoke softly, irritated, aiming the sediment toward his boys hundreds of feet away as if they could telepathically hear him. With a block and another two strikes, another troop hit the dirt. “You’re all highly trained, better equipped, and, heck, there’s more of you than them! Why is it so hard to get rid of one insignificant child?”
A pestering voice chastised the sunflower from behind his back. Fleck may have been headstrong, persistent, impartial, an idiot, but they were anything but insignificant. Fleck was the one insignificant child who stood up to him as he took the form of a god… and won.
Every second Fleck held out against the military’s attacks, the closer this story got to its ultimate bitter ending. With each thrust of their sword, block with the shield, step onwards, soldier knocked out, breath drawn, Fleck inadvertently paved the road to a fiery apocalypse across the Earth and to the end of their species, thinking their actions could reshape the events yet to come.
Flowey pressed his forehead against the cold glass, closed his eyes and sighed. “If only you could see what I’ve seen, Fleck, then you’d understand…” With button eyes closed to the darkness behind them, the sentient flower wondered which part of himself said those words: his current self or his forgotten half. “There’s no happy way out of this.” Opening them wide showed Fleck to have made excellent progress toward the centre of the fort, having incapacitated a few more guards and possibly scared off a few more. Only Flowey knew the terrible fate awaiting the child.
Nobody else was around, nobody was there to judge him now; his assistant may have been present, but his presence remained strictly business. Flowey mused, “Why can’t you understand…?” The anger accumulated from a million Underground runs bubbled to the surface. “Why can’t you understand?” With no one watching, his let his frustrations loose as he banged his head against the glass repeatedly. “WHY – CAN’T – YOU – UNDER – STAND?”
Just as quickly as his fury was unleashed, he yanked on its reigns. He was no longer Prince Asriel Dreemurr, nor was he the pitiless flower who made Papyrus eat nothing but paste for a week or filled Toriel’s home with mustard or got Undyne to unintentionally murder Alphys and watched with silent glee as grief and guilt tore the captain apart, he was the advisor of the Outerworld: working in the darkness to preserve peace and justice. Always doing what was right, even if doing right meant doing wrong. Sacrificing the few so the many could live. Flowey may have been a bad person in the Underground, but this was not the Underground – he was no longer that person.
In the streets below, Fleck halted. Five troops blocked their path. A breadcrumb trail of unconscious, smoking bodies marked the way back to the northern entrance. There was a standoff. Why? Fleck could very easily shock their way through. Flowey noticed a sixth soldier trundle down the stairs behind the blockade.
“Don’t you dare,” Flowey hissed. He was too far away to hear their words, but he already knew what they were talking about just by the turning of their heads. “Don’t you even dare…?”
One by one, the soldiers stood down.
“No, no, NO!” Flowey would have slammed the side of his fist against the wall had he a fist to slam. “Idiots! Every last one of them!”
* * *
The commanding office spoke over the annoying and persistent din of splashing water. “All units, stand down!” His bark of an order was met with some reluctance, shifting gazes and wavering weapons. “That is an order!”
One by one, the soldiers did as they were told. As their backs straightened and the pointy ends of their weapons stopped focusing toward them, Fleck allowed the same courtesy. For the first time since Fleck had stood within the perimeter of the castle, they did not feel like a cockroach scuttling to avoid the boot.
“None of us here are strong enough to eliminate this creature,” the commanding officer continued with the same, unyielding tone of voice. “Except one man… and he’s waiting in the royal garden.” He pointed at the child who survived the Underground. “Waiting for you.”
Fleck’s fingers and toes reflectively scrunched as the officer’s digit pointed squarely at them; the humidity had seeped its way into their socks. Every square inch of their skin was drowning, so cold feet were the least of their concerns. No names needed to be revealed.
The commanding officer moved aside until his back met the side wall. “Let them through.”
As hesitant as the units were to lower their weapons, they were less so in huddling their way out of Fleck’s path. Those stuck in the centre bounded back and forth, clashing forearms and chests amongst themselves figuring out which direction to take. An open path lay before them, dogged by those under the Emperor’s thumb.
Fleck remained idle for a moment to read the emotions in their eyes before walking through them.
Fleck passed the colossal structures towering left, right, and above, made for giants. More soldiers of the Monster Military – cats, dogs, horses, birds, cows, and many animals in the kingdom – watched from the side-lines as this lone figure passed. Drenched and alone, Fleck resembled a homeless urchin from a Dickens classic. One of the watching guards pulled his helmet off and held it to his chest, showing respect for a theoretical coffin being carried to its final resting place.
A quality in the air surrounding Fleck gave the impression that they were finished with life and that nothing truly mattered anymore. Their lips sagged into a miserable frown. One could easily mistake the water dripping down from their eyes, half buried by the fringe, as tears. Fleck remembered Flowey’s words, what he said about the millions of universes out there, and the millions of Flecks living in those worlds. What did this version of themself do to deserve this? Here they were, apparently goose-stepping to their own execution, in a world where they were an orphan by creation.
No parents. No brothers or sisters. No grandparents. No actual family. Nobody to mourn them when they were gone.
The final part of their visions were coming true, piece by piece…
Wet… Soaking… Dripping… Water pouring down…
The portcullis entrance of the largest structure led straight to the garden, the generous arch offered a grand ten seconds of shelter. A wide courtyard surrounded by four walls lay beyond. In the centre stood the Obelisk: the solution and cause of all of this world’s problems, condensed into one giant pillar from an ancient time and shrouded in mist. Fleck remembered glimpsing this humble place at the beginning. The flowers were beautiful, rivalling those found in the best places on Earth. Now, the beds lie dead and drowned, resembling no man’s land with its trodden brown earth and sloshing, dirty puddles.
Grey sky… Barren land…
Up head, from behind the Obelisk, came the shuffling and rubbing of metal and heavy steps. Emperor Zeus emerged from out the mist, his great frame made greater by his father’s armour which he wore with pride. The metal was a strong, ferocious crimson that shined with the same glimmer as gold. In his right hand, Heaven’s Shard cut through the blurry evening, looking sharper since the last time Fleck seen it. He carried himself like the armour was a second skin. A great, red cape swaying behind him.
Zeus stopped before the Obelisk. His silver stare cut through the haze like the glare from a lighthouse, falling deadly upon his opponent. The last time Fleck saw those eyes, they were falling.
“The Advisor said you’d come and he’s never wrong,” Zeus said. “I regretted letting you escape yesterday. I should have killed you the moment we met, would have saved me a lot of time and monsterpower.” His chin jutted, accentuating his perpetual frown. “Now, I get to correct that mistake.”
Fleck gave the ground before their feet a sombre look, catching their own reflection waver within a shallow puddle. They closed their eyes. Their thumbs pressed the activati
on buttons, expanding their shield and sword to its default setting. And that is where it shall stay.
“I have dreamed of this day for a long time,” Zeus continued. “The day where I finally obtain the power needed to free my kind from the tyranny of humanity. I will show it to the world. Your kind will gaze in silence and quake in terror as a new era dawns. I will make humanity itself a sin and destroy everything they had hoped to achieve. Nothing else will ever be as historic as this. This momentous day shall be called…” He stood tall and mighty, his father’s armour gleaming. “The day determination died.”
* * *
From the south gate, the lookout stood at attention. With the Oasis and Bob in that direction, it was highly improbable any attack would come to her side. Nonetheless, she had troops on her back, ready to stand their ground if a siege happened.
Right now, the lookout’s attention was on the two hooded figures walking up the path and reaching the gate.
“Who goes there?” she asked the travelling pair, keeping his wits about her. She wouldn’t be surprised if they threw off their shrouds to reveal themselves as walking matchsticks of dynamite.
The two below turned their gazes upwards, revealing two goat faces with white fur, long ears, and snouts; a man and a woman.
“Howdy there,” Asgore shouted up, his low, tenor voice better suited for the task of sending a message up to the top of the wall. His outlook remained sunny regardless of how soaked his beard got. “Lovely day today, isn’t it?”
The lady at the top of the tower leaned on her elbow. “Get to the point,” she said flatly. It was hard for her to take him seriously, especially with the cloak over his horns. The dip between them overflowed with rainwater, the excess trickling down his front and back.
“Mind if we come in? We would like to have a chat with your ruler.”
“Are you our reinforcements?”
Asgore arched an eyebrow. “Your what?”
“That’s exactly what I thought. Listen, pal, the fortress is on high alert right now, meaning we’re not letting anyone just wander in and have a ‘chat’ with our ruler. So you can turn yourselves around and head back the way you came.”
Toriel shouted up. “Please. We have travelled an awful long way. Our business with your emperor is urgent.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy long walks leading to nowhere, because…” Her attention his pulled to shapes moving out there. “Great, more visitors.”
Asgore and Toriel turned to find shadows, many of them, dancing on the imminent horizon, moving like growths in the ground rising and falling.
“One, two, three, five,” a high voice shouted in rhythm. “One, two, three, five! One, two, three, five!”
The leading figure appeared; short and catlike, with two more just like him on his flanks. The rest materialised in lines of four, marching in formation along the worn path. The Bobs from the Embassy of Bob situated in the swamps of Bob – starring Bob – came marching across the waterlogged land of Highkeep Enclave.
“Ah, these are our reinforcements right now,” the lookout said.
The leading Bob and his two associates stopped beside the couple. If they were to guess, the one leading the pack was the founder of Bob himself, Bob, and his two lackeys were the Secretary of State, Bob, and the Secretary of Treasury, Bob, respectively.
“We have come on the Emperor’s orders,” Bob, the guy in front, said. “Let us in.”
The lookout nodded. “We’ve been waiting for you, but…” She peered at the two goats over. “I don’t want to open the gate while these two are present.”
The great founded of Bob gave the king and queen of the Underground a onceover. He knew exactly who they were, although, in all honesty, he wish he didn’t. Monsters adopting humans? Heard half a day ago and was still sinking in. The very thought carried an unquestionable, dirty feeling about it.
“You might as well let them in,” he replied.
The lookout tilted her head. “Seriously?”
Bob turned his head upwards. “These two,” he said, “got past the walls of my embassy no problem whatsoever.” A curt smile crossed his lips. “These walls aren’t going to hold them back. You can either keep them out and see what happens, or just lower the bridge and get it over with.”
The lookout pondered a moment, considered her options, weighed his logic, and then, after short deliberation, begrudgingly ordered others unseen to lower the gate. The drawbridge tilted slowly downwards at one foot intervals before thumping to a halt against the stone, bridging the gap between the white river. The Bobs crossed first with the Dreemurrs moving in alongside.
The royal couple gaped at what they saw. To think their castle was impressive, this fortress was more immersive on the inside then out. Jigsaw pieces of structures dotted around the outskirts, leading up to the main fort up ahead. The resources gathered; the cost required; the monsterpower needed: neither of them wanted to count that high. Even draped in cold mist and rain, the structure was still impressive.
Asgore turned around, finding the lookout from the opposite side of the wall. “Thank you very much,” he hollered up.
The lookout offered a weak wave. “Sure, whatever,” she replied. I didn’t do it for you…
“Now,” Toriel said, “where to find this emperor…” Pronouncing ‘emperor’ like it came under quotes.
The lookout pointed over to the obvious location: the main fortress. “He’ll be in there somewhere, pent up… as usual. You may go, but don’t try any funny business. We’ll have eyes trained on you at all times.”
The couple thanked the lookout again for letting them in before making their way up the waterlogged steps. They never encountered another soul or soldier, especially as they reached the nearest gate.
Meanwhile, it took an entire two minutes for the army of Bob – from the Embassy of Bob situated in the swamps of Bob, ran by Bob who founded the Embassy of Bob – to march inside. As the last row of four entered, one figure trailed behind. The last one pushed a cart barely bigger than they were. The cardboard box of a desk had withered away, the cheap painted letters formed a puddle resembling frog’s guts. A single ball of crunched up paper rolled off the trolley and deflated under the drizzle – alas, disarmed by one of its many tactical countermeasures: water! For the Secretary of Defence, it did not take much to crumble their defences.
The Secretary of Defence tried so hard to act optimistic and bubbly. “temmie… neva… BEATEN!”
* * *
Meanwhile, the western gate drummed nosily as the prisoner transport rumbled over and through. Spirits were low, much lower than Colonel Fischer wished considering they all expected the marauding rain to have creased during the ride up, which it did not, making the final stretch a slog.
With the last of the sweat dripping on their brows, the pullers came to a halt, resting upon the walls, the cart, and even each other.
“Good work, troops,” Colonel Fisher applauded, clapping her gauntlets together in an encouraging fashion. With the weather as freaky as this, tough love was not the way to go to raise spirits. “Good work.”
From the nearby steps, Sergeant Nio came down, almost slipping and sliding on the greasy concrete.
The colonel addressed him first: “Sergeant, what’s the report on this weather?”
“No one seems to know,” was his response. “It’s got everyone on edge here also.”
Fischer frowned. “Good to know.” When, actually, it wasn’t.
“We’re expecting an attack soon on the castle. We’re pretty strapped for numbers right now. Could you spare some of yours?”
“I can spare some; however, they’re exhausted. They won’t perform as well as you wish.”
“I don’t need them to run, just stand at attention.”
“Then you can take them all. I’ll hand over authority to you.” Her attention turned to her unit, sat on the cold, cobbled ground. “Okay, soldiers, break time is over. Get to your posts.”
The men and
women who pained their way through the wind and rain slugging the prisoner groaned in unison. Those soldiers could really use a warm bath, a hot meal, and a cosy sleep until tomorrow afternoon.
Fischer folded her arms and shut her eyes. Some encouragement was in order. “Those of you unwilling to comply can always help me with transporting the prisoner to the dun—” she lifted her eyelids “—and I’m talking to myself.”
The area packed with people now lay deserted save for the heavy, iron carriage.
“No, you’re not,” the prisoner locked inside the reinforced can said. “I can still hear you.”
“Go figure.” Fischer looked around. The coast was clear. “We’re inside the castle, you can come out of there now. Use the—”
Her words got cut off by the loud crash as Undyne kicked out the door with one mighty kick. It swung and slammed into the side, the hinges almost snapping.
“That works too, I guess…” Fischer said while the prisoner hopped out. Undyne wasted no time in stretching her cramped legs and throwing her arms, still in handcuffs, over her head, arching the divot out of her back. She had a caged, weathered look about which suggested to Fischer that another second in the carriage would have driven her around the bend. The rain bouncing off her scales lifted her mood. “Guess you didn’t need the first key, but you can use the second to take those cuffs off.”
Undyne stopped her stretching. “Yeah, about that…” she said, working the kinks out of her neck, “I got a little peckish during the trip and all I had were the keys, so…”
“So?”
“So I ate them.”
“You ate the keys?” Fischer sounded horrified. “That was the only one I had, you know. How will you get out of—?”