by GR Griffin
His fierce hyperventilation afterwards served as the utmost sound after his remark was made. Intended for King Asgore himself, but answered by the likeliest soul present: Papyrus.
“Because Fleck is my friend,” he answered. No deep, philosophical explanation. “You don’t need a reason to protect friends. You must have an awfully big reason to want to hurt them though.”
Undyne brought her hands together and crackled her knuckles, inadvertently making Alphys cringe. “Just give me one minute with this guy…” She went to step forward only for Asgore to halt her with a hand raise.
“Undyne, please, let me handle this,” he said.
Begrudgingly, she stepped back, heeding the words of her king and mentor.
“Zeus, listen to me. This anger. I’ve seen it all before. I know exactly what you’re going through.” His tone became grave. “You’re following a path – a twisting, winding path through darkness and shadows and pain. There’s a voice in the back of your mind telling you, warning you, that you should turn back while you’re ahead, but you force yourself further onwards regardless because you believe it is taking you somewhere, and eventually you will reach the end and it’ll be exactly what you hoped it would be.” His head shook slowly, side to side. “Let me tell you, there’s no peace to be found at the end of that road, only more darkness, more shadows, and more pain.”
Zeus snarled. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Yes, I do!” Asgore suddenly shouted. “Yes, I do! I’ve walked down that exact same path myself; made the exact same mistakes you’re making right now; blamed everyone else for my shortcomings!” The anger stopped as quickly. “When I wasn’t strong enough to blame myself.”
Toriel rose, awestruck by the strength in Asgore’s voice. The tone, his roar; she heard that from behind the curtain, hiding from the subjects as he made his vicious speech. But those words, they were not of the same person. Those words belonged to a different man – a man she thought she would never see again, who she believed dead forever.
“Let’s say you succeed,” Asgore continued. “Let’s say you achieve ultimate power and use it to destroy humanity. What will you do then?”
Zeus answered without reluctance, “I won’t have to do anything else. Monsters everywhere will finally be free. We can live without ever having to fear their wrath ever again. It will all be over.”
“Will it? Will killing every human make the pain go away? Make what happened to you, to us all, any better? You must realise: no matter how many humans you kill, it will never be enough.” He made circular motions with his hands. “Kill one human, the pain doesn’t go away like you hoped, so the solution is to kill some more, and when that doesn’t work, you kill even more in the vain hope that, this time, it will; and after you reach the end of that road, destroy humanity down to the last human… then what? Where do you go from there? You may get some satisfaction, at least for a while, but it won’t last long, and before you know it, the pain will come back along with this thirst for vengeance, but there will be no more humans left to quench it. With no way to channel this hatred, the little friend in your subconscious called ‘Blame’ will eventually realise that humans aren’t the only thing he can point his finger at…”
The tension in Zeus’s arms slackened. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying that revenge isn’t worth it. All it does is bring harm to everyone, including those you’re trying to protect. Monsters will be in just as much danger as the humans, and… in the end, if you choose to follow this path, there won’t be anyone else left. You will be forever alone, lost forever to revenge, poisoned so deeply you’ll forget who you are and why you fought in the first place. But it is not too late, there is still a chance to turn this around.”
“What…” Zeus sounded dazed. “What… must I do then?”
He took a breath. “Let go,” Asgore answered softly. “I know, from where you’re standing, that answer seems impossible, unfair even, but compared to the alternative, it is actually a lot easier than it sounds. This began with violence, but it doesn’t mean it has to end with violence. You have a chance to end this right here, right now, without further pain. Put the past down… put the sword down… and we can settle this peacefully. No one needs to get hurt.”
Arms slack. Breathing in and out. Zeus turned from Asgore to the ground. The great, youthful emperor of the Outerworld was still with clarity, seeing his limited view of his limited world from a whole new angle. He needed a moment to reflect, time for his own mind to click the pieces into place and reach his own conclusion. King Asgore, the one monster left alive and more deeply rooted by the events of the war, offering forgiveness and acceptance as his answer to all the death and despair in his life. Was it really that easy? A millennia of holding a blade against mankind and a vow to see them pay, dropped like snapping fingers. Could Zeus do that?
Did he want to?
Slowly, surprisingly, the lion nodded. “You’re right. You’re right,” he repeated. “The answer is simple. I do have a chance to end this now and prevent further pain.” Heaven’s Shard rose, the tip pointed toward Dreemurr’s chest. “I’ll kill you first, then your wife, then your henchwoman here…” Asgore told him to stop, but there was no point to it. One by one, Zeus drew his glare over the others present – the skeletons and the scientist – stating he would kill them next. “Then your pathetic excuse of a child, and then all of humanity.”
Asgore held a hand back and stood forward. “Stand back,” he insisted before using his magic to materialise his proud, mighty trident. Still as threatening and crimson as ever. “This is between me and him.”
“Thank you, Asgore.” Toriel rose. “But no thank you.” She pushed his arm aside. “Fleck is my responsibility too, and I cannot stand idly by and watch this man threaten them.” Orbs of flame grew in her hands. Rain turned to steam on impact.
Undyne stepped forward, forming one of her trademark spears. “If you think I’m standing down from a fight, you’ve got another thing coming, big guy!”
Papyrus’s turn. “We members of the disbanded Royal Guard must stick together. Sadly, I left my pritt stick at home, so we’ll have to band together. Sadly twice, I left all my rubber bands at home also, so we must roll together. Sadly thrice, I—”
“We get the gist of it.” Sans patted Papyrus on the side of his armour. “As for me, I’ve spent too long standin’ on the side-lines. Time to shake the cobwebs out of these bones.”
“Be careful, this could get dangerous,” Toriel warned.
Sans replied as charming as ever. “Tori, Danger is my middle name.”
“Really?” Papyrus looked quizzical. “I thought your middle name was ‘the’.”
Another friendly tap met Papyrus’s battle body. “Don’t think too hard, Papyrus,” Sans said, then referred to Zeus. “Listen, pal, it looks like we got a fight on our hands. So, I’m gonna be straight with ya, and I’m only gonna say this once.” His eye sockets closed. “If you got a problem with my buddies, well…”
He opened his eyes to reveal empty blackness.
“Y O U G O T A P R O B L E M W I T H M E .”
Fleck went to stand between Asgore and Toriel, feeling this was their fight also. However, they were ushered back by both of them.
“You have done enough, Fleck,” said Toriel. “Please allow us to handle this.”
Most of the party had took their stances, with the exception of one such person. Alphys hovered from the side, turning from the line to Fleck and back again.
“Um, I, uh,” Alphys stammered. “I should probably hang back with Fleck. I can’t fight.” She trembled at the sheer sight of the man. With arms as big as his, Alphys was nothing more than a dumbbell to him – a weight he would lift for fun. Standing beside Fleck brought a degree of safety as well as the added security that the child she let go of was still safe and sound. “I’ve never been in a fight all my life…”
All of a sudden, a small spark of electricity sparked
in the air between the two sides of the conflict. It started as a small crack, then expanded out into a great ball of blue power. One would have expected it to subside and for Arnold Schwarzenegger to be kneeling there, in desperate need of clothes, boots, and a motorcycle. Instead of the Terminator, another robot appeared, crackling with laughter and smouldering black in various places. One of her cat ears was missing.
“What the heck is that?” Undyne instinctively rose her spear, on guard in case the half burned creature lunged.
The mechanical girl followed the sound of the voice. She turned to the party with blank, unblinking eyes. Her smile as perpetual as Sans Danger Skeleton’s. She giggled with unmoving lips.
Sweat formed on Papyrus’s brow. “It cannot be…” His bones began to rattle.
“What in the…?” Alphys felt a strong desire to clean her glasses. “Mew Mew? Is that you?”
“Wait, she survived?” Even Sans, which he hardly ever sounded, was shocked. “Figured she blew up with the teleporter. I saw her explode and everything.”
All of a sudden, the large mitts from his brother gripped his shoulders. Papyrus used the half-his-size frame of Sans as a shield against the burning abomination known as Mew Mew; apparently having made the trip to the fiery pits of underworld only to make her miraculous comeback to haunt the skeleton of her dreams.
“Hide me!” The sight of Papyrus feebly squatting his lanky frame behind his wide bro was quite ridiculous and yet strangely adorable. A childish act from a grown adult wearing a party costume.
Mew Mew scanned the heat signatures left and right. She hovered her sights over the two skeletons, held a moment, then continued twisting her head to churning gears.
“Konichiwa,” she said in a static-ridden garble. “My name is Mew Mew, but my friends call me… Mew Mew.”
Odd. Mew Mew repeated her introduction. Alphys knew her programming well – after all, she wrote it. The anime robot was programmed to say those exact words – her salutation and introduction in that order – upon activation. Those events from the basement happened yesterday afternoon, more than a day ago. An entire day had passed, but to Mew Mew, it has been an eye blink. It took the robot’s constructor a few seconds to figure out what had happened.
“You can come out from there, Papyrus,” Doctor Alphys said confidently, utterly sure. “It would seem her memory has been wiped, maybe even corrupted beyond repair. I highly doubt she remembers you anymore.”
Papyrus poke out from behind Sans’s shoulder and, self-assured Mew Mew would not immediately straddle him, tiptoed out. The robot glanced his way without any relocation on her blank face whatsoever.
He patted his forehead down. “That’s a relief.”
Zeus shrugged his shielded shoulders at the perplexity occurring before him. As the kafuffle unravelled, he was silently present and as unremarkable as an invisible spirit. The abundance of jokes, quips, and childish behaviour grated on his patience. This was supposed to be a serious moment. A historical event. The day all life as they knew it would change. Zeus was above slander, above humiliation, these jesters had not realised it yet.
“Excuse me, but what is going on here?” His sword hung loosely, clenched under the thumb and index finger. “Someone better start talking before I slice this thing to pieces.”
“Hey, doc,” Sans said quickly to her. “I don’t suppose you fitted Mew Mew with any weapons or combat protocols or anything?”
Alphys gave Sans a look like he had just insulted her. “Weapons? C-combat protocols? In my anime robot? What do you take me for?” she replied harshly, then with pause. “Of course I did.”
Suddenly, she was no longer afraid. She stepped away from Fleck and beside Undyne. The girlfriends shared a quick glance with Alphys hinting in her smirk that this was something Undyne was seriously going to love.
“Mew Mew, run program S-one-slash-four-zero.” Season one, episode forty: her favourite, so she could never forget.
Upon processing the command, Mew Mew snapped upright, solid. The colour of her irises darkened into a serious shade of red, accompanied by a roiling roar from inside her head like the sound of anger brewing. Her arms opened, revealing all the inner mechanisms – servos and metal tendons – shifting to make way for some new additions. Two miniguns and full bandoliers of ammunition replaced her hands. There was a good chance plutonium was not the only thing purchased off www.totallynottheblackmarket.com.
Her stiff movements gained newfound flexibility. The anime character bent down into a fighting pose: legs bent; back hunched; gun arms cocked back and forth, chambering the first rounds.
A panel in her back opened and out launched a small rectangular object which landed in the scientist’s hands. Alphys flicked the power switches and on came the interface on the controller, lighting it up like a Christmas tree. Weapons green. Systems are go. Her thumbs met the analogue sticks. Fingers on buttons.
Mew Mew’s grin, coupled with her red eyes, instantly turned demented, evil. “Time to play rough.” In her tinny, scratchy voice.
Alphys shared another grin with her girlfriend. “Now anime is real,” she said.
* * *
Brute did not need to be told to stop before the awning, he did so purely on instinct. Advisor Flowey, masked in the darkness, looked out at his Emperor, weapon at the ready, prepared to engage six monsters and a machine.
The lives of those Zeus faced, all of which Flowey himself pulled apart and pieced back together the same way a child would with toys, and it disgusted him to think that was who he used to be. Becoming friends in one timeline. Their sworn enemy in another.
At least alone and abandoned in the Underground there existed the certainty of never having to see it again, of never being able to hurt anyone through his own uncontrolled curiosity.
Flowey, right there on Brute’s head, grabbed a thin slither of hope that this would be the last time he got to watch those monsters die. Next time, he will do better. Next time, he would save them.
This time, Flowey had no choice but to watch them die.
“Idiots. Every last one of them.”
Chapter 32: The Future of Monsters
Six against one? Then it was an even fight.
Reflection flashed in those shimmering eyes of Zeus's; Asgore had not changed one bit, from his appearance down to his stance. The royal red trident, a thousand years honed, with those three prongs pointed toward the earth. Fleck remembered that pose from when they fought; this time, however, those soft eyes of his, previously downcast with shame, were up and locked squarely on the young emperor, full of resolve.
Toriel, at her estranged husband's side, had her palms facing the sky, and those flames burning brighter and brighter. Her cloak fell from her shoulders and burning spheres ignited the air about her. Elegance shone in her stance, reflecting a master of her own magic, an ethereal mother, so much that traditional weapons – the sword, the trident, the spear, and the gun – might have well have been toys in the face of her own capabilities.
That henchwoman, Undyne: clearly unprepared battle-wise in her tank top and jeans, her scaly skin nowhere thick enough to repel the sharpness of Heaven's Shard, yet confidence leaked in her stance. She swung her spear out from in front and held it at her side, leaving her defence wide open. She was nothing short of formidable, she could probably take a swing and keep on coming.
The tall skeleton, so flamboyant. Papyrus had one hand on hip and the other straight with the palm facing the ground, possessing a high degree of interest toward himself. What did Papyrus see when he looked in the mirror: his reflection or the image of someone he loved? The world may never know.
The short skeleton, apparently related to the other, had mitten hands stuffed inside pockets and a smile on his face. Was Sans not aware he was about to fight or did he simply not care? The air was sharp with a growing chill; the rain continuous, soaking into the fur trim around his neck; this footing no place for someone in socks and slippers: none of it faltered the teeth in h
is grin.
The lady in the lab coat warmed up her thumbs on the joysticks and fingers against the buttons; every flick and press registered with the robot. The machine named Mew Mew rotated her shoulders and shook her legs to the sounds of servos and gears. A few jet propulsions of steam escaped from gaps in her plastic exterior.
Meanwhile, there was his real target, Fleck, overshadowed between Asgore and Toriel. Safely shielded, barred from his skirmish, but restless and anxious in their body language. The human had it written all over its face: it should be fighting too, or perhaps, it should be the only one fighting. Period.
Given the chance, Zeus would love nothing more than to do away with these lesser beings whom had surrendered themselves to mankind, clinging to some frail, misguided faith that monsters and humans were compatible, able to co-exist, that the two opposite sides of the spectrum could throw aside their differences, lock hands, and spin in circles on green meadows under glorious spotless skies singing kumbaya. No. The thought be just that: a thought, a dream, a fantasy, make-believe, nothing more and nothing less.
Heaven's Shard was the only one there who spoke Zeus's words and understood his language: as long as the two races existed, there would be no peace. True, everlasting peace would only be achieved when one of the two lay dead, and Zeus was determined to ensure bones marked the beginning of that age.
The two sides remained idle, the gap filled with downpour, souls waiting for the first stone to be cast. Undyne twitched, growing restless with each passing second of silence and no action. Would it be her? At that rate, Sans verged on drifting off to sleep, so his chances were diminishing. Asgore held his ground, poised, outwardly collected, but the notion most likely meant he was planning his line of attack.