The New Order

[PepsiYuuka]

Mettaton wasn't particularly scared of dying because of the whatever mineral. After all, the weird white figure guy had told them that if they died, they would just be reincarnated, right? Or revived, or... Whatever it was called. So how harmful could it be? Even if he messed up, this basically gave him infinite chances to try again. So what was there to be afraid of, really? Being set back a few days? Stuff like that didn't bother him a bit. He had all the time in the world now.

The robot hardly even noticed- or if he did notice, as usual, he didn't care- that the angel was floating now. Whatever. Angels were floaty anyway, so that was nothing new either. Though he was a bit disappointed that it seemed the angel took no interest in him beyond thinking of him as a weird, obnoxious rectangle that could be used as a guinea pig. Or, well, it wasn't that specific of a disappointment. He was disappointed that the angel wasn't literally praising and idolizing his every move. He was pretty uncultured for an angel, if you asked Mettaton. This Mastema should be taught his manners.

"Well!" Mettaton exclaimed, leaning a bit backwards and pressing his hand to his screen, almost haughtily. "Well, well, well. I suppose we'll have to see how it goes, then." He just had to think about it, right? Well, he was supposed to do what felt natural. And focusing seemed like the most natural thing to do in a situation like this. He imagined what he WANTED to look like at first, but quickly realized that was probably just illogical, since it was basically perfection. It needed to have some flaws to be interesting. Instead, he started to think about the sketches Alphys had originally shown him of what he was supposed to look like. Still a superstar, still glamorous, just... Still obviously robotic.

It took him probably thirty seconds to a minute to figure out all the details of what he wanted with his body. It was similar to the one Alphys had built him before- though, uh, minus the pointy-ness and the exploding, which weren't part of his image anyway. But it was similar, at least in the checkboxes for "humanoid", "covered in hot pink" and "Mettaton". The last two were basically synonymous, but.

After a while, once he felt like the form he was basically creating for himself should be done, Mettaton went ahead and flipped the enormous switch on his back. In a moderately sized puff of smoke (more for visual effect than anything, to draw attention to himself. obviously. why else would anyone use bright pink smoke for their transformation scene?), the rectangle transformed into something significantly less rectangular. Featuring only the most tasteful pink stiletto heel boots, trashy fringe hair, and exposed beating pink heart right in his midsection. Very high class, and not at all blindingly magenta and obscenely girly.

Now that he had a proper face, Mettaton could actually smile at the angel and give him a saucy wink. "So? What do you think?" He asked, mostly rhetorically. He still didn't REALLY care what Mastema thought of him. In fact, he hardly waited for the angel to answer him before moving on to what he had wanted to talk about. "Well, 'it's gorgeous', I'm sure. Anyway, we were going somewhere, weren't we?" Mettaton paused to look about the door options once more, before pointing at the one to their west. "That one looks the shiniest, so I say that one." Why that was his qualification for being picked, no one knew. Well. Some people knew, and those would be the ones that were aware of Mettaton's infinite passion for being rich as well as famous.