03-04-2016, 07:53 PM
The world around him, inevitably, came crashing down.
Mettaton couldn't say he was surprised. But he could say he was disappointed. The underground was his home, after all. But... If the humans were to die, too, what would be the point of living anyhow? There wasn't a show without an audience. And if there wasn't a show going on, he'd rather not be there.
But, still, he woke up.
His body was in a state of paralysis, though he could feel his senses working in overdrive to compensate for it. He would say he couldn't feel his feet, but he had never had feet before, so that wasn't surprising. In front of him was a strange figure, not shapeless, but more... undefined? Mettaton didn't know how to describe it. He tried to ask who the figure was, but found he couldn't make a noise.
It was like a nightmare, Mettaton not being able to speak. He wondered who he'd pissed off enough to get him sent to this hell, fate worse than death.
The figure spoke of several things, none of which meant much to the monster. Omniverse? Omnili-what? Though the thought of being granted whatever he wanted caught his attention. Mettaton's mind fixated immediately on one thing: Fame. Glamour. The spotlight. That was what he wanted, nothing more and nothing less. Once his mind fixated on that, he zoned out the rest of the figure's words.
Another chance to make a name for himself? He couldn't have asked for more! Though it would be difficult if he couldn't speak...
At the last moment he thought of one more question. But before he managed to try again to speak up, everything faded out.
Next thing he knew, he woke up on the ground, staring up at a blank white cieling. And he was a rectangle again. So much for that cool, dramatic-looking new body Alphys had made for him. ...Damn it, he couldn't even remember what he'd wanted to ask, though he could remember having a question. He pushed himself upright onto his wheel, glancing about his surroundings. Not only the cieling was white, EVERYTHING was. It was a bit distressing, not knowing where one thing ended and another begun.
But there were things that caught his eye. First, a nearby fountain(? no, perhaps it was an enormous hourglass?), which he rolled over towards to rest an arm on. Then, on the very horizon... Something. He couldn't make it out. Well, huh. That was an issue. He gave a robotic cough, which, surprisingly, came out through his speakers just fine. Okay, so he could talk now, that was an improvement. But he still had little to no idea of where he was and how to exchange his precious material for fame. Or if it was a bit more abstract than that.
Wait. There was more going on here than just what he spotted on his horizon.
The rectangle noted a dark smudge against the pure white of this area. It was a winged figure, much like what monsters would call an "Angel". He had never seen one in person, though legends had told of them for centuries, if not millenia. He wouldn't have pegged them as being so... ominous looking, though. Well, whatever. It was the only thing around that looked relatively sapient, so he might as well go introduce himself.
Mettaton rolled over to the angel, stopping when he felt he was a sufficient distance away so as not to appear threatening. After all, he was basically a six foot tall calculator, so he had best be careful. You never knew who could find his massive stores of sexiness threatening. "Hello there." He greeted in his usual voice, unusually... un-synthetic and masculine, for what it was coming from. "Do you know where I have ended up, perchance? I... cannot quite recall."
Mettaton couldn't say he was surprised. But he could say he was disappointed. The underground was his home, after all. But... If the humans were to die, too, what would be the point of living anyhow? There wasn't a show without an audience. And if there wasn't a show going on, he'd rather not be there.
But, still, he woke up.
His body was in a state of paralysis, though he could feel his senses working in overdrive to compensate for it. He would say he couldn't feel his feet, but he had never had feet before, so that wasn't surprising. In front of him was a strange figure, not shapeless, but more... undefined? Mettaton didn't know how to describe it. He tried to ask who the figure was, but found he couldn't make a noise.
It was like a nightmare, Mettaton not being able to speak. He wondered who he'd pissed off enough to get him sent to this hell, fate worse than death.
The figure spoke of several things, none of which meant much to the monster. Omniverse? Omnili-what? Though the thought of being granted whatever he wanted caught his attention. Mettaton's mind fixated immediately on one thing: Fame. Glamour. The spotlight. That was what he wanted, nothing more and nothing less. Once his mind fixated on that, he zoned out the rest of the figure's words.
Another chance to make a name for himself? He couldn't have asked for more! Though it would be difficult if he couldn't speak...
At the last moment he thought of one more question. But before he managed to try again to speak up, everything faded out.
Next thing he knew, he woke up on the ground, staring up at a blank white cieling. And he was a rectangle again. So much for that cool, dramatic-looking new body Alphys had made for him. ...Damn it, he couldn't even remember what he'd wanted to ask, though he could remember having a question. He pushed himself upright onto his wheel, glancing about his surroundings. Not only the cieling was white, EVERYTHING was. It was a bit distressing, not knowing where one thing ended and another begun.
But there were things that caught his eye. First, a nearby fountain(? no, perhaps it was an enormous hourglass?), which he rolled over towards to rest an arm on. Then, on the very horizon... Something. He couldn't make it out. Well, huh. That was an issue. He gave a robotic cough, which, surprisingly, came out through his speakers just fine. Okay, so he could talk now, that was an improvement. But he still had little to no idea of where he was and how to exchange his precious material for fame. Or if it was a bit more abstract than that.
Wait. There was more going on here than just what he spotted on his horizon.
The rectangle noted a dark smudge against the pure white of this area. It was a winged figure, much like what monsters would call an "Angel". He had never seen one in person, though legends had told of them for centuries, if not millenia. He wouldn't have pegged them as being so... ominous looking, though. Well, whatever. It was the only thing around that looked relatively sapient, so he might as well go introduce himself.
Mettaton rolled over to the angel, stopping when he felt he was a sufficient distance away so as not to appear threatening. After all, he was basically a six foot tall calculator, so he had best be careful. You never knew who could find his massive stores of sexiness threatening. "Hello there." He greeted in his usual voice, unusually... un-synthetic and masculine, for what it was coming from. "Do you know where I have ended up, perchance? I... cannot quite recall."
![[Image: QlU6gj3.png]](http://i.imgur.com/QlU6gj3.png)
Yuuka Kazami Wrote:Do you think Yuuka *aims* the Master Spark? No. She decides which half of the world she wants to fuck.