by GR Griffin
Fleck wondered what the two were waiting for. Flowey needed this human dead and his assistant was so eager to line these trees with pieces of them, so why stand around and watch them make their escape?
“Think I’m already out of ideas, Fleck?” Flowey shouted loud enough for Fleck to hear. “We’re just getting warmed up. I’ve already—” A stray leaf fluttered down and got caught in his mouth. Flowey hacked it out before spitting a few times, riding his tongue of the taste. “I’ve already picked up some new moves in this world. Thankfully, you can’t take that away from me. Thankful for me anyway, not thankful for you.”
More spinning bullets of doom rose from the only patch of genuine soil for miles around. Fleck was on guard as they descended, ready to react when they came their way. These bullets, instead of flying at them, dropped to the path below, stopped, then came together to form one giant bullet. It grew bigger and brighter, until it was over six feet in size. From within, the silhouette of a figure formed before the light vanished.
Through the scattering of falling leaves, Fleck made out the anomaly. It was Undyne and she looked considerably different. Her armour was darker and sharper, with hearts on the cuirass and gauntlets. Her ponytail spiked out to one side. Her eyepatch was gone, revealing a black hole where her left eye should be; the other just as black, the elongated pupil glowed white.
Fleck blurted Undyne’s name, but she only squinted her gaze and bared a toothy grin, not recognising Fleck as her friend, but as someone else. Something else, much worse.
“I’ll show you the same level of mercy you’ve shown all the others,” she said as many orbs of white materialised in a shiny arch over her head. “Die, fiend!”
Before Fleck had a chance to ready themself, the spears flew from all directions. The speed and intensity of the flying javelins caught Fleck off-guard. They did not remember them being so fast.
After the hail ended, Undyne stopped and waited for the human’s response, to which Fleck performed the one tactic that worked well against her in the past: they turned and ran.
“Hey, where are you going?” Undyne the Undying shouted. “Get back here!”
Fleck sprinted across, following the path wherever it lead. Down a slight decline and then around the circumference of another absurdly large tree, one of the many thousands that comprised the Forest. They could only get so far before Undyne caught up with them, her legs longer and more physically able than theirs. She leapt in the air, bounced off another wall of bark and landed on the path ahead, cutting off the human child.
“Nowhere left to run, miserable creature,” Undyne said, not breathless one bit. “With your death, I will avenge all you have slain.”
Before Fleck could attempt to negotiate – because it worked so well before – spears materialised not around Undyne, but around them. The six harpoons rotated as they appeared, stopped when the tips were facing them and then came in for the kill. Fleck ducked, hearing the ping as all the piercing ends met, then disappeared as quickly as they came.
Suddenly, Fleck kicked off their heels and rushed in, holding the shield to their chest. If words were not going to solve this dispute, then a few volts of canned laughter will. Undyne hailed a couple more spears which were swiftly blocked. Fleck got in close and jabbed the tickly end into her belly, causing her to reel back, chortling under her breath.
Before Undyne could stage another assault, her body quivered and lost its transparency as the voltage raced through her. “But I was just getting started…”
Unexpectedly, her body exploded back into the friendliness pellets, striking the nearby surroundings with explosive effect. Fleck was untouched. Undyne the Undying was gone for good.
Fleck lowered their guard and breathed deeply, thinking itself a safe moment to rest until the tree trunk beside them exploded outwards and Brute slammed into them. Fleck fell back, losing their hold on the sword. Looking up, Brute and Flowey glared down at them before the former lunged down with an open maw, ready to consume them.
Fleck rolled to the right over the carpet of leaves, avoiding the teeth which snapped inches away. Fleck regained their footing and kept moving as Brute followed, chomping at the air behind, catching a taste of their scent that suggested how delicious they would be. Fleck kept sidestepping until they were up against the tree. Brute dove in mouth first, showing his rows of white, razor-sharp choppers, strands of saliva, and his hanging uvula. At the last moment, Fleck ducked and Brute ended up crunching deep into the wood.
As Fleck moved back, the assistant flailed like a fish out of water, groaning through their trapped teeth. He pushed against the grain and fidgeted with the linings of his mouth, trying to pry himself out to no avail.
Flowey scowled at his assistant. “You idiot, you’ve gotten yourself stuck!”
Fleck found their sword on the ground and seized the opportunity. They picked it up, reactivated the tickle rod, deactivated the shield, and charged in both hands of the handle and with the tip aimed on Brute’s ribs. As long as he was stuck, the human child had a chance to wear him down.
A few feet away, they caught too late a grin and a muffled chuckle coming from both Flowey and Brute.
The massive assistant jerked his head to the left, tearing off a large piece of bark that slammed into Fleck’s exposed body, whacking them off their feet and onto their back. The hard hit of a giant baseball bat hurt like nobody’s business and sent stars flying across Fleck’s vision. Their sword fell away from them again.
Brute had the huge fragment of timber in his gob in the same manner as a dog with an oversized stick. There was a slight tremor of tension before his mighty jaw effortlessly snapped it in two.
Flowey swayed his head from side to side. “Good one, Brute,” he praised his assistant. Inside, he was empty, and unsure whether he was pleased by what his eyes were witnessing or disgusted by what he was doing. He wished there was another solution, but this needed to be done. It was the only way.
Brute spat out fragments of chomped wood. “Human tougher than they look.” Splinters clung to his gums, spitting them as he spoke.
“Yes,” Flowey replied, nodding in agreement, “but a few more whacks like that and they won’t be for much longer.” He eyed Fleck’s sword a few feet away. “Or maybe one more might just do.”
The Royal Advisor did not need to say it; Brute already knew where to go. As the body stepped closer, the brain grew a vine from his patch of soil and reached for the handle. Fleck, incapacitated, had no idea the brutish monster and his flower master were looming over them before it was too late.
“This ends” – Flowey wrapped the vine around the handle, snapped the button, and then jabbed it into Fleck’s chest – “now!”
Fleck’s jaw opened and a scream escaped. Eyes went wide, locked on the hilt against their torso, the blade unseen to them. The killing blow was so fast and fluid that there was no time to register the pain. The air in their lungs emptied and they awaited the agony, the coppery taste soon to drip from their lips, and a long, gurgled end.
Flowey pulled back on the handle and Fleck expected to glimpse a blade drenched in their own life fluid. Instead, there was nothing. The blade had not extended as he expected.
His smile faded. “Wait a min—what’s wrong with this thing?” His vine hammered the switch.
The handle beeped to life. “Unregistered user detected,” the lady voice said. “Activating countermeasures.”
All of a sudden, the sword hilt discharged a voltage of electricity that travelled up the vine and into Flowey and Brute. Flowey took the brunt of the defence system, going rigid with all his petals sticking out. Brute roared, clutching his cranium as power travelled downward from the pot. Flowey released the sword and the countermeasure deactivated in an instant. It landed a few feet away from its registered owner. Flowey had witnessed every single way this fight could go, but it was the tiny details which he tripped on.
Brute, frenzied, raised his foot and brought it down; Fleck rolled out
the way. They stopped as his other foot came down in their path. Fleck scurried backwards on their hands and heels, narrowly avoiding a fist crashing downwards.
Fleck reached out and nabbed the sword handle. It buzzed to life and the tickle rod extended upon returning to their hand. “Palm pattern recognised. Welcome back, Fleck.”
Brute eyed the tiny human, baring teeth drenched with saliva. The smouldering advisor said, “Remember to chew your food forty two times…”
He swung his head down, opening his mouth wide. Fleck hoisted the sword and the tip went straight to the back of his throat. Brute cried out as his dark cave of a mouth sparked to life with snaps of energy. He recoiled, clutching his giant mitts around his jaw and head.
Flowey wobbled, his bearing almost toppling. Eventually, Brute’s hands found their way to his eyes, covering them as he began to blubber in a series of sobs and wet sniffs.
“Brute,” Flowey said, concerned, peering over the brim of his pot, “what’s wrong?”
“Hurts!” Brute wailed. “H-hurts!”
Flowey sieved through his teeth as he turned to Fleck. “Now look what you’ve done, you made him cry.”
The heavyset bruiser had attempted to crush and gobble up Fleck on several occasions, and yet Fleck, seeing him break down in tears, all of a sudden felt bad for hurting them. Brute was a baby in a grown monster’s body, wearing a grown monster’s clothes; a fact Fleck wished they had picked up on earlier.
The vine, still dangling close to the walkway, rose to gently stroke the side of Brute’s head. “There, there, Brute. It’s okay,” Flowey cooed with a surprising level of compassion. Fleck knew that, sadly, he was faking it. Regardless of whether his concern was genuine or not, it did calm the big guy down. “Take a moment to let it out. I’ll take it from here.”
Brute wiped away a tear and nodded in the quick nods of a toddler.
After looking back up from his stallion, Flowey the flower summoned more petals and merged them all together between himself and the person he needed dead. “This’ll cheer you up…” Fleck was unsure whether Flowey was talking to them or Brute.
The sphere of magic grew and then another figure appeared from the core. This time it was Mettaton, the version from the vision, complete with spiked hair, blaster, wings and everything.
He took aim with his blaster. “Witness the power of humanity’s star, baby!”
Mettaton Neo opened fire. The blasts came in fast, loud, wide and flashy, just like the person firing them. His intention was to decimate the target in the most spectacular fashion, one which would be remembered by the fans and the highlight of many repeats for years to come. Too bad there were no cameras rolling.
Even before the shots neared, Fleck knew what to do. They used their enhanced shield to block the nearest bullets before spinning around to avoid others, ending their turn facing away from their foe.
Now pose! Fleck swung their head back in a feisty fashion, placing one hand on their hip and the sword on their shoulder. Amazingly, the laugh-inducing blade had no effect on them. Professor Haze really did make it for them and them alone. Fleck smiled and winked at the robot.
This simple act triggered something almost forgotten to this upgraded model from a parallel universe. “Oooh, how sassy,” Mettaton Neo said, grinning to himself as the pose spurred him on. “I love it! Let the games begin!”
Mettaton unleashed his most deadly and dangerous weapons: his legs. After extending his arms to the ground, he hoisted himself up, took aim and launched his legs feet first. Twin thrusters propelled the robotic limbs toward the target. Fleck broke their pose and lifted the shield, but the pair of legs changed direction before impact, separating in both directions and spiralling around their guard.
Fleck ducked the pair of pink boots and barely caught sight of them as they rocketing into the surroundings, leaving behind two thick contrails of grey smoke as they became lost in the falling leaves and dark underbelly of the Forest. Fleck glanced in all directions, spotting nothing, but caught wind of the guided propulsion systems.
“Now, now, darling,” Mettaton disclosed, “a true superstar should always be in tune with their surroundings.” He grinned at the whistling crescendo. “Especially when the crowds are not in your favour.”
Fleck figured out the directions in time, rising the shield to block the left foot while deflecting the other away with their sword. The legs span in the air before hitting the terrain, exploding on impact like missiles. Fortunately for the killer robot, he had legs to spare. After producing an extra pair, Fleck threw another pose as if to say “That all you got?”
By now, Brute was no longer crying. He was smiling, giggling at the engagement.
“Feeling better, Brute?” asked Flowey.
Brute nodded. “Better.”
“So what do you say we get back in there?” Flowey suggested. A second later, Brute charged, almost giving his advisor whiplash.
Fleck’s stance broke upon seeing the stampeding behemoth and turned to run. Mettaton Neo, at first confused, faced the direction of the slamming footsteps and found the giant approaching.
Mettaton Neo, thanks to his mind-set built around nothing but fame, failed to detect any danger and perceived it as something else entirely. “Looks like someone’s eager for an autograp—”
Before he could finish, Brute delivered a mean backhand, throwing Mettaton against the nearest trunk where he exploded back into friendliness pellets. Brute’s stride was not hindered one bit as he dashed like a rhino at the human.
Fleck ran as fast as they could, urged on by the roaring on their heels. They ran so fast that the nerves in their legs went dead. The space between them was a hundred feet apart and that gap lessened with every second. The loose flooring of leaves did nothing to soften the chaser’s straddling steps which all acted as miniature earthquakes. This guy obviously wasn’t a first choice for reconnaissance and surveillance missions.
Fleck needed to get off this path otherwise they would not fare much better than the leaves underfoot. Over the railings, the distance below was dark save for a couple of walkways, indicating that they had reached the lowest levels of the Forest. Fleck crossed the path of another bridge down below. They bolted to the side and hopped the railing moments before Brute charged past. The fall to the path below was not too far and the leaves cushioned the landing.
Brute chugged to a halt, retraced his steps a few paces and followed the human over the railing, smashing a crater into the thick walkway wood on impact. He would have landed on Fleck, but they were already fifty feet away and prepared to defend themself.
Down below, there were no more walkways, paths or bridges, just the empty drop all the way to the Forest floor. Up above, the citizens were frantic, panic-stricken as their home for several centuries and fewer generations was dying; the wood turning sickly grey and the leaves dropping like the worst case of autumn.
The burly assistant had an urge to charge, but his strange sixth sense (from being connected to Flowey) held him back. His advisor had another trick up his theoretical sleeve. Actually, it was the same trick he had done twice before.
“Let us see if the third time is the charm…” Flowey said.
Flowey conjured his pellets. With each summoning, the person he pulled was picked from random, even he did not know who it would be until they were standing there. He forced the pellets together in the space between them, and for the third time, they formed to make one big pellets and then the beckoned puppet emerged.
Flowey’s next creation appeared, along with a comfortable chair. Nestled in it was a lanky figure whom Fleck had never seen before, shrouded in a long, black coat and turtleneck sweater. His white face was buried in a book, held upon thin fingers. Two pure black eyes skimmed the pages, starting from the left and working their way across, then starting at the left again, slightly lower. A black line, almost like a cut, connected his left eye to his mouth. Another ran up from his right eye across his hairless scalp.
The stranger looked up from his hardback, disorientated by his surroundings. He muttered a phrase that neither Flowey nor Fleck nor Brute could comprehend.
Flowey chuckled. “A-ha! The original royal scientist himself. The great and mysterious Doctor Gaster: the man who speaks with hands,” he smarmed. “Surely such a being will be the end of—”
“No,” Doctor Gaster said abruptly, this time in plain English.
“Wha—?” Flowey got out.
Gaster sighed in an irritated manner, setting the book down on his lap. “Did you honestly believe you were being original by dragging me into this?” he asked, black eyes on the flower.
Flowey was at a loss for words. Fleck was only confused. Have they met this guy before? Should they know who he was? A divine force from beyond was telling them that maybe this fella meant serious business, sometime, somewhere, in many different places.
The previous royal scientist slammed his thick tome shut, keeping his thumb on his place. “Do you have any idea how many timelines I’ve been pulled into? Do you?” The irritation was clear upon his flat, blank face. “Can’t a guy just stay dead for once? I mean, just because I showed my face for five seconds in the Underground doesn’t necessarily mean I’m some long lost, forgotten soul who can’t enjoy being dead.”
Flowey raised an eyebrow. This was not at all what he expected from the essence of the mysterious Doctor Gaster. “But what abo—?”
“My magical hands?” Gaster interrupted, lifting his free hand. “These magical hands? The same hands I use to pick up my laundry, to hold my knife and fork while I eat, to repel irritating itches? There’s nothing special about them, I just use them like any ordinary person would.” He peeked through the hole in the palm while his fingers wiggled. “You think I did this to myself with some kind of experiment? I was born with these – I’m a monster, we’re all strange in our unique ways.”
