by GR Griffin
"Oh, Barb," murmured the Zeus from the here and now. "I can't believe I forgot that too." Fleck could also see his memories, and they melted their heart. It made them forget all about their kafuffle in the Shattered Zone. "I always thought I'd see that face as she grew up. Guess I was too stubborn…"
Months later, Barb was already seeing the world for the first time and jabbering her funny sounds. Her hair growing in at the back. Eyes a few shades different than what they were now. The wings on her back as tiny as her; she flapped them whenever she was happy.
She began to cry and her mother allowed Prince Zeus to hold her. Such a tiny thing, she fitted in Zeus's hand. At first, he was lost, but after some gentle swaying and soft cooing, baby Barb stopped crying and started giggling. She reached up with a tiny arm.
"Oh, look, Zeus," her mother said, "she likes you." While not a carbon copy, it was clear that Barb obtained some features from the mother's side of the family.
Zeus gingerly dangled a finger down and the baby seized it with stubby fingers. Her grip was surprisingly strong, and it was at that point he knew she would not grow up to be a pampered princess.
The baby's lips pursed. "Mmm… Maa…" she mumbled.
The mother held her cheeks. "Oh, my gosh! Is this her first word?"
"Mah… Masth… Masthu… Maxthu…"
Zeus was speechless.
Her mother was ecstatic. "She trying to say your name. That's so adorable! Come on, Barbie. Zeus. Max-us.
The baby took one little breath while everyone held theirs and…
"You're just going to end up bringing everyone down," Barb said, all grown up and standing on the edge of that night's sky. "Looks like I was right, all along…"
Even Barb thought he was a freak. A freak. A freak!
Zeus, enraged, tore the nearest stone he could feel from the ground and brought it across Fleck's jaw. They stumbled but remained standing. Upon turning back to Zeus, a nasty scratch ran from their chin to bottom lip.
"Enough of this childish guilt-tripping," Zeus said. A new layer of evil laced his insides. "Fight me, as your kind always do!"
Fleck smiled and shook their head and once more reaching out.
Save.
I will not fight you, Zeus. And I know, deep, deep down, you don't want to fight me either.
The next memory forced before Zeus's eyes. Now, he was training Barb. At the tender age of twelve, Barb was. The world should have seen her instead of secluding her to the edge of the atmosphere: pigtails past her shoulders, the ends frilled out like two miniature feather dusters. A rebellious tomboy of a tween whether she wore her ripped jeans and baggy button-down shirt half tucked and untucked around her waist, or her sparring uniform with the black belt loose and the sleeves rolled up, exposing her grey forearms.
Today's session: hand-to-hand sparring. Her training commenced the day she turned six, and there was much debate as to whether to start earlier since Barb had already mastered shoulder throws on Carrie, her childhood stuffed monkey toy, by the time she was four. The earlier start would have spared Carrie many arm replacements.
It was a pleasant summer evening out in the training courtyard. No other training sessions with the Monster Military were in the books, so the entire area was free to the Prince and the warrior in training. The sun neared the horizon and the azure sky came alight with stars. Moments like this were supposed to last a lifetime.
The Emperor of Evil almost smiled as he envisioned tween Barb charging him, with war cry and fists clenched, and he, the young prince, awaited her attack. Her first punch met Zeus's open palm. Her second punch met Zeus's open palm. Her third punch met Zeus's open palm. Her fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh punch collided with the centre of his right hand.
She was fast and strong and, most importantly to Zeus, reckless. Her technique was strong, she could already defeat most of the guards under the military's watch, but she was predictable, using every muscle in her body except the most important one: her brain. She had yet to learn that the same approach did not work the same on everybody. She was most likely wondering how her unstoppable style had earned her many victories, but never against the prince himself. Barb read it on Zeus's face: he wasn't even trying.
She, on the other hand, was trying so hard; Zeus's unfazed expression most likely spurred her aggression.
It took a full half-hour for her to run out of steam, by then, she had become familiar with the furry texture of that palm. She mustered the energy to realise one final strike and Zeus, instead of blocking, stepped aside. The girl's fist swung into the open air and her own momentum tripped her up.
As Zeus offered her a hand – the same one tenderised by her knuckles – he offered her advice, as any good mentor would. He couldn't quite remember what he said; they had so many training sessions that they became a blur after too long.
The sweat trickled down Barb's brow, whereupon Zeus was hardly winded. There was still much for her to learn. She pulled a determined grin as she took the big guy's hand. Zeus read exactly what that grin entailed. It meant, 'I'll knock you down one day. Just you wait."
Over by a nearby alcove, Master Scribe Rickard watched patiently. How younger he looked back then, before he grew that moustache, his white fur just that single touch different. He had come to impart some matter to the prince, although not too pressing from the manner in which he presented himself.
Prince Zeus waved him over.
Rickard approached, pen and pad in hand. He pulled it over his face, read the notes and scribbled an addition down. He looked up and suddenly had his moustache and a pained, guilty expression. His robe ragged from where Zeus roughed him up.
"I've never met any of the humans who took your family away," he said, "but… I'm willing to bet you sound just like them, right now."
Emperor Zeus heaved a bigger rock and punched it into Fleck's chest. Fleck staggered back and fell as their heart felt like it was about to burst. A boiling arose in their throat like all their blood wanted to gush out their mouth.
* * *
Flowey had no idea what was wrong with him. No, he did know. He had witnessed this, the power to save, once before, on himself. It was what saved Asriel Dreemurr, the God of Hyperdeath, when he had existence itself in his hands. It was what stopped him from making the biggest mistake of his life. Had Fleck never been there? Had he never been saved, where would he be now? What would have become of everything?
He, a being without a soul, could not deny the alluring sway of this power, affecting him there as it affected him before as a god. Memories of a better time, before his brutality, before his resurrection as a flower, returned. His young childhood, with his parents, with Chara. He had no soul, yet even he could feel remorse for his actions in the face of Fleck's willingness to save, to see the good in everyone.
Emperor Zeus had a soul, the capacity to feel emotion, compassion and empathy, and yet ignored them in the name of his darkest desires.
Fleck got up.
"No, Fleck," Flowey cried, "don't get up."
Fleck's legs resembled two matchsticks holding up a cinderblock. With a sad smile, they resumed their submissive stance.
Save.
"Don't try and save him," he yelled. "It won't work!" He motioned wildly with his head. "Get out of there!"
His assistant, Brute, felt his muscles twitch and his inners quake, feeling the urges from his own advisor. Sweat built on his brow. The Emperor in his original form was a man he dreaded. The Emperor of Evil was fear given life.
Again, Zeus appeared to calm down, and again, he lashed out with his unstoppable powers at the human child. Fleck tumbled in a blaze of gravel.
"Don't fight, Fleck. Just stay down." When Fleck was down, he wanted them to stay down. When Fleck stood, he wanted them to escape. Did he want Fleck to die, or didn't he? He was so confused. "Let him win. Just let him win…"
The God of Hyperdeath reverberated in his head, screaming. "JUST LET ME WIN!"
Fleck pushed themself
up with shaking, burnt arms. Their body raised while the head and arms were as limps as a doll's; their face overcast with dripping wet hair. Fleck looked ready to drop dead.
"Stop it, Fleck," Flowey screamed, tossing wildly. "STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT! NOW!"
* * *
Fleck staggered on their feet. Hurt. Everything hurt. Hands slavered in mud, held towards the rampaging, swirling image of the Outerworld's emperor. Hopes and dreams began to fade, sinking into the rising tide of despair. Smile.
Save.
Zeus, there's still good in you! I know—
The next rock, to the other cheek, staggered the human child.
"Go ahead, keep smiling," Zeus said in his shadowy tone.
Save.
I know there's still good in you. Don't let—
Another strike. "I might stop if you smile hard enough."
Save.
Don't let it win! I believe in you!
Another hit. Fleck found it hard to smile.
"What? Lost your smile?" Zeus almost found his. "Not finding this fun anymore?"
Save.
I… I still believe in you. Zeus, please!
Zeus would not stop.
Save…
P-please…
Would not stop.
Save…
…P-p-please…
Would. Not. Stop.
…save…
...please…
Another devastating projectile connected and, hovering among the raindrops, Zeus saw it. Blood. A spittle of the human's life fluid coming out through gritted teeth and parted lips. The sight of it was exhilarating, magnificent; the feeling extraordinary. The power coursed throughout, now he was the one in control. Zeus was the one inflicting pain unto humanity. The human was powerless, pleading, on the verge of collapse, just how his own people were a thousand years ago.
The human could beg for mercy all it wanted, but Emperor Zeus would give none. Soon, billions more will do just that.
Fleck was a black and blue punching bag, up on wobbly knees. They had no idea where they were right now, hobbling, their entire body a mess of cuts and bruises.
From out of Zeus's fingertips, raw, dark lightning scattered into Fleck's tiny body. Fleck screamed at the top of their lungs, falling to their knees as pure, undiluted pain tore through them, ravaging inside and out. Again and again, as the child convulsed, they pleaded. If it had any effect on Zeus's spirit, it made the dark power stronger.
Fleck shuddered and rolled in a heap, unable to escape. Their screams became pathetic. Somewhere, deep inside, Fleck clung to a shrinking hope that there was still good in him.
All of a sudden, several small pellets bounced off Zeus's carapace. He stopped and found Brute with the flowerpot on his head.
His own advisor inside the pot. "STOP!" Flowey yelled as loud as he could. "STOP IT! I can't take this anymore!" He tossed more of his friendliness petals, which sprang harmlessly off the Emperor of Evil. "You're wrong! I was wrong! This is all wrong!"
Flowey didn't care anymore. He didn't care if this story ended horribly. He didn't care if he couldn't change a thing. All he cared about was Fleck, and seeing them get torn apart tore him apart. He just wanted the torture to stop.
He likened himself the true hero of this story, but it begged a cascade of fundamental questions. Would a hero stand back and watch someone he cared for suffer? Would a hero simply give up because things looked difficult, and never search for an alternative solution? Would a hero try to kill someone they cared for because they were afraid of what came next? In Zeus's cruelty, Flowey saw a repeat of his own actions, and he, by spectating from the side-lines, was no better than the past version which sent the Underground running in circles.
No more. Flowey the flower was going to try. To throw away his believes and preconceptions, and follow the empty feeling in his being.
The corner of Zeus's mouth twitched. "Now you?" he said, lacking the surprise warranted from having one's most loyal, and last, subject stab them in the back.
"Yes. Now me," Advisor Flowey chastised his ruler. "How dare you? How can you be so heartless? Fleck is showing you something truly wonderful. And you deny it." Another barrage failed to leave even a scratch. "Sometimes, you just gotta look in the mirror and realise that it's not the entire world that's the problem, it's you. Fleck is trying – really trying to get through to you, and you batter them at every turn. No more. I won't let you hurt them anymore. I won't!"
Zeus gingerly moved closer. The Advisor noticed that Zeus noticed that Brute was trembling.
Zeus raised a fist and made repeated hooks with the index finger, beckoning Brute to hand the flower over.
Flowey looked down. "No, Brute, don't—" But it was too late. His assistant grabbed the flowerpot with trembling hands and held it out as far as his arms could reach, relinquishing his advisor like a child handing back something they stole.
Zeus grabbed the pot and the two, himself and his advisor, were seeing each other eye to eye.
A hollow, chilling sensation ran down Flowey's stem as a feeling he couldn't identify filled him. "M-m-my lord, I…"
"Tell me: who filled my father's head with visions of freedom?" Zeus asked in a low, dark hiss. His stare, an inch away, bored into Flowey's. "Whose lips moved with warnings of genocide? Who have we allowed the Empire to be guided by these past weeks?"
"M-M-Maxu—"
The lion gripped the flower by his fragile stem, crushing it with ease. Flowey gurgled a terrified squeal as his button eyes went wide and wet. From the background, Fleck's weakened gasp could be heard.
"Who have I turned to this past month for guidance?" Zeus tore Flowey from his pot, exposing his roots. "Who have I entrusted with the Empire's deepest secrets?" Zeus grew louder as he threw the pot to the ground, smashing it into fragments of terracotta. "Who swore an oath to never betray the Empire? To never betray me?"
Flowey clawed for breath; the lion's hold so tight he couldn't breathe. Hot tears ran down his flushed face.
"I should've known you'd be worthless," Zeus yelled. "I can't rely on anyone anymore, you all betray me. Everyone I know has turned their back on me. They call me the monster. They call me the one with the problem. Well, guess what? I don't need you!" He raised the advisor above his head. "I don't need anyone!"
Zeus threw his advisor to the ground. Flowey barely had time to inhale before his emperor stomped down in the most savage way with an iron boot. The force crushed him between boot sole and mud. His shrieks came out muffled.
Fleck, on their hands and knees, cried out in a weak voice as Flowey got crushed, begging Zeus to stop, to punish them instead. But they already knew, after he was finished with the flower, they would be next.
Zeus stomped down a further three more times; the Advisor stuck to his boot twice. When he was done, there was a deep print with a crushed flower resting inside. Flattened, Flowey groaned, barely able to move. Most of his roots had snapped and he had lost his golden petals. He twitched his head slightly – the last petal detached – and forced open watery eyes. A rattle escaped his throat as he was within an inch of his life.
After Zeus stepped away, unapologetic, Brute toppled onto the ground and began to sob like an infant as he pathetically scooped up the flattened flower into his hefty hands.
"Ad… Advisor…" Flowey lay limp in Brute's big hands.
Zeus went up to Fleck and grabbed them by the throat. As Fleck dangled, their garbling bared no difference to the one he put the hold on before. They looked deep into those unfeeling eyes, the same eyes which watched them tumble into ravenous waters, and saw nothing within them. A shell of his former self.
His lips parted, then the teeth, and a ball of black energy formed within the oesophagus.
He was the Emperor of Evil: the destroyer of hope, crusher of dreams.
Zeus roared, catching the human child within an energy beam. Searing pain, thought unimaginable, enveloped and drowned them. Fire encapsulated them, burning away inside an
d out in embers of yellow and red. They were Icarus having flown too close to the Sun, and the rays burned their wings, and the pain was unbearable.
The beam carried Fleck and smashed them against the Obelisk's northern face. A crack sounded.
Lying on the ground, Fleck barely clung to life. They tried to move, but an overwhelming wave of agony made it impossible. The sharp metallic taste of blood coated their tongue. Every rise and fall of their chest hurt like knives stabbing their lungs. The screen of grey lay above, snaking with thunder. The rain swayed and blurred in their vision.
The time was almost upon Lord Zeus. Could this be it? A thousand years of waiting, toiling, dreaming, and now, at long last, his time had come? Zeus stepped forward and onto something solid. A flash of ruby red caught his eye from under the brown murk. He wedged his toe under the object and kicked up Asgore's trident into his waiting hands. Dirt clung around it.
The human will die, by his hand, and with a weapon the once mighty king of the mountain wielded. It would make a touching display: Asgore thought he was using it to protect his kid when in actuality he brought along the weapon of execution; it would be like Asgore himself was killing his own child.
He approached. Nothing will get in his way now.
* * *
"Un… Undyne…" Alphys crawled onto Undyne's shoulder after finding the strength needed to do so. "How are you now?"
Undyne had her eyes closed and breathed heavy. "Could be better," she responded.
Alphys saw the evil creature across the battlefield, wielding Gorey's trident menacingly as he neared a broken Fleck.
"C-can you stand?" she asked, gently taking hold of Undyne's shoulders. "F-Fleck needs our help."
"Alphys…" Undyne's face scrunched up as beads of sweat and rainwater trickled down her forehead in droves. "I don't… I don't feel so good."
"Come on, Undyne, d-don't give up. You never give up, no matter how bad things are." Alphys reached over to feel Undyne's forehead. "You've been hurt pretty badly, but—"
