Papyrus couldn't hold back his appreciative glance down to the fighters in the stadium – the cries and cheers being heard though all of the Hot lands, the fighters using weapons or brightly coloured soul magic flashing high and low trying to hit their opponents. Even Sans, Papyrus's useless older brother, was wide awake for once.
A gladiator arena built with what they could scavenge, made mostly from metal and sheet mesh- the shape and size was similar in scale to that of the Human one they had on the surface. Papyrus had stolen the human book from the library (pages missing and waterlogged for most of it to be eligible) – while not as impressive as the human's stone colosseum it still had the same purpose.
For the masses blood thirsty entertainment, a blood thirsty game enjoyed by all denizens of the underground; quelling the bloodlust and rage of being trapped in the dark caverns.
To blow off some steam as it were.
It also allowed for any residing disputes between monsters were also settled in the public eye – rather than a dark ally or a swamp in Waterfall – dust in the streets had made it messy and hard to breathe in at some places.
While murders and disappearances still occurred their were significantly less because of the controlled environment that King Asgore built, Papyrus was under the impression that if a monsters untimely end was entertaining why secret it away like it was a shameful act? Why not seek fame and fortune for ridding the world of a weak monster and becoming stronger in the process?
After all, it's a kill or be killed world.
The fighters that survived past the usual time became quick favourites of the crowds, almost hero worship – merchandise was sold by MTTTV ranging from figures (Papyrus was partial to the figures, but refused to show it), signed posters and objects owned by the fighters – fur, skin, items of old clothing and sometimes teeth. San had brought a broken fang from a fallen fighter a year ago. He had attached it to a little bit of leather cord and sometimes he wore it around his neck. Papyrus never really payed attention to whom his brother backed behind though it probably won a bet at Chillbz because of it.
The reigning fighters that have survived was Aaron, Woshura, and Madjick – this week it is Aaron that was crowd favourite to fight in the most popular part of the fight.
Aaron snarled at a MTT bot with a camera that was broadcasting across underground; Aaron flexed and kissed his biceps – the crowd was rearing up to see the pompous creature to be knocked off his high horse. The TV host Mettaton was below as well, in his more human form presiding over the fight like it was his own show.
While Papyrus didn't appreciate the robots usual broadcasting nor did any other monster he bothered with; there was something very desirable in the way the robots eyes lit up at the sight of skin being flayed off a screaming beast or how monster dust got caught in the robots synthetic hair…
Papyrus shifted uncomfortably in his seat when he felt his red magic start to crawl though his body, humming in arousal.
Sans noticed and smirked, mustard dripped from his mouth only to wipe it away with the back of his hand messily.
'Heh, are you getting a little hot under the collar boss?'
Papyrus snarled at his brother and went to backhand him, Sans breaking out in an anxious sweat and flinching waiting for the strike, but it never came. Instead Papyrus smirked at him and snatched his brothers mustard bottle.
'Sans, I'm in too much in a good mood to bother with your idiocies to punish you for your pointless remarks.' Papyrus to a swig of mustard too, causing his elder to flush, San's most certainly mixed a type of liquor in it before he came – it had the harsh burn enhanced by something else. Blarg, it was disgustedly addictive.
'Consider that your powerful and strong brother has granted you clemency for your transgressions today.'
Papyrus sneered at his brother and handed the mustard bottle back, Sans shook it with a frown – the bastard drained it all.
'Aw – gee, thanks Boss.' Sans glared at his brother, flinging the empty bottle with his red magic at lesser dogs head causing the creature to snarl and bark at its neighbours, Doggo and one of the Knights – it erupting in a brawl.
Sans couldn't stop the honest grin as he watched the crowd get more and more tense and shot a sideways glance to his bother who was transfixed on the robot – his younger's brothers moods were erratic at best but Sans thanked his lucky stars that he could enjoy his favourite part of the match without a spinning head.
The David vs. Goliath round.
An audience member going up against the selected fighter; sure, it was unfair – but fuck, it was entertaining as all hell watching someone get the shit kicked out of them.
Papyrus said that the royal guard was not to be included in such events – Undyne was annoyed at Asgore's ruling as Papyrus was; the King wouldn't pay them If they entered making it a status quo between his own guards. Or in Asgore's wording, "I don't pay you to see who has the biggest balls."
Papyrus would most certainly challenge Undyne, and so would Undyne. The tension between them was unbearable - like two pups battling to be alpha dog.
Didn't stop either of them nagging about the fighters, and how fast they would take them down.
'Tch, if I was out there Aaron would have been knocked down weeks ago.'
'Totally, Boss.' San's didn't doubt it; he knew exactly what his bro was capable of.
'Good evening Darlings!' Mettaton screaming at the top of his voice box, the static crackling though the speakers, eyes ablaze at the loud cheers and catcalls – Aaron flexing behind the smaller robot and winking causing a few female monsters shrilly scream.
Aaron continued to flex and snarl to the delight of the audience, Mettaton making a show of fanning himself.
'Now it's the time you all were waiting for! The David vs. Goliath showdown!' Mettaton posed dramatically, 'A complete nobody is given a chance to become somebody!' Mettaton flicked his hair, revealing a robotic part of his face and eye – possibly unfinished, 'though not as lovely as yours truly.'
'GET ON WITH IT!' a rowdy audience member bellowed loudly, Mettaton frowned at them – with a bright flash he shot the audience member with a scarlet laser. The monster exploded in powdery dust, the monsters around the heckling monster – now closer to burnt, white confetti – looked as though they were caught in a mini snowstorm. The children erupted in cheers and laughter.
'Now I was saying.' Mettaton huffed, 'A contestant will step forward if they feel brave enough – or foolish enough…both are fun to watch!' Mettaton laughed.
'If they go against Aaron and win.'
Aaron snorted at that suggestion and flexed some more. Mettaton ignored him and continued,
'If they win they will get a lovely bag of gold to do with their own choosing – or perhaps stay at my lovely establishment.' Mettaton winked though the camera.
'And they will knock Aaron out and take his place as fighter to continue in the games – you will be known throughout the underground and held as a hero in the hearts of monsters!'
The audience cheered, and Mettaton tapped his chin with a pointy nail,
'There was something I was forgetting – oh yes, now I remember!' Mettaton smiled with many teeth.
'MTTTV is not responsible for any maiming, burning, imploding or death that may occur in the arena.'
Mettaton smiled and pointed the microphone at Aaron,
'Is their anything you would like to say to your soon to be opponent?'
'Pretty boy, there is only one thing I want to say to who wants to go against the great Aaron – I hope you have your favourite thing nearby because I plan to pour your dust all over it!' Aaron bellowed flexing with an intense shout – vein visibly pulsing in his arms, neck and chest.
A full five minutes had passed and no one stepped forward – the audience looking between themselves to see if anyone would make a move, some slipping down their chair to hide from the scanning eyes of both Aaron and Mettaton. Aaron had won the past six months so the willing contestants dwindled – the last monster to go against Aaron was suicidal and went to the battle knowing it would be their death.
'Hm, no fish biting tonight it seems.' Mettaton sighed sadly; well they could bring out a prisoner that the guards had captured – for treason against the king or something; an execution was never as fun as a battle or as rating rising for that matter.
'Bunch of yellow bellied cowards…'Papyrus began to snarl out at the fear coming from the monsters – if it wasn't his leisure time he would cut them all down. Papyrus was so busy strewing in his hatred (would put a child denied his birthday cake to shame) that he didn't notice San's eyes widen at the figure that stood and began to slowly make their way down the small aisle between the rows of seats.
San's urgently grabbed his brothers shoulder guard.
'Hey, Pap- I mean Boss!'
'What Sans, I have no time for you! This is a disaster! The worst arena battle I have had the displeasure of witnessing …' Sans grabbed his brother's face and yanked it roughly to the direction Sans was facing – breaking his brother rant, Papyrus looked ready to loose his shit but paused at the figure making their way down.
The whole stadium soon realised that a monster was standing to the challenge by seeing the figure or being nudged to the figure by their neighbours.
The monsters collectively held their breath – the most united these monsters would ever be.
The MTTTV Cameras zoomed close to the figure as they made their way down purposefully; head bowed keeping most of their expression hidden in shadow.
A slight monster by most standards with height added by the heels of the black boots – a black hooded vest with diamond pattern, a mustard yellow stained scarf dancing in the slight breeze, a beat up breast plate strapped to the monsters body, a undergarment which seemed to be made from strips of leather with buckles from belts, the monsters gauntlets was the same mustard colour of the long scarf and tipped with sharp claws.
His pants were loose against the monsters legs, not giving anything away of what type of monster it is or what they are capable of.
The only thing that was of interest was a utility belt with daggers hoisted though the loops though in the big leather pockets it could be anything.
The MTTTV camera finally zoomed in on the strangers face only to be stared back by a dark eyed, battered mask face – a long beak like mask made from bone to keep the shape and stitched leather with large glass lenses hid their eyes - it kept the strangers half face hidden while the tight scarf covered the rest.
Sans felt like he was being stared at by the figure – and he could've sworn he saw pinpricks of blue deep in those eyes, Sans matched the assumed glare but only having the figure tilt his head to the swooning Mettaton (the views are the highest they've ever been) and the flexing Aaron (feeling a little intimidated by the cool entrance of his opponent – so he flexed harder)
'I guess I'll face him.' The stranger drawled, voice muffled by the scarf but obviously deep so it must be a 'he.'
The crowd couldn't hold back the shouts even if they tried.
The fight began as soon as the figure made it down into the dirt arena, Aaron flinging a flurry of punches – the force behind them hitting the air where the contestant once stood and hitting the lower stand. A couple of screaming Temmies being flung into the air much to the delight of the onlookers. The cloaked figure was caught a bit off guard causing him to stumble in the loose dirt (a mixture of monster dust and sand). A punch hit the ground causing a shockwave making the mystery fighter do a flawless back flip out of the way, the fight continued with the smaller figure luring the bulky figure to attack (upsetting the already unsettled ground) – Aarons tail was slowly sinking into the sand unwittingly. Aaron was panting and drooling, sweat cascading down his abs and body. Something he would revel normally now it just showed how exhausting this fight was.
The dull echo Mettatron's commentary and the cheers from the crowd throbbed and thundered with Aaron heartbeat while the smaller figure didn't look to be breaking a sweat.
'Stop dodging me, and fight me like a monster!' Aaron screamed at the figure – The figure tilted his face and pulled forth a dagger. Aaron's tongue flopping out - he prepared himself for an attack - which never came.
Aaron was already halfway in the ground and the rest collapsed – his powerful arms bracing his trembling body so he wouldn't face plant in the ground. The figure calmly pressed a dagger against the fish cow, his Adam apple bobbing nervously. Aaron wondered if this is what his opponents felt like – his imposing shadow lingering over them; not knowing if he would crush their skulls or let them live with the shame of losing.
Aaron bowed his head in defeat – and when death didn't come rushing down at him he crashed down onto the ground, finally giving up the pretence of strength.
Aaron should be ashamed that he was spared, but it seemed that his death just wasn't worth it to the stranger – how strange.
The cloaked figure stared at the mass of Aaron breathing heavily, beaten and exhausted on the ground – he used his lighter build and small statue to weave though the attacks the mer bull threw at him easily enough. He was happy he didn't feel the need to use his magic – a few monsters in the stand would be perhaps too familiar of what that magic looked like and start connecting the dots.
He wondered in the deafening cheers of the crowd that if he would be able to shift his magic to look different enough not to be picked up- in case the monsters got harder to knock out.
'We have a new crowd favourite!' Mettaton gushed, ignoring the knocked out monster on the ground. Turning the mic to the new crowd favourite.
'And what name should we give our new fighter?'
'…Noir. Just call me Noir.'
Sans was mildly impressed by the fighter that went by the name Noir, the way his brothers lit up proved that he was too. But everyone was a little stunned when Mettaton gave the monster his bag of winnings,
'Now darling, everyone is dying to know who is under that mask' the robot went to reach for it but Noir weaved out of the way, turned and started to bolt out of the arena.
The monsters were too stunned to stop the figure – he was exiting were the fighters go between each battle.
'The heck…?' Sans scowled, Noir seemed too eager to leave – most monsters would revel in the glory – well and the monster all out refused to show his face just tickled his curiosity. Papyrus looked disappointed and as he turned to his brother to voice his anguish only to find Sans gone.
Noir ran down the hallways, ignoring the confused monsters – the money in a heavy bag on his hip.
'Hold your horses, boss.' Sans appeared in front of Noir causing the fighter to slide and change direction sharply.
'Fuck, you're fast!' San huffed, and teleported again.
Noir burst into the kitchen of the burger place at the front of the stadium, rushing past Burgerpants causing the cat to fling the burgers he was holding everywhere – which was when San's decided to appear to tackle Noir only to end up slipping in mustard and burgers landing on his face causing him to topple – San's was sure he bruised his pelvis and tailbone against the tiled floor. Holy crap that hurt!
He was blinded by the burger buns comically but he could hear the quick slap of boot and the glass door flinging open.
Noir was gone and could be anywhere now…Sans was too hurt to really try and bother to track the monster down.
Burgerpants was swearing his head off – pulling himself with the kitchen bench.
The familiar clack of heels stopped at San's head, and long bony flanges removed the bun.
'What the hell do you think your doing, you gluttonous buffoon – you couldn't even wait for us to get home?' Papyrus scowled at him and San's flinched a little – his brother sighed and dropped the bun over his eye again.
'Do whatever you wish, I'll be spending the night with Mettaton so I'm sure when you move your lazy arse you can spend the night at Grillbz.'
Sans was left alone on the floor in unbelievable agony.
'You better fucking pay for all of this' Burgerpants snarled at the immobile skeleton and started to clean the mess.
Noir had run as far as he could, deep in the volcanic Hotlands – his exhaustion already catching up to him. Noir pulled his sleeve up – another shirt was revealed to further pad his form to reveal an odd contraption – similar to a watch with a dial, a red wedge is what the clock hand was on.
Red, yellow, blue, orange and black was the colours on the clock face.
Noir felt a little bad at him having this thing – in his defence it was found in the garbage when he wanted a little alone time…he had no idea that it would work. He went to the library to see if he could find anything about it – he found nil. He was tempted to show…no, he could figure this out himself.
Besides, if his so called friends were lying to him surely there was no shame for him keeping secrets from them?
Giving Noir as a false name was something he just came up with, a human word he read and was curious enough to look up the meaning.
Noir fiddled with the dial to shift it to the blue wedge – Noir felt the reality pull and tug at his body, he pulled off the mask revealing the sweaty, round face of Sans though this one had bright blue eyes compared with red of this universe. Rather than the bright glowing stars in his eyes he had a somewhat serious look in his eyes.
He had a determined look on his face – if Alphes wasn't going to seriously train him to be a guard than he will get stronger by any means – even if he has to go to different realities to achieve this.
He will prove her wrong.
He will prove them wrong.
With a final beep he felt the magic compress and stretch around him. Slapping the dial, he began to exit the world with a flash of light and a determined though a bit of a forced smile.
He will prove his brother, Papyrus – wrong.
A/N Sup all - xposted from my AOW account, otherangela. please review :) i'm curious on the crowds between both sites.