Note: Story will be updated every week or sooner until completion.

Rain drizzled down the city streets, washing the buildings in a soothing blanket. A warm and cozy yellow glow emitted from the street lamps below, not hiding from the night's darkness, but sleeping with it comfortably. Cars surfed by, sending a gentle splash of water across the chill asphalt. Little speckles of water wandered lazily across my window, meshing with one another or simply sliding down the glass if they felt inclined to.

Ah, the city that never sleeps… It would be weird if it did, because cities are inanimate and therefore never feel tired. Just like me, Great Detective Papyrus! (Nyeh heh heh! etc.) I sipped delicious spaghetti sauce from my coffee mug and watched over the streets. Not a crime or mystery unsolved since I came here! Although, there wasn't much crime or mystery before either, but that's not the point! I keep this city clean.

My chair creaked lightly as I leaned back away from the window. They'd be safe for now while I just turn away for a moment.

Across my beautiful mahogany wood desk lay several of my most recently solved mysteries and cases. The great case of the missing Tem Arfitact, the mysterious next-door-vandalism, and the old wives' tale of the ghostly sewer cries! That second one was a doozy of a case, however, because it turned out the culprit was none other than my own partner! Undyne! Nyeh!?

Luckily for us, we paid the mysterious fine fees and my partner made sure to stay at least 100 feet away from that building at all times. Case closed!

Speaking of which, my partner was particularly antsy tonight. Her cigarette (which I don't approve of, by the way!) shifted constantly between her lips, puffs of smoke huffing out at a rapid pace. A couple fiery embers fell on her poor battered trench coat, but she never seemed to care about that thing's appearance anyway.

She leaned against our many filing cabinets, (while not all filled with cases just yet. Some held my excess spaghetti reserves instead) and kept her arms tight around her chest. That lone eye of hers glared forward, not at me, but at the rainy window behind my well-structured body. I knew that look. That was the look of mystery!

I swiveled my chair excitedly and returned my gaze to the streets. My bones itched for another case! That's when I saw a rather peculiar pedestrian. A big boxy fellow, zooming across the slippery sidewalks on a single wheel, balancing himself with an interesting dignity. In his dainty metal hands, he held a stylish umbrella with a large golden star painted atop it, made to grab attention certainly. While he had no face, merely only blinking lights across his square body, I could tell he was in distress!

The rainy robot entered our building from the street floor (our office was on the second floor!) and curiously enough, I could swear that the door slammed with an almost dramatic flair to it. He was sure to visit me though, the Great Detective Papyrus! Just to be clear on who I am again. It's important.

I stoically faced my partner and stood tall, a readied and determined look in my eye sockets. "HOW DO I LOOK, UNDYNE?" I asked, sweat dripping down my skull. Not because I was nervous, but because the rain had somehow gotten me through the window! I forgot to mention that.

Her cigarette's fiery glow dimly lit her frowning face in the dark spot of our office. I should really get more lamps. With a gulp, she swallowed the tiny thing. "Your coat is fine as always, but I think the fedora is a bit much. Humans really ruined that, you know."

"B-BUT! I FEEL SO MYSTERIOUS AND HANDSOME IN IT!" I said, mysteriously and handsomely.

Before Undyne was about to cave and admit that I do look good in my hat, a knocking interrupted her. That bionic box was here, and I wasn't about to leave our customer waiting.

"Door's open. Come in," Undyne mumbled rather rudely. She snapped her claw-like nails together and created a couple sparks which she used to light another cigarette.

The not-so-rusty robot rolled in on rainy wheels. If he had legs, I assume they would be up to here. I'm not quite sure what height 'here' is, but many grizzled detectives happen to note their clients leg length in conjunction to their nearness to 'here.' As I am one of those grizzled detectives, I feel required to note down such an important detail.

"WHAT CAN WE DO FOR YOU, SIR?" I asked grizzledly, sitting back against my chair.

The classy computer composed himself, cupping his hands together. He seemed to be creating a dramatic pause. "I'd like you two to solve…" The lights on his chassis went dark. Another pause. "A murder."

"GASP!" I gasped. Undyne merely eyed the airy automaton skeptically. "WHOSE MURDER SHALL WE INVESTIGATE?"

Dramatic pause. I could almost feel a camera zooming in on our client's body. I began to sweat profusely; the suspense was killing me! A drink from my mug would calm m-

"My own!"

Double gasp! What a twist! And before the case even started!

I spat my spagoffie (spaghetti coffee) across my pristine desk. My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at the shock. Undyne wasn't impressed, although I am uncertain as to why. "HOW CAN WE INVESTIGATE YOUR MURDER, SIR, UHH…"

"Mettaton," he breathed theatrically.

"METTATON, YES…" Sounded familiar. "HOW CAN WE INVESTIGATE YOUR OWN MURDER WHEN YOU LOOK TO BE VERY MUCH ALIVE?" I scratched at my chin in thought, wishing I could grow a rugged beard to really fit the part.

The marvelous metal machine known as Mettaton momentarily meditated. "Surely you recognize that name, don't you?" For a brief moment, he lost that flair of his. "What kind of crappy detective…" he muttered under his metal mantle. I probably just heard that wrong.

That's when it clicked! Mystery solved! This majestic motor man was none other than Mettaton! A huge star here in this metropolis and around the globe! "I'M SORRY, MR. METTATON. I'VE SEEN YOU ON TV QUITE A BIT, BUT YOU LOOKED DIFFERENT. YOU SEEM TO BE MISSING SOMETHING NOW…"

The riveting robo was waiting for this. "My body!?" he exclaimed, thrilled he could yell it so dramatically. "Exactly. My fabulous body!" A spotlight appeared on him. How? There are no spotlights in my office? "I was murdered! Molested! Manhandled! M-"

"Get to the point, for god's sake," Undyne growled, annoyed. I was quite enthralled by the theatrics myself, however.

Spotlight flickering off, the sparkles he emanated fell to the floor ungracefully. The sighing cyborg's blinking lights grayed as he felt his soul sucked from him. "Somebody stole the body I use for television," he said bluntly. "I use this body you see now to go about my day, knowing no one will recognize me." He pulled out a mirror from an unknown compartment and began ogling himself. "I'm still a sexy square, of course, but I need that other body for my adoring fans!"

Ah, yes. It was all coming together now. I reached for my notepad, pen, and paper and readied myself to ask another important question. "DO YOU-"

"Do you have any idea who would want your body? You suspect anyone?" Undyne asked.

Aw.

The ecstatic electronic tossed his mirror away casually with a loud shatter. "Oh my, I'm sure everyone wants that body of mine!" Mettaton began wiping himself down with a loose rag just thinking about it. "Why anyone who watches my shows would want it!"

"IT IS A NICE BODY."

Undyne nodded in agreement. "But why come to us? Surely someone of your financial situation and celebrity level would prefer a more experienced…"

"NONSENSE!" I interrupted with a shout. "CLEARLY HE CAME TO US AFTER SEEING OUR PAST WORK AND-"

"No." Double interrupted! Dang! "I came to you two because barely anyone knows you losers even exist," Mettaton said, wagging a finger. His demeanor seemed to change at the flip of a switch. "From what I gather, you idiots don't even ask for pay." A skull animated itself on his chest now. "Also, if you two die or worse, no one will miss you or figure out what happened."

Ouch. That was certainly rude and did sting quite a bit, but I was sure this Mettaton fellow was just having a bad day. After all, he did lose his body. It was understandable to be a little grumpy.

Undyne grinded her fangs together angrily, shredding the cigarette into tiny little pieces. "You really think we're gonna help you with that kind of attitude?"

I slammed my bony palm on my desk, splattering spaghetti sauce. "WE'LL TAKE THE CASE!"