Disclaimer: Deltarune is owned by Toby Fox. I just write about it in my spare time.
All Alone on a Late Night
It was late at night, and Spamton was staring at a nice pair of legs. A pair of mechanical shins wearing heel boots of steel, to be more precise. They were supposed to be part of a giant robot the Queen had commissioned. Spamton wondered why she would bother building such a thing. What was she going to use it for? Was she planning on getting into a huge mecha fight? How was this thing going to move, anyway?
Spamton was standing around in the middle of the lobby in the Queen's mansion, bored. Visiting hours had ended long ago, and certain areas were already roped off. The Color Café, which he had been previously, had just closed down for the night. There were two options that he could think of: go out and find himself another bar to hang out at, or go back to his room and still be bored.
Now that he thought about it, that one cyber grill he used to go to would be open for a few more hours. No, never mind, he didn't want to go there.
...Too many bad memories.
Not knowing any other bars off the top of his head, Spamton summoned up a vidscreen to look some up. It looked like all of the places that were still open at this hour were either on the other side of the city, or located in shady areas. Never mind, he had enough drinks tonight, anyway. Sighing, he headed up the stairs to the residential section.
As he walked down the long hallway to his room, something caught his eye. Halfway between the lobby and the residences was a single door off by itself. It didn't look any different from the other doors; it was purple with the Queen's face carved on it. However, this was rumored to be the door to Swatch's workshop, where they created special works of art for the Queen - and, if the rumors were true, the Lightners themselves. Spamton didn't know for certain of course, because the door was always locked.
...But tonight, it was open a crack. A sliver of golden light was pouring out, practically beckoning him inside.
If he was smart, he'd keep walking. If he was smarter, he'd close the door and then walk away. But he was far too bored and restless to make a smart decision. After all, a quick peek wouldn't hurt anything would it? He wouldn't even go inside; he'd just look from the doorway, and if he heard any footsteps, he'd leave immediately. Swatch wouldn't even know he was there!
With that, he nudged the door open and poked his head in. The place looked like a combination garage and art gallery. Paintings were meticulously hung up on the walls, or neatly stacked up against each other on the floor. Most of them were the Queen's flamethrower portraits that had yet to be armed. There was, however, an unframed animated .GIF of a dancing banana, and a framed picture of a small white dog. A group of blank vases were in one corner, waiting to have the Queen's face painted on them. In the center of the room was a teacup seat that was missing its handle. Surrounding it were a group of those concrete balls that were used to punish intruders that were riding unauthorized rides. Along one wall was a laminate benchtop with flamethrower components and tools organized in bins. Next to it was a row of bright yellow metal cabinets with flammable liquid warnings.
At first, Spamton was a bit disappointed; this place was more like a storage room than the magical workshop the hype made it out to be. But then he noticed there were doors leading elsewhere. Near the flamethrower bench was a fireproof steel door that had "TESTING AREA" printed on it. Among the paintings on the opposite wall was a plain purple door labeled "ART ROOM." And all the way in the back, hiding behind the unfinished teacup, was another door that simply said "MANAGEMENT ONLY."
That piqued Spamton's interest. What did Swatch have hiding back there that only they were allowed access to? Again, he realized that if he knew what was good for him, he'd leave now. But he had just a little too much to drink tonight, so he found himself looking around to see if the coast was clear instead. When was he ever going to get an opportunity like this again?
He slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. If the door was locked, he'd leave. If it wasn't, he'd just take another quick peek. His butler buddy would be none the wiser!
Spamton walked up to the "MANAGEMENT ONLY" door and found that it was indeed unlocked. He opened it to find what looked like a proper art gallery. Hanging from the walls were paintings done by many different artists. Most of them were colorful scribbles, but a few coherent ones stood out: a blue bird flexing ridiculously oversized muscles, a snake in a backwards hat somehow skiing down a snowy slope, and a very detailed portrait of a cat creature contemplating an egg.
The secret gallery also had several sculptures on display, which sat on pedestals and were protected by energy barriers. Like the paintings, most of them were just abstract geometric shapes. Among the more realistic ones were a vase of flowers, a fir decorated with lights and round ornaments that Lightners referred to as a "Christmas tree," a cutesy human-like creature with Tasque-like ears and tail, and a not-so-cute monster that resembled a horse made out of severed legs.
But what really caught Spamton's attention was the giant statue in the middle of the room. It was a thin, metal humanoid that was so tall, its head almost touched the ceiling. It had long, lanky limbs, and a pair of sharp-edged, mismatched wings on its back - one pink and yellow, the other green and blue. Its body was painted magenta and black with a yellow panel in the center of its chest. Its head had black, spiky metal "hair," and a gaping hole where its face should have been. Unlike the other sculptures, this one was standing on a short platform with only velvet stanchion ropes around it.
Entranced, Spamton forgot all about just taking "a quick peek" and walked right up to it for a closer look. He stepped over the ropes and lifted one of its long forearms. He found wires and gears between this thing's joints - this wasn't a statue, it was machine! Did Swatch build this themself? Or was it those Lightners they supposedly had contact with?
As he admired the handiwork by flexing its long, white fingers, he suddenly heard the noise of motors and fans whirring to life. The thing didn't move, but its triangular chest panel blinked and lit up. Wires throughout its body glowed a dim green. Shocked, Spamton let go of the arm and took a step back. The machine went dark almost immediately as the whole thing powered down. What was that all about?
As he grabbed its hand again to see if it would light back up, he suddenly heard voices out in the hall. He immediately dropped the limb and listened closely. All he could hear was the metal joints creaking as the arm swayed from side to side. After holding the arm still, Spamton listened again for the voices - it could just be some Swatchlings or other mansion residents.
Unfortunately for him, one of the voices was unmistakably Swatch's. He had to get out of here, fast! Spamton turned to run, only to trip over the ropes. He fell flat on his face with a loud thump.
"Did anyone hear that?" Swatch's muffled voice asked. It sounded like they were right outside.
Spamton scrambled to his feet. He knew if ran outside, he'd be instantly spotted; he was going to have to find someplace to hide. He scanned his surroundings for anything he could hide behind, but the only thing he could find were a bunch of lamps in the corner. It just so happened that these lamps were the same shade of red as the suit he was wearing...
He heard the door open. "Oh my, I left this unlocked," Swatch's smooth voice remarked. The door closed right afterward. Spamton silently prayed that Swatch just locked the door and left, but he had no such luck; he could hear their footsteps coming closer.
Moments later, the head butler entered the room and walked into the gallery with a new painting. Following them was a random Tasque that probably just wandered in with them. Spamton stood perfectly still among the lamps with a shade over his head, desperately pretending to be just another lighting fixture.
Thankfully, Swatch paid him no mind as they looked for an empty spot on the wall to hang their newest portrait. The Tasque, however, seemed to sense something was amiss, and padded over to him.
Spamton could only watch helplessly as the head butler took what felt like hours to find the perfect place for the painting. Meanwhile, the Tasque sniffed his shoes and looked up at him from underneath his lampshade. When it discovered that he was not, in fact, a well-dressed lamp, it started rubbing up against his legs.
When Swatch finally found a satisfactory place for the portrait, they held it out at arm's length. "I wonder if I have a frame big enough for this?" they mused to themselves.
Oh no. They weren't seriously thinking of framing that thing right now, were they?
"Mrrrow?" asked the Tasque, who was curious as to why Spamton wasn't petting it.
Fortunately for the distressed spambot, Swatch set the painting down and leaned it against a wall. "I suppose I should wait until tomorrow to frame it," they said. Spamton let out a deep sigh of relief as quietly as he could.
But just as he thought he was in the clear, Swatch turned around and noticed the giant robot was now leaning slightly to one side. "Oh my! What happened here?" they said as they stepped over the ropes.
Spamton gritted his teeth as he watched the butler endlessly fuss over the machine, trying to get it to stand perfectly upright. Every time he thought they were done, they would step back and adjust it again. Meanwhile, the Tasque was batting at his legs with a paw, growing impatient for attention.
After what felt like several more hours, Swatch was finally satisfied with the robot's pose, and stepped back over the ropes.
"I really hope that Lightner comes back for this one," they remarked. "It would be such a waste of talent to have to put something like this in the basement."
Basement? The mansion had a basement?
Spamton was shaken out of his thoughts by a sharp sting. The Tasque had gotten tired over the lack of pettings was now defiantly kneading his leg. He bit his lower lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried his hardest not to make a noise.
"Timberly, what are you doing over there?" Swatch asked. The Tasque, upon hearing its name called, stopped clawing the boring spambot, and wandered over to the butler. Maybe they would give it some attention!
"Come little one, you're not supposed to be back here," Swatch continued as they herded the feline program out of the gallery. "Let's get you back to your Manager."
The butler turned the light off before they and the Tasque left the room. However, Spamton remained absolutely still until he heard the outside door close. He then let out a much deeper breath, this time not caring about how loud he was.
Fortunately, he was not in complete darkness; the energy barriers around the sculptures provided him with some dim light as he took the shade off his head and stepped out from behind the lamps. Spamton took one last look at the robot before heading back into the workshop. He wished it was his. He had no idea what he'd use it for, but he still wanted it. Maybe if that Lightner never claimed it, he could buy it off Swatch...?
He'd have to to think about it later. Right now, he needed to get back to his room before his butler pal decided they were going to frame that new painting after all. He walked up to the door and listened closely. Silence.
He cautiously opened the door to an empty hallway. Perfect. It looked like smooth sailing from here.
It was then that the white dog in that one painting turned out not to be so two-dimensional after all as it leaped right off the canvas. It landed on a stack of Queen portraits, which toppled over onto the unfinished vases. There was a sickening crash of pottery being crushed into a million pieces as the dog zoomed out the open door, leaving Spamton with its aftermath.
Panicking, the spambot slammed the door behind him and sprinted down the hall at top speed. He did not look around or listen for any shouts. He just kept running until he was at his door, where he nearly ripped it off his hinges as he dove inside. He locked every lock and shoved a chair in front of it before crumpling to the ground, exhausted and on the verge of overheating.
After finally catching his breath, he slowly picked himself up off the floor. "Holy [Cungadero], was that ever a close one," he mumbled to himself. He winced at the strange vocal glitch; those were becoming more frequent, and that bothered him.
Spamton sat down on the couch and loosened his tie. Well, no one was banging on his door, so it was safe to assume no one saw him. Such a shame that Swatch would have to walk into a mess tomorrow.
It was then that his vintage black telephone rang. He immediately picked it up, as there was only one person who called that number anymore.
"Hi, Mike," Spamton said into the receiver.
"Hey Spammy ol' boy, how ya doin'?" Mike's deep, bombastic voice replied. "I'm surprised I caught you at home! I thought you might be out havin' a drink or something!"
"Nope. I'm stuck at home [On A Saturday Night]," the spambot replied. "What about you? Any new clients for me?"
"Oh, don't worry, this isn't a business call," Mike said. "Truth is, I'm stuck at home too! I just called to see how you were doin'!"
Spamton smiled. At least one person still cared. "Oh, I'm doing okay, I guess," he said. "It's been pretty [Peace And Quiet] over here."
Mike apparently wasn't convinced. "You sure? You sound sorta rattled."
The spambot paused. Should he tell him? Oh, why not, it couldn't hurt anything. He picked up the phone and walked as far away from the door as he could, just in case.
"Well, if you really wanna know," he said, keeping his voice down. "I finally got to see the inside of [Big Bird's] workshop."
"Really? Do tell!"
"Most of it is pretty boring. It's where they work on the Queen's traps," Spamton continued. "Oh, but [You Won't Believe What Happens Next!] they've got some kind of robot hiding in the back!"
"A robot? Is it the same one the Queen is building?"
"Oh no, this one's much smaller. But it's a lot more [3 Surefire Beauty Tips], I'd say. Supposedly, a Light ner built it, but they never came back for it."
"Uh-huh," Mike's voice now sounded concerned. "Could you tell me more about this robot? Like maybe what it looks like?"
"Well, it's really tall and mostly pink. And it's got [Gives You Wings]." Spamton suddenly remembered something important. "[But That's Not All!] It did [One Weird Trick] [No One Expected]! When I touched it, it started to activate!"
Mike was oddly quiet for a few moments. "Activate? You mean it started to move?"
"Well no, not like that. Its lights turned on."
"Hmmmm, you know Spam," the mysterious business partner said, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you really like this robot!"
"Oh yeah! I wish I could have it!" Spamton replied. "But then I'd [Need To Confess] to [Tweety Bird] that I was in their [Television Workshop]."
"Well don't you worry your little head about it," Mike said, "because I think I know a way to get it for you!"
The spambot's face lit up. "You do?!"
"Yep! I think I can pull a few strings on my end," the voice said. "It might take me awhile, though. In the meantime, I gotta get going. We can talk more about this tomorrow."
"Uh, okay. [Sure Thing, Boss]."
"G'night Spam!"
"Night, Mike."
Spamton hung up the phone and returned it to its place on the table next to the couch. He then changed out of his red suit (which now had Tasque pixels all over its pantlegs) into his pajamas. Not feeling particularly tired, however, he pulled up a vidscreen and searched for some videos. Maybe somebody had some episodes of Love Hospital he could download.
He couldn't help but wonder what Mike was going to do to get him that robot. He also wasn't sure what he was going to do with it if Mike succeeded. It may not have been as big as the Queen's mech was going to be, but it was certainly going to be hard finding a place for it! Whatever he was going to do, he sure hoped Mike could do it before the thing was thrown in the basement, or worse, scrapped.
Spamton shifted in his seat. He had this nagging feeling that he shouldn't have told Mike anything, and he wasn't sure why. Oh well, it was probably just his imagination.
And hey, it looked like somebody had not only uploaded the entire Love Hospital series, they also had the missing episodes too. Looks like tonight wouldn't be so boring after all!
The End
