"-and! I'm now happy to report! I'm in tiptop condition!"
It was funny how the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. The "emergency" news broadcast was filmed in a red suit and yellow tie, the only addition to his attire being the little gold tiara that contrasted nicely against black hair. It wasn't the real crown, goodness no! That one didn't match the outfit. The tiara was only there to serve as a not-so-subtle reminder, and as a meaningful accessory. That despite the fact he was stationed at a familiar desk, in a familiar outfit and a familiar face. Same MTT-time, same MTT-channel. Things were in fact different.
"So! Again, I do deeply apologize for my little...hiccup." A mock of being bashful, pretty giggle rising from his throat as he covered his mouth and averted his eye from the camera. "But! With that pesky little bug squashed, I'm more than happy to continue the forum! I'm sure I didn't even begin to sate your curiosities."
There was another thing that hadn't changed one bit, no matter how short of notice, how inconvenient of time. If Mettaton said he was hosting a liveshow, you went to Mettaton's liveshow. Monsters rushed to fill seats, and there was never an empty chair. Perhaps it was the excitement of seeing Mettaton in person, maybe it was because everyone had questions of the new king. Realistically, it was probably a healthy mix of both. Dozens of eyes trained on Mettaton in anticipation as he rose from his desk chair. Pausing momentarily as a stagehand rushed out from backstage to fasten his fur-lined cloak around his shoulders. They had to stretch to reach, Mettaton being a fair bit taller than them. It didn't help Mettaton made no efforts to help. Once they were done, he haphazardly flopped against the hot pink chaise sat on the opposite end of the stage. One leg slung over the other, and he pressed his cheek into his palm.
"So, ask away, darlings! Please line up at the microphone - oh! Oh goodness! One at a time loves, one at a time! Please remember to stay behind the black line until called-" He watched with small amusement as the audience scrambled to leave their seats. Monsters pushing and shoving as they fought to get to a better place in line. Guards having to step in to settle these small scuffles without further escalation. Momentarily, Mettaton thought maybe he should've called by raised hand. But - he had been advised that the purpose of a public forum was to well, be public. Meaning everyone who had a question should get a chance to. His favorite stagehand, a Cocker Spaniel monster, sat in the front row next to the microphone stand. Once the line had settled some, she gave the go-ahead for the first monster to come up past the line taped to the floor. The first monster was a water elemental in rubber rain boots, her "hair" tied back into a ponytail. Her eyes squinted in what Mettaton assumed to be her way of smiling as she trotted up to the microphone. Hands folded behind her back, clearly making an effort not to get the electronics wet.
"Hey! So, uh, this is a question that's been buggin' me for a while actually." The girl scratched at her cheek. Her skin denting slightly like gelatin. "Uhm, so you know Muffet, right? Spider lady, hangs out in the CORE? She works near your resort, and uh..other places."
Ah...Muffet. Mettaton knew the spider woman very well, unfortunately. He wasn't the fondest of her. What had started as a simple business rivalry had grown more personal when she became sweet on his cousin. And then, ohoho, and then his hatred grew even more profound when she actually acted on her feelings. Because how dare she! Of course, poor Muffet didn't know what kind of family ties she was getting into when she started seeing Mads, and it's not as if that was an easily broached topic, and- and...Actually, you know, this was family drama. Family drama he shouldn't be pondering over on live television and allowing to influence his decisions as a ruler. As a bonus, it probably wouldn't look good to show personal disdain for one of his subjects. Especially considering a part of Asgore's charm had been that he was friends with just about everyone. So...he just nodded along to the water girl's question.
"Oh, well aware! Who doesn't know her? It's not as if she makes herself hard to find, after all. Either way, go on." He twirled his hand in a circle to further prompt her.
The water girl's eyes lit up pale yellow in delight, "Hey, great! Saves me a lil time. So, anyways, uh - what's like...up with her?" Probably realizing how vague that sounded, she shook her head. Small water droplets flicking off her body from the movement and getting some of the people around her caught in the splash zone. "Ah, sorry, lemme explain. So like, we do have some sort of food quality laws down here, don't we? So how come her bakery operation is like...exempt? Doesn't she like, have bugs in her food? That doesn't really sound legal."
Mettaton's pupil shifted into a star, face lighting up in delight. And, this time he didn't have to force the grin spreading across his face. Because he was about to do the most petty thing in his entire career, and he was absolutely living for it.
"Oh my, darling," Mettaton gasped, cupping hands around his face, mouth dropped into an O, really hamming it up. "You're absoLUTELY right! That's terrible! Just dreadful! Bound to make someone sick! Oh goodness gracious, what if it has already?" The shocked expression shifted to a more thoughtful one, tapping his fingers against his lips and humming, "My, my, I'm not sure how Asgore could've overlooked it this long. My goodness, bless him, but he always was a soft heart-" Mettaton didn't even have to look at the crowd to know he was being judged harshly for that comment, luckily he expected this, and was quick to make up for it. "Oh, of course, nothing wrong with such a trait! It's part of the reason he was so beloved! But, you know, sometimes for the sake of public health and safety, personal feelings should be put aside…"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement he could only assume was nods of approval and murmurs of agreement. Recovery successful!
"I'll see to it that her operations are shut down immediately! Thank you so much for bringing it to my attention, darling!"
The elemental balked, a small ripple spreading through her body like a stone in a pond. "O-oh! I mean, you don't need to do that, man! Maybe just you know, ask her to exclude the bugs?"
But lo, Mettaton was no longer listening. She'd asked her question and recieved an answer, no need to drag it out any longer. Especially considering he had many, many questions to get to. So he just waggled his fingers goodbye as a guard gently guided her away from the mic.
Next up was actually two monsters. A brown-furred bear cub bounced a few times, paws spread to the air to try and grab the microphone from it's stand. After the youngling's third tried and failed attempt, the larger bear monster beside him - presumably his mother - sighed and took it down for him. She leaned over slightly so he could snatch it from her grasp. The cub pressed the mic uncomfortably close to his mouth, heavy breathing reverberating through the surround sound as he gazed up at Mettaton with wide, sparkling eyes.
"Can you get rid of the snowball tax?"
Up until that point, Mettaton had found the display rather charming. Dare he say adorable. Giving a patient smile to the kid as he watched his battle with the mic stand. The question though...the question uh, threw him off completely.
Blinking once, twice, all Mettaton could think to reply with was; "Uh...pardon me, hun?"
The cub was quick to elaborate, "There's a tax on snowballs, mama said so. It's that I gotta give her 1g every time I throw a snowball at someone. Can you get ridda it?" Mettaton opened his mouth to respond that perhaps this wasn't his place but - the cub kept going before he could get any words out. "I don't gotta lot of money. I only get my allowance every other weekend, and I only get 30g but I had to ask mama a lot to get her to raise it to that cause before I only got 20g and-" And on, and on, and on, and on...about snowballs, and allowances, and the bully at school who really deserved to be hit with snowballs sometimes, and-
My god, he just kept going .
Mettaton's jaw hung open at how much the little guy had to say, looking at mama bear with a look that could only be read as "help?". She let out a deep sigh, dragging a paw down her face and shaking her head slightly as she mumbled something to herself that Mettaton didn't quite catch. Looked down to her cub, back at Mettaton, pulled a face - and finally gave the absolute tiniest of nods.
"Well!" Mettaton was quick to cut off the little bear (who, yes, was still going) once he had been given the go-ahead. The cub immediately shut his trap, looking at Mettaton in attentive silence. "You make some very compelling points! Erm - apologies, I don't believe I got your name?"
"Well, it's Tim. But my mama calls me Timmy, and so do my friends sometimes. My dad messes up and calls me Tom a lot cause he forgets a lot and-"
"Timmy!" Mettaton snapped, forcing a grin so wide his cheeks hurt and voice coming out a bit strained. Trying to get the cub to - and goodness he hated to be rude to children but - god please just hush, be quiet, shoosh. "Lovely! Wonderful name! Consider the snowball tax done away with!"
Mama bear let out another sigh through her nose. Timmy opened his mouth to start up again, but to Mettaton's relief she took the mic from his paws before he could. She placed it gingerly back in it's stand, and dragged her cub back to their seats. Timmy waved his free paw goodbye at Mettaton before he disappeared into the aisles.
Monster number 3 blinked it's one eye uncomfortably between Mettaton and the retreating child, but quickly took to the mic and cleared their throat. "I had a question about the royal guard, actually." They began.
Oh! Mettaton was excited to hear this, actually. Because this was one of the things he had given quite a bit of thought to!
"Well with Undyne uh...gone.." They faltered over the statement, as if it hurt them to say it. And really, who could blame them? The loss of Undyne was a sore subject for everyone. She had been beloved, an idol for many. A lot of monsters had lived their whole lives only knowing Undyne as the captain.
Many...but not all. Because, personally? Mettaton had never gotten the appeal. Sure, she would be missed, and had been missed. And he wasn't so heartless to say that he didn't understand those mourning. Understood, but couldn't say he could sympathize. He did try to! But...honestly he had never cared for Undyne, important figure or not. She was rude to him, and loud. Once he saw her wash her hair in the rain and to this day the memory squicked him out. Even when he lived on the farm he never liked her, she had never tried to be a good neighbor as far as he was aware. Many lovely childhood memories of Mads having to go over and yell at her to quiet down, she was scaring the snails. And it had to be Mads, because Napsta would just mutter to themselves that it was fine, don't worry about it, and Mettaton at the time was well...a kid. Screamfests were so much fun to overhear! (Not.) Just...ugh. He didn't like her, never would've liked her. He had always questioned why of all women, Alphys had chosen Undyne to be infatuated with.
Oh - wait - cyclops monster was still speaking. Should he be paying more attention? Probably.
"-so, uh, sorry for rambling so long. But I guess bottom line is, do you have an idea for replacement captain?"
"Very good question!" Mettaton began, hoping he hadn't missed too much additional details while he'd been zoned out. "Actually, I've been reworking the guard. For as long as anyone can remember, their duties have primarily been human-hunting and peacekeeping. But...well, let's face it, darlings. Neither of those happen quite often. The first human to have fallen down here in - goodness - decades - slipped through their grasp with devastating results, and...there's not really much crime. I feel as if - I feel as if the title has lost meaning." He frowned, "The guard has been, and I hate to say this. A bit...useless for some time. They've gotten rusty at their most important task due to lack of doing anything. So! I've separated the guard into various, er…"task forces"." He enunciated this with air quotes, "Some work on MPE, some work stationed throughout the Underground, some are my personal bodyguards, et cetera, et cetera. Once projects finish up, I'll reassign them to new ones that are surely to pop up. The thing is with this new guard, though, is it makes it difficult to have one singular person over the entirety of these widely ranging duties." He shrugged, shifting on his chaise to fold his hands behind his head. "Right now the guard answers directly to me, in the future I might assign heads to each faction. But right now, I don't really see need to."
Mettaton actually felt rather smart with his answer! See, he did have this whole king thing in the bag! His ego only being further fueled as he noticed a few monsters in the front row shrug and nod along with his long-winded explanation. The one-eyed monster that had asked the question also seemed pleased with this explanation.
"Oh! I see! That makes a lot of sense actually! Uh, thank you!"
And so it goes. Monsters took their turns to the mic, some asking more serious questions than others, some asking weirder personal questions. Some questions more...interesting than others. Faces blurred together, and soon enough Mettaton stopped committing appearances to memory entirely.
"Do you plan to appoint an heir?"
"I don't plan on dying anytime soon, love."
"Can I get an autograph?"
"Of course! But after the show."
"So like - my mom died - not to the human actually like 3 years ago. Her house has been empty since then and I've been trying to inherit it-"
"You should speak with my secretary about that, if you can find where he's wandered off to."
"Do you plan to hire a new royal scientist?"
"Next question."
"What are glamburgers made of if you're a vegetarian?"
"Don't worry about it!"
More and more questions came, Mettaton becoming increasingly comfortable with both answering, and well just in general. To the question of advisors, he sang high praise of Papyrus. Law clarifications? Easy peasy. Was he still planning on running his show regularly? What about the resort? Both fears he put to rest very quickly with reassurances he would never dream of anything of the sort. So on, so forth.
At about the two hour mark, Mettaton had gotten so relaxed he'd sprawled across his chaise, eyes closed and balancing a curly straw between his teeth that lead from a champagne flute. Filled with sparkling water, not alcohol. One of his stangehands had brought it to him not long ago. Why had he gotten so stressed out about this before? This was easy! Even a bit fun!
At hour four, Mettaton had rolled over onto his belly, chin nestled in his folded arms. If one was none the wiser, he looked like he was napping. Actually - he kind of was, only taking in words he thought were important, giving quick answers to meet the bare minimum, the rest of his energy going to trying to keep himself barely enough awake. As he got a break inbetween monsters, he yawned wide, propping his face up with his hand.
"I feel like it's about time I call it a night, lovelies!" He chimed, "I'll take a few more questions and then I'll have to retreat to my quarters. Even robots need their beauty sleep! Now, next please!"
The noise that echoed into the microphone as the next monster stepped forward caused Mettaton to snap straight to attention. Eye snapping open, pushing himself straight up on his chaise and staring down at who had just snatched the mic off it's stand in...fear? Confusion? Awe? Green eyes, a twisted grin - pink kitty ears and jingling bells as a matching pink tail swished back and forth across the floor. Speak, or offhandedly think of, the devil and she shall appear...
"Where's my 20 bucks?"
Mettaton groaned, deflating into his chair as he ran fingers through his hair. His usually smooth and sultry voice turning into a frustrated whine. "Mads, is this really necessary? I'm busy -"
It was fascinating how quickly his show persona disappeared when faced with something, someone, he was on casual terms with. When faced with the wrath of his cousin's very very annoyingly timed demands. Very few people ever saw this more "real" side of him, in fact, some of the crowd seemed shocked when his regular voice came out. Not the smooth baritone most were familiar with; his regular speaking voice was actually a bit higher-pitched and more well...natural sounding. Yes, even his voice was a part of the act.
More nerve-wracking jingling sounded out as the anime cat girl from hell shook her head, "Nahnahnah, don't you "I'm busy" me." Mads sneered, the face of her new body twisting into a yellow-toothed snarl. "I know you got it. I mean it's pretty fuckin' obvious you got it mister high society. So where the hell is it?"
" Correctionnn-" Mettaton snapped, holding up one finger and shifting to sit on his knees. "No money ever passed between us. It was a stupid bet and I cannot believe you've held onto it this long."
"A bet you lost! Fair and square! And everytime I fuckin' ask you about it you blow me off and tell me you'll do it later!"
The remaining crowd, those who either hadn't gotten a question in, wanted to see the full show, or had decided they had nothing better to do with their night than attend a show that had started to stretch into the witching hours. No matter the reason they'd stayed, they at this moment had one thing in common; confusion. A lot of confusion. Who...was this girl exactly? How did she know Mettaton this well? A bet?
The star himself was becoming increasingly flustered as he was chewed out in front of a live audience, and his increasing blush was broadcasted to every TV set in the Underground. Quiet snickering amongst the crowd didn't go missed, and embaressment started to turn slowly into boiling panic. They were laughing at him. He was being laughed at.
"Mads, Maddie, darling, angel - ca-can we talk about this after the show?" Mettaton tried to regain composure, offer compromise, diffuse the situation. He'd even attempted to dress once more in show-facade. Voice returning to the deepness most were familiar with, but it kept cracking into something more squeaky and strained as he babbled on. He was being mocked - in front of his people, in front of his audience . He wondered if he was having a panic attack.
"Oh, there you go again!" Mads huffed, rolling her eyes over dramatically. "Excuses, excuses, excuses. Every fuckin' time!" The spot on the floor under her tail must've been swept spotless by now, what with all the angry twitching. "It's been years-"
"EXACTLY!" Mettaton barked in return, his closest stagehand flinching at the sudden shouting. "It's been years! Let! It! Go!"
"Not until you pay me."
Exasperated, embarrassed, exhausted, many other words starting with ex, and just plain wanting this situation to end. A very strained whine came from somewhere in his voicebox, " Fine."
Stretching his leg out, he shoved his hand underneath the hem of his leggings, against his hip, produced from seemingly nowhere a wallet covered in pastel pink fur and sparkles, dug out a fistful of bills, and shoved it at that same stagehand that had gotten startled by his yelling. All the while Mads punctuating his actions with "Yea, yea that's right. Pay up." Her grin bordered on sadistic.
Mettaton sank back into his chaise, hands hiding his burning face, as his stagehand delivered the money to one very obnoxious cat doll. She snatched it from the other monster's hands, counted out the bills, and nodded in satisfaction when she saw he actually gave her 40 in his rush. She pocketed the money into her skirt, and gave Mettaton a two-fingered salute. "Don't hold out on me again."
Heel turned, and marched out of the auditorium completely.
Well that was certainly...interesting. Mettaton's fingers parted just enough to watch her leave. Well whatever energy he had had left felt like it had just been burned away from him in the span of a few minutes. "If anyone else here has... personal requests ...For yours truly, please hold it until after the show."
Somewhere from the crowd was a quiet cussing and a door slam, the noise caught Mettaton's attention, just in time to see a retreating pink-orange blur. The sight would've amused Mettaton more if he hadn't scheduled Burgerpants for the graveyard shift today. Well! That just gave him a reason to visit later, oh joy!
Well, with that happy little thought hadn't brought back Mettaton's energy, but it did give him a little boost. So he smiled, and beckoned the next monster to the mic.
"What are you going to do about the humans?"
Aaand there went his happiness again. The smile disappearing from his face so fast you'd think he'd been slapped, the wide eyed expression that followed certainly didn't help with that comparison. "Humans? There aren't any around, dear. I don't see how that's relevant."
"Oh? Really? That's what they said before. What everyone said, Asgore didn't have a real plan either. And now look where he is." The wolf lowered his muzzle, piercing yellow eyes fitting Mettaton with a death glare. "So what's your plan then? The same? Absolutely nothing?"
To be 100% honest, the wolf was right on the money. Mettaton had never even considered what he'd do if another human fell down here. The possibility was so slim in his mind, he'd never thought he'd have to deal with it. After all, Frisk was the first real human he'd ever seen in his life. And sure, he hadn't been around as long as some other monsters. But, still, he knew he wasn't alone in that.
"Well, erm, I do think Asgore's whole "kill humans on sight" policy was a bit brutal." Words tumbled out of his mouth before he gave any real thought to them. And once he'd started he had to keep going, or else he'd look hesitant. Uncertain. "So, we'll be having no more of that. Why, if another human falls down - they can join the fanclub!"
Even Mettaton inwardly cringed at what he'd just said. Join the fanclub? Really? But - he had spoken it into existence, and it was so. And it was law. A law that caused the wolf monster to pin his ears back, and curl lips back in a snarl.
"That's it? Let them "join the fanclub"?" He said it mockingly, exaggerating how stupid it sounded. His voice dripped with cobra's venom, but Mettaton hardly finched. Refusing to be scared of this...this brute. Trying to scare im with sharp teeth and sharper words.
In fact the threat display only encouraged Mettaton to lean into his nonchalance, making a point that he wouldn't be intimidated into changing his mind. "Oh, hush. People like you are too stuck in the past." He yawned, lounging backwards again and making himself comfy. "Humans did this, you say, humans did that. Monsters did so-and-so to such-and-such. It's exhausting even to keep up with. I can't imagine having a mindset like you."
"And they say those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it," The wolf pointed out, folding his arms. "And it has repeated. It just repeated. How many monsters are in your "Mising Persons Effort" - how's that going, by the way? How many have turned up dead?"
Mettaton shrugged, knowing better than to take bait. "Oh, I don't have numbers off the top of my head." Truth be told, he didn't have any numbers. He had never actually kept total count of anything related to the MPE. It was mostly the dogs who knew numbers like that, and kept record of all that they'd found. He usually tuned out during their meetings unless they had something particularly juicy to tell him. "Dwelling on the past, though...I found it rather depressing. I tend to take life as it comes at me, never idling too much about the past or worrying too much about the future. I plan to reflect on that in my leading style. You know, you should try it. It's much less stressful."
"Oh shut UP-" The wolf roared, finally managing to make Mettaton startle some. His shoulders jolting and back going stiff.
"You have the freedom to do that. Not everyone does, hell, most people don't . You weren't around for the war, neither was I. But you know who was? My grandmother was. She told me...she told me things about her time in the war." The wolf flexed his fingers, chest heaving in heavy breaths. "The things humans said about us, thought about us - did to us." He glanced to the guards stationed by, the way they were standing more at attention, the way they gripped the hilts of their swords. The wolf curled his fingers into his palms, hiding his claws. He stood up straighter, though, staring Mettaton in the eye.
"And guess where she is now? Guess what that thing did to her? Did to her, and not to you? Because humans love things like you. Built in a lab to be cute and entertain, how could you empathize? You're not even a real monster, you're a mockery of one."
Mettaton's eye narrowed to a slit, fixing the wolf with an ice cold stare. A tremor of barely controlled rage wracked his frame as he pushed himself to sit straight. Matching the wolf's posture. "You say that as if I haven't been hurt by the human too. I lost someone to them, we all lost someone. You aren't special in your hurting. I wasn't around for the war, and I'm a lot younger than Asgore was. So I must be stupid, yes? I'm nothing but an airheaded bimbo to you? Just because-" he grit his teeth, hesitating a bit on his next words. He questioned to himself if it was better to tell the truth, perhaps gain some footing on an argument that was spiraling fast. Or further sink into a lie, and sow new reason for monsterkind to distrust his rule.
"Just-just because I'm artificial," He had chosen the lie, "Means I'm less of a monster than you? As if I haven't lived my entire life among you all? Everything I do, I do for the good of monsterkind. What do my origins matter?"
"Because you've already proven how you think," The wolf growled, punctuating his words with hand gestures. "You've proven you've learned nothing from living among us. You're selfish. Selfish and greedy. You care about no one that isn't yourself, and you care more about your public image than the people you're presenting that image to. How am I supposed to trust you to have any empathy for monsterkind? To do things for the good of the people?"
The wolf snorted, finally letting his hands go lax and he shook his head. "You know what? Don't answer that. This whole thing has already given me as much answer I need." A large paw shoved away the monster that had been standing behind him in line. The wolf marching his way to the exit, "I await the day they drag you from the throne kicking and screaming."
The small tremor had turned into full-on shaking as Mettaton watched him leave. Steam puffed from his vents, chest heaving in deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down. His eye felt warm with tears that threatened to spill. The cocker spaniel that had been manning the question line looked up at him, tilting her head to the side in wordless question.
"We're done here."