trusthell | Accountability.

"Killswitch? I 'left Alphys to die'? Please, darlings, don't tell me you actually buy all these tired old storylines..."

It's been a few weeks since that particular voice has been heard by anyone in the Vault; it's sharp, flamboyant and incredibly familiar, and it's coming from the same place the Kingmaker's always seems to - nowhere and everywhere at once, piped in through some unseen system.

"You know, normally I'd balk a bit at being dragged out in front of all of you for another trial, because I think you all know by now how much I hate repeat performances. Fortunately, there's a difference, isn't there? Between now and then... And if the crowd cries for an encore, who am I to deny it!"

There's a panel of wall behind that balcony, one that slides open quickly and easily; the pair of people that emerge from it...well, they're different than anything the Vault has seen so far, that much is obvious.

The first is reasonably slight in frame, his hair and his clothing bright in color; he's resplendant in...just about every tacky accessory Caren unwittingly brought with her to the Vault - with the exception of the bra, naturally. Because we've got to have some dignity here, clearly, even if that dignity doesn't extend to the fucking leopard-print bucket hat currently sitting on his head at a jaunty as hell angle. His expression is intense and deeply manic, his body shaking a bit and fists clenched at his sides as though he's trying to keep himself from laughing, from lashing out and hitting the wall, from doing something to relieve some of it, but his eyes...

...His eyes, though. His eyes are dead as hell, his stare cutting and utterly devoid of emotion all at once.

And the second...well, he's familiar, though it seems his avatar has changed quite a bit since the last time you saw him. It's something more suiting, let's put it that way.

He's the one leaning over to greet you now, hands braced tight against that railing spanning the length of the balcony.

"Beauties and gentlebeauties, I'm pleased to introduce to you our hosts for the evening! First of all, the Kingmaker, without whom none of this would have been possible!"

And that gets a sweeping gesture to his side, where the ginger just...enthusiastically pumps his fist in the air, and that's when the laugh escapes him, harsh and uncontrolled. "It's about time!"

Mettaton tosses his head a bit at that; he doesn't laugh himself, but he seems pleased enough with it before he continues. "As for me? Well, I'd like to wish you good evening and good luck - both sentiments straight from the King of the Underground! Try to make this good for us, all right?"

"Make it cool!"

"...Sweetheart, really."

...Right, well! Let's begin, shall we?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[......]

...Sure, darling.

[...]

You think we're going to kill you, don't you.

[He'll glance over at Ryuunosuke for a second; thankfully, he's otherwise occupied right now.]

...If this is my final performance, then so be it.

I refuse.

[That's firm, and he won't look away from Mettaton.]

If you give us any other choice - anything I don't have to sacrifice the rest of us for - I won't harm you.

Don't start, Cherryblod. You know he's done wrong. He knows he's going to die.

Of course I know that.

If it's a vote then my vote is against anything that harms anyone here.

You weren't so against it with everyone else who killed here.

...I want there to be a way out of this without executing anyone. I've always wanted that, but it never seemed like there was a way.

There's a difference between wanting and having to do something.

[That's all she's say.]

I would rather not do this as well, Cherryblod. But he hasn't just betrayed you once - its twice, now. And its not just something between the two of you. It's about all of us.

[Including your other 'child', if you would like to remember him.]

[He knows. He knows, dammit.]

If it's the same choice as always, between the guilty and the innocent... Then I really don't have a choice.

Again.

...I don't like it either, but between a stranger who's freely admitted to killing for pleasure and a person who's betrayed us twice for no reason against the rest of us, at least my choice is clear.

[And that's all Bruce will say.]

[Stan reaches over to rest a hand on the edge of Bruce's podium for a moment, though he's looking at Cherryblod.]

There's no choice. We can't let any more of us die here.

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[Cherryblod

Cherryblod can we not.

...Bruce isn't going to say anything but you can probably still feel his disapproval pretty easily.]

[Bruce, sweetheart, he doesn't even remotely care right now.]

[-10000% right now]

[Colress said he would be there to support Cherryblod, and he knows Cherryblod means well here, but...

He can't help but frown at this.]

Cherryblod...

...I realize this is entirely selfish. I realize there are plenty of people I don't even know who they've harmed, that they've harmed us.

You don't have to tell me that.

[He can't help but flinch a little.

He really hates to say it, but...]

But you and Miss Sigrun know him better than the rest of us, yet...we've all seen how he is in a trial.

[In other words, is it really going to be that simple with Mettaton?]

Give me five minutes of believing there's hope.

...Very well.

[Ugh...This is pretty much the worst possible outcome, isn't it.

But he'll use those minutes to try to understand Cherryblod's position, because there is absolutely no way he can right now.]

Please. What makes you think I'd offer something like that?

I'm an optimist. I've told you that before.

[For Mettaton, he's all smiles.]

So if that's not one of our choices, what do we have to pick from?

Not so fast. You haven't figured out everything else by a long shot yet.

I'll get back to you on it.

I'll be waiting, son.