Accountability.

[ratingspoint]

"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?

Comments

[amygdalae]

At this point I'm almost certain they're red herrings.

[Bruce will take out what he has, though - which is the notebook he got from the office, the one written in German.]

[goodforsomething]

Showin' someone findin' one would be a good way to end an episode of...whatever. What's this show called?

[amygdalae]

Trusthell, probably.

[Obviously they're having a hell of a time with this trust thing.]

[notjustawriter]

"Murdervault", maybe?

[notjustawriter]

At this point? They might as well be.

Hell, I don't even know what the heck this journal could mean, or who the hell Observant is.

[amygdalae]

Doesn't hurt to compare, either way. It's not like we've got anything more to lose at this point.

[goodforsomething]

We wanna compare handwriting? I've got the trebuchet book.

[notjustawriter]

Might as well.

[goodforsomething]

[TAKE THE BOOK, FRIEND]

mod paging!

[notjustawriter]

[Okay, let's compare the journal and the chemistry notes for handwriting.

Do they match?]

[amygdalae]

I'm pretty sure we compared it before. Doesn't hurt to do it again, though.

[ratingspoint]

[Notebooks like that...]

Well, we certainly didn't leave them, if they are. We've been wondering about those ourselves.

[amygdalae]

[...huh.]

Were they also here in the previous session?

[Not that he expects an answer to be honest, but.]

[ratingspoint]

There was one in the...office, I think? Something about chemistry. Horribly destructive things, I think they had to do with chemical warfare. And alchemy? Alchemy was mentioned somewhere in there. Destroying and rebuilding things, something like that.

It wasn't ours, though. [He glances over at Ryuunosuke again.] Neither of us specialize in things like that, all of my bombs are magical but they don't have anything to do with alchemy.

[greatestcool]

I'm still not sure how all of that stuff has anything to do with turning lead into gold.

[ratingspoint]

Right...?

[notjustawriter]

Alchemy...? That lead into gold stuff people in the middle ages were tryin' to do?

That doesn't sound like it has anything to do with this place.

[ratingspoint]

It doesn't. Maybe that belonged to Ambitious? I think that office was his before it was ours, we just reused the template for it.

[notjustawriter]

....Sounds like he was kind of a weirdo.

But I don't know what the hell chemical warfare has to do with get-rich-quick schemes.

[notjustawriter]

....You didn't?

[......]

I guess that's a mystery that can wait, can't it?

[It has nothing to do with the trial; he's not too keen on letting their captors more than necessary.]

[goodforsomething]

Well, there ya go.

[To the others, because he does not want to engage with Mettaton right now.] Glory could've done it. Not sure who else there is - virtual reality doesn't leave too many people unaccounted for.

[notjustawriter]

Maybe it was a "bug" in her programming.

[goodforsomething]

She was here before these two - they might not know too much about how she ticks.

[pokexplorer]

[Colress taps his chin thoughtfully.]

That would have to be it, wouldn't it? If she runs on a mixture of memories.

[goodforsomething]

[Hm.....]

Hey, Mettaton! Did you ever play with an orange cat?