Just a Little While Longer (SoLYGBM timeline)

Chapter 43: Emergency Calls

(inspired by Staringback)
<3

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Goddamit, he was so close.

Every single phone that crossed Whisk's line of sight made him tense up like a worm thrown at a wall. He had to get off his tail and do it. He had to call someone. Anyone. Frisk was going to get here in a few hours, he had to do something to stop this. There was no way he was going to sit by and let another innocent life be lost because he was a coward. Only problem was Mettaton was sticking to him like fucking glue. Apparently, he was needed as an assistant for the surgery today. More like assistant mic operator. If this was meant to be a medical studio, it leant too hard on the studio aspect. Cause what would Monsters love more than to hear some Human screaming their last on live radio, slowly mutilated for their convenience? If Whisk didn't already have a ringing head from that slap he got for lingering behind, he would've spat on one of the chairs he was setting up.

This wasn't just a recording, no, Mettaton saw that this would be his greatest achievement. Cause sure, some Monsters hated Human guts, but not many had simmered the murdery hatred long enough to actually see those guts. It was to be "a spectacular entertaining informative experience". Bullshit. Mettaton would spitball the whole thing. If Frisk survived, hooray! When she didn't, the metal moron actually thought he could escape Donna Dreemurr's wrath with some floundering excuse that she could 'get another one'. If Frisk hadn't shown herself to be so sweet and kind, Whisk would be half excited to see what would happen to the copper-lined bastard when he was melted to dust by a torrent of furious flame.

But there was still the biggest issue... who to call. Whisk didnt own many telephone numbers, the whole idea of it was still relatively new to Monsters. Since they were all so closely knit by each area, word either just got around, was spoken face to face, or was sent by letter, it's how everyone stayed connected after the Gaster-Dreemurr terf war. The big scary Don may have been spitting at each other across the fence, but even in HOTLANDS, there were still SNOWDIN buddies that Whisk remembered losing contact with shortly after he took this shitty internship with Mettaton...

SNOWDIN...

Oh... oh god.

He didn't have the time to go find someone who could help in person, he couldn't run, he couldn't hide... oh dammit...

He needed Tops...

"Hey! Are you done over there!? My performance is in only three hours!" Whisk flinched at his boss' shriek from across the stage. Swallowing hard on the lump in his throat, the bow eared cat Monster fiddled briefly with the last chair and slumped uneasily to the main floor, only to feel his fur bristle harshly when Mettaton sauntered over, already decked out in a shiny new suit positively dazzling with glitter and beads. A steel hand slapped against Whisk's shoulder and he was slightly startled to look up and see a genuine smile on the robot's smug face.

"Look at you... still as slow as ever. You'll have to work harder if you want to be a performer, intern. After this, I'll finally have the funding I need to get out of this shithole... and you're coming with me."

...what?

"W-what...?"

Mettaton grinned at Whisk's disbelieving whisper, his manicured nails digging into the cat's shoulder, "Why, what ever could I do without my rising star, hm? You've been such a loyal little pet. It's high time you earn your place, ay?" The rest of the world seemed to fade away, zeroing in on Mettaton. Whisk felt like his soul could pound through his chest, the smallest hopeful smile making his whiskers twitch, "Really...? S-so... you'll finally help me find a new job-", Mettaton firmly patted Whisk on the cheek, making his still numb cheek sting slightly, before whirling around and stepping away, leaving Whisk with a final pleased wink that made his face feel warm. "Ah ah ah! No spoilers now, darling!"