Undertale: Reason to Live

Chapter 87

When the trapdoor closed, Frisk tried to shake himself out of Mettaton's grip, but Mettaton held onto his arm and wouldn't let him go.

While Frisk struggled, Mettaton took the electric guitar from around Frisk's neck, laid it on the ground, knelt down to Frisk's level, grabbed his other hand, and said, "Frisk, sweetheart, I know you don't like me, but I really do want what's best for you and for all of us. The sooner you realize that…"

"Bull…shit…" Frisk said in Mettaton's face.

"The sooner we can start getting along," Mettaton said without missing a beat. "Now, Daddy is going over to the next obstacle course to continue the show. I need you to…OW!"

Frisk delivered a strong front kick to Mettaton's torso. It knocked down his HP by 15 points and stunned him enough to let Frisk go for a few seconds. This time, Frisk didn't care about the damage he caused.

He booked it to the road before the stage as quickly as he could, but once again, Mettaton was faster. He emerged from a trapdoor in front of the unruly child. Before Frisk could stop himself, he ran straight into the tall robot who picked him up, gestured to someone off-stage with his head, lifted Frisk into his arms, and held him up by his waist while he was kicking and squirming.

"Frisk, that is enough!" Mettaton said in annoyance.

"I don't have to listen to you," Frisk said squirming as hard as he possibly could. "I'm not your…"

Before Frisk could finish his sentence, Mettaton created another trap door that opened into a clinically-white doctor's office filled with monsters who were yelling or blubbering on about nothing.

Frisk went silent as he realized exactly what Mettaton was showing him.

"You understand now," Mettaton said quietly. "Don't you, darling? My threats are not empty. This is what is waiting for you if you choose to keep ignoring me. You may hate me. You might rather die than be with me. But by God, you're not going to upset my viewers any longer and I will go to whatever lengths I need to so that doesn't happen. Is that understood, Frisk?"

Frisk only glared back, so Mettaton let him slide through his hands until he was being suspended by his armpits.

"Okay!" Frisk said. "I'll be good!"

Mettaton smiled and said, "Do you promise?"

Frisk looked back at him and back at the asylum waiting for him and back at Mettaton before he finally said, "Alright, I promise."

"Splendid," Mettaton said changing his tone, shutting the trapdoor with his foot, and dropping Frisk back onto the ground on his bottom.

He pulled him to his feet, and before Frisk could even blink, they were back on the air.

"Sorry about that, beauties and gentlebeauties," Mettaton said. "We had some technical difficulties, but now, everything is back to normal and Mr. and Mrs. Skeleton are on the next obstacle course…"

As Mettaton prattled on, Frisk glared back at him and felt himself being overwhelmed with his dark emotions. His heart beat quickly and his breathing shallowed as the rage built up inside him.

During the first run, Frisk could justify the robot's actions, but on every other run, his actions were inexcusable. Mettaton had done nothing but exploited him for every last rating, and this time, it went too far. Frisk couldn't let this one slide.

Frisk could hear the voice that he heard in the very first run, the voice that told him to rip his enemies apart. He had banished that voice when he reset the first time, but now, that voice was returning with a vengeance. Thankfully, he had another Voice to combat it this time.

"Don't do it," the Voice whispered. "Frisk, you want to be a pacifist. Please. A demon is crouching at your door, and it wants to master you. You can't let it."

The Voice repeated those words, but Frisk felt his anger growing. He felt it possessing him. All the Voice did was make him angrier.

Frisk whispered back angrily as he started to shake with fury, "I'll still be a pacifist. I won't kill him. I'll just make him hurt really, really bad. So what if I go too far? He deserves it. If you really don't want me to do it, you should make something happen to stop me."

"Darling, did you say something?" Mettaton asked Frisk getting him out of his thoughts.

Frisk shot Mettaton a glare that took him aback. If looks could kill…

"Frisk, dear, would you like to talk to me or to the audience?" Mettaton asked. "God knows you need to talk to somebody. Your psyche is broken enough with your past, and your other guardians have done anything but help. Thank God you have me! Isn't that right, my audience?"

Mettaton posed dramatically for the audience on the other side of the camera.

Frisk snapped. He lunged towards Mettaton as quickly as he possibly could not caring what would happen to either of them. Mettaton finally noticed what was happening and turned around to look, but before they could collide, Frisk felt himself being pulled back. He turned over his shoulder to see Burgerpants pulling him towards him telekinetically.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Frisk yelled as he fruitlessly squirmed to get out of Burgerpants' grip. "Put me down now!"

Mettaton saw what was happening and gestured to cut to a commercial before he yelled, "Darling, what is the meaning of this?! Were you trying to assault me?!"

"No, he's having a panic attack, boss," Burgerpants quickly lied as Frisk violently thrashed while hovering next to him. "But don't worry. I'll take care of it. Just give us some time alone."

"He just tried to attack me, Burgie," Mettaton said incredulously. "I don't think this is a panic attack. I think he's acting out and needs to spend the night with the psychiatrists…"

"That's not necessary," Burgerpants interrupted. "He's just freaking out. He'll calm down soon."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then," Mettaton said dismissively before he tossed a water bottle to him. "Make sure he drinks water. I'm going to get ready for the next obstacle course. Bring Frisk back when he calms down."

"Yes, boss," Burgerpants said stuffing the water bottle in the pocket of his hoodie while exiting the set and telekinetically carrying a still thrashing Frisk in front of him.