The Lady Of Mercy {A Mafiatale Story}

¤ ×{C1: Fuori!}× ¤

"You what?!" His cold stern voice erupted, its owner, a tall slender skeleton, walking back and forth in a rapid pace of disappointment, his long flowing black coat following with every turn the monster took. He sighed deeply in aggravation, pinching the bridge of where his nose should've been with the bony fingers of his ivory phalange, wherein a perfectly-shaped wide hole was found in each palm.

"Sans." He called out darkly, blazing white pinpricks to another, "Do you have any idea how inferior of you to even fail one simple task? All I have asked for you to do is to eliminate one measly human, and now you came back here with what? Instead of the damn soul of your target, or even just a single drop of blood, all you brought is a shameful injury in the arm, and a scar on your fricking face!?"

He paused, growling in a calm and elegant manner, "Is this just another joke for you? The frick you're suddenly interested in having the same face as mine."

The shorter skeleton, who sat right across the long varnished oak conference table of the expansive chandelier-lit room, chuckled in amusement by his father's unusual statement.

"Vecchio uomo. [Old man.] The both of us know, I already have an agreeable face, so no thanks. And, Chara? Doesn't a 'next time' exist in this small world? I'll get her, don't worry."

"Ok, so let's just say, 'Oh wow! A next time miraculously appeared in front of me. Did the tooth fairy answer my pleas?'." The stern skeleton sighed, clasping his hands together in a silly way, his pupils gazing at the horizon dreamily, before slamming his phalanges back at the table, startling those who are present inside this yellow-toned lit room.

"We'll be suffering a great loss by then. Every single day, while you were out there, playing with that britch we call a woman, we lose a subject in each!? Today, we've lost another one; JT-6s7. Scratch that, he was the last one in our possession, and we lost it!" He growled, collapsing back to his black swivel arm chair, fanning himself to cool.

JT-6s7, known by his trait name, Justice, was the sixth of the soul subjects being used by the Gasters for their Soul Extraction Project, in which, specific human souls were being extracted to create a mass weapon of destruction to wipe out the whole human population.

Due to the immense hatred of the CORE towards the opposing race, the Dreemurrs instructed their allies to propose this project into action, only for them not to realize the Gasters' other intent;

To wipe out not only mankind, but also, those who's foolish enough to trust them and get in their way.

The Dreemurrs.

This project will be the key for them to grasp the seat on top, using the weapon to their will.

"Without the souls, we'll be right back on square one! And most importantly, they were the last of their soul trait kind. Losing them meant, losing this project. And if that happens, I'll make sure to display your clean-slated skull around the halls to remind everyone in this mafia about your failure, you shameful brat I call as a son!" He barked deathly, his words piercing through the short skeleton's nonexistent heart.

His father never really liked the sight of him, nor did he either. But those words, shaming for him to be the son of Don W.D. Gaster, was too much for him to handle.

Losing Frisk was already enough.

"Fuori! [Get out!]" Gaster yelled hauntingly, pointing at the elegantly varnished mahogany door, not bothering to look at Sans for any longer, "I despise to sense your presence."

And with that, the skeleton walked out of the room in a casually calm and straight face.

As soon as he stepped out, gently closing the door shut behind him, he sighed, gazing at the other monsters around him, all giving him looks of concern, pity, and curiosity. He only sent them death glares, his cold icy stare sending shivers down the spine of every monster he passes by.