Mettaton x Reader

Leaving the Studio

Set in the Batim Universe, with Monsters as Humans.

 Walking along the lengthy corridors, it was impossible to know whether or not it was day or night outside, thanks to a lack of windows anywhere close by. You suddenly almost tripped, only to manage to balance yourself as you glared down at the random ink well pipe sticking from the wall to your left, and running across the floor. Why Joey thought it a good idea to build these accursed pipes in the hallways and passages, you'd never know. Instead, you kept going on your way towards the offices. Reaching them late, due to the useless elevator only installed just a week ago, and having to navigate around an ink spill on another floor, you could care less about being late. Passing by several of the smaller officers, you could hear the women typing away at their typewriters, filing away papers, or listening in on the radio. The Men were often doing the same, or simply lingering about and having a drink beside the water cooler nearby. You gave a few a simple wave, to which they gave back, as you went straight towards Joey's Office. The name, Mr Joey Drew, lined on a plaque that rested securely on the door frame above, you gave it a soft knocking before stepping back to wait for the go ahead to enter. Thankfully, you didn't have to wait long as a grunt, followed by a rough; "Come in."

Stepping inside you easily notice the mess of papers on the desk, plans pinned on all the walls, and film and short posters lining the walls in order of potential release date. Joey, the man who had just sent for you as you were working in the recording booth, was sitting behind his desk and noise deep in papers and writing away. Clearing your throat, Mr. Drew finally glanced up at you with hardly a care in the world. "(Mr/Ms). (Name)? I see you're late again." You tensed, but shrugged; "I tried, but this place is like a maze." Mr. Drew merely rolled his eyes, making you ticked off. "Well it doesn't matter, you're here. Listen, I know you've been working quite well. Honestly, good things too coming from the new recruit." Joey Drew stood up from his chair, pushing it farther from behind himself as he leaned now against his desk. "Specifically, I need ya for a special project I've been working on for a time now." "And that would be?" Drew retrieved a set of blueprints, directly from a desk draw. Placing it down, he unfolded them before stabbing the corners to his desk by the use of tic tacks. "I present to you... the savior to ALL Our problems!" Joey carried a pretty frightening grin, and if his pupils had dilated, you swore he had gone mad.

"What is it exactly?" "A Ink Machine. Personally requested and built on behalf of me, from the G.E.N.T. company. This is the key to our future." Taking one look over, the thing was clearly complex with countless internal works, screws, parts, and gears and many more in between. What instantly jumped out was the size, as shown by a human figure standing beside it, it was massive. As big as a one story house, granted a fairly small one. "W-Why do we need this!?" Drew merely laughed, as if he were a villain from a show. "Simple, (Name)! What are dreams that are merely trapped in our heads? When we can bring them to life! If you believe, anything is possible. I once thought that random crap they had me speak on the daily was pointless, but for once I understand it! And it's time to see how useful it, and will actually be!" Now beyond disturbed, you took a careful step back towards the exit to Joey's office. "It's... impressive." "And it's already complete!" Now that threw you off. "Already!?" Drew laughed, clearly proud of himself as he placed a hand on his chest. "Course! While you were busy, I have been scheming and getting things down! Now it's time to pull the strings, and get this studio running again!" With that, Joey Drew led you away and towards one of the lowest levels of the studio, one area simply nicknamed by many staff as; 'The Workshop' where few even knew the purpose of. Despite its name, nothing was usually broken or damaged enough to be sent what only could be guessed was 200 feet below the surface, to a room so far below the studio, when there were staff above capable of fixing things when the need arises.