The Lady Of Mercy {A Mafiatale Story}

¤ ×{C2: The Strategy Department}× ¤

Don Gaster stood straight at the door. Dressed with elegant robes, it seemed he was listening and watching the two bicker the whole time.

"Come." He ordered calmly in a much brighter tone than what he had earlier. His son did as tell, following the slender skeleton to a deeper part of the laboratory, where strategic planning of the Gasters' Strategy Team takes into action.

"I thought I recalled ya saying 'I despise your presence'." Sans chuckled amusedly, trudging along beside his father, however, kept shut after noticing the grimaced expression Gaster gave him.

"Save your immature humor while you can, boy, before I lose my patience, and keep you as a replacement for the test subjects." He warned, slightly glancing at his son threateningly, as they continued through the fluorescent-lit white metal-walled corridors of the True Laboratory, their footsteps repeating in patterned echoes caused by the large vacancy the hallways are given with.

They arrived, standing in front of a pair of glass doors that separated the Strategy Department against the unauthorized other.

Different monsters of positions such as special members, scientists, and of course, the strategists are found frantically doing their given tasks in unmeasurable speed, the kind where one's terrified of what may be the outcome if they did not do anything right, considering the fact that the most powerful leaders of their mafia are watching intently from afar.

Glass touch-sensored holographic tables of sorts were located everywhere, displaying different kinds of information, strategies, monitoring, and calculations. Only those who have the brains to do so could qualify to be assigned honorably in the most important sector of the Gasters.

The True Laboratory was, yes, the heart of their mafia, but their Strategy Department was the pride of the CORE, giving out all the information every member needed in his task.

This was the role of the Gasters in the organization after all.

Information.

The three newcomers strode forward to a wide round glass table in the center of the area, a huge holographic screen emitting in the very centre, showing essential data for their next mission.

Everyone hushed the other in silence at the sight of their don's approach, preparing themselves for whatever he may address.

The tall stern skeleton sat across to the most elaborately decorated black leather-cased swivel arm chair, his two companies seating themselves along slightly beside him.

"Now." He begun in a hauntingly, yet excited tone, "I'd be starting off the meeting with the acknowledgement of my son's failure of attempt to eliminate his target?" He said, raising a teasingly mocking nonexistent eyebrow at the shorter skeleton.

Really, Dad? Isn't embarassing me in front of the board already enough?

"But now is not the time to be mournful of such a tragic occurence. Now is the time to 'celebrate'! Is there not a gala to be attended right around the corner?" He laughed, receiving nods of nervous approval, shakily smiling at the cheering don.

"A celebration for the new allegiance of a human mafia, they say. But to us, a celebration of the Gasters uprising to a whole new era!"

Roars of applause and excitement soon filled the tense-layered room at his address. The don always had the knack on knowing when to celebrate, and when to cower, something not all could achieve to grant.

He turned to the screen in front of them, an image popping up from out of nowhere. It showed of a woman with shoulder-length mahogany hair, wore a forest green fedora, along with same-colored trench coat. Murmurs of disapproval was heard, seeing that they knew who she was. It was Chara Dreemurr, their so-called princess who betrayed their trust.

"I... have an idea that I would like to share with each and every one." Don Gaster concluded, sending them back to a silent trance, as his icy pinpricks darted menacingly at Sans, who slightly slumped further on his seat.

"We all know, of course, this person, didn't we?" he asked, satisfied by the receiving of nods.

"Well, as you may know, our team of researchers managed to look for traces of any possible hideouts she may as well considered as sanctuary, to find out that she..." he paused, adding an ominously thrilling flair to the situation, "Was actually the doña of the Mercys."

"What?!"

"Unacceptable!"

"Disgraceful!"

"How could she?"

Whispers, and mumbles of disbelief and bewilderment erupted in the whole area. Not one single member wasn't flabbergasted by this treacherous news. But who'd blame them? Their own princess?

"Yes. I presume, now you know why we keep on tracking down this, this 'hidden' mafia, whatever they call it, I don't care. Not only had they stolen our soul subjects, which took us years to search for, but they have stolen something else that should've been ours by then.

The mind of our king!" He angrily spat, pounding his fist to the table. If he would've exerted another gram of force, he would've shattered the whole glass platform by now.

"No wonder they managed to easily get their way in the CORE." Fuku suddenly whispered at the skeleton beside her, who barely listened to the whole speech his dad was giving out, "I mean, Chara was the daughter of King Asgore. Which father wouldn't accept their own child?"

"Was." He corrected, his gaze still focused at Chara's picture, teeth gritting at the sudden recollection about what happened earlier.

But though he knew that the girl was their king's adoptive daughter, and that she did leave the mafia for some reason, she was still considered as precious to the Dreemurrs, like a diamond enclosed in a high-level security facility, in which when stolen, brings unbelievable grief and sorrow to the hearts of whoever owned it.

Then again, he knew something wasn't right.

From what he knew back then, other than their blood, Chara never liked humans, so why torture herself in organizing a mafia full of the race she abhor the most? Was she lying all this time, finalizing her place in having the title of a traitor? Or was she waiting for the time her hands drenched into the pool of red substances, oozing from the bodies of the people she herself took care of?

Nothing seemed to make sense right now, and he's ready to find out.

"But even so with his disgraceful error, he still is, after all, my son, and the keenest in our corps. What do you say, Sans?" a familiar voice announced in question, the sudden mention of his name startling him to avert his gaze back to the table, meeting him coldly with awaiting stares. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't at all listening, so let out an excusing chuckle, causing for the don's once proud face to crumble down in a disappointed scowl, his expression telling him, 'Really? I tried to save you from humiliation, and this is how you repay my consideration?!'.

"Ahem, we were just talking if you'd accept to be given the honor to shoot down your target this time?" it wasn't really a question, it was more like an irritated explanation to a command, while trying effortly to calm himself down, fighting the urge to cremate his own son alive.

"Sì, sure, whatever ya say, boss." he replied, sounding a bit uninterested and bored, when deep inside, he could feel his soul thumping in excitement, knowing that this time, he'll surely take her down.

That he'll finally finish her off in one bullet...To finally finish this as his last mission, all for his Clemency.

But unless...

Unless she decided to join in to ruin both parties' fun.

Oh joy.