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Bloodlines: Paternity and Dr Pepper
West Hotland, 18 Years ago
Blood bubbled out of Gaster’s lips and air leaked in and out of the ragged wound in his side. Gaster’s breathing came in and out as a kind of agonized rustling, wheezing. Gaster was dragging himself along the ground, a rusty machete sticking out of his spine.
Underneath a folding table covered in scientific instruments, Alphys whimpered and covered her ears. Hiring a hitman sounded like a good idea just yesterday. After all that she had endured, all that had been done to her, she needed it to end.
She hoped that the hitman would be quick and clinical. A sniper’s bullet delivered with clinical precision. An odourless, tasteless poison slipped into a drink. She didn’t expect the hitman to come to her place of work and start hacking up Gaster like a cut of rare beef.
Worse even than Gaster’s agonized, terminal breaths was the sound of business shoes clicking on the tile floor.
Alphys covered her ears extra tight, but made the mistake of opening her eyes. She watched as the assassin pulled the machete out of Gaster’s spine. With a kick of his fine, leather shoes he turned over the royal scientist onto his back.
The hitman could have taken off Gaster’s head with a single swing. Instead, he grabbed him by the collar and swung the blade horizontally into his throat.
Gaster’s fluid filled lungs convulsed as his trachea was cut open. A second swing of the machete cut through his main arteries.
Gaster twitched and thrashed like a headless chicken. The last thing he saw was a terror clad in black with a burning red necktie. Then the machete cut through his spine and parted his head from his body. The head rolled across the floor, jaw twitching and eyes rolling around.
Alphys screamed as Gaster’s head, alive for maybe ten or fifteen more seconds looked her in the eyes with a look of accusation.
Hometown, Ontario, Today
Asgore sat upon the couch in his cozy bathrobe while his gay partner Rudy made stove top popcorn. The portly gay goat dad thumbed through the news section of his tabled, scanning through all his old favourite news sites. He sat up straight while he took a sip of his tea. His eyes widened with the latest headline. “Hey Rudy, listen to this!” he shouted to his partner as the popcorn started popping. “Police raided the House of an alleged pedophile and seized over one million dollars of Nazi memorabilia.”
With the popcorn finished popping, Rudy set the pot to cool off. The reindeer dad opened up the cabinet to get the condiments. Salt and pepper for him and the cheddar cheese powder from Costco for Asgore. “Well, it’s about time that the police raided Flowey's house. I wonder what took them so long.”
Asgore leaned back, taking a sip of his chamomile tea. “Well, I guess no good deed goes unpunished and from the looks of it, if the judge allows DNA evidence, Flowey will be put away for life.”
There was a knock at the door and the two men turned to meet the noise. “It’s ten thirty at night, who on earth could that be?” Rudy asked.
Asgore laughed. “Don’t worry about it, love, I’ll handle it.” Whistling a happy little tune, Asgore cinched up his bathrobe and marched towards the front door.
Greeting him was the sight of a rain drenched, very unhappy high school age purple reptile who dressed up like a mass shooter from the 90’s.
“Good heaven’s, Susie!” Asgore cried out, “You’re soaked to the bone! Come inside and warm yourself by the fire. I’ll bring some towels and Rudy made extra popcorn.”
“Thanks,” Susie grunted as she forced herself past Asgore. Tracking mud into the house, the purple monster threw her long trench coat into a pile next to the coat rack. She didn’t even both to take off her squelching, waterlogged shoes as she sat down on the sofa. She looked at her own feet, hands holding something that Rudy couldn’t make out.
“Hey kid, how are you doing?” the reindeer dad asked as he brought in steaming bowls of stove top popcorn.
“Shitty,” Susie grunted back.
“Would you like some tea?” Rudy offered. “Or we have a few kinds of soda if you want.”
“S’ fine” Susie mumbled as she reached into her pants pocket and produced an aluminum can. “I brought a beer for myself.”
She took a long drink of her liquor when Asgore placed a towel next to her. “Susana, you know that you’re underage.”
“And you can just eat my ass, you fat bastard,” she hissed.
“You must be in a really bad way,” Asgore sat down next to her.
“I’m not in a bad way, you’re in a bad way!” Susie growled. She took another drink of her beer. “Thanks for letting me in.” her voice was small.
The purple monster drained the last of her beer and slammed the can down on the living room table. “I got a letter today. Turns out my mom—my birth mom was a real psycho.” Reaching into the pocket that held a beer, Susie produced a sealed plastic bag with a letter inside. “I turned eighteen and I was finally able to open my adoption file.” She waved the crumpled letter. “Turns out my mom did me a favor by putting me in foster care. She’s a fucking loser and If I stayed with her, she would probably have pimped me out to buy heroine or burned me with boiling water or something.”
Susie’s voice cracked as the badass butch bitch facade that she spent so much time cultivating was about to crumble. “I’m glad that psycho bitch gave me up, because I don’t need that fucking shit in my life.”
“Are you okay?” Asgore asked as he put a hand on her shoulder.
Susie sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes that blended with the rainwater. “I mean, she’s totally nuts. If she’s not dead, she’s probably living under a bridge somewhere telling people on that subway that Jewish lizards killed Princess Diana and that the Free Masons such adrenochrome from the blood of African children.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what did she write?” Asgore inquired as he rubbed Susie’s shoulder paternally.
Susie laughed so that she wouldn’t burst out crying. “It’s hilarious, dudes. I swear she was smoking crack when she wrote this. She probably did drugs and drank while I was pregnant. I probably have fetal alcohol syndrome, that’s why I’m so fucking stupid and a failure.”
“We love you like our own child, Susie,” Rudy pushed a bowl of popcorn towards her. “It hurts me to see you like this. Whatever you’re going through we want to be here for you.”
Susie sniffed, Rudy’s kindness bringing her to the verge of tears. “You want to hear what she wrote?” she said in a wavering voice. “Here, I’ll read it. You’ll get a laugh.”
She cleared her throat and opened the crumpled letter.
Everything I create is a disaster. Even when I try to save lives, it all goes wrong. I hope you’ll be different.
I became pregnant with you when your sire—I can’t call him father—concussed me with a can of Dr. Pepper. Somehow, I became pregnant from being hit by a soft drink.
I’m sending you away for your own safety.
Your conception was not a happy one. When you were made, I was chronically depressed, locked in an abusive relationship and suicidal.
So I turned to him to try and end it.
I met him in 1997 when he founded the Cult of Man.
Foolishly, I thought he was just a Hitman. But the Hitman is no man at all. He is an omen of unspeakable atrocities that leaves nothing but slaughter in his wake.
In return for killing my abuser, I helped him complete the ritual in Paris that granted him godlike power.
My darling Susana, I sent you to another dimension with the help of Toby Fox because I wanted to protect you from him. He is a trans dimensional spectre of chaos and destruction.
Beware the Hitman, Susana.
Beware his cans of Dr. Pepper thrown with laser precision.
Fear the sound of running faucet water.
After the Massacres in Sapienza and Marrakesh, I had to give you away.
Stay safe, my Susana.
Susie laughed bitterly, crumpled up the letter and threw it int the fire. “Well there you go! She must have been hitting the old crack pipe when she wrote that.”
Both Rudy and Asgore looked at each other, before the goat dad spoke. “Susie, do you need a hug?”
There was no answer.
Just the sound of sobbing, the sound of a girl with a broken heart.
Rudy and Asgore both took the girl into a warm embrace.
Despite her tough girl act and edgy clothing, Susie melted into the hug like a scared toddler.
She felt bad, but at least she could feel bad with her two dads to help her.
She needed a good cry.
Toronto, Skid Row
Susie needed that. She needed to cry. Now she need to go to skid row in Toronto at three in the morning and score some crack. Holding an umbrella to protect her from the rain, she also carried a sawed off shotgun under her trench coat. It was to protect herself from cops, dogs, children, the elderly, sexual predators and elderly sexual predators. In short, she had basically everything that a girl her age needed.
Buying crack was an easy thing. At first the dealer pulled a gun on her, but then he realized that she was just a highschooler and not a cop. So she was able to score a week’s worth of crack. One day she wanted to be rich enough that on Christmas morning she could buy crack for all the drug addicts in Toronto.
It was probably amoral, but it would be worth it to see all the smiles on all their little faces.
With her crack procured, Susie entered the local 711 in order to get herself a microwave burrito. She still had a ton of homework and Noelle would kill her if she dropped out of school. She also had half of a twelve pack of beer at home. So hopefully fortified by crack cocaine, beer and burritos she’d be able to finish her homework assignment that was due first thing in the morning tomorrow and get a passing grade.
Her life might be a fucking shambles, but she was in total control.
Susie had reached her shithole apartment where she had forgotten that the toilet was plugged, when she had a vision.
She blinked as if she was having a seizure.
She turned around and found herself not in the worst neighbourhood in Toronto, but somewhere in sun drenched rural Italy . . .
Where an entire Italian village was on fire.
“Wha?” Susie asked.
Then she noticed him.
Basking in the flames of a once beautiful Italian village was a sinister looking bald man with a bar-code tattooed to the back of his head. His massive aviator glasses reflected the fires he had probably caused.
Susie blinked.
But this time she was in Paris. It was the most luxurious, spectacular bathroom she had ever seen. And it was full of dead bodies.
Over a hundred dead bodies in tuxedos and dresses were stacked up like cordwood.
But the bald man didn’t care. Clad in a custom made men’s tuxedo, he stared intently at a running bathroom faucet, ignoring the blood pooling at his feet from the corpses.
“Hey!” Susie shouted at the man, “Who the hell are you?”
He ignored her, wholly intent upon the beautiful mysteries of faucet water.
Everything changed once more.
They were back in Italy, but before the whole village burned to the ground and all is inhabitants were murdered.
“Hey, I’m talking to you, asshole!” Susie pulled her sawed off shotgun. “Give me some answers or I will spread you!”
The bald man took no notice. His intent was upon an elderly priest walking past the two. Disoriented, Susie didn’t realize that she and the bald man were in a church. She was equally surprised when baldy threw a coin at the ground.
“Hmm,” the priest stopped in his tracks at the sound of a coin clinking on the ground.
Calm and collected, the bald man produced a detonator and depressed the red button.
A thunderous explosion rocked the church and Susie yelped like a scared dog. It happened so far. Both Susie and the priest could only watch in stunned shock at the thunderous crashing coming upon them.
In the span of a heartbeat, a one and a half ton church bell crushed the priest like an ant.
Then like nothing happened, the bald man stepped over to the flattened remains of the priest and started putting on his bloody clothes.
There was a shift, this time in the abandoned classroom of the Card Kingdom.
“Hey! Who are you?” Susie lowered her gun, as the bald man stood straight and proud in his stolen priest’s costume. The wide brimmed hat accenting his soulless blue eyes. “Are you the guy my mom talked about?”
There was a flicker. His mannequin like face twitched with emanation too quick to register. “She called me Hitman, but I think my name is Forty-Seven.”
“That’s not a name, asshat,” scoffed Susie.
Forty-Seven turned to face her. “So make it one. I’ll be seeing you around.”
Susie didn’t see what he had in his hand until it was too late. He hurled a can of Dr. Pepper at her with the force of a cannonball.
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“Susie! Are you awake!” Noelle’s face loomed over her.
“Sweet cheeks,” Susie smiled. “Wait, what the fuck happened, where am I?”
“You didn’t show up to school this morning, so I went to find you,” she stroked Susie’s face gently. “When I found you, the front door was open and you were passed out on the ground. You’d soiled yourself. So I took you to the hospital.”
Glancing around, Susie saw the hospital room as well as the bouquet of flowers that sweet, sweet Noelle had brought her. “Okay, real talk. Did anything happen to my crack and definitely not illegal firearms?”
“Your guns are safe, so is the stash of booze that you had, but I want to ask you something,” Noelle bit her lip, “I want you to give up crack. That’s not good for you, even if it makes you feel great.”
“No way, I’ll give up when I want to,” Susie barked.
Susie was not ready for Noelle’s sad face.
“Oh Jesus Christ, I’ll give it up. Just stop being so fucking sad,” Susie sat up, her hospital gown falling down. “You know I love you more than life itself. I swear on your dad’s life that I’ll stop.”
“I love you, Susie,” Noelle leaned in and planted a kiss on Susie’s purple lips.
Asgore and Rudy’s house
Rudy put away his cellphone and shouted out to his lover. “Good news, Susie got cleared to leave the hospital. She’s going to be okay.”
“Oh thank god!” Asgore shouted from the kitchen. “Hey, Rudy, would you be okay if we invited Susie over for dinner. I think she’s still a bit fragile.”
“Yeah that’s—what the!” Rudy gasped as he stepped into a puddle of water. “Wait, there’s something up in the bathroom!”
Rudy entered the bathroom only to find it flooded. Both of the faucets in the double sink were going full blast and the sinks had been plugged up. “Oh what the fuck!” Rudy grunted. “Asgore! Do you know anything about this?”
He began to turn the faucet’s off when he heard the bathroom door close behind him.
https://www.youtube.com/clip/UgkxI10iGvpw-AUsefs_bvp-RFbXDFVljYOt
An evil looking bald man wearing a suit and red tie grabbed Rudy by the antlers and shoved his head into the toilet.
Rudy gurgled and kicked violently but Forty-Seven was as unmovable as stone. Rudy gasped for air as he was lifted out of the toilet, only to be violently smashed across the head with a monkey wrench.
Forty-Seven was completely merciless and delivered punishing blows with a series of tools like an utterly psychopathic Bugs Bunny.
Rudy was smashed across the ribs and then in the face with a baseball bat, struck by a car battery, had his head shoved back into the toilet and then blown up by an exploding golf ball.
Death was no escape, as Forty-Seven brought Rudy back to kill him with a Katana, a machine gun, a fire axe and then finally applied a taser to reindeer dad’s balls.
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“Rudy, is everything alright? You’ve been in the bathroom an awfully long time.” Asgore asked.
What he found was not the answer he wanted. Their cozy little bathroom was riddled with bullet holes and marked with fire and acid damage.
Rudy’s lifeless body, with a Katana sticking out of his head lay in the center of a pool of toilet water.
Asgore fell to his knees
He should have put the pieces together. He should have remembered what Alphys had told him all those years before she was carted off to an insane Asylum. He should have known that Alphys wasn’t crazy. He should have known she was telling the truth.
Asgore cradled his lover’s dead body to him, tears running down his face. “I will . . . kill you myself.” he whispered with incandescent rage.
The older goat dad screamed to the high heavens, scaring the birds off a tree in their back yard. “You hear me, you bastard! I’LL CUT OFF YOUR NUT SACK AND NAIL IT TO MY DOOR! Like, one of those lion door knockers that rich folks have!”
Dressed up as a fortune teller, Forty-Seven stood on the roof of the Hometown High School, listening to the sound of Asgore’s anguish and suffering.
“THAT WILL BE YOUR BALLS!”