Deep in the heart of Snowdin, where the cold bit through even the toughest monster's bones, a lone figure worked tirelessly inside a small, dimly lit kitchen. The scent of oil and dust filled the air as a steady, constant clinks of metal echoed through the humble home.
Kneeling in front of an old, rattling refrigerator was Mecha, the Underground's most reliable repairman.
He was unlike most other monster in the Underground, and that was saying something as his current client was a old moth lady. His body, looking like it was built from sleek, dark metal, moved with an almost human-like fluidity. Faint lines and seams traced across his mechanical frame, hinting at panels that could be removed and open, though few had ever seen him do so . His head was steel like with a helmet type appearenceand had a screen like face, which lacked a mouth, yet expressive in its own right—his glowing blue optics dimming and brightening as well as changing shape depending on his mood. His frame, taller than most monsters, was broad-shouldered and not as bulky as some would think,he would say he was built for precision rather than brute strength. And despite being made of machinery, he acted and functioned as if he were born instead, there was an undeniable presence to him—something lively, something real.
With a deft twist of his wrist, Mecha tightened the last screw and leaned back, admiring his work. "Alright, let's see if you still have some life left in you."
He reached up, pressed a button, and the fridge groaned in protest. For a moment, it sputtered, as if deciding whether it wanted to work at all. Then, with a final click, the machine settled into a steady, low hum.
Mecha grinned—or at least, his optics flickered in a way that suggested amusement.
"Well, would you look at that? Just needed a little persuasion."
From behind him, an elderly, moth-like monster named Bessie clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, bless you, dear! I thought I was going to lose all my food to the cold!"
Mecha wiped his hands on a rag and stood up, towering over the old monster. "Not on my watch. You wouldn't believe how many of these old things just need a little care." He gave the fridge an affectionate pat. "They don't build 'em like this anymore."
Bessie smiled, then peered up at him knowingly"You know… you always show up when somethings broken, your propably the most well known repair main in both knew home and snowdin, you must been in multiple homes, and fixed hundreds of things by now, ah most people wonder what tou do in your free time."
What did he do?
He worked. He repaired. He wandered.
Thats preety much all he did since he left his "Previous job".
But lately, he had felt… restless.
Though he was known for fixing machines and any other applainces and sometimes homes themselfs,part of him wondered if there was something bigger he could do Something more than just broken fridges and busted pipes.
But instead of saying any of that, he simply chuckled, turning toward the door.
"Oh, you know. I keep busy," he said, adjusting the long, dark blue jaket draped over his metal frame. "Always something new to fix, somewhere new to be."
Bessie tilted her head. "You're a strange one, dearie, oh before I forget."
She shuffled toward a wooden shelf near the fireplace, pulling out a small leather pouch. "Here, for helping me with my trouble all the way here in snowdin."
He took the pouch with a nod, feeling the familiar weight of gold coins inside.
"Much appreciated," he said
Mecha's optics flickered with amusement and gratatude as he pulled open the door, letting in a gust of cold wind and stepping throug he turned to say back to her.
"Oh by the way, I may be odd" he said. "But hey—at least the fridge works." Then softly shut the door
*step*
*step*
*step*
*step*
The snow crunched beneath his boots as Mecha made his way down the dimly lit path toward Grillby's.
Snowdin was quiet tonight.
The usual chatter of monsters bundled in their scarves and coats had died down as the cold set in deeper, a sign it was getting late, Only the occasional gust of wind disturbed the otherwise peaceful town, carrying with it a soft puffs of snow.
The cold didn't bother him—he didn't feel it the way flesh-and-blood monsters did—but he still pulled his Jaket tighter around himself. It wasn't for warmth. It was just… habit.
As he walked, he mentally flipped through his schedule for tomorrow and the days after
First stop: Muffet's bakery.
The ovens had been acting up again. Last time, she had nearly set her entire shop ablaze nearly killing a bunch of her beloved spider workers, the flames that had licked at the ceiling looked like something out of a horror story. Lucky for her, he had gotten it under control before anything permanent happened. But now, the burners were uneven, and she needed them fixed before her next big batch of pastries.
He didn't even eat pastries, but he figured the Underground would be a little more miserable without them... Or so she says.
Then Alphys' lab.
She always had something broken, whether it was a machine, a program, or just her nerves. He didn't mind helping, but she tended to ramble about theories of anime's he barely understood, though she did have some that intrested him, hmm he might have to ask her to give him a rundown on it, to see if he might like it or not.
After that: Look at the speakers in Mettaton resort
Someone that worked for the rectangle had asked him to check them out. Something about the sound being 'off.' Probably just old wiring, but still, a job was a job.
With that thought in mind, Mecha flipped his collar up and continued to stroll through snowdin town , leaving behind nothing but a perfectly humming fridge and a very amused old monster.