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when niki wakes up, the loud bang is still ringing in her ears, and she can still see the glittering red, white, and blue sparks. the scent blood and smoke filled her senses, sharp and bitter and metallic.
she’s lying in the boxing ring, having been thrown backwards through the air by the explosion. the ringing in her ears still hasn’t stopped, but she can still hear people talking, yelling, though it’s so muffled she can’t make out the words.
there are a million thoughts racing through her head—
tubbo is dead he’s been publicly executed oh my god
why did techno follow the order why did he kill everybody
who’s dead who’s alive who do i trust
—but there’s only one thought that matters to her.
schlatt is a fucking monster.
not that she didn’t know that before, obviously. sending wilbur and tommy into exile, erasing the country’s history, raising her taxes and nobody else’s—schlatt being an asshole has been evident from the very beginning of his reign.
but this…
executing a child at a public celebration?
oh my god tubbo planned and set up his own execution
that was too far.
...she hates to think about it (she doesn’t want to think about it), but something about the execution sparks something in her mind.
there was a small but significant moment, when techno had lifted his weapon to aim the firework rocket at tubbo. the man had been visibly nervous—
“you’ve gotta understand, i’m being subjected to excessive amounts of peer pressure here.”
—and he had been waving his arms around in his anxiety. and for a split second, the rocket had been pointed directly at schlatt’s head.
(when the execution occurred, techno had been the one to pull the trigger. but schlatt had given the order, and in a weak but nonetheless wonderful display of karma, he’d been injured in the blast. she thinks she can do better.
they say karma’s a bitch, but they haven’t crossed niki yet.)
when niki first joined l’manburg, wilbur had gifted her a crossbow.
“as citizens of l’manburg, we fight with our words, not with our fists,” he’d told her as he pressed the crossbow into her hands. “but violence and conflict is a constant threat in this world. if the need ever arises, i want you to be able to fight back. and when you do use it, channel all of your passion into that shot. it’ll do more damage.”
she’d put the crossbow in her ender chest, and she’d only taken it out a few times since.
ignoring the way her muscles scream in protest, niki stands and hops out of the boxing ring. the ringing in her ears has faded, and the other festival attendees are beginning to make their way back to the stage area. she has time, but she has to be quick.
she runs as quietly as she can, racing around the lake to the old van (she’s surprised it hasn’t been destroyed yet). she sighs with relief when she spots the purple sparkles surrounding the ender chest, and she flips open the lid. the crossbow is sitting right at the top, and she lifts it out with a careful reverence. the durability is still high, the wood still sleek and strong.
she closes the ender chest and begins to search for an arrow. it doesn’t take long, and in one of the chests littered around the area, niki finds the jackpot: an arrow tipped with harming, and she suspects it was a full strength potion judging by the luster. she takes it out, mindful not to touch the tip, and loads it into the crossbow.
niki silently walks back over to the stage, going around the lake to enter the main vestibule grounds from the back. the others have already returned. quackity, fundy, and schlatt are on the podium, and the tyrant ( he’s a tyrant, not a president, call him what he is ) is speaking so casually for someone who just ordered the execution of a teenage boy.
she sees nothing but red .
niki grips the crossbow, her finger resting against the trigger, and she marches down the center aisle. her steps, despite being muffled by the wool carpet, are deafening. the crowd has their eyes in her, history has its eyes on her , but she stares straight at her target. her bruised and beaten limbs are aching, but she presses on, not stopping until she’s stood in front of the seated audience. schlatt, the asshole that he is, doesn’t notice that she’s arrived armed, and that only fuels her further.
“how could you?” she whispers shakily. “ how could you?!? ” her voice is louder the second time, loud enough to catch schlatt’s attention. the tyrant stops speaking and glances down. a bark of laughter escapes him when he catches sight of her.
“well, what do we have here?” he chuckles, in a way that emphasizes the fact that he’s an asshole. “you think you can rock up to my festival and intimidate me? how positively pathetic .”
niki shakes her head. “you killed tubbo. you murdered him, after all he’s done for you! the only member of your administration who’s done anything of value for this country, and you have him executed ! i only came to this festival to support him, you know that?” tears are streaming down her cheeks, obscuring her vision, but her eyes stay locked onto schlatt. “i don’t even want to be here! i don’t even want to be here! ”
schlatt lets out a condescending hum. “you wanna know what i think, niki? you wanna know what i really think? i don’t give a shit.”
he doesn’t regret murdering tubbo in cold blood.
oh, it’s over for him now. niki lifts the crossbow to eye level. her movements are precise and miniscule.
schlatt tilts his head in mock thought. “you know, you’ve been a real pain in my ass lately. complaining all the time, committing tax fraud, running that goddamn mouth of yours like there’s no tomorrow.” he narrows his eyes at her, and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “you even brought some stupid fucking toy to try and scare me. you can’t even take the shot. look at you, you’re paralyzed with fear.”
niki takes a deep breath.
“no. i’m just lining up my shot.”
her finger presses firmly against the trigger. the bolt shoots out of the crossbow, soaring through the air. there’s a burst of crimson as the potion-laced tip makes contact with his skin, and the arrow pierces right between his ribs into his heart. schlatt collapses to his knees and flops lifelessly onto the stage. in almost no time at all, blood drips down the cobblestone, staining the fountain red.
the crowd goes silent. from the stage, quackity and fundy stare at schlatt’s corpse with raw horror.
“niki?” she turns around to see wilbur staring at her with a mixture of awe and fear in his eyes. “ what have you done? ”
niki shrugs. she’s too exhausted to wonder why wilbur is at the festival, or how he got in without being attacked. there are a million things that she wants to say to him—
is techno not on our side
where is tommy is he okay
where have you been all this time?
—but all of it can wait, at least for a little while. after pondering for a moment, she decides on what she wants to say.
“revolutions don’t fight themselves. i wasn’t going to throw away my shot.”