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A Spy’s Diary
Written by Unknown
DAY ???
It’s a day after the festival. The place still reeks of burnt wood. Schlatt ordered me to clean up the place, fucking sucks. Reminds me why i’m against him in the first place.. Anyways, i’m still trying to clean up the place and find loose bits of TNT. It's probably gonna take a couple of days, which is why schlatt is also gone for a couple of days. What a sly motherfucker.
I need to get back to working. I wanna finish this up before sundown, its gonna take ages, but we’ll get through it.
I’m still neutral, but the way schlatt is making me work my ass out, it’s really influencing my decisions.
Fundy shut the diary close with a single hand, sighing, as he stashed the book away in the Enderchest.
The festival was a colorful massacre. A massacre that flashed blue, yellow, and especially red.
One could even say it was a blast. Literally.
Fundy kicked a piece of cobble with his feet, watching the stone splinter in the air. His feet ache from the constant walking, and his picaxe started to feel a little heavier every hour. He wiped a bead of sweat, deciding it was time for a break. Schlatt wasn’t anywhere near Manberg, so he wouldn’t be ridiculed for slacking off. Fundy finds himself trudging towards the wooden path, which miraculously stayed intact throughout the explosions.
He walked towards the steps of the path, deciding to rest until he would eventually have to get back to work. As he dusts the soot off his pants, he hears a squeak behind him.
Fundy lifts his head, seeing a familiar brunette.
“Tubbo?” Fundy said aloud, alerting the younger. He saw his head disappear, so Fundy raced up the stairs, calling a second time, “Tubbo!” He exclaims a little too loud, making the younger jump. “What are you doing here?”
“I — Uh,” Tubbo stumbled away, realizing he was caught. He was different the last time they’ve talked. He kept his suit pants, yet reverted back to his signature green button up. “I’m sorry, I’ll just leave — ”
“No no, stay. It’s fine.” Fundy reassures, “Schlatt’s gone off to do some.. stuff. He won’t be returning in three days, at least that’s the deadline he gave me to clean all this up.”
The younger sighs in relief, “Thanks Fun — Wait, clean up?” Tubbo asked incredulously. “You mean..”
“Yep, just me,” Fundy nods, gesturing towards the remains of Manberg. “Of course the ‘furry’ has to do all the labor.”
Tubbo cackled, “They’re just testing your loyalty to Manberg.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Fundy teases, as he watched instant worry flare in Tubbo’s eyes. He was always so tense, the poor kid. “I’m kidding, I’m not mad at you Tubbo.”
Tubbo’s chest deflated from a sigh, “Really?”
“Oh yeah, I know you’d always fight whatever side Tommy was on. A betrayal would happen eventually. I can't stay mad at a fellow Dreamon hunter forever.”
A smile reappeared on Tubbo’s face, relief washing over him. “That’s nice to hear, I don’t want to make any more enemies. Though, you know.. we are technically enemies now. I’m with Pogtopia now and you’re with.. Manberg.”
Fundy felt the hurt from his voice. It took a lot of will for Fundy to not spill his true intentions with Schlatt. He thought Schlatt was a power hungry maniac as much as the next person did. He wasn’t part of Pogtopia, but he was against Schlatt, so they were against the same person, just different sides.
“And yet you still decide to come? Knowing full well I could kill you or someone else could?”
“I’ve escaped death once, I’d take my chances, even if I just got lucky. Really.. Lucky.”
And he wasn’t wrong. Fundy remembers the trepidation suffocating the audience as Schlatt ordered Technoblade to execute Tubbo. Fundy stayed glued to his seat — he didn't want to, but face it, a brawl between the Blade would be asking for a death wish.
Although Tubbo was never formally executed, Tubbo got the idea he wasn’t welcomed back. The explosions saved him in time.
“I came to see the damage,” Tubbo says, surveying the area. Hurt flashed in the young ones eyes, he did single handedly organize the festival, or at least that’s what Schlatt disguised it as to cover up Tubbo’s banishment. “I fled to Pogtopia right when I heard the first explosion. It’s..” his gaze lingered towards the election podium, or at least what’s left of it, “real bad, isn’t it?”
Fundy nods sullenly, “Yep, and no one is bothered to help me. Schlatt’s fucking high all the time, Quackity can’t build for shit,” He perked his brows towards the White House, “and I’m the only one who knows the original layout of Manberg because.. Well, you know, it’s my home. Practically ingrained my head.”
Tubbo sighed. “I’m sorry, man. This must suck.”
Fundy shrugged. It was a sad sight to see, but it wasn’t like he was burning with rage. It just happened.
It made Fundy realize he’s seen an image similar before.
He remembers the war so clearly. Some days he wished he didn’t. Days where the walls were still up. Where the van was still intact. When Fundy actually wore his uniform.
He remembers a different time, different conflicts, yet the same land. Orange and red never seemed like dangerous colors until they were, as they lit up the sky as TNT danced beneath L’Manberg’s floor, enveloping him in a whirlwind of explosions. The blasts still rang silently and as strong, and the cries of his teammates along with the enemy’s laughter tainted his ears for eternity.
He felt numb to it all. There was no guide to surviving a life with traumatic experiences like that. So, the only way Fundy knew how to cope was to shut it all out. To forget it even happened.
He still tried to process everything that had happened, pretend that it wasn’t as bad as he thought, until he stumbled upon an unlit TNT beneath the floor. Suddenly the silent screams became deafening and flashes of red was the only color his eyes allowed him to see.
The fight for L’Manberg stuck onto him like a mental scar, and the festival easily left another one.
Fundy hasn’t noticed he hasn’t said anything in a while. He turns to Tubbo, who started to get concerned due to his lack of words.
“Yeah it’s — no, it’s fine.” Fundy scoffs, failing to act unfazed. Tubbo would notice.
“Are you sure?”
The question lingered uncomfortably in the air. It left Fundy to think if he’s even right.
He sighed. “I don’t know Tubbo, I’m just the guy left to fix this whole thing up, I haven’t had time to think for myself.”
“Like a ‘Yes man’?” Tubbo asks, a small smirk curling at his lips.
“I guess. Whatever Schlatt says, I have to agree to.”
“Ugh. Sounds fun.” Tubbo’s voice was laced with sarcasm, and it was painstakingly obvious.
“Absolutely.” Fundy chuckled, earning a faint giggle from Tubbo. The brunette’s eyes gleamed with a twinge of easiness, until his gaze gravitated towards Manberg. Dread glazed over his eyes immediately.
Fundy caught into the younger one’s uncomfortableness, yet Tubbo beat him to it with a question.
“Fundy,” Tubbo suddenly became thick with seriousness. “Do you know who laced it with TNT?”
Fundy wasn’t sure what he meant. “No, why you ask?”
“It was Wilbur.”
Fundy locked steady eyes towards Tubbo. “What?”
“Wilbur did it.” Tubbo blurted again.
“How do you know this?”
“He told me. Three days before the festival — ”
“Three days?” Fundy exclaimed. “Jesus Christ why did — you knew about this? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I couldn’t! It was Wilbur’s plan, meaning it was Pogtopia’s plan, I couldn’t go against it. Techno even agreed to it, Tommy has no power over that, meaning I can’t do shit! If I told Schlatt, that would be considered betrayal!” Tubbo began to spill everything, this flood of secrets he so desperately wanted to leak. “Fuck, man, I’m really fucking sorry.”
“Why are you telling me this? This is just putting more of a bounty on your head.”
“You can tell him. Schlatt already hates my guts. I’m only telling you this because you're the only person in charge of Manberg left of the original L’Manberg members,” Fundy felt his body turn tense at the mention of the previous nation. His original home. “I’m done lying. The whole server knows I was a spy, the damage has already been done. Although you’re the enemy, you at least deserve the truth. You deserve to know who destroyed your home.”
Fundy stayed silent throughout that whole spiel. It was his home, but it was long gone since he could recognize it as home. Once the walls were removed it wasn’t his home anymore, it was Manberg, and now Manberg was obliterated.
“Speaking about.. Wilbur — ”
“You came to talk about my father, didn’t you?”
Tubbo blinked one surprise. “You called him father.”
Fundy seems surprised, realizing what he said, like it was a slip up even though it was true. He’s been calling him “dad” less often.
“What does Wil want? If you’ve come to relay a message — ”
“He doesn’t want anything.”
“Then why’d you bring him up?”
“He’s on his deathbed, Fundy.”
The words didn’t quite hit him until he felt a cold shudder across his body. “Excuse me? The hell you mean he’s dying?”
The younger’s mouth fidgeted, uncertain what to say, “During.. During the festival, when Wilbur pressed the button, TNT also lit inside the room he was in and the stone came crashing down, suffocating him. We found him, but he was barely conscious. Barely.”
“So he’s alive.”
“Barely.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“I just thought.. Maybe, that.. if he doesn’t wake up, or if —“
“I am never seeing that man again.”
Tubbo instantly grew tense. Those were not the words he was expecting. “But, Fundy he’s your father — ”
“He was a terrible father,” Fundy snarled. “He never once gave me that treatment he gives to Tommy or even you. He babied me every second he got and didn’t defend me when Tommy threw me under the bus for a vote. The man cared more about his power than protecting his own son. He wasn’t there for the entirety of my life, why would I be there when his is almost over?”
Fundy didn’t mean to startle Tubbo, but it was apparent he was stunned at his words, like he finally reached a sad, yet painfully true revelation. “Fundy — ”
“I know you mean well, Tubbo. I just.. Rather live a life without him.” Fundy would even say he’s already been living a life like that.
“You don’t really mean that, do you?” asked Tubbo. Fundy refused to answer.
Tubbo sighed defeatedly. “I know he’s not the best person, Fundy. He's far from a perfect leader. You could say he’s gone off the rails a bit, actually.”
“How so?”
“Tommy’s told me he thinks he’s the villain now or something, and just wants to see everything burn. If he can’t have Manberg, no one could.”
Although Fundy wanted nothing to do what his father, it was unnerving to hear. He always advocated for peace and nonviolence, so it was jarring to hear his bizarre turn to bloodlust. “Jesus christ.”
“Yeah. And he did exactly what he said he’d do.” Tubbo continued dismally. “That’s not the Wilbur I knew. He’s not himself.”
Fundy grimaced, “Then.. who was the Wilbur you knew?”
“The Wilbur I knew?” Tubbo echoes, “Well, he was a leader. He wanted a nation where he could prosper and Europeans could live happily. He had lots of dreams and aspirations. That’s not so bad is it? He was kind, nurturing. A nice guy.”
Tubbo looked at Fundy for a look of agreement, except met with a deadpan expression from the fox man.
His awkward laughter to fill the silence died quickly. “I’m guessing we have a… difference in our experiences with Wilbur.”
If Tubbo thought Wilbur was a good person, then surely there must be some good left him. He needed to have hope for his father.
“Where’s his location?” Fundy didn’t think before he spoke. If he did, he’ll never make amends with Wilbur.
Tubbo tried to hide the relief in his eyes. Key word, tried. “I.. I can’t give you the exact coordinates.”
“It’s in Poptopia I assume. Fair.”
“I can take you,” Tubbo offers, “I would have to blindfold you, though. And make sure Tommy doesn’t find out, he would kill me.”
“Tommy would do that.”
“He’s a bit tense right now.” Tubbo chuckled nervously. “He’s kinda the temporary leader in Pogtopia. Hopefully it doesn’t stay that way.”
Fundy nods uneasily, knowing exactly that Tubbo was implying.
“I’ll set up a time. Thank you Tubbo for telling me.”
“No problem!” Tubbo chirped, “Hey, I’m not doing anything right now, mind if I help you clean this up?”
Fundy smiles tenderly. “Of course, Tubbo.”
Fundy watched as Tubbo waved goodbye from the path, sending condolences and luck from both sides. He waited until Tubbo was out of sight.
He then ventured towards the remains of the lake, tiptoeing through the rubble to find a specific hole.
Fundy slipped into a hole, jumping into a wooden path.
Honestly, the more Fundy explores, the more obvious it was that Tubbo was a spy.
Fundy walked down the trail, passing by the secret bunker Tubbo built. Past that, the path stretched father down the caves. He found himself towards the end, yellow pieces of wool signaling where he was.
He was in Pogtopia.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from a couple of exiles trying to survive their banishment, but it was home to them. It was a makeshift base in a ravine, with towering stone walls, tattered with railings and the scent of burnt campfires. Fundy ambles over to the chests, peeking over to see an underground farm. Potatoes, as expected.
Fundy’s eyes linger towards a bed, and suppresses his shock as he sees who’s inhabiting it.
“Wil.”
He paces towards the bed, kneeling by the bedside. With a cautious hand, Fundy places the back of his hand against Wilbur’s cheek. He winces, startled at Wilbur’s freezing temperature.
Fundy hasn’t seen Wil in ages. He laid there with an emotionless countenance, breathing faintly. The new getup looks cool, he never knew Wilbur kept a trenchcoat. There were bandages patched on his cheeks, soot smeared across his trenchcoat, and eye bags that weighed below his eyes.
Although the disheveled appearance, he looked peaceful. Fundy wondered if it was true that his fears corrupted him. It was hard to imagine that those types of thoughts were raging within his mind. But here he was, laying tranquil on the bed, in his most vulnerable state.
Fundy could pull out his sword and slash him. Permanently erasing him from this wretched world. Doing everyone a favor without even knowing. Although he loathes the guy, killing him would not do any good. It’ll just leave a bloodbath, a leaderless resistance, and more enemies.
He sat on a piece of stone, watching Wilbur’s chest deflate and rise.
“Hey, Wil,” Fundy says, waiting for the silence to respond. “It’s been a while.”
Silence. Loud, suffocating, silence.
Fundy doesn’t know why he was expecting an answer. Part of him hoped for one.
“So this is Pogtopia, huh? It’s not a L’Manberg, but I can see why you call it home. It’s nice. Cozy. Definitely better than Manberg.”
Fundy nodded to himself, surveying the surroundings much more. Makeshift wooden stairs scaled the walls and lanterns swung creakily above. The lights reminded him of the campfires back in L’Manberg.
“I guess I should uh, probably explain myself. I really hope you don’t remember this, you’d probably kick my ass for being in Pogtopia. Oh well. Tell Tubbo to make his secret path more secretive.” Fundy jokes, met with no reaction.
“So uh.. apparently you blew up L’Manberg? What’s up with that? I thought you loved L’Manberg, the fuck happened? Did something happen? I don’t.. I don’t understand why you would do that. You of all people should know what it’s like to lose your home… my home, our home. Why do you want it gone? Isn’t that what you’re trying to get back?”
“What, you just thought since you lost everything everyone should as well? You’re not the only one that’s lost everyone, Wil. Manberg was the only thing I could cling into that wasn’t taken away from me. My pets are gone, my running mate is gone, you’re gone. Manberg was one of the only things I had left. Now that’s gone, too. What the hell do you want me to do dad?”
Fundy didn’t expect an answer. Then again, should he be talking like this? His father almost died, and he’s poking fun at him.
Was he just as bad as his father?
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have come here. You’re not even conscious yet you’re pissing me off.” Fundy barked, groaning into his hands. “You think I want you dead, don’t you? Or that I hate you.. It’s not entirely true. But.. I really hope you didn’t think that. I don’t want that being your last memory of me.”
It was haunting to think that Wilbur thinks his only family remaining, his only son, betrayed him for the person who banished him out of his own nation. Was his son’s betrayal the last straw that caused his father to go down this path of villainy?
Maybe he should’ve stuck with Wilbur, rather than risk this plan of being a spy. He could’ve possibly saved his home. Could’ve prevented his father’s loss of morality.
Yet at the same time, he couldn’t imagine spending another day with his father.
That’s the whole reason he started Coconut2020, right? To get back at him, to spite him, to prove to his father he wasn’t a liability to the team.
Then he teamed with Schlatt. The worst betrayal of them all.
Was “teaming” with Schlatt just a way to justify this underlying resentment towards his father? To finally fulfill that parental validation he’s been yearning his whole life?
Schlatt sure did appreciate him. Fundy finally felt validated for his efforts towards Manberg.
But it wasn’t the validation he was craving for.
Schlatt saw him as a tool. Not as a friend, and definitely not his son.
Fundy wasn’t an idiot. He knows he’s being used. But he keeps going, because he has to keep up with his spy plans.
It was Wilbur all over again. Trying so hard for a sense of appreciation, yet nothing is reciprocated in return.
So, he’s still alone.
Alone and hungry for a fatherly figure that appreciates him.
But, it hasn’t gone all adrift yet.
“I don’t want you to die, Wil. Come on, you can do better than this. You’re seriously gonna die being known as the guy who obliterated his own nation and took himself down with it? That’s fucking stupid. I don’t want my dad known for that, that’s stupid. We both know what you did was fucked. You have a chance to apologize and take back what’s yours.”
“What you’ve done to Manberg, what you’ve done to me, I don’t want you to go down with those either. I actually want.. Y’know, to have a decent, father and son relationship. What it is right now is a little bit, uh, messy, but, we can make it work! Yeah, we can make it work. I really want to make this work.”
Fundy smiles timidly, realizing he’s rambling about something so outlandishly. Of course, the one time he actually has a decent conversation with his dad is when he’s not even responsive.
Having a good father and son relationship wasn’t totally outlandish right? Apparently it was in the land of the Dream SMP.
“So, if you’re somehow hearing this, push through it, okay? Everyone’s counting on you. Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, me. Stay alive for me. I know it’s kinda hard to see that we care about you, but I promise, we do care. And I know that.. If you do wake up, you’ll probably go back to hating me, and I’ll go back to hating you. I don’t want to hate you, cause, you’re my dad, you’re all I got left. We’re both what we have left. I don’t want this hate to last forever, okay? I know it’s gonna take a while, but I really do want my dad back. And I don’t mean I want you back conscious, I want the real Wilbur back, okay? Okay dad?”
Wilbur doesn’t respond, but Fundy fills the silence with an nonexistent reply. “Okay.”
He pats the pocket of Wilbur’s jacket, feeling a slight bump in the pocket. Fundy stops, feeling the area. He unbuttoned the pocket, seeing a crumpled piece of paper. The paper unfolds itself, tumbling to the side of Wilbur’s chest.
Fundy feels his body churn at the sight of the paper. His eyes crinkled into a wistful smile as something wet began to gloss his eyes. Fundy held the stinging sensation behind his eyes, picking up the paper.
A Spy’s Diary
Written by Unknown
DAY ???
I have been failing to keep track of the days, but that doesn’t matter. Something very important happened today. It’s not Schlatt related, but I felt the need to write it down.
I saw my father today. Needless to say he’s not in very good shape. Not sure how long it’ll be until he gains consciousness. If he does that is. I still don’t like him, and as far as I know, he doesn’t like me either.
I want to change that. But it’s going to be hard. My father isn’t the man he used to be, and I am not the same son. Yet, I know it’s not all gone. He’s not all gone. There’s still some hope to salvage this relationship.
Which is why I’m fighting stronger than ever to take down Schlatt. I want my father back. I want my friends back. I want my home back.
Fundy puts the quill down, picking up the folded paper he collected from Wilbur.
It was a photograph of the six L’Manberg members, smiles dancing on their faces, beyond happy, and oblivious to the doomed future.
Fundy wrote one final thing down before closing the book.
Just a reminder to know what I’m fighting for.