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Skeppy has seen better days before. His days were peaceful and even with Tommy screaming in his ears ever since he’s gotten the disc—he’s yet to know the fact that he’d already given the disc to Bad; he was considering telling him just so he would get off his case—he would see the majority of his days as a quiet, serene environment that was his own blessed sanctuary.
But today was not one of those days.
“Armor?” he asked, eyes scanning the brunet’s gear with a strained expression. Ant’s netherite armor seemed to be in one piece, with the crevices glowing with the hum of magic and enchantments. They were identical to Skeppy’s – everybody in Badland’s shared the same type of armor. Unlike the other factions, they didn’t have uniform, but they proved to be one of the most formidable yet dormant nations with their resources alone.
Ant raised an arm and turned his wrist. “It’s all fine to me,” he said. “It’s just Schlatt and Quackity. Just because they’ve got good healthcare doesn’t mean they’ve got good insurance.”
“Good skills, you mean,” Skeppy mumbled, moving onto the next person. It was Punz, who had taken off his hood and chose to wear his helmet instead. Like Ant’s, they were in perfect condition. They had invested in Mending, after all. There was no reason that their armor would be in poor shape. “You wanna know why they have such good healthcare? It’s because they keep dying all the time. Practice makes perfect.”
Punz snorted and choked on his own laughter.
“Still, why do we need armor checks?” Ant scratched his belly under his chestplate. “It’s just a diplomatic meeting. Or are we going to start stabbing people if Quackity so much as breathes the f-word? Is Bad going to beat them over the heads with a language stick and we’re his backup?”
Skeppy shrugged, indicating that he had no clue, despite being Bad’s right-hand man, he was as confused as the rest of them. “Maybe it’s because he’s paranoid that this will turn out like the election.” He shuddered, recalling the event that he did not attend. The only person amongst them that was present at the time was Bad and Punz, and they were the only people who didn’t immediately chase after the exiled two. It helped in their relations with Pogtopia, since Tommy was interested in Bad in general and Wilbur was more familiar with Punz.
He went over to Sapnap, who was still new to Badlands and wore diamond armor instead of netherite. They still didn’t have the time to get him his own set, since with all the situations blowing up in every nation. (Bad had taken Sapnap’s original set for him to prove his allegiance.) Pogtopia was dealing with a Wilbur who was descending to madness. Manburg was breaking down due to Schlatt and Quackity’s divorce. The Dream Team are still nonexistent and have contributed nothing. Badlands was the only place that hasn’t blown itself up… yet. So it would make sense for Schlatt to ask for an alliance between the two. It was only a matter of time.
“You know,” Sapnap said, striking a pose with a seductive smirk as Skeppy inspected his chestplate. Skeppy whacked him over the head with the flat of his sword. He scoffed. “Anyways, don’t you think that this is excessive? Like legit, Manburg is a mess and we can take them with our eyes closed. No one there knows how to fight.” He smirked when Skeppy sighed from his nose. He didn’t know the reason of their inactivity, either.
“Like he’s got any answers,” Punz clapped back. “Man can’t even get his man to notice him.”
The group hollered with laughter, clutching their sides and stomachs and bending over with humor. Skeppy stood, stone-faced as he grew more irritated by the second. If his burning face any indication of his struggle, they didn’t further comment as they daren’t upset their second-in-command, even if they were all sharing the same braincell.
Eventually, they stopped laughing and wiped the tears from their eyes. Because if they didn’t, the sword in Skeppy’s hand looked like it was ready for fresh blood and slaughtering. Ant forced himself to keep a straight face, covering his mouth with a fist, though he was still snorting from his nose and blood rushed to his face like a balloon. The others shared the same fate, though Sapnap was already calm, presumably holding experience from Dream and George’s antiques before he decided to join Badlands. If Ant didn’t know any better, he would assume the Dream Team to be formed of crackheads.
“Okay,” Skeppy said finally, voice cracking. “Schlatt’s going to come at four in the evening, and it’s already two. You three better keep an eye out around the perimeter in case he’s trying to sneak people in to steal our resources or gather intel or weaknesses about the base.”
Punz raised an eyebrow. “And what will you be doing?”
“Pining after his crush,” Sapnap snapped.
Skeppy glared at him. “I’m also patrolling, but at Manburg.” He sheathed his sword into his inventory. “Bad wants me to check if there’s anything off since we last went there. It could be useful since Schlatt’s on his last legs and we’re slowly becoming the dominant faction. We can’t hide it if we try and Ant’s practically blown the master plan to Sam when he’s trying to move Sapnap’s cousins.” He crossed his arms at the two. “Anything to say, Frostie?”
Sapnap and Ant whipped to him with scandalous looks, which were quickly shut down by Skeppy glowering daggers at them.
“Now go! Shoo.” Skeppy began to shove them outside. “Be here before it’s four and don’t be late. Bad’s going to kill all of us and you all know it.”
Hours later, when Sapnap returned to base, he found Bad already there. Sapnap looked around, but he did not see Skeppy or anyone else. In contrast to his previous serious mood, Bad was relatively relaxed, fixing up coffee by the kitchen. Fuck. Sapnap was late.
“You’re late,” Bad chided, but there was no anger in it. He wasn’t even ticked off that Sapnap was late – again. He poured the coffee from the coffeemaker and headed upstairs, where the meeting would be held.
Sapnap stared at Bad as he walked up the stairs, his expression blank with a calculating smile. Whatever happened when he was gone, it had not gone well, and he was glad that he’d missed the shitstorm.
Later in the day, Bad had snuck into Pogtopia without telling anybody. It’d been a stealth mission, to steal any noteworthy information, but Dream was there, alongside Technoblade. There was no way he would be able to hide himself from the members of Pogtopia. So from the darkest crevice of shadows, he revealed himself, but he didn’t expect Tommy to react to his appearance so abruptly. Sure, he wasn’t being the subtlest as he got down from a crack in the wall, but he expected someone to at least take note of his presence. However, Dream hadn’t even been aware of his intrusion, eyes widening as Tommy shouted his name.
“BadBoyHalo?” Fundy demanded. He pointed a finger at the hooded brunet and turned to Wilbur, scandalized. “You trust this guy over me? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Wilbur gaped at Bad, as if his brain were short-circuiting over the appearance of the man. “I didn’t tell him anything,” he stuttered. He whipped to the rest of his team, but all of them were equally shocked and surprised that their super-secret base had been exposed to an outsider. An outsider that played a minor role in the previous war and did not partake in any other. “Alright, which one of you told him?”
Neither of them spoke. Dream scratched the back of his head and Techno plain snorted at the ridiculousness of it all. Tommy wouldn’t meet his eyes and turned from his deranged president. Wilbur Soot groaned and possibly burst a blood vessel.
Dream tapped his chin. “Well, to be fair,” he started skeptically. “There’s a lot of people here. And we’re gathered in one spot. There’s no doubt that it’s going to be suspicious, especially in the middle of nowhere – and underground, especially.” He turned to Bad. “Did you use your Enchanted Compass? I thought I mentioned that it was strictly forbidden in this realm.”
Bad shook his head, raising his arms as Quackity held an iron axe to his face, despite being clad in full netherite and Quackity with nothing but iron boots. He shirked under Fundy and Wilbur’s glare, too, the pair looking every bit like father and son.
“I don’t have it!” Bad promised. “I left it behind the same moment when the others left theirs. You believe me, right, Dream? You’ll know when I’m lying.”
Dream scoffed. His expression darkened significantly, despite his face being covered by his mask. “That’s the problem, Bad.” He unsheathed his sword, a full majestic blade of netherite, glowing with magic. “I don’t.”
The others turned to Dream’s sudden hostility, alarmed. Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy scrambled to point their weapons on the lone man. Techno didn’t react, but his lazed stare was steadily morphed to an analytical glare. Wilbur raised his arm to shield Niki, who was backing off from the man that she saw as a friend. Faced off against several people with no one by himself. It was guarantee that Bad would lose, no matter the process.
Bad, in spite of his gear, did not draw a weapon or pull up his shield. Instead, he took a cautious step backwards, raising his hands to show that he meant no harm. His brows furrowed into a frown, his green eyes meeting Dream’s mask, where his eyes were supposed to be. He knew Bad was long straight at him, and was as serious as he can be.
“I swear on my life that I did not use the compass, Clay,” Bad warned solemnly, noting that Dream’s fingers tightened around his sword. With every word, his voice turned softer, softer and softer, until they were the only ones that could hear his words. “If you do not believe me, then you will strike me down where I stand. I do not like lying about any oath, Dream, no matter how small. You know this. I taught you this. Do you remember?”
Dream struggled in his stance for a good moment. Bad could see his lips pressing into a thin line, he could sense his eyes darting around the others behind that mask, and he could tell that sweat was running down Dream’s back this very second. They were silent, as if sharing a dance that could only be interpreted as a war of their own. If Dream wants to exploit every opportunity this world has to offer, Bad won’t just idly stand by. Not anymore. Unlike Dream, the who sought after chaos, Bad wanted to rule the world.
Bad did not speak. From the corner of his eyes, he caught Tommy and Tubbo staring at Dream, drawing their swords in caution in case the blond ever turned on them. Tommy’s wings were outstretched, with one wing covering Tubbo’s back as if to protect him. They were afraid that Dream will turn that sword to their necks instead of Bad’s. They were paranoid, whether if they had set their sights on the real enemy all this time. Was Schlatt the villain? Or was BadBoyHalo a bigger threat? They no longer knew. The world was never black and white, but this was no longer a monochromatic world. Bad’s presence had introduced a new spectrum of colors, of which most reflect the shade of war. Ones they’ve been trying to avoid and neglect.
“Yes,” he spat eventually, lowering his sword. “I remember, Halo.”
Bad smiled kindly at him. “Thank you, Dream.”
Everyone stared at Dream, who refused to meet Bad’s eyes. They were good friends, once upon a time, but war has changed that. They were fighting for different causes and different sides. Their ideals have morphed into something that will no longer benefit the other. The hand that he used to shake had become a hand that would orchestrate his demise like a symphony of agony.
Tubbo blinked. “Is that it?” He lowered his sword. “Are we not fighting?”
“No, no, we aren’t,” Bad said quickly. “In fact, do you guys wanna know the reason I’m here?” He earned spiteful glances from Fundy and Quackity, which to be honest, was expected, even if they looked like they were going to commit hell upon him with any given chance.
Wilbur frowned, eyeing his wary allies. “Sure,” he said. “Explain yourself.” He lowered his arm and crossed both of them. “Why are you intruding upon Pogtopia, and how did you find us? Do you plan to tell Schlatt of our whereabouts? Did he send you to eliminate us? Good luck with that, by the way, you’re never going to get past Technoblade.” He didn’t mention Dream. Perhaps Dream’s reluctant agreement had changed his opinion on the blond. If Dream was trying to earn their trust, Bad had ruined it for him. Usually, under normal circumstances, Bad would grovel and beg for Dream’s forgiveness. He would never even think of ruining anyone’s reputation.
But this is war. Bad hid the smirk well. They could not see his true intentions.
“Well,” Bad started, glancing over at Quackity, who’d lowered his axe, then to the others, who longer directed their weapons at him, “I found this area thanks to Techno, a long time ago.” All eyes went to the pink-haired man, who shrugged and cursed under his breath. “And as for why I’m here, it’s because I just came out of a meeting with Schlatt, a few moments before.” He saw Tommy’s wings droop behind him, each individual feather tensing in awareness.
Wilbur was not amused. He waved it off, but his posture was stiffer than ever. “And why would you be telling us this, BBH?” he demanded. “There’s no reason for you to be telling us that you’re going to side with Manburg. You’re just making yourself our enemy.” His eyes turned dark. “No matter how skilled, you cannot fight us all alone. You are no Dream, nor are you Technoblade.”
Bad shrugged. “Perhaps I am not alone,” he replied. “Perhaps I have allies. Allies that you know well. Allies that have hunted Dream once and allies that have power that command gemstones. It does not matter if you can lure people with your voice alone, nor will it be important that you can soar the skies or summon the undead. I am aware that you know who they are, but I also know you like the back of my hand. If we truly are at odds, I do not require swords or axes to be rid of you. Such violent measures wouldn’t be necessary. I thought such policies are yours to uphold, is it not, President of L’Manburg?”
The siren glared at him. “I don’t care how many allies you have. I know that Skeppy and Antfrost are by your side. We will win this war, even if you side with Schlatt. You will fall, BadBoyHalo. You will fall just as hard as Schlatt when we knock you off your podium.”
“I would not mind that outcome,” Bad admitted. “But, there is one thing that you are mistaken.”
Dream stared at him. Bad could tell he was raising his eyebrows. “Then what, Bad?”
Bad turned to Wilbur with all the seriousness he could muster. “I did not side with Manburg.”
Once again, nobody spoke. The roller coaster of events were too much for them to handle. Wilbur’s face was frozen between disbelief and spite. Tommy and Tubbo’s heads flicked between the brunet and their leader. Dream stared, scandalized at Bad. Technoblade released a sigh of disappointment, probably muttering something about having no strong enemies to pummel to the ground. Niki, Fundy and Quackity were a collective show of gaping mouths.
Seconds later, Niki was the one that found her voice. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you not side with Manburg?”
“He asked me for a cup of coffee, that’s what.”
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. He walked into my base, looking all important. Then he asked me, ‘Sweetheart, can you fix me a cup of coffee? I have a meeting with the leader of Badlands in three minutes.’”
Extra Scenes (When Schlatt asked for coffee):
“Sure thing!” Bad chirped, standing from his seat and made his way downstairs. As he disappeared to their kitchen, his silhouette was followed by Skeppy, Ant and Punz, with the exception of Sapnap who was late as usual. They’d only started shuffling into the room, but Schlatt had already asked Bad, who was the only one in the room, to get him refreshments.
Skeppy, Punz and Ant stared at him incomprehensibly.
George, who was accompanying Schlatt with Ponk, shook his head and sighed into his palm. Still, they poured into the room, each of them standing at their designated posts. Ponk and George stood behind Schlatt. Skeppy stood by the head seat. Ant stood by the door and Punz at the windows.
“So,” Schlatt declared, turning to the remaining members. “Which one of you is the leader?” He grinned at Skeppy, since he was standing next to the leader’s seat. “Let’s say we get down to business.”
Skeppy raised a hand. “I’m not—” He was cut off by Schlatt.
“I see, I see! Punz, is it you? You’re always the best at—”
Punz froze, despite knowing that this was coming sooner or later. He looked like a deer in headlights, his brain refusing to function or tell him how to get out of this mess. “Uh, I—”
“Ant! My Man. Making your way up the hierarchy.”
Ant’s hand itched for his shield. “Actually, the leader is—”
“Sapnap? You should’ve said so!” Schlatt seated himself in the seat across the head seat. It was a decent-sized, rectangle table with only two chairs. One was clearly larger and sturdier than the other, which belonged to the leader of Badlands. “When is the man himself showing his face? But you know, I am a reasonable man. I can wait a few minutes.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Yeah. You guys must have pretty loose rules. After all, Halo was sitting in the big man’s seat. You really need some discipline. I can help you guys with that!”
Nobody laughed. Skeppy coughed into his fist, standing faithfully by the head seat.
Very, very uncomfortable minutes later, the door finally opened again, to reveal Bad holding a cup of steaming coffee, Sapnap right behind him. With a monotonous smile, he set the coffee in front of Schlatt, who didn’t bother to thank him.
Schlatt turned to Sapnap. “What took you so long? This isn’t proper meeting etiquette.”
Sapnap blinked in surprise. “What?” he demanded. “Why do you need me to have a meeting? Am I supposed to stand here and look pretty and hold documents for you like some tanned chick? You already have George.”
George glared at him. “Shut up.”
Schlatt groaned. “You’re not the leader?” he asked exasperatedly. “Who is it? Will they be here soon? My time is being wasted here.”
“Don’t worry,” Bad answered. His expression was still locked in a smile. “He’ll be here soon.” He pushed the head chair back and seated himself. “I’m here.” He relished the moment Schlatt’s scowl turned stale. He could’ve rebutted him, but instead, he asked with a concerned tone: “Is this meeting clashing with your schedule? We can always reschedule if you find this to be an unconventional time.”
Schlatt stared wide-eyed at him, his composure crumpling into a mess. With a finger pulling at his collar, he shook his head and replied with the best smile he could muster.
“Not at all! Shall we begin our discussion?”