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Quackity paused as he followed BadBoyHalo and Callahan into the darkened room, lit only by the faint light emanating from lava and magma rock cradled in the red vines that spread over the room like strange veins and arteries. Even as Quackity stopped in the entryway, Bad’s words faded into a buzz, lost in the undercurrent of soft whispers coming from the room itself, sounding almost like blood was carried through the vines, pulsing in time with some strange heartbeat. Turning his gaze further inward, Quackity found the source of that heartbeat, his gaze finally landing on the mass that was built up in the back of the room.
“This is the Egg!” Bad gestured to that very mass. “Come on, let’s get closer.”
Quackity nearly tripped over his own feet as he took a step forward, his gaze locked onto the Egg. He cursed as magma rock scorched his bare feet.
“I told you to be careful where you were walking down here,” Bad chastised, and Quackity immediately proceeded to walk across another stretch of magma rock. “Quackity.”
Quackity didn’t respond, staring unblinkingly at the Egg. The lava and magma, along with the oppressive wrapping of vines, made the room feel warm—even the sections of vine he was standing on felt warm, alive. His eyelids drooped until they were half-closed, and he swayed where he stood. Callahan helped him find his balance by placing a hand on his shoulder, but Callahan’s eyes were half-shut as well. Callahan left him, silent as he crept forward past huge orange petals that had bloomed around the Egg, the blossom glowing faintly. Callahan trailed his hands across one of the petals, and where he touched it, the petals darkened momentarily, flushing red.
“What… what is this place?” Quackity finally ventured. He shook his head, but the fogginess enveloping his mind only seemed to grow thicker. “What is that, Bad?”
“It’s the Egg,” Bad repeated. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Can I touch it?”
“Sure, go ahead and climb up on it.” Bad patted the side of the Egg, clambering up by leaping from the petals, his boots temporarily leaving dark prints on the blossom. He settled onto the Egg, his eyes glowing out from under the hood he always wore. No, Quackity realized, it wasn’t the one Bad always wore—something about it wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Instead, he placed his hand on the Egg like Bad had said he could do, and his eyes slid shut completely. In that moment, all his worries washed away—why was he worried about what Bad was wearing? Why was he questioning why he could practically feel a pulse under his hand? Callahan would be safe here, sleeping where he’d collapsed on one of the wide petals, the bloom darkening like blood underneath him. This place was safe.
It wasn’t difficult for Quackity to crawl blindly up the Egg, joining Bad on top of it. “How do you feel, Quackity?”
“It’s wonderful, man.” It’d been a long time since Quackity had felt at peace like this—a long time since he’d felt like he was actually in control of something, instead of being a pawn in everyone else’s game. He felt like he finally had power over himself again.
Bad’s words interrupted his train of thought, though Quackity felt no anger at the interruption like he normally would. “You feelin’ good?”
“I feel great.” Quackity ran his hands over the Egg next to where he sat, trying to puzzle through what he was experiencing. Bad’s words were muted, fuzzy. Instead, a quiet voice whispered to him, singing of how he could finally win—he could finally clear his list. He could take control, like he’d always wanted. “I feel… I feel… I dunno, it’s a strange sensation.” Everyone would have to answer to him—no one would stand in his way. All he had to do was trust the Egg, open his mind up the Egg. Bad murmured encouragement as Quackity repeated some of what he was hearing in mumbles. “I…” The whispers grew louder, promising that with Dream locked away, and with the Egg to help, Quackity could even take down Technoblade.
The dark scar that ran down Quackity’s face from his cheek down through his lip burned suddenly, a reminder of who he’d gotten the injury from—Technoblade himself. It felt as if the wound had been split open anew, and Quackity gasped. Rather than reminding Quackity of the anger he felt toward the seemingly-unkillable warrior, though, it reminded him of all he’d lost in this fight so far. L’Manberg had been reduced to less than rubble, a huge crater all that remained. Friendships, torn apart by the wars, broken beyond repair. His own face bore the harsh reminder that he’d nearly lost his life by trusting that things could be easy—he’d thought the Butchers’ Army would give him victory.
This Egg couldn’t give him what he wanted, Quackity realized, and the fog in his mind cleared, burned away with the aching of his scar. He met Bad’s gaze, briefly, and he saw teeth flash in a delighted smirk from the darkness of Bad’s hood—Bad wanted him to fall under the Egg’s spell. Bad promised the Egg could give him what he wanted, but Quackity knew better. Power was taken or earned, never given. The Egg couldn’t help him.
Angry screeches filled his mind, the calm melodies forgotten as the Egg felt him slipping out from under its control. Quackity flinched as his mind was assaulted, the Egg tearing through dozens of memories and attacking him with them, forcing him to relive every failure and humiliation he’d relegated to his nightmares. “I have to get out of here.” The words slipped unbidden from Quackity, a desperate attempt to remind himself he at least had control over something here. He slid down from the Egg, scraping his palms on the rough red soil that cradled the strange entity. The blood from his palms, he noted briefly, soaked into the soil almost immediately, and small luminescent blooms poked their way through the soil in fast-forward, their petals opening to puffs of glowing golden spores, which Quackity quickly moved away from. “I need to get out.” He repeated the words like a mantra to chase off the fog threatening to reclaim him—even now he wanted to give in to the promises of peace the Egg offered.
“Quackity!”
“What the hell have you taken me to, Bad!” Quackity screamed as thin vines grabbed at his ankles, making him fall to his hands and knees. His blood stained red the stone stairs he caught himself on, and he clawed his way up the stairs, knowing he couldn’t stop. The vines that had tried snaring him had broken, but there were others, reaching out like imploring hands, pulling at his legs, trying to drag him back. And Bad had come after him, stalking through the cave as the vines parted out of his way—it wouldn’t take much for Bad to catch him, especially with how disoriented Quackity was. At least he hadn’t run to the wrong corner of the room—his fate would have been sealed if he had.
Bad called out after him, promising him that the Egg was only an egg, but Quackity knew better. This was something much different—if it was just an egg, he could’ve cracked it open for an omelet. As it was, Quackity was determined to make scrambled eggs out of this Egg at some point—he wanted it gone.
Bad caught up with him in the hallway leading out of the underground base that connected to the Egg room. “Quackity, wait.”
“No, Bad!” Quackity shook his head, feeling the fog creep back up on him—he wondered if he’d have to fight it for a while now that his mind had been opened to the Egg. “I don’t want anything to do with your stupid Egg.”
“But Quackity, what about the power that you wanted? The Egg can give you that.”
“No it can’t, Bad. There’s something wrong with that thing. I don’t know what it’s done to you, but it makes me sick. I think…”
They were both interrupted by the abrupt appearance of Karl Jacobs, who popped into sight in the middle of the hallway with no explanation. He simply grabbed Quackity’s arm, briefly glancing at Bad before tugging on Quackity’s arm, trying to pull him down the narrow hall. “Quackity, you need to get outta here.”
“I know, Karl.” Quackity had seen Karl appear out of nowhere like this before, and he knew that the other young man usually was disoriented and confused when it happened, but right now, his eyes were sharp, not breaking eye contact with Bad now that he’d made it. “Look, go, I’ll meet you outside, okay?”
“Okay.” Karl hesitated a moment before passing by Quackity, breaking eye contact with Bad. “Look, don’t stay down here. It’s not safe.”
“I know,” Quackity repeated, and then Karl disappeared as he clambered up the ladder that led out of the bunker. “Bad, I really don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you need to quit it, okay? This whole letting the Egg spread thing is a really, really bad idea, in case no one’s told you that.”
“They have.” Bad cut in, much to Quackity’s surprise—Bad never interrupted if he could help it. “Quackity, since when has Karl been able to appear outta nowhere like that?”
“Stay away from him,” Quackity warned, his teeth gritted. “I’ll make sure Sapnap knows he and Karl can’t go near you either. Not until you stop being all weird and brainwashed.”
“I wasn’t…”
“No, Bad! Stay away from us. We don’t want anything to do with the Egg.” Quackity spun on his heel, and as soon as his back was to Bad, he ran. He knew Bad would pursue, at least until the numbers game was no longer in his favor. And so Quackity scrambled up the ladder, glancing down briefly to spy Bad slide his trident through the loop he used to carry it on his back, his glowing eyes looking upward to meet Quackity’s. He heard a soft noise of frustration from Bad, and the man stalked away, back into the bunker—he was likely returning to the Egg. Quackity let him. As long as he wasn’t being dragged back down, he wouldn’t argue Bad going there of his own will.
Karl was waiting for him at the top of the ladder, offering him a hand up. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” His dreams for power, having lain dormant for some time, were now racing through his mind, and while it didn’t feel like he could slow those at the moment, he could at least focus on a path that wouldn’t involve the Egg. “That thing is creepy, man.”
“I know.” Karl looked troubled, and he bit his lip, glancing down the ladder, and Quackity wondered what Karl knew of the Egg—did he know something Quackity didn’t? “We should find Sapnap—he might know what to do.”
“How would he? Like, I love Sapnap and everything, but I don’t think combatting evil plant things is exactly his area of expertise.”
“No, but dreamons are.”
“You think it’s a… a what? A dreamon?”
Karl nodded. “I overheard Fundy talking about it—he mentioned how he and Tubbo exorcised a dreamon from Dream. And he mentioned Sapnap had joined right before dreamon sightings stopped.”
“Maybe we should talk to Tubbo or Fundy then,” Quackity ventured. “If they have experience with this…”
“Quackity, I think our fiancé would be a little unhappy if we didn’t at least talk to him about this first,” Karl pointed out. “We can always talk to Tubbo or Fundy afterward.”
“All right, all right. We’ll do it your way.” Quackity shook his head, trying to clear any last clinging remnants of the Egg’s influence, more muted now that he was aboveground. “Let’s get outta here, away from these weird vines. I need to think.”
Karl nodded in agreement, though he checked a small golden pocket watch he carried with him, grimacing. “Um, I forgot I had something I gotta do,” he apologized, sliding the watch back into his pocket. “I’ll meet you by Church Prime in a few hours, okay?”
“Sure.” Quackity wondered what Karl could’ve forgotten so suddenly, and he paused for a moment, grabbing Karl’s wrist before he could leave. “Hey, Karl… are you okay? You’ve been forgetting a lotta stuff recently.”
“I’m fine.” Karl’s words said one thing, but his face draining of blood said another. “I mean, everyone forgets things, right? I just need to start writing a list of stuff I gotta do, like Ranboo does.”
Quackity let go of Karl’s wrist, and something dark inside him whispered that Karl was hiding something from him, that Karl keeping something from him made Karl a threat. “I…” Quackity swallowed back hasty words that had gotten him into trouble in the past—his words uttered without thought had at least left one mark, and his hand strayed once more to the scar crossing his face. “Look, I’m sorry, Karl. I shouldn’t pry.” He hesitated. “I just want you to know that… that you can trust me. This Egg thing has me really weirded out, but I’m… I’m still me, ya know?” Now he offered Karl a small smile, one that Karl returned without hesitation. “After all, we are still fiancés.”
“Trueee.” Karl drew the word out, and his sudden hug was a comforting warmth, at odds with the burning, oppressive heat of the Egg lurking somewhere beneath their feet. “I know I can trust you, Quackity.”
“Good.” Quackity laughed, his mind quieting momentarily. “Okay, look, go do what you gotta do. It’ll probably take me a while to find Sapnap and convince him to come to Church Prime anyway, so we can meet you there.”
“Okay! I’ll see you there. Love ya, Quackity!”
“Love you too, Karl.” Quackity smiled as Karl spun around to leave, disappearing rapidly up the stairs towards Punz’s house, the quickest route to the Prime Path. Quackity debated following for a moment, wondering what shenanigans Karl was getting into, but he headed in the opposite direction, headed for the small mountain range beyond the ruins of George’s cottage, knowing the alpine forest that remained untouched there would give him some peace to think things through. And after learning what the Egg was, and what it could do—and what it would likely make others do—he needed to come up with a plan. And with how quickly the Egg’s influence was spreading, Quackity knew he couldn’t afford to fail.