Chapter Text
Tubbo liked to think that he wasn't often swayed in his loyalty, no matter what other people thought.
His best friend in the entire world was Tommy, and he was definitely never going to turn his back on somebody who mattered so much to him. Wilbur Soot was like an older brother to him--somebody who had led them through the war on the SMP, and a great leader, and an even better friend.
It was only natural that somebody like Wilbur Soot would be made president. He was the best fit for the job--the one who had led them through the war, and the one who had brought them to independence. Wilbur held them together through Eret’s betrayal, when they had all lost their first life. Wilbur held Tommy back from his impulsive decisions, and his need to fight Dream.
Wilbur was a natural leader, who insisted on peace and unity between their nation.
That was why Tubbo was loyal to him--and loyal to Tommy.
That was why Tubbo was sweating so badly, shaking at his shoulders and arms, while he snuck out into the street, out of the White House, and into the night.
He didn’t doubt Wilbur, even for a moment, and that was probably the hardest part of the whole situation. Wilbur was right--he was always right--and that meant that Jschlatt had to have committed fraud, and tried to steal the presidency. He knew that Quackity had a power-hungry streak--the man had tried to run against Wilbur, even though everyone knew that Wilbur was the best and most natural choice--and that had encouraged Fundy to run against his own dad, which caused a lot of tension between the two of them.
It was all because of Quackity and Jschlatt--that was what Wilbur said. Wilbur was always right, so it had to be true.
Yet--yet Tubbo couldn’t turn his back on the people he cared about. Tubbo couldn’t just leave his dad in jail to rot.
His dad. The ram hybrid Jonathan “J” Schlatt. The founder of Schlatt & Co., the one who started Schlattcoin, the one who owned half of the land in the Antarctic Empire, back in their home country of SMPLive. Schlatt had been the one to back most of Technoblade’s army with the profits he’d made by investing in the unclaimed lands before Technoblade made it his home base--the only currency available to pay off the land being Schlattcoin, which only made him richer--and the two formed a close business partnership, the family business naturally passing down to Tubbo when the other started out on his own.
Tubbo, however, didn’t want any of it. He wanted to strike out on his own, wanted to found his own empire. He loved his dad, but Schlatt was a busy man, and Tubbo wanted to make Schlatt proud of him--proving he was more than just a trust fund kid with some connections to men with deep pockets.
That was why he left to the DreamSMP.
It was his fault--Tubbo knew this, and it was why he had to be the one to do this. His dad wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t for him moving out, and writing home about the war with Dream. He’d poured out about everything--about their deaths, about the way that Dream tried to blow everyone up, about the betrayal of Eret--and he’d received constant replies in return, talking about how great Tubbo was doing, and then the letters stopped after he talked about their deaths in the Final Control Room.
His dad was worried about Tubbo, even if he didn’t have the greatest way of showing it, so he’d packed up his business and moved across the world to settle himself down in L’Manberg, and when Wilbur declared that he was going to be opening up the position for president, Tubbo already knew what was going to happen.
His dad was a businessman, through and through. He’d been content to watch the rule of the Antarctic Empire from afar before, but he was always looking out for new opportunities. It wasn’t hard to imagine the money signs he saw when he’d been approached by Quackity for the position of President, as long as Quackity got in on the deal. Tubbo hadn’t been surprised when he’d heard that Schlatt would be running--he just expected that Schlatt would lose. He had no connection to L’Manberg, after all, and everyone knew Wilbur Soot would be the best choice.
He just didn’t expect his dad to be arrested for voter fraud.
It took him a few days to decide on what to do with that--because he wanted to help his dad, but he didn’t want to betray Wilbur. But if he set Schlatt free, then his dad could go home, and he wouldn’t come back to L’Manberg, right? Nobody trusted him here, so he had no reason to stay, and he could just go back to Technoblade, and everything would be fine.
Everything would go back to normal. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to stay. He could come home and visit his dad, and everything would be fine.
This was what Tubbo repeated to himself, over and over again, while he made his way across the dark, sleeping, empty L’Manberg, in the middle of the night, towards the huge, black building that was a brand, new build--an addition to the town that Tubbo honestly never thought they would need.
A prison. A prison, with only one prisoner. Jschlatt.
It was a simple matter of sneaking inside, since they had no, real guards yet, only some dogs that Tubbo affectionately patted as he passed by. He was a member of Wilbur’s cabinet, after all--Secretary of State, which he boasted proudly--so nobody would really question him being here, right? It wasn’t like anybody knew he was Jschlatt’s son.
He didn’t even tell Tommy.
When he reached the prison cell, Jschlatt was already awake, standing by the window, looking out towards the night sky. Tubbo couldn’t remember the last time that he’d seen his dad in something besides a business suit, but here he was--wearing an orange jumper, with a chain around his ankle.There were dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in a while, and he was burning through one cigarette after another, judging by the small pile by his bed.
At least there wasn’t any alcohol. He’d kicked the habit a few years ago, but he knew how much his dad wanted to drink. Some part of him was relieved to know that they wouldn’t indulge him, even in jail.
Tubbo gently rapped his knuckle on the door, causing the other to jump, turning and facing him with a puzzled expression.
“Tubbs?” He’d asked, his voice rasping over the word. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
Tubbo couldn’t help the little giggle that rose in his throat--somewhere between mania, and hysteria--because of course Jschlatt would be worried about him, even now. “I came to get you out, dad.”
Jschlatt frowned, in obvious hesitation. “You’ll get put in prison for that. Or exiled.”
“Nobody has to know.” Tubbo jingled the keys. “They might think it’s someone else--like one of Dream’s men. It would be easy to frame. Come on, dad. Let’s get you out of there.”
Jschlatt hesitated for another moment, before running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Okay. Alright, Tubbs. Let’s get out of here.”
Something had been bothering Fundy for a while.
His dad had always been a pretty private person, something that contrasted to his open, public persona. Wilbur Soot wanted everyone to know that he knew them personally, that he cared about him personally, but he never really let people in on his own life, on his own inner world.
Not even his own son knew Wilbur like that, and it was honestly something that Fundy had come to accept. Wilbur was just a private person, and it probably had something to do with Sally, or something to do with his past. Fundy couldn't be sure, and he'd stopped asking a long time ago. Either way, it wasn't too unusual for Wilbur to shut Fundy out, treating him like a kid, when Fundy was long into adulthood.
No, what was bothering him was the new president's insistence that the voting filed be deleted, and that all evidence of the election be destroyed.
Fundy hated the idea, of course--it was important to the history of their country, it was the evidence of their first election! It was their first step towards being a real nation! Wilbur, however, merely patted Fundy's head, called him an innocent child, and told him that he just didn't know better, and that it had to do with adult secrets that he wouldn't know anything about.
Fundy hated it. Fundy hated being treated like a kid. Fundy hated the patronizing voice, the soft glances. He wanted to be taken seriously--and if this was something to do with adult political matters, he deserved to know.
He was a member of the cabinet. He was the State Treasurer, and head of National Security. If there was something out there that required looking-over for the state of National Security, than he should fucking know about it.
It was a simple matter, to break into Wilbur's computer. To go over the votes, again and again, something deep and twisted welling in his gut as he started to understand why Wilbur wanted the files deleted.
He could keep this secret. He had to delete this, to make sure nobody knew.
He had to make sure this never got out--for his dad. For the country. Nobody could know.
Fundy shut the laptop, and took a few deep breaths.
Okay. Okay.
His dad committed voter fraud to win the election. That wasn't such a bad crime, right?