Chapter Text
Quackity sat up. His face soaked, along with just about everything. His blue silk hoodie sat attached to his chest, usual for a silk cloth. His pants looking nothing more than ruined. His shoes were filled with so much mud he would have to discard them. He felt fresh in all the wrong ways.
He sighed and stood up. He took in the humid air, it smelt like rain. Of course it would. It was fucking raining; hell.
He turned his head to see the large obsidian building. The prison? How did he end up there? The lava from inside was easily visible. The walls remained torn down, how the lava managed to live with the heavy rain was questionable. But not enough to stop Quackity.
He then felt on top of his head so that he could grab his beanie and dry it. But there was no beanie on his head. Instead he was greeted with his hair that he sometimes forgot he had. But that wasn’t on his mind. In that moment he had realized he was in his old outfit. He didn’t even know he still had it. But that question only lasted momentarily.
What was really on his mind was trying to find out where his beanie fell off. He couldn’t even remember what he did the day prior. Probably jumped off a building. Knowing himself he most likely accidentally knocked himself unconscious. Or maybe he was trying to do something foolish with the prison building.
Speaking of buildings he could see someone scrolling on their phone in the distance. Who would even stand outside in this weather, thats like letting someone piss on you. Which isn’t cool. Not that Quackity would know anything about that.
Quackity walked up to the person, shivering as if he just left Antarctica. It happened to be his not-so-close friend, Wilbur. He hasn’t seen him since his casino days. But his casino days were only yesterday. At least, that’s what he remembered.
“Yo, Wilbur.” Quackity said to grab his attention.
Wilbur looked up, eyes widening at the sight of how drenched the boy had been. It had also been a first seeing him without his beanie. Quackity caught onto his stares and threw his blue hood over his head, it was a start.
“Hey Quackity.” His British accent ringed in Quackity’s ears. It was probably something personal, whatever it was; made Quackity like British people a bit less.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping for warmth but was instead greeted with more of the discomforting wet feeling. He had a feeling his day wouldn’t be swag.
“Have you seen my beanie? I can’t find it.”
Wilbur placed his phone in his pocket. He wasn’t wet due to the fact that he was hiding under the remains of a roof. He must’ve got caught in the rain but lucky enough to escape it. His curly brown hair still remained dry. Lucky ass.
Quackity internally scoffed at how nice it looked. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to have that hair or wanted that hair to himself. Crazy right? No. he’s always had a thing for brunettes. Anything he’s learned about them? They are forgetful and jacked in the ass. Once again, something personal.
“Erm, no.” Wilbur paused. “But I need to talk to you.”
Quackity rolled his eyes. His heart jumped at the amazing opportunity he was just given.
“Did I ask? Wilbur, my friend; if you will, where are the askers? Because I do not see them. Which makes your question irrelevant. No hard feelings!”
Quackity quickly started pacing off. His feet in sync with the raindrops. He was far from the boy, but not far enough apparently.
“You can’t avoid it forever, Q!”
Quackity had no clue what Wilbur was talking about. But he did know that man was crazy so he really just brushed it off. He stood in the same place he started. He then saw the weirdly shaped object that constantly sat on his head.
It wasn’t there before. Quackity didn’t know how it got there but he didn’t care. He looked at it. The letters LAFD sat in all the wrong places. Instead of forming the un-meaningful word he’s used to it spelled out DLAF, made total sense.
Maybe Quackity was the one going crazy. But then again it could be everyone else. Including his beanie.
Quackity placed it on his head. It had been somewhat dried, that meant he might’ve been laying on it. But that made no sense.
The rain slowed down. Quackity just stood there. Thinking. His memory was so fucked he might as well call himself Karl Jacobs the 2nd. That’d be funny if that fucker didn’t partially ruin his life. Ruined love, ruined brunettes. And brunettes is something Quackity loved a lot.
As for Sapnap. Quackity has no clue where he went wrong with him. They just left him, for some fucking mushroom palace. Or whatever the hell it was.
Quackity shrugged to himself. Because that was the only person who would understand how awful it felt when they- whatever they did.
Quackity walked to the wooden path. He at least remembers all the shit that happened there. Tommy thought it was a great idea to try and shoot Dream. That was so long ago. But Tommy won in the long run.
That was good. That green shit deserved it.
Quackity laughed, looking back at the prison in ruins. He decided that he would go look around. Find out what happened. Because Quackity really has no clue. Maybe he was there. Or maybe Quackity; the fucking dumbass he is, might’ve done it himself.
He stepped off the path and headed towards the prison. Who would’ve thought that something with such badass security would be able to be torn down.
Quackity pushed through the large pieces. A rock below him nearly tripped him, if it weren’t for all those large pieces. But he was unlucky, as per expected. The rock only cut his hand, that didn’t hurt as bad as him falling and hitting his head on the obsidian.
“Fuck whoever tore down this shit!” He yelled, knowing nobody would really care.
He felt sweat run down his head. He wiped it to see that it was blood. That was fantastic. Now he was going to die in the shittiest way.
But he wouldn’t allow that. So he lifted himself up, feeling the sharpest pain in his head. He was going to get the wackest headache. Even worse than watching Tommy and Tubbo do their random shit.
He kept walking.
The books that were signed by the random visitors were scattered around the ground. Maybe he’ll be able to see who last visited. He grabbed the first book. Quackity, a month ago. He threw it. He looked around for the next one. He felt like he was apart of some scavenger hunt. He then grabbed the next book. Quackity, three weeks ago. He threw it again, this time letting out a small “What the fuck?” He then grabbed the book next to it. Quackity, Yesterday. His eyes widened.
He was the one there.
He took the book and headed further back. He could see the pillars that were ripped from there posts. Almost looked like he was walking through an ancient structure from Rome.
That’d be much better than where he was now.
There was nobody. There was nothing there. It made no sense. He hoped the person who did this would come and tell him but as far as he knew.
He was that bitch.
He decided it was a dumb idea. He’d find nothing there.
“Q-Quackity?”
Quackity stopped in his tracks. He might’ve killed someone. If it were Dream then that would be fine. But from the sounds of it, it was--
“Sam?!” Quackity shouted, as he looked at the ground where only the head of Sam could be seen.
Quackity internally screamed, like a woman from one of those awful horror movies.
“Can you take these rocks off of me.?” Sam quietly asked.
Quackity sighed. Thank god he wasn’t just a talking head.
Quackity walked over and pulled on the large rocks. Some complied, while others put up a fight. He kept pulling though. If it was his fault then he’d make things right. Because Quackity was epic like that.
Finally the last rock came off, it tumbled down the pile of other rocks. Quackity’s hands were red and bruised. That didn’t matter. He reached his hand out. Sam grabbed it. He stood up, looking like he’d fall over again.
“Uh, thank you.” Sam said questionably.
Quackity shrugged. That's going to be his new thing. Just shrugging.
“I have no idea what happened here.” He opened the book and lifted it to Sam’s face. “But it seems like I was involved.”
“I don’t know. But we have to talk-”
Quackity heard the British mans words ringing in his ear. He then knew that for some reason these people really needed to talk to him.
Quackity knew he was hot but this was getting too much. Way too much.
“Oh look at the time! I have to run, away from you!”
Quackity quickly sprinted off. He pushed himself forward with the rocks. They only cut his hand more, but at this point that didn’t even matter.
He could finally see the exit. He got too excited and didn’t see the rock below him. He tripped on in and fell face first into the grass.
The askers came to haunt him. Or something like that.