Chapter Text
Tommy didn't think his day could get any worse.
If Tommy been told a few weeks ago that he would be starting a war with Big Q of all people, he would have likely keeled over from laughing at the mere thought. Quackity, the jokester who was always messing around and singing and cackling was now chasing him down.
The black-haired man's cackle was more sinister now. The ugly scar that tore from just below his eye to the side of his mouth threw twisted shadows on his once gleeful face. Tommy had shuddered when he had finally dared to make eye contact with him as they faced off outside of Las Nevadas. The blonde could find no trace of the former Vice President in the seething black eyes; he couldn't see any glimpse of friendliness laced in the cruel grimace glaring back at him.
But here he was, arguing with Quackity over what had just been a harmless prank that Tommy had aimed at Las Nevadas.
Tommy had still been struggling to process the change in Big Q's demeanor, when he realized the man had been stalking towards him, though the shorter man was still glaring down at him from the stone brick wall in front of him.
"I think its time for you to leave now, Tommy." Quackity threatened.
"Make me, bitch."
That had been the wrong thing to say.
Quackity's false smile dropped instantly, replaced by an expression of unveiled hatred. Even in that hatred, Tommy could tell by the glint that shone in the ravenette's eyes that Big Q wasn't at all sorry for whatever he was about to do.
Quackity twitched, taking a step forward, and an enchanted netherite sword appeared from somewhere in inventory, held firmly in the older man's hand. That was when Tommy decided that defending this little area of whatever Wilbur was up to, without any backup, was probably not worth it anymore. Tommy lifted his hands up in a placating gesture and took a few steps back.
"Woah! Woah there Big Q! Let's talk about this, eh?"
"We just did talk about this, Tommy," Quackity spat, drawling out his name as harshly as if he loathed the mere presence of the syllables on his tongue. "You missed your chance. I think your time might be better spent behind bars. Maybe then you'll learn some fucking decency!"
"What do you mean? Behind bars?" Tommy snorted indignantly. "You couldn't even try and chain me up! I'm my own man, arsehole."
"Oh, Tommy!" Quackity grinned, his voice suddenly more high pitched and dripping with false concern. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten about the prison! I seem to think you were quite familiar with it, isn't that right?"
Tommy sucked in a breath. "D-Don't you fuckin'- that hasn't got anything… What are you on about?!"
"Well," Quackity hummed, drawing out the word far more than he needed to, "Sam and I have become business partners, you see. An he won't hesitate to let me do what I need to make sure that my- that our- goals are achieved. And that includes locking you up again Tommy, if you are gonna continue to be such a menace!"
"Sam wouldn't, he's my friend!" Tommy retorted indignantly, though he didn't think he liked the idea of whatever Sam and Quackity's plans might be.
"Oh is he now?" jeered Quackity. "I think you'll find that Sam might be on my side in this."
Tommy did not like where this was going.
"And why is that?" he demanded.
"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," Quackity trilled, speaking in a consoling tone, like Tommy was a fucking preschooler. "Who do you think has been working with me to build Las Nevadas? You don't think someone as dedicated as Sam would allow a child to mess with all the hard work he's been putting in, do you?"
As Quackity spoke, he climbed down from his perch on top of the stone wall, and drew slowly nearer to Tommy, the netherite sword pulsing with enchantments.
Familiar enchantments.
Tommy stumbled back and drew in a breath. He knew that sword. That was Sam's sword.
"Wha-why do you have that?" Tommy hissed, glaring at the Warden's sword.
"Oh this?" Quackity raised the sword so that it caught on the morning sunlight, his tone seemed bored, but his eyes betrayed the triumph he felt from possessing it. "Why, Sam has lent it to me in case I need to deal with any… problems that Las Nevadas might come across."
"Th-there's no way that's true," he breathed.
"Oh?" Quackity raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to one side, looking amused. "Shall we go and find out then?"
If Tommy hadn't been shaking so much he would have punched Quackity in the face. He couldn't stand the mocking tone that jabbed through every word. He wanted to yell back at Quackity and make sure the Mexican knew who the real Big Man was on this server.
But Tommy knew when he was outmatched. And unfortunately for his reputation, right now was one of those times. Quackity had a netherite sword, and probably some other things. Tommy only had a half-broken wooden axe, a water bucket, two spider eyes, two enderpearls and three levers in his inventory.
Oh.
Right.
Enderpearl.
Tommy knew he'd need a distraction first. Pulling the water bucket out of his inventory as the beanie-clad man charged, he flung the contents at his attacker's face. Quackity spluttered, floundering around in the water that flowed from its source block, choking and squeezing his eyes shut.
Tommy chucked the pearl to his left and then began scrambling away to the right, just as Big Q regained his bearings. Tommy caught sight the pure rage in his former friend's face as he began pursuing Tommy. The teen, in return, ducked behind a tree, running in the same general direction when- vroop
The familiar cold twisting in his gut pulled and suddenly Tommy was standing in a different clearing. Stumbling, he managed to remain upright and then began to run.
As he tore through the rough terrain, he realized he had no idea where he was even going at this point, his only thought was to get away from Quackity.
Once he'd run for about a minute, he stopped behind a tree and listed. He could hear Quackity screeching behind him and a bit to his right. He grabbed hold of his second enderpearl and threw it as far as he could, in the opposite direction of where he heard the angry man.
As he ran through the trees in this new direction, Tommy looked longingly up at the sky. It would be so easy to just fly away. His shoulders twitched as wings itched from where they were tucked into his back. But flying was still forbidden on the SMP; everyone still followed that rule even though it had been months Dream was safely locked away in prison.
Not that flying away would give him much of an advantage right now. Quackity would definitely chase him. Tommy was confident he could outfly the duck hybrid but Quackity probably had a bow. And he knew Purpled had a bow. Tommy had noticed in the past couple weeks that the young mercenary was now a staple member of the Las Nevadas entourage as well as Fundy, Foolish and that weird Slime guy.
So flying would definitely serve to make him more of a target rather than provide a means to escape.
Tommy realized that it also didn't help that he had no idea where he was exactly and a new sense of dread filled him when he realized that he didn't even know where he ought to go.
Quackity would be sure to check his house. Heck, he might have already asked Sam to try and cut Tommy off before he could reach it. Tommy's heart sank at that prospect and he decided to try and think of who else would be able to help him out of this.
Tubbo and Ranboo were probably busy in Snowchester. Eret and Hbomb were hardly ever around anymore either, and who knew where Wilbur could be at the moment.
Tommy supposed that he could always go back and hide in the basement of a certain piglin hybrid.
No.
Tommy pushed the thought out of his head. No way was he going to go crawling back to Technoblade of all people. He'd rather take his chances with Quackity.
He stumbled out of the thicket, barely clearing a small brook that ran among the trees. He leaned against a tree and tried to listen to his surroundings.
Other than his own heavy panting, he could only hear the birds singing and the babbling of the brook flowing behind him. A soft breeze fluttered through the branches of the trees, pushing past him and the leaves with a gentle rustling sound. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to try and slow his breathing after his unexpected exercise. The wind was doing a pretty good job of cooling him down as well, though he still wiped some sweat from his forehead before it dropped into his eyes. At least today he had opted to wear just his short-sleeved red and white t-shirt with a tank top instead of his usual white long-sleeved shirt underneath.
Having regained his breath and rested his obviously very strong muscles, Tommy looked around the area he now found himself. He could see a plains biome stretching around him, odd little builds protruding against the lush grass and flowers. This would be the perfect place for a thumbnail, if there weren't so many hills and random half-finished builds griefing the area. Annoyingly enough, he couldn't seem to recognize any of the structures. He started stalking towards a group of chests that stood next to one of the builds.
If 'build' was even the right word. In reality, the build looked like a poor imitation of the floor of Party Island, raised on a little platform made of acacia wood floating in a random small pond in the middle of the valley. Tommy stepped onto the platform to get to the chests on the other side. As soon as his tennis shoe made contact with the carpet, a red-hot flash of pain ran through his body and he could hear a steaming hiss from under his foot.
"Whot the?" Tommy jumped back off the platform hopping on his un-injured left foot and clutching at his burning right foot. He eyed the carpet on the platform suspiciously before pulling back the innocent-looking square of lime carpet.
There was a magma block underneath it.
"Fuckin' hell man! What do people even… why would anyone make this??" Tommy began flipping up more of the carpet. All of them except one had a magma block underneath it. Tommy rolled his eyes and then very maturely, his is a big man after all, stuck his tongue out at the torn-up floor.
Having shown the dumb death-trap who was boss, Tommy sauntered over to the three chests and the crafting table over on the other side. Maybe there would be some gear. After all, all Tommy had on him was a half-broken wooden axe, two spider eyes, three levers, and an empty bucket. He scooped some water from the nearby pond into his bucked and then pushed open the lid of the first chest, revealing two apples, some rotten flesh and a loom. He snagged the apples and then slid over to the second chest. This one yielded some sticks, a few stacks of sandstone, half a stack of yellow stained glass panes and 13 seeds. The third chest was empty.
Very helpful.
With a groan, Tommy slammed the lid of the third chest and slipped his wooden axe into his hotbar. He also took hold of the crafting table that was placed near the chests and slotted it into his inventory. It might be useful later, until he could get some wood or something.
Tommy trekked a bit further and made it to the crest of the taller of the two hills. Now, at least, he recognized something. A giant wooden sign screamed "OWO" at him in soft pink letters.
"Why is that still here?" Tommy grumbled. "Can't people just make nice builds out of cobblestone instead of this shit?"
But he wasn't really complaining. He knew where he was now; he knew exactly where the SMP was from here. So he set his course to go the exact opposite way.
His reasoning was that there was not a safe place for him to be around the main SMP right now, what with Quackity probably riling up the Las Nevadas crew to hunt him down. He'd better gear up before trying for another confrontation.
Tommy tried to ignore the ace of tiredness that flooded through him. Why couldn't things just be peaceful for once? He didn't want to flee his home anymore, especially not alone. All the other times he'd been off on his own, he was at least with Wilbur or Techno or Ghostbur, but he'd have to make this journey completely on his own.
For now at least.
Tommy kicked angrily at the tall grass in front of him. He swung his arms through the coarse stuff, tearing at it and throwing it behind him. He tried not to think that the grass was a visual representation of how his heart was feeling at the thought of leaving all his friends behind and being on the run again.
Then he heard a sound that silenced all other thoughts. A rustling sound, but not one that came from him, but from somewhere to his left.
Narrowing his eyes, Tommy turned towards the left, reaching into his inventory to try and get ahold of the handle of the wooden axe.
He didn't see anything. Not that he was given much of a chance to look.
A sharp force from behind slammed into his back and knocked him face first to the ground. Tommy gave up trying to pull out the axe in lieu of using his hands to stop his face from making an Tommy-shaped mold in the dirt. He felt the sharp rocks digging into the palms of his hands and his left knee seemed to also have hit an unusually large stone. Most of his fall had been broken by the thick grass surrounding him. His instincts kicked in once he registered that he wasn't badly hurt.
Rolling over to his back, Tommy attempted to stand up to face whatever had just attacked him, only for a netherite boot to fall squarely on his chest, pinning him in place. The cruel glint of a diamond sword stared down at him. Tommy felt a knot of fear rise in his throat at the sight of the weapon that now hovered about a foot away from his face.
Focusing his vision on the figure restraining him Tommy felt a flood of emotions flooding through him all at once. He gasped and could feel his heartbeat quicken. Too many thoughts swirled around in his brain to try and form any coherent sentences. But even if Tommy could think of a sensible response, there was no way he could say it. He could feel his mouth growing dry and the lump of fear that had already been in his throat grew larger and nearly choked him as he stared wide-eyed at the man holding the diamond sword.
And staring back at him, were the beady eyes of a black smiley face, painted childishly on a cracked white mask.