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There is always a moment, before the plate or bowl – ill-balanced on the kitchen counter – falls and shatters. Where everything is on the knife-edge, unclear if it’s going to stay or fall. That awful tension, which you have to stew in.
Fundy hates those moments. Ever since he was a child. Especially ever since he became an adult. As a child, those moments were brief, over almost as soon as they began. There would be a second of realisation, of scrambling, and then the plate would be safe or it would not be. In adulthood, they are long and drawn-out, filled with yelling and blame and desperation. And it’s generally over something much more important than a plate.
Of course, it’s another thing when he put the moment in motion, leaving a trap for someone else to spring. But that isn’t the case, this time.
Las Nevadas has been waiting for weeks now. Ever since Quackity came back from the prison, yelling and laughing and falling silent in turns. The sirens still ring in Fundy’s ears; the constant blare that had reached the marrow and cried out from it, danger, danger, danger. That panic had settled in his flesh and has yet to leave. He isn’t the only one. Everyone is nervous. Waiting for the drop, the shattering. Everyone except Slime, who acts like he always has. But that is Slime.
In the night, when Fundy half-stalks half-slinks around the casino, he thinks it’s even settled into the bones of Las Nevadas itself.
Truthfully, he is starting to get desperate for Technoblade and Dream and Philza and whoever else to attack. Is one more restless day from marching out, finding his grandfather, and begging him to just get it over with. At least then there would be relief. Fundy would know it was over, that there was nothing he could do any more. It would be a cold relief, a horrible relief, but a relief still.
That is what he thinks about, when he goes to sleep with Yogurt next to him. Las Nevadas on the knife-edge. Either to be saved or not. Just as long as it’s over.
He is in Las Nevadas. It is burning.
Or, at least, that’s what it looks like. As Fundy gets closer, he sees flames licking at the buildings, but it does not harm them. In fact, it seems to Fundy as if the fire is caressing them.
He steps forwards, into the orange and red, and he too is unharmed. No smell of burnt fur or flesh. Just pleasant warmth.
He walks around for a while. Eventually realises at certain points the fire gets warmer, brighter. He follows its cues, a literal game of hot and cold. It doesn’t lead him to the casino, or the hotel, or the Eiffel Tower, or the strip club.
It leads him to the wedding hall.
The marble is cast a near-gold shade of yellow by the fire, the water made to look almost like lava. Vines, green and purple, grow from the ceiling, twisting in almost spiral patterns. Fundy reaches for them, but his claws only just manage to brush them. He tries again, but they recede.
He looks away from them. Blinks. Quackity is now on the bridge. Has he always been there?
He is sitting, feet dangling over reflected fire. Playing with a ring on his finger. A neutral expression rests on his face, like he’s waiting to decide what to feel.
“Quackity?” asks Fundy.
Quackity looks up.
“El Rapids burnt,” he says. “I set the fire. Did I set this fire?”
“Las Nevadas isn’t burning,” replies Fundy.
Quackity stares him down. His fake eye gleams gold, his scars silver. “Maybe you set the fire.”
Fundy awoke with a gasp, clutching at Yogurt. His son is making soothing sounds.
“Thank you,” forces out Fundy, kissing Yogurt’s head. “Dad has to go talk to some people, okay? Stay at home, and if anything goes wrong find Foolish. Or Purpled.”
The trip to the prison is its own knife-edge. But eventually Fundy reaches it, its black mass looming, and he forces himself to go inside.
“What are you doing here?” demands Sam. It still confuses Fundy, why Sam insists on haunting Pandora’s Box. It’s hope – though that’s not the word Fundy would choose for Dream; either because it was inaccurate or else too accurate – had already escaped and would not be hanging around. But that’s not why he’s here.
“You’ve been with Quackity the longest,” says Fundy. “You were there before any of us.”
Sam waits. Fundy thinks he’s caught him off-guard.
“Why was the wedding hall built?” asks Fundy.
Sam shrugs. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think it was intended as a wedding hall.”
Fundy waits.
“At least not intentionally,” continues Sam at last. He seems eager to get Fundy to leave. Good; Fundy can use that. “Maybe Quackity was caught up on weddings though. He was engaged for a long time, after all.”
“Sapnap and Karl,” provides Fundy. He has vague memories of them being glued at the hip. Though that was a while ago, and he hadn’t seen Sapnap or Karl for ages. Definitely not anywhere near Las Nevadas. Yet… Sapnap likes his fire, doesn’t he? “Are they still planning to get married?”
Sam hesitates. “It hasn’t officially been called off. But they… haven’t been around.” It’s hard to tell beneath his mask, but Fundy thinks he’s holding back more. He contemplates pressing further, but decides against it.
A plan is forming in his head.
“Thanks,” says Fundy and leaves. Sam makes no move to stop him, or even to say anything more. He just stays, guarding an empty prison with the same seriousness as when it was full.
Earlier, he had been lying to himself when he thought he just wanted it to be over. The truth is, he’s not ready to lose another home. Another family. It may be haphazard and duct-tapped together, but Las Nevadas is his home and its people his family. And he doesn’t want it to go the way of L’manberg. He wants to pull it back from the edge.
He isn’t an idiot. He knows business, not family, is Quackity’s first priority. But why is that? The Quackity Fundy knew believed in doing good by people, just because it was the right thing to do. He believed in family and love. There is still some of that Quackity hanging on. There has to be.
Maybe it is pure coincidence. Maybe it’ll achieve nothing. But there has to be a chance that it’ll help.
Fundy knows it’s childish, to think a wedding could solve Las Nevadas’ problems. As far as he knows, neither Technoblade nor Dream are romantics. But maybe it will stop the country from having its leader lose it, and that is already a step up on L’manberg.
He'll have to do this secretly, of course. Quackity wouldn’t authorise it, not with the threat of revenge looming.
Fundy tries not to think about the last time he tried to help a leader of a country under threat without telling them, and how it ended.
The first stop in his plan is Purpled’s shack. He comes bearing gold.
“What do you want?” asks Purpled. He is resting on his bed, sharping his sword. Despite his relaxed posture, he is fully armoured.
“I need you to watch Yogurt,” says Fundy, placing the gold on a table. “Get him out if everything goes South.”
“Why?”
“Foolish is busy expanding the bunker and—”
“No,” says Purpled, cutting him off. “Why do you need Yogurt watched?”
“I going to go and find some allies,” answers Fundy.
“Quackity know?”
“Yes,” lies Fundy.
“He’s not going to like this,” says Purpled. “Not with him so paranoid about an attack. Although I’m not sure it’s actually happening, with how things are going. I’ve been sharpening my sword for the last three weeks, and that’s about it.”
“Uh,” begins Fundy, “I said he knows—”
“Fundy, don’t try and bullshit me,” interrupts Purpled again. Fundy closes his mouth. “Quackity thinks we’re his only allies. That’s kind of the whole point of this place. He’d never send you out.” He must see Fundy’s spike in nervousness because he then adds, “Don’t worry though, I’m not a snitch.”
“Thanks,” says Fundy. He thinks he trusts Purpled, if only because Quackity pays him to fight and not to dob Fundy in. Also, because, when it comes down to it, he is a surprisingly good babysitter, and no one could spend that much time around Yogurt without falling at least a little bit in love. “Don’t give Yogurt too many sweet berries. Even if he breaks out the puppy eyes.”
Purpled waves him off, but Fundy has a sneaking suspicion that he is going to come back to a home devoid of sweet berries.
No one tries to stop him when he leaves Las Nevadas. They’re too busy with their own tasks. In the forest, he doesn’t encounter anyone either. It’s a relief; he’s not sure what he would have done if he an angry, axe-wielding Technoblade had stepped out from behind a tree. Once he has enough distance, he goes to the water and places his boat.
If Sapnap and Karl aren’t in Kinoko Kingdom, Fundy isn’t sure where to check next. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. They had advertised the place extensively, after all. There had been, just, so many posters.
When Fundy docks, it’s at a silent city. It occurs to him that maybe he should have asked Foolish if there are any secret passageways. Too late now.
It is a beautiful place. Flowers blanket the ground, filling Fundy’s vision with colour. Las Nevadas has roses in the wedding hall, and other carefully plotted plants. L’manberg had its dandelions and poppies. Neither were or are anything like this. Mushrooms reach for the sky, creating a canopy that is cosy rather than claustrophobic.
“What are you doing here?” asks Sapnap.
Fundy jumps, his senses having been more or less blinded by the flowers. Sapnap doesn’t look too different. His beard is slightly scruffier maybe, and he has dark circles under his eyes. He does look like Fundy isn’t a welcome sight. It stings a little – Fundy that during the duel they had forged some kind of respect, further by their time as hunters – but Fundy presses on.
“Looking for you,” he says. “And Karl.”
Sapnap snorts. “Good luck with that. I’m not sure where Karl is half the time. He just… disappears. Into thin air. Can’t even remember where he goes. I have to spend most of my time tracking down the idiot.” He sounds exhausted, but there is still a fondness when he says idiot.
“Oh,” says Fundy. This wasn’t part of the plan. He remembers his dream, the spiralling vines that were out of reach. “Well, you need to come and get married.”
“What?” demands Sapnap.
“I’m sure Karl can be added in later,” says Fundy. The plan can be salvaged. Surely one fiancé was better than none. “But Quackity really needs you right now. Ever since Dream escaped—”
“Dream escaped?” interrupts Sapnap loudly. He tenses, like he’s about to start running.
“Yeah, like three weeks ago,” says Fundy. “Didn’t you hear the alarms?”
“No, I was looking for Karl,” replies Sapnap. “Fuck, he has such a head start. I’ll have to leave right now if—”
“Quackity thinks he’s going to attack Las Nevadas,” cuts in Fundy.
“Well, Quackity is wrong. No way he would do that, not when he doesn’t have any allies,” says Sapnap, and Fundy can feel himself losing him.
“You don’t know all the facts,” says Fundy, and then stops. Does he even know all the facts? So much of what had happened was still secret, even as Quackity tells them that Las Nevadas is moments away from assault. He changes tract. “Quackity is, he’s spiralling. I think he feels abandoned, by you and Karl, and—”
“What?” asks Sapnap, incredulous. “He’s the one who never showed up, even though Karl told him- oh, son of a bitch.” Realisation crosses his face, and for a second Fundy allows himself to hope. But then, “Fuck, Quackity is going to have to wait a bit longer. I made a promise to Dream, and I intend to keep it.”
Fundy’s heart sinks. Then, an idea. A desperate gamble; exactly the kind of thing that Quackity would approve of.
“A duel,” says Fundy. “I win, you come to Las Nevadas. You win, you get to go chase after Dream.”
“Oh? And why would I agree to that?”
“Because you’re not a pussy?” shoots back Fundy, only to wince. It was intended as a statement, but his voice wavered and it ended up closer to a plea.
Sapnap lets out a laugh. “Okay, fine. And I’ll kick your ass like last time. Since I don’t have any time, it’ll just be one match. One kill.”
Fundy considers pressing for more, but he decides against it. On average, Sapnap is a better fighter than him. Which means he actually has a better chance in a single decisive match.
Come on, he thinks. I’m a casino employee. That has to give some kind of luck buff, right?
Fundy nods. “Iron armour?”
“Sure,” replies Sapnap. “Iron sword and axe as well. Shield is allowed. One crossbow, unenchanted, with nine bolts.”
Fundy complies, organising his inventory. Then he puts down a bed and sets his spawn.
“Okay,” says Fundy. “Let’s do this. Count of three?”
“One,” begins Sapnap. Fundy joins in. “Two. Three!”
Fundy ducks behind one of the mushroom buildings. He hears the twang of a crossbow, turns, and pulls the bolt from the wall next to him.
“Thanks for the bolt!” says Fundy.
“You’re welcome!” replies Sapnap, right before nailing him in the leg with a second bolt.
Fundy curses, fires his own crossbow back. He is rewarded with a yelp. Pain is still shooting through his leg, but still he grins. He goes to load his next bolt, but suddenly Sapnap is beside him. Fundy just manages to raise his shield in time. The ring of iron against iron shakes his teeth.
He leaps back, darting through the kingdom. He tries not to notice the flowers crushed beneath his feet.
He hears another twang, and throws himself to the side. The bolt goes flying past. Fundy turns, his crossbow finally loaded, and aims true.
Fundy is, when it comes down to it, pretty good with a crossbow.
It hits Sapnap square on the chest. It hurts him, but it does not slow him down. Fundy brings up his shield again, but this time it’s knocked to the side. Then an axe is hitting him across the face, metal digging into flesh and bone. Fundy tries to swing his own axe but he knows a critical hit. Can feel it in the pain burning through his head.
Sapnap pulls out his axe and hits again and it’s over.
It’s not a canon death, Fundy tells himself as he wakes, his lungs desperately drawing in air. You’re fine. You’re fine.
“So, I’d say I won that,” says Sapnap, approaching the bed.
Fundy looks away. “Yeah,” he says. “You did.”
No wedding then. Or even just an ally. This is nearly as bad as his career as a spy. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Why did he think he could do anything to save his home?
“I’ll be honest,” says Sapnap, an exaggerated grimace on his face. “It was a little sad. So, I’ll come help Las Nevadas.”
“You will?” asks Fundy.
“Yeah,” he says. “Seems like you’ll need the help. If you really think Dream is going to attack. One condition though.”
“Yes? I’m good to do anything,” says Fundy.
“You help me find Karl first. If there’s going to be a wedding, all three of us are going to be there.”