Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sapnap’s only been a bodyguard for Quackity for three weeks, but he’s learned more about the man than he ever cared to know. 

First of all, Quackity rarely stops working. He’s always running around, planning this meeting or that conference, working tirelessly to get the cabinet members to listen to him, taking every phone call that comes in from the constituents, all in all trying his best to make sure that the country runs smoothly. Honestly, the man’s a better president than President Schlatt, at least in Sapnap’s opinion. Not that he’d say that out loud! But he sees how hard Quackity works–gets to watch him every single day in a way that most people don’t–and he doesn’t think anyone even comes close to Quackity’s dedication. 

Secondly, Quackity genuinely wants what’s best for the people. He’s always weighing the pros and the cons of this law and that bill, a tax raise here versus a tax cut there. Many nights, Sapnap will drive the man home only to hear Quackity frantically crunching numbers in the backseat without stopping for breath. There’s even been a few times when he’d asked Sapnap’s opinion on whether or not a specific law will actually help the people of L’Manberg, taking time to explain it to Sapnap when he admits to not fully understanding what a proposed bill will do. It really is kind of him, even though Sapnap doesn’t fully get the intricacies of the law. 

And thirdly, someone out there wants Quackity dead. 

Well. That fact, really, is far from a surprise, because that’s the whole reason that Sapnap is currently working as Quackity’s bodyguard: he was assigned the job in order to get close to Quackity, and then he had direct orders to kill him. 

But the clock is ticking, and Sapnap has no idea how he’s supposed to kill one of the most responsible politicians he’s ever seen. The real problem is that the client had requested that they make it look like an accident, which isn’t what Sapnap’s good at. He’s better at combat: a quick shot to the head, the heart, wherever else? He can hit it. It does make him well-suited to pose as a bodyguard, but as for the actual murder, Sapnap’s at a loss. Hell, he’s been at a loss for three weeks. Poison was out (although Sapnap wasn’t great at sleight of hand anyways, and Quackity prepared his own food). He could crash the car or something, but what guarantee was there that Quackity would actually die? 

Maybe he could do a robbery gone wrong. Go to Quackity’s house, stage a robbery, steal a few valuables, kill him in the process. Maybe he should just cut the car brakes and shoot him in the chaos. Maybe he should–

“Sapnap?” 

Sapnap blinks his thoughts away before turning to Quackity. “Yes?” 

Quackity laughs a bit. “You’re a million miles away, dude,” he says. “Go home. I might just spend the night here, since I’ve still got stuff to do.” 

“Oh, it’s fine.” Sapnap shrugs. “It’s my job to protect you.” 

And kill him in the process, but Sapnap doesn’t say that part. 

“You look exhausted.” Quackity gets to his feet. “It’s not a big deal; and if you’re so worried I can just sleep here.” He nods to the couch in his office. “You’re not going to protect me if you’re tired.” 

And, see, that’s probably the worst thing that he’s learned about Quackity: the man is genuinely nice. He’d introduced himself to Sapnap the day they’d met, and Sapnap had suddenly remembered why you never met a target as Quackity had actually shaken his hand and thanked him. 

Thanking the man who was supposed to kill you. A cruel, cruel irony. 

Maybe Sapnap was overthinking this. Maybe he should just shoot Quackity, because all that mattered was that the man would be dead in the end, right? He might get put on probation for a bit, but the agency would take care of the mess. Plenty of cases had gone wrong before. 

If only he hadn’t spent the past three weeks trying to figure out how much trouble he’d been in if he went down that route, maybe he’d feel more confident about that option. Or maybe if he hadn’t spent three weeks getting to know him, he’d be okay with shooting him.  

“You zoned out again.” Quackity is leaning in just a little too close, and Sapnap doesn’t remember when he walked over to him. “Dude, you look worse than me.” 

“Do I?” Sapnap wants to laugh, because in spite of how put-together Quackity holds himself, Sapnap can tell that Quackity is always a little rundown these days. 

Quackity laughs. “I bet I could put my entire workload in your eye bags.” 

Sapnap snorts and gives him a gentle shove. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine.” 

“Sure.” Quackity folds his arms, arches an eyebrow. Sapnap stares right back at him, silently daring him to say something else.

“Fine, fine.” Quackity’s body relaxes as he reaches some sort of conclusion. “Let’s head out.” 

Sapnap blinks in surprise. “I thought you had stuff to do?” 

Quackity sighs. “It’s not my responsibility,” he admits, and Sapnap stares at him. “I’m just trying to help out our illustrious president.” He spits out the word president like a dirty thing, and Sapnap can’t help the tiny snort that escapes him. 

“Sorry,” Sapnap says almost immediately. The derision Quackity had so freely given doesn’t escape his notice, though, and he blurts out the other thoughts that have been on the tip of his tongue for three weeks. “It’s almost election season, isn’t it? Do you think you’ll run?” 

“Yeah.” The answer is immediate, before Quackity sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “No. Well. I don’t know. We’ll see.” He gives Sapnap a hard look. “Forget you heard that, yeah?” 

Sapnap swallows. “For what it’s worth,” he says gently, “I think you’d be a great president.” 

Quackity gives him a weak smile. “You’re too kind, Sapnap.” 

“No, I’m serious.” Sapnap glances around the room, but he knows that it hasn’t been tapped. He’d disabled all the security cameras his first day on the job. Just in case the opportunity arose that he could kill Quackity in the office. 

“You really care about this country,” Sapnap says, taking a breath, “And you’re crazy smart, and you work harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. I bet you could win, if you put your mind to it.” 

The smile on Quackity’s face gets a little softer, a little wider. It’s the closest thing Sapnap’s seen to a real smile on his target’s face in the three weeks he’s been working for him. 

Some stupid part of Sapnap wants to see how much more of that expression he can draw out of the other man. 

“Thanks, Sapnap,” Quackity says. “I appreciate that.” He casts his gaze around the office once more, before giving Sapnap the professional politician smile that Sapnap has grown familiar with over the past few weeks. “Shall we head out, then? We have better things to do than hang around an empty office after hours.” 

“Sure, but what happened to all of your work?” Sapnap asks. “You said you were thinking about spending the night?” 

“Work can wait. I’m serious.” There’s a steely glint to Quackity’s eyes that says that he’s made up his mind. “We’re going to take the night off.” 

Sapnap sighs, but he’s secretly relieved. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

He follows Quackity out to the car and then they’re off, driving through the dark city streets on the way to Quackity’s place before Sapnap can make his way home. 

Sapnap’s driving them over the bridge when he catches an odd glint in the reflection of the rearview mirror. He squints at the shine, trying to figure out what could possibly be causing the strange reflection, when it hits him. 

It looks like the shine of a streetlight on the barrel of a gun. 

His blood runs cold, and he presses on the gas pedal while switching lanes. The car speeds over the rest of the bridge, depositing them safely on the other side, but Sapnap doesn’t slow down, instead speeding through the streets faster than he normally does. 

They make it to Quackity’s house faster than they ever have before. 

Quackity laughs. “You were driving pretty quick,” he says. “Eager to get rid of me?” 

“Uh–” Sapnap flounders a bit, trying to come up with an excuse. “Just, uh, I wanted to–”

“It’s fine.” Quackity gives him a nod. “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow,” Sapnap agrees, and then the car door shuts and Sapnap’s left watching as Quackity disappears into his house. 

Sapnap sighs. He doesn’t see anything or anyone suspicious, and Quackity did tell him to go home. Maybe it was just his imagination. With a sigh, he drives back to his apartment, and crashes into his bed. 

Tomorrow, he thinks. He can confirm his suspicions that someone else is coming after Quackity.  

Or, he thinks darkly, he could actually kill Quackity, and finish the job. 

Never mind that he’s had that particular thought every night for the past three weeks. He rolls over and prays for a solution.

The next day, a suspicious car starts following them on the way to the capitol. Sapnap drives and drives until he’s sure that he lost the car, then makes his way to the capitol. 

“What was that about?” Quackity asks as they make their way up to his office. “You don’t normally do that.” 

Sapnap shrugs. “Took the scenic route.” 

“Cut the shit.” But there’s a small grin on Quackity’s face. 

“Thought I saw someone tailing us,” Sapnap admits, lowering his voice even though they’re alone in the elevator. 

“Ah.” Quackity’s face hardens as the implications sink in. He presses his lips together and clenches his fists, before unclenching them and releasing a breath. 

“Thanks for that,” he says as the elevator doors begin to slide open. 

“Just doing my job,” Sapnap replies, following the other man out and down the hall. 

As they enter Quackity’s office, he wonders when he became an actual bodyguard, and what possessed him to not take the easy way out, and let someone else take Quackity out for him. 

The sightings don’t end there. Sapnap ends up having to dodge a sniper shot on the way back that night (he heard the shot hit the tree they passed, which is how he knows that his hunch was correct), and then the next day he has to shake another car off their tail. 

Quackity takes it all in stride. Well, sort of. Sapnap assumes he’s coping, since he hasn’t said anything to him specifically. He throws himself harder into his work, nearly running from office to office with the different paperwork, and scheduling near-constant meetings to ensure that he’s rarely alone in his office. For his part, Sapnap spends a little too much time staring out the window, scanning the area for an unseen force that could get Quackity when he’s not paying attention. 

But the anticipated shot doesn't come. Sapnap doesn't know whether he should be relieved or not. 

It all comes to a head three days later, with the two of them spending another late night in the office. Quackity had drawn the curtains shut, so no one could see in, and they had agreed to spend the night there. It had been a hushed conversation in the car the night before, as Sapnap once again took as many turns as possible on the way to Quackity’s house. 

So they knew the plan: don’t leave the office. The less the potential assassin knew about where Quackity’s house was, the better. 

One of the filing cabinets in the corner of the room thumps, and before he knows it, Sapnap’s yanking Quackity to the ground and shoving him behind the desk. The sharp sound of a gun echoes in the room, and a bullet flies through the air and embeds itself in the wood paneling of the wall behind them. Behind him, Quackity releases a pained grunt, probably from the force of Sapnap throwing him on the floor.

Sapnap reacts before he realizes it. He yanks the pistol out of his jacket pocket, aims it at the cabinet, and empties an entire round as fast as he can. 

“Fuck!” a voice cries as the dust settles, right after Sapnap’s fired the last shot. “Geez, that hurt. Who’s the bodyguard? He’s cracked.” 

“What the fuck,” Quackity breathes out, eyes wide. “What the fuck.” 

Sapnap pulls out another cartridge and reloads the gun, training it on the cabinet. “None of your business,” he replies. “Show yourself?” 

“What, and have you shoot me?” The voice scoffs. “No way, man. I’m serious, though, you’ve got some mad skills. I’ve been trying to kill you for four days and nothing’s worked. Most bodyguards I’ve seen would have died by now. How are you this good?” 

Sapnap scowls and fires another shot, this time aiming for the wall right next to the cabinet. It’s meant to be a warning.  

“What the fuck?!” Quackity shrieks. "Don't shoot the wall!" 

“Don’t shoot, period!” the would-be assassin wails. “Come on, I just want to know where you found your bodyguard.” 

“From a bodyguarding agency,” Sapnap drawls. 

“Oh, I didn’t hire him,” Quackity says at the same time. “I haven’t really had a bodyguard; Schlatt took them. He said I needed a new bodyguard though, and that he’d hired one for me.” 

“Oh, cool,” the assassin says. “You think you could get the name for me?” 

Sapnap glares at Quackity. “Why are you talking to him?” he demands. 

“Come on,” Quackity says, looking like he’s very close to having a breakdown in the office. “You’ve got a gun trained on the cabinet! I doubt he can get very far.” 

“You also shot me in the arm,” the assassin calls out. “It was very rude.” 

“You tried to kill my charge!” Sapnap yells back. 

“Well, yeah,” the assassin replies. “But I was paid to do it. By the way, did you mean to shoot the wall, or was that an accident?” 

Sapnap scowls and fires directly at the cabinet once more. The assassin yelps. 

“Quackity,” Sapnap murmurs. “Do you think you can knock the cabinet over for me?” 

“Absolutely not!” Quackity practically shrieks it. So much for secrecy, Sapnap thinks. 

“Are you planning something?” the assassin asks. “Can I join?” 

“Why would you want to join?!” Sapnap and Quackity yell together. 

“Well, I’ve been sitting behind the cabinet since you took a lunch break, I really have been considering a career change, I have to use the bathroom, and my arm hurts, since you somehow got a bullet back here,” the assassin says. “So, like…what can I do for you gentlemen?” 

“Come out and let me shoot you,” Sapnap replies. “Who even hired you?” 

“I’ve already been shot. Also, isn’t that classified information?” 

“You just said you were considering a career change,” Quackity points out. He arranges himself into a more comfortable sitting position on the floor, and actually looks towards the cabinet that the assassin is behind. “Why don’t you tell me who hired you, and I can see what I can do to help you assimilate as a civilian without a criminal record.” 

“You can’t prove it was me.” There’s a pause, and then the assassin adds, “Well, it’s more like there’s no proof I was the one who killed whoever I killed. If I killed anyone. Obviously.” 

The assassin is getting annoying. “Can you just come out so I can shoot you?” Sapnap demands. 

“Tempting. No.” 

Quackity frowns. “You don’t have a lot of options. We know you’re here, and we’re ready to kill. If you cooperate, you can walk out of here an alive man, rather than a dead one.” 

“See…the thing with assassins? You give up any of the guild secrets, and the guild will send someone after you.” There’s a high-pitched giggle. “I know this because that’s primarily my job. To clean up the traitors.” 

Quackity raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just reveal a guild secret?” 

“...ah. Well, you caught me!” Another high-pitched giggle escapes the assassin. “If I come out, will you promise not to shoot?” 

“Give us your gun first,” Sapnap orders. 

From behind the cabinet, a black handgun is tossed to the floor. 

Sapnap moves for it, keeping his own gun aimed at the cabinet. Nothing happens, and he’s able to snatch up the gun off the floor and point it at the cabinet as well. 

“Well, that’s not fair,” the assassin remarks. “You’ve got two guns, and I’ve got none.” 

“Seems fair to me,” Quackity says, doing his best to put up a calm front, but Sapnap can see how tense his shoulders are. “I don’t die; you probably won’t.” 

Sapnap moves back so he’s directly in front of Quackity once again. “Alright,” he says. “Come out. Hands where I can see them. No funny business, or you’ll end up dead.” 

“You’re paranoid as hell.” There’s a rustle, and then a tall, skinny man with fluffy brown curls comes crawling out. He’s wearing a bright purple jacket and black pants, and his eyes are wide with curiosity as he looks at them. 

He’s kind of…cute, actually. 

“What’s your name?” Quackity demands.

“You can call me Karl,” the man says. He sits down, joining them on the floor. “Can you take a look at my arm? It’s really getting painful.” 

Sapnap sighs. “Quackity, I have some medical supplies in the bathroom. Could you grab them for me?” 

Quackity blinks. “You do?” 

“It’s all in a first-aid kit,” Sapnap says. “It should be stocked with what we need.” 

Quackity nods and disappears into the bathroom. He returns a few moments later with the first-aid kit in hand. Sapnap reaches for it, then reconsiders the guns in his hand. 

“Can you hold these for me?” he asks. 

Quackity balks. “You want me to hold the guns?” 

“Aim them at his head. The trigger’s right here.” Sapnap points at the trigger. “Just in case.” 

Quackity stares at the guns for a moment, then nods. They trade, and then Sapnap’s rummaging around the first-aid kit for his supplies. 

“That is really well-stocked for a first aid kit,” Karl remarks. “It’s almost like…” He trails off, eyes narrowing as he studies Sapnap. 

“Almost like what?” Quackity asks. 

Sapnap scowls at Karl. “Do you want me to fix your arm or not?” 

Karl gulps and nods, offering out the injured arm to Sapnap. It’s no longer bleeding, the bullet only having grazed him apparently. Sapnap wordlessly cleans it and bandages it, and silence falls over the room, save for the occasional hiss of pain escaping Karl. 

“That should do it,” Sapnap says, once the injury’s bandaged. “So, tell me about yourself, Karl.” 

Karl grins. “Only if you tell me about yourself, Mr. Bodyguard.” 

Sapnap snatches his gun out of Quackity’s grasp. Quackity gasps as Sapnap tosses it in the air once, then points it right at Karl’s head. 

“You first,” he says. 

To his surprise, Karl laughs. He throws his head back, exposing the pale column of his throat, and laughs that high-pitched giggle of his. 

“Come on,” he says, grinning. “I’m just an assassin. I think it’s more interesting to see how you got this job, Mr. Assassin.” 

“What?” Quackity demands. “Sapnap’s not an assassin.” 

Sapnap presses his lips together. 

“Come on,” Karl says. “He clearly is.” 

“He’s a bodyguard,” Quackity continues. “There’s no way–I mean, I think I’d know if—Sapnap, come on! He’s lying, right?” 

“Sorry to break it to you,” Karl says, although he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s just that he’s really, really good at avoiding me, and I regularly go up against former trained assassins. So I do know what to look for, Quackity.” 

Sapnap scowls at him. “What gave you that idea?” he demands. 

Karl shrugs. “Honestly, the first time I tried to shoot you tipped me off,” he says. “I was careless, didn’t stick as close to the shadows as I normally do. You must’ve seen something, yeah? Because then you were speeding up and changing lanes, and my bullet was landing in the L’Manberg river instead of Quackity’s skull.” He nods at Sapnap. “That was some good driving, by the way. Anyways, I started following you. Thought I could get you from behind. You always caught on before I could do anything. It was odd, but I figured you were just more observant than your average bodyguard. But then…tonight happened.” Karl’s fingers brush over his injured arm. “When you fired into the wall, I knew that was intentional. You wanted to warn me that you weren’t here to play. That you knew I was here. The first aid kit confirmed it. I’ve never seen anyone that prepared for any kind of emergency. I mean, you had medicine I don’t even have in my own med kit.” He shrugs. “So I took a wild guess. You were a former assassin, or–” His gaze lands on Quackity, and the smile drops off his face. “You were put here with the same mission I had.” 

Sapnap’s blood runs cold, but it doesn’t stop Karl from talking. 

“Which was to kill Quackity,” Karl says, voice dripping with seriousness. “So? Which is it?”  

Sapnap jolts. “I–” 

“He wouldn’t,” Quackity cuts in, sounding a little hysterical. Sapnap doesn’t blame him; it’s been a wild night. “Right? Right. He was hired to protect me. Why would he kill me?” 

“I mean, he hasn’t,” Karl says. “But he’s supposed to, right?” 

“He’s not,” Quackity insists. “Right Sapnap?” 

Karl’s staring at him, a clear challenge in his eyes, and it’s a little terrifying how quickly he got a read on the situation, on Sapnap. 

Maybe that’s what stops Sapnap from spinning his own web of lies, stops him from feeding Karl the cover story that he’d prepared should anyone think to look into his backstory. Instead, he lowers his gun, and nods at Karl. 

“He’s right,” he says, his voice sounding thick and maybe a little shaky. “Sorry you had to find out like this, Q.” 

“What the fuck.” Quackity’s shaking now, gun moving from Karl to Sapnap and back to Karl. “What the fuck. I thought–you said you were going to protect me!” 

“If it’s worth anything,” Sapnap begins, keeping his voice low and gentle, like Quackity's a frightened animal about to shoot them all or something, “I really didn’t think that I had the guts to go through with it.” 

Karl hums thoughtfully. “Rule number one,” he says. “Never get involved with your target.” 

“Involved?!” Quackity yells. “We’re not–he’s not–he’s my bodyguard.” 

“He’s a good guy, Karl,” Sapnap says softly, as Quackity sputters in the background. “He’s one of the best politicians I’ve ever seen.” 

“What the fuck,” Quackity repeats. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Karl laughs. “From what I saw today, you were very dedicated.” He offers Quackity a smile. “So let’s discuss this. We’ve got a really big problem on our hands.” He pats the ground next to him. “Sit down, Quackity.” 

Quackity stares at him, before lowering himself back to the floor with shaky legs. He’s still holding the gun, although he hasn’t seemed to figure out who he wants to point it at. Even so, he seems willing to listen. At least, Sapnap hopes he will. 

“So, the facts are these.” Karl begins listing them off on his fingers. “Sapnap’s an assassin. I’m an assassin. Both of us were hired to kill Quackity. Both of us…are no longer killing Quackity.” 

“Who wants me dead?!” Quackity blurts out. “Enough that I’m currently in a room with two assassins?!” 

Sapnap shrugs. “I don’t know who hired me. My superior gives me my mission and I don’t ask questions.” 

“Same.” Karl sighs. “Honestly, I suspect that it would have been fine if I’d gotten rid of Sapnap too, if we’re being honest.” 

“What?!” Sapnap exclaims. “I haven’t done anything!” 

“You’ve been on this job for nearly a month,” Karl replies. “It was supposed to be fast. They didn’t say outright to get rid of you, but they did say not to worry about any additional casualties.” 

“Great.” Sapnap drags his hand down his face. “My unwillingness to kill him dragged this out more than it needed to be.” 

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Quackity asks. 

Sapnap blinks. “Me?” 

“Yes, you,” Quackity says, huffing a little. “You’ve been driving me around for the past few weeks. You hang out here every single day. You’ve had the most opportunities, so how come I’m still alive?” 

“You’re taking this rather well,” Karl murmurs. 

Sapnap sighs. “I was told to make it look like an accident, so I couldn’t just shoot you,” he confesses. “And once I’d spent a few days with you…” He trails off and offers Quackity a smile. “You’re hard to hate, you know?” 

Quackity snorts. “Someone has it out for me. I’ve got two assassins in my fucking office, and you think I’m hard to hate?!” 

“I meant what I said about you being a great president,” Sapnap replies. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a politician as dedicated as you are.” He waves an arm around the office. “And the stuff you’re doing isn’t even your job, half the time. It’s really cool, Quackity.” 

Quackity smiles at that, the softer, genuine thing that Sapnap rarely sees. “So you spared me because I’m a hard worker.” The smile drops from his face, and he whirls around to face Karl. “What’s your excuse?” 

“Me?” Karl shrugs. “I mean, Sapnap thwarted me a lot, but I guess…” He shrugs again and leans back on the palms of his hands. “I don’t know. You two are interesting, though. Like, Quackity works really, really hard for a vice president, and Sapnap is, like, constantly protecting you, even though he’s literally supposed to be doing the opposite. Have you noticed how quickly he marks out the exits in any room you enter? Or how he’s always looking for anything that could harm you? He’s more paranoid than any bodyguard I’ve ever seen, and it’s probably because he’s an assassin instead.” 

“So you spared me because you thought Sapnap was interesting.” Quackity’s voice falls flat and hard into the room, landing harshly between them. 

“No, no!” Karl waves his hands frantically. “You’re interesting, too, I swear! It’s like you never stop moving, and I’ve seen how you always stop to make sure that kid, what’s his name, is doing okay, even though you’re also taking care of things that aren’t even under your jurisdiction, making you twice as busy as anyone else.” Karl shakes his head emphatically, curls flying around his face. For an assassin, he moves a lot. Sapnap wonders how he hid behind that cabinet for that long. 

“Look, Sapnap’s right,” Karl continues emphatically. “You work harder than any other politician I’ve seen, and for that, you’d probably be one of the best presidents L’Manberg’s ever seen, should you choose to run.” He leans back and grins. “It’s awe-inspiring. I’m stuck sitting behind a cabinet wondering if I should actually kill you and you’re trying to change the world in your office. Like, of the two of us, who’s doing more for society?” 

“Now you’re romanticizing politics.” Quackity sighs, but he finally–finally!–lowers the gun. “So. What’s our next move? Am I dying tonight?” 

Karl shakes his head. “Doubt it,” he replies. “Sapnap?” 

“Of course not.” Sapnap frowns as he eyes the three of them. Two assassins and their target, all in the same room. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. “But someone has to.” 

The three of them fall silent, each of them considering. Karl taps his fingers against his leg. Sapnap rubs his temples. 

“Kill Schlatt,” Quackity suddenly says, expression a little smoother, a little calmer than it's been all night. It mean's he's figured something out, and Sapnap wants to hear it.

Karl just frowns. “The president?” 

Quackity gulps. “Well,” he begins, fiddling with the gun in his hands. “He’s the one who shoved Sapnap at me and said that I needed a bodyguard, but he’s also the one who reassigned the ones that should have been for me. If I run this election season, then he’ll probably lose, because I’m the reason we even won in the first place.” 

“You think he’s the one behind all this?” Sapnap asks. 

“Yes.” Quackity gestures around the office. “I mean, why wouldn’t he want me gone? I’ve done more for this country than he ever has.” 

“It makes sense,” Karl says. “But what if we’re wrong?” 

“I can’t think of anyone else who’d want me dead. It’s a shot in the dark–” 

“Ha, shot,” Karl says, pointing at the guns on the floor, and Sapnap snickers. 

Quackity rolls his eyes, but continues saying, “But if I’m right, it’s all good, and if I’m wrong, well, I end up…dead.” 

“So if we take him out, then hopefully there’s no one to place hits on Quackity,” Sapnap says. 

“Theoretically.” Karl seems thoughtful. “But there’s no guarantee that it works.” 

“We have extremely limited options as it is,” Sapnap replies. “Between the two of us?” He gestures between him and Karl. “If we don’t pull a disappearing act, we’ll all end up dead by the end of the week.” 

“And disappearing will ruin Quackity’s plans for the future,” Karl says. “Huh.” 

“And we probably still have to pull one,” Sapnap continues. “Because there’s no way the guild is going to let us go, not after we failed a mission.” 

Quackity rubs his chin. “How much would it cost to place a hit on Schlatt?” 

Karl and Sapnap exchange a look. 

“Like…one that could override whatever bounty Schlatt’s placed on you?” Karl asks. 

“And potentially get you two reassigned,” Quackity adds. 

Sapnap shrugs. “More money than you’d think,” he says. “I don’t even know if you’re allowed to request assassins.” 

Quackity shrugs. “Say I’m rich,” he says. “How much?” 

“Dude,” Karl says, eyes widening. “You want to buy out your own contract?” 

Quackity’s serious expression breaks, and he smiles. “Why not? It’s me against Schlatt, whether he likes it or not. And clearly, he doesn’t.” 

Sapnap leans back and eyes Karl. “And you’re really okay with this? You’ve known us for barely a day.” 

“Yeah!” Karl grins. “This is, like, the most fun I’ve ever had, honestly.” 

“We’re taking you out somewhere so you can get a life,” Quackity says, reaching out for his phone. “But first…what’s the contact info for your superiors? Because I believe we’ve got to place a hit on someone.” 

And as Karl rattles off the numbers, Sapnap studies his new team, and thinks that maybe, the three of them can pull this off. They've got nothing but a hunch and a prayer, but if it keeps them all alive, then...well, it'll be worth it.