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Something called for Quackity from inside the church.
His eyes had been constantly shifting between the building and Multi ever since they entered the village, and now that the Pole was busy searching through his camera footage for the supposed Cucurucho sighting, he had a moment to actually look around.
As he took a step forward, an unexplainable shiver ran down his spine, flashing like a warning, his body tensing, bracing itself for something that awaited him there — but for what?
It wasn't like Multi would hide something horrible inside the building, not when he showed the whole of his unnaturally perfect hamlet to Quackity without as much as an ounce of hesitation. Sure, it was an area he was going to observe people in (or do whatever The Truman Show entailed in his mind), but it wasn't like he would torture them.
Right?
It couldn’t be that bad. He was probably just paranoid due to all of his past experiences (and wasn't that a fucking nightmare he kept on having to deal with, infecting every living moment of his day, making him doubtful about the most normal things).
Yeah. Yeah, it was just his brain being weird because of the memories. That made sense.
So he took another step forward, a swifter one this time, more sure, hand already on the handle, cracking open the door, just enough to see a bit of a painting on the opposite wall — the picture almost black, a barely visible white figure on it, its green eyes staring back at Quackity with so much intensity it felt like they were real, alive, looking like they just moved, stealing a breath out of him — before he was sharply shoved away from the entrance, the door immediately clicking shut again.
It all happened in a span of a few seconds, but he was still able to read the text on the painting, the LET ME BE YOUR GOD etched into his mind.
He tried to ignore it, taking a few steps backward, his balance completely off due to the pure strength of the push. When he looked up, Multi was already blocking his view, standing tall in front of him, his calm composure barely nipped at by some kind of anger — or was it frustration? Annoyance, fear, anxiety?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“Don't go in there,” he said, basically spitting out the words. His hand was clenched into a fist next to his side, trembling with how intensely he was squeezing it.
“Wait, why?” Quackity questioned, taking another step back, still feeling the stare of those eyes on him.
Multi breathed out, his expression going back to its collected state with the air leaving his lungs.
“It’s,” Multi hesitated. It looked like he was hesitating, thinking what to say — but he might as well be searching for the correct word to express himself. He actually could be, considering how English wasn’t his native language. Even if it did seem off. “Still under construction, you know. It's dangerous to be there without the proper equipment, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Quackity nodded, trying to pretend like he believed that. Trying to believe it, because it was probably the truth, and all he was doing was being distrustful of a man that did nothing wrong.
“Anyway,” some sweetly chipper returned to his voice, a small smile on his lips, eyes as hard as they were before. “I've got the video, look.”
Multi handed him a tablet, a video paused on the screen. Quackity slowly accepted it, carefully wrapping his fingers around the edges.
“You know, I was scared that I was having some kind of hallucination when I first saw him. I don't fully understand all the side effects of constantly being exposed to uranium yet, but this little thing,” he took a small device out of his back pocket, the gadget beeping every few seconds, a green light blinking at Quackity with some text flashing under it, “told me that someone was sniffing around the reactor.”
He nodded as Multi put the device in his pocket again, the material barely muting it down. He finally turned on the clip, letting himself slowly look over the footage, analyzing every gap and hole he could see. He was about to ask whether Multi had for sure given him the correct video (because there was nothing there) when the camera angle shifted, turning towards the overlooking office, more and more — until Cucurucho was in the frame, looking down the lens, knowing that it was being watched.
Quackity’s heart jumped up slightly as he made eye contact with it through the screen. Even if he knew it wasn’t real, the video extremely pixelated, it was still it.
“See! He's right there, staring straight at the camera like a cunt,” Multi pointed at the tablet, his finger right in front of its mask.
“Yeah, no, fuck man, that's terrifying. Jesus, that’s scary as shit,” he shuddered, giving back the device. “So what, it’s— it’s just watching you?”
“I think so? I mean, he did destroy the doors to the lab, but I’m pretty sure it was an accident,” he shrugged. “When I went to fix it, he covered the hole with something else so the radiation wouldn’t escape.”
“But you do realize you are being directly compromised, right?”
“I do. And I wonder whether it’s a bad thing or not. He might be just observing, or he might be impressed. It’s not like this laboratory is all ordinary.”
Quackity shifted his weight onto his other leg, trying to ignore how it seemed like Multi wanted it to be impressed.
“Have you spoken to it yet?”
“No, not yet, but I’m going to make sure we talk sooner rather than later,” he grinned, eyes glinting dangerously, as if they were looking forward to the possible future. “I feel like we are alike in a few ways too many not to use the opportunity.”
Multi didn't know. He couldn't know what they had done to him because then he wouldn't say this, right? Right? He wasn't like this, he couldn't be.
Quackity knew him, at least somewhat, enough to know that deep down he was a good man with nothing but good intentions. He was too nice, too caring — he was so upset when they killed the red panda, and he made finding Wojtek his mission. He had a heart. He cared.
Even if some of his methods were unorthodox. Even if sometimes Quackity wondered whether the man was truly sane (but who was he to judge Multi?).
Multi was simply uninformed when it came to the Federation. He was new here, he didn't know what the past entailed or what it had done to everyone that came from the other island. What it had done to so many people who weren’t here anymore.
He just didn’t know.
Fuck, Quackity should tell him. He really, really should — he should make him aware, so Multi didn’t end up admiring the motherfucker that didn’t deserve a comma of his attention.
“I don’t think you should work with it. With them,” he stressed, his hands restless, starting to pick at his nails. He didn’t put in the effort to stop fidgeting.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I— I just have a bad feeling about them. It’s a gut thing, you know, the type you get right before something horrible happens.”
“Everybody has a bad feeling about them. ‘Oh, the federation this’ and ‘oh, Cucurucho is such a bad guy’ while they haven’t done shit yet. I don’t get where the paranoia comes from,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.
“Okay, fuck, listen. I have some… unpleasant experiences with them,” Quackity’s voice wavered as he shifted his gaze to the side, unable to keep eye contact as he breathed out through his teeth. “But I can’t tell you about them yet. And I can’t control you, and neither can I stop you from talking to them, so just— keep that in mind. They are not the ones to play with.”
Even without looking at Multi, he could see him slowly nodding, almost deliberately, his face composed, contemplating — but there was something soft behind it, something similar to empathy. Like he truly cared about Quackity’s words, like they were something worth considering.
“I will. One way or another, you are safe with me, yes? I’m not going to let you get hurt, trust me on that.”
“Okay,” he agreed (even if he was unsure whether those promises were genuine or just empty words. He wanted them to be the truth). He cleared his throat, desperately searching for a change of topic. “So what are your plans now, then?”
Whatever the softness that eased Multi’s face was — it suddenly disappeared, replaced by a clinically calm (and to be frank, emotionless) smile that made the air around them feel impossibly cold.
“Ah, well, I’m wondering whether a certain someone shouldn’t pay dearly for what they’ve done to the Polish Hussars. Nobody can get away with threatening my friends, hijacking our train and stealing and possibly killing Wojtek,” he answered, his voice getting a little deeper with every word said.
“What are you going to do to her?”
“Nothing special, really. Take her here, ask her a few questions, get some information out of her. Maybe she would stay for a few days, but nothing too intense. If she doesn’t do anything more, that is.”
“So you are going to kidnap her,” Quackity stated.
Multi grimaced at the wording, “Not officially. But I don’t know, maybe I will do it, maybe I won’t. Nothing’s set in stone yet, not until the court case is done, anyway… and I will have to talk about it with other Poles to make sure they are okay with it.”
“Right,” he nodded. He tried to continue the conversation, to start another sentence, but he ended up tripping over his own words, the noise of that goddamn device too loud in the silence. “I'm sorry, but I think I’m going to go fucking insane with this constant beeping. How do you just ignore it?”
“What, the alarms?” he shrugged. “They are almost always beeping, considering how often people come and go. And I have to know if someone intrudes the lab without my permission. Out of safety, obviously, I don’t want anybody else to end up like Linda.”
While he spoke, he retrieved the device he had mentioned and started playing with it, his fingers swiftly going around the mechanism as he removed its covering.
“What are you doing?” Quackity questioned.
“Turning it off? I will just check in the logger if someone came later.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he hid it back in his pocket, the sound of his coat shuffling filling the room now that the noise was finally gone, blessing them both with blissful silence. “You know what I really need for my research? DNA.”
Quackity blinked, surprised by the unexpected information.
“What do you need it for?”
“Ehh, many things. Mostly to check how we interact with radiation, what side effects are to be expected, whether there is something other than lead and decontamination I can do to prevent it. And then I want to find a cure, because I have Linda to take care of. I theoretically have her to do some experiments, but she is already sick, and I don’t want to exhaust her further.”
Quackity hummed, “And have you taken anyone’s DNA yet?”
Multi didn’t respond immediately, letting the question hang in the air as he looked up. He breathed out through his mouth, his finger tapping against his thigh for a moment. He licked his lips before he shifted his gaze back to Quackity.
He took a step forward. And then another one. And then a few more, making Quackity instinctively back up. It didn’t stop until his back hit the tree behind him.
Multi stood less than a foot away, looking down at him with a serious expression, one that made Quackity gulp.
“Can I trust you?”
“Of course you can,” he exhaled.
Multi paused, again, clearly still unsure. Quackity let him think it through again, realizing himself that this — this conversation, however it was going to finish, was important.
“I have some DNA,” he ended up saying, his voice quieter now.
“Whose DNA is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Was it mine? Did you take my DNA without me knowing? How would you even—”
“Don’t be stupid,” Multi interrupted him. “You would know if I did, trust me on that.”
“...do you want my DNA?” Quackity asked, just to realize how it sounded, the question way too suggestive, having a double meaning he hadn’t wanted. He could feel that he was flushing, a little flustered, but he ignored it (as well as he could, anyway).
Multi grinned, wetting his lips slightly, “Are you offering?”
“Uh. I mean, tell me what it looks like first. I don't— it would be irresponsible to jump headfirst into some experiment of yours just because you asked me to,” he chuckled nervously.
“Shame,” he shifted, getting marginally closer to Quackity, almost entering his personal space. Or maybe he had already entered it. “Well, I would put you in one of those tubes you saw the other day, and then I’d drown you— okay, not drown, but bathe you in acid. You would probably pass out before the acid, anyway. And then, a few hours later, you wake up like nothing happened.”
“That doesn’t seem safe,” he furrowed his eyebrows.
“It is.”
“Are you sure? How many people have done it?”
“What’s up with the questions, man? What are you, a fucking cop?”
“What? No? No, I’m not. I— I’m just curious. Why are you so suspicious? I thought you trusted me.”
“You are very defensive,” he stated, just like that, shutting Quackity up.
What? He was just— he was just explaining himself.
He tried to somehow say that to Multi, but he couldn’t gather his thoughts, so after a moment he shook his head, leaving the topic to rest.
“Uh, also, when I went into that building,” he moved his head towards the church, pointing at it. “You rushed me out of it, like I wasn't allowed in the church, but.... who is it even for? Who's your god?”
Something took over Multi’s face then, his expression changing slowly, morphing into a cheshire-like grin, his fangs showing, shining in the fake sun above them. His eyes were lit with the same neon green as the figure on that painting, looking like they were staring right into Quackity’s soul, seeing the inside of him, knowing what he was thinking, knowing everything.
He looked like a predator, one that had already caught its prey. One that knew it didn’t need to do anything more, that its next meal was peacefully waiting in front of it, that it wasn’t going to run away. Quackity felt like the prey, trapped in an invisible cage.
He tried to take another step back, but there was nowhere to go. All he could do was just stand there and be scrutinized under the Pole’s stare, devoured by his gaze.
“I am,” Multi declared, his tone serious, full of belief that it was the truth. It didn’t seem like he hesitated or thought it over — it already was a part of his reality, one of the consequential truths that could not be changed.
Quackity could feel himself going pale, his whole body tensing, pulse quickening as adrenaline rushed through his veins, his legs preparing to run like there was something to run from.
But he was fine, he knew that — theoretically — he wasn’t in any immediate danger. And yet his body went into the flight response, stealing away his steady breathing and any sense of calmness.
Maybe he should listen to it. Maybe he should back away, say that it was too much for him, that he wasn’t sure whether he could deal with someone in his close relations experimenting with DNA again (with someone that thought about themself as a fucking god) — but something deep inside stopped him, clearing the fog away.
Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe he wanted it to be dangerous.
“...that is a very normal response.”
Multi stared at him, still smiling as his tongue ran over his teeth, stopping on his fang. He suddenly broke the silence, making Quackity flinch as he barked out a laugh, exaggeratingly doubling over.
“Man, you should’ve seen your face. I was obviously joking, don’t take everything so seriously.”
Quackity laughed back (even if that was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment), “Right, yeah. Obviously, stupid me.”
Multi ignored how clearly uncomfortable Quackity looked.
“So, do you want to volunteer?”
“No, I— I will have to think about that,” he offered, even if it felt awkward to decline. He cleared his throat. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’m ready to help you with whatever, whenever.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that. I really do,” Multi frowned, upset. The expression didn’t seem real anymore. Nothing quite did, not with the white walls surrounding them, everything blending with them. “I’m sorry that I can’t tell you everything. Keeping those things a secret hurts me, too, but I just can’t be sure with anyone. Even if I trust you, it’s too early to say everything.”
“And I get that. Listen, this all stays with me, I promise you that. I won’t tell anyone anything, ever. I will keep these things to myself, and myself only, you have my word.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Oh, I’ve also been working on a device that blocks teleportation.”
“You’re kidding,” the skittish smile washed away from Quackity’s face as he was suddenly overcome by dread, because what does that even mean.
Multi smiled, “No, I’m serious! It’s not done yet, obviously, but… soon, hopefully.”
“So, if somebody gets trapped here, they can’t get out?” he questioned, just to make sure he wasn’t interpreting his words incorrectly.
“Nope.”
“And what if— what if they have something like this?” he opened his backpack, pulling out the gauntlet that let him travel through earth without much effort. He showed it to Multi, hoping that it was going to upset him, that he was going to sigh and say he had no way of dealing with it.
He grinned even further instead.
“I’m going to reinforce everything.”
And there it was, again, the immediate need to get out of here, to get away from Multi and never see the man again. This wasn’t normal — he was psychotic, at least a little. Quackity could clearly see that he wasn’t all that mentally stable.
And yet he stayed. All he did was shift a little, leaning on the tree trunk, his eyes not leaving Multi’s, even when his heart was racing so much he was scared it was going to run out of his chest.
“Wow, that’s very. smart of you,” he took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself down. It didn’t do shit. “Right! Well, like I said, I’m here to help you out.”
“I hope so, because if you betray me, I will kill myself,” Multi answered, his voice honest, eyes serious, making Quackity choke on his spit at the brutal confession.
“Don’t you usually threaten people with ‘I will kill you’?”
“You can consider yourself special, then.”
Quackity couldn’t stay here anymore. He just couldn’t — not with the way Multi was acting, not with the way his every single word felt like a threat, and not with the way the walls seemed to be closing on him. Staying for so long in the lab, so close to the reactor, couldn't be safe, either.
He had to get out, to feel the sun on his skin and breathe in the air that wasn’t infested with whatever this was.
“Let’s go— I want to breathe in some fresh air.”
Multi clicked his tongue, “I still have to do some things around here, but you go. Just don’t forget to decontaminate.”
They said their goodbyes. At least Quackity thought they did, he wasn’t completely sure, not with the way his heart drummed in his ears, not with the constant ringing that filled his head.
As he was walking towards the airlock, he kept on looking over his shoulder, feeling like he was being watched, seeing something green flickering in the corners of his eyes. He persisted in making eye contact with almost every single camera, sensing that he was being watched from the other end.
Once he finally decontaminated and left the lab, he was finally able to take a real breath of air.
He stood in front of the doors for a moment, his thoughts racing — because what the fuck even was that? What— why did he act like that? What was even written in that church? Something about being a god? And then he called himself a god, his tone so sure, serious, like he truly believed that.
But did he— could he? Was he strange enough to think that, to build himself a village in which he would develop a cult?
Quackity shook the trembling hands away, blinking himself back to reality, realizing that he really should get out of the underground before Multi was done with his thing. He needed some time to think this all through alone, preferably in the safety of his own house.
He walked towards the water entrance, his steps quick, making sure that he was staying quiet.
“There is no way out there,” Multi said abruptly, out of nowhere, making Quackity jump and squeak. “Graf blocked it a few days ago.”
Quackity turned around, his heart going even quicker. God, he was going to get a heart attack if this didn't stop.
He chuckled nervously, “What? How did you know— are you following me?”
“You and your silly assumptions,” he shook his head, starting to walk away. Quackity instinctively followed him. “I have radars everywhere. I know where you are.”
Quackity’s step faltered as he looked up at Multi, hoping to get some kind of explanation on that because what the fuck do you even mean he knows where he was.
Multi didn’t give him that, saying, “Here, use the waypoint,” instead, like nothing happened.
Quackity decided that he really, really didn’t want to dwell on it. Not right now. It was probably a translation error or something, and Multi simply meant something else.
He clicked on the waypoint, choosing ‘HOGARN’ without a word, teleporting to the North, hoping that he could find Juan and talk to him.
He was met with a silent house instead, empty, with no soul to stop him from going crazy. After checking every room, making sure that every single one of his housemates was gone, he locked himself in his own bedroom.
As he sat on the bed, the sun shining through the curtains, he occasionally heard the beeping of that device.