Chapter Text
Most people think Schlatt and Quackity met during the L’manberg Election. Most people are shocked to hear Quackity mention how nicer Schlatt used to be when they were teenagers, but hey, you can’t blame them. Schlatt being nice?
Or more specifically, sober? Or cleanly shaven, or even somewhat calm? If you take all those attributes away from Schlatt, you don’t even have Schlatt anymore. He’s just some guy.
Alex would love to agree, but he always finds some part of him denying it. He knows how things got bad in the end, they were terrible for each other. Quackity always pushed his buttons to get a rise out of him, it would horribly backfire when Schlatt would get drunk– both of which became consistent two weeks into his presidency. But sometimes, if you caught him in his office at 6 a.m., between his alcohol induced numbness and his uncharacteristically sober self— leaving him a mess of whatever you want to call it— you could see him. That 19 year old boy with uncurled ram horns and hazy brown eyes dawned with dark, fluttery lashes, mumbling incoherent plans to scam his own citizens for a penny or two. It makes you wonder—
What happened?
===
SMPLive was everything.
In just a few months, the place had become the place for any and all types of entertainment with their specialty— content creators. Live streamers would casually stream anywhere and everywhere, usually obnoxiously for the views— while there were more home-body creators who only showed themselves to the public when they’d need to, or during special in-person events.
You could only live in SMPLive if you were personally invited by the higher-ups, other than that, it was practically impossible to get in. Those invited lived in the server, while visitors were only permitted temporary visas that would last a month at best. After that month, you would be shuffled out for the next group of tourists to stay.
The server was known for many things, but the one that stood out amongst it all– and the reason why tourism was so highly restricted and popular– was the unexplained fact that you could not die.
That was SMPLive’s focal point.
You could fall off a cliff, drink a bad potion, get shot by the weekly cops or the hitmen– no matter what happens to you, you’ll just respawn back in your room. No lives lost, no scars. Just as if you woke up from a quick nap.
That isn’t to say dying isn’t painful– it is still very much dying. You’ll feel your bones crack under you when you hit the pavement for just a split second, the poison coursing through your veins, the arrow through your chest. It’s why one of the only rules for tourists is to steer clear of content creators– especially while they’re filming– and how they warn you of what might happen to you during your stay. Of course, they pay no mind to the suggestion. They’re here to see their favorites in person, after all.
If a resident kills or even harms a visitor, it can get your citizenship revoked just like that. Because of this, content creators actually steer clear of interacting with fans outside of taking pictures with them, purely out of fear that a stray arrow from a hitman might just hit them. It is also quietly encouraged by the ones up top, the big guys.
Quackity was a visitor. He had waited what felt like years to even get onto the visa waitlist, just to see some friends that had lived there, maybe even apply for citizenship if he liked it enough. But for now, just a tourist seeing his friends.
In the first three days of his visit, he had seen multiple streamers die mid sentence from various violences.
The little cameras that would follow them around would simply head back in the direction they originally came from, most likely to where the content creator respawned. It was eerie, and definitely not leaving a good impression on the duck hybrid.
He’s slightly lying to his friends when they ask how much he likes it, only because he thinks that if he admits otherwise, he’ll buzzkill the whole trip. His friends thrive here, they treat everything like it's normal. It makes him think if they even remember what it was like outside the server.
For now, he quietly explores while his friends stream or record videos. He feels a little stupid for not realizing that’s what 60% of his trip will be because of scheduling.
As he walked down a busy shopping district, he would stop and stare at the event promotional posters. There were fliers with ELECTION! written in all caps with a ram hybrid around his age dramatically saluting something beyond the page, stapled to lamp posts and windows. Giant billboard advertisements for a show called Love or Host, which also showcased the same ram hybrid, grimacing this time.
Now would be a good time to mention that Quackity wasn’t really a fan like most of the other tourists. He can’t place why of all the creators in SMPLive, would they put him as their poster boy? He doesn’t even know this guy’s name–
“SCHLATT!” There was a gutteral shout from down the crowded street. Confused yelps came from the crowd of people, until finally, someone sprinted out of the crowd. Oh hey, poster boy!
The poster boy, Schlatt, hurriedly shoved past randos clogging the street, very clearly unused to running.
He was tall and lanky, he wore a black suit and red tie, mostly covered by a navy puffer with white faux fur dawning the hood. He had short brown hair neatly parted from the left, with two small ram horns and ears.
Quackity watched in bewilderment, only before dread replaced it as another man burst through the crowd holding a bow and arrow. Oh shit, they’re not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to be here.
Quackity slipped into an empty alleyway and kept his head peaked around the corner. “Oh shit,” he whispered to himself as Schlatt frantically looked around, his hand gripping his scalp.
Alex stared.
Why? Don’t worry about it.
What he does need to worry about is how he made direct eye contact with him, and now he’s making his way over here.
Quackity swung himself fully behind the wall, grabbing his communicator to seem like he was busy and totally not just staring at the ram.
“Hey!” Schlatt slid from around the corner, catching his footing as he kept his pace past Quackity. “Cover for me, please!” he put his hands together in a praying motion as he headed for a trashcan.
“I– wha– okay?!” Quackity spat out, looking between Schlatt struggling to get himself into the trashcan and the louder beckoning from right around the corner.
Quackity shoved his gaze back down to his comm when Schlatt finally closed the lid to the can, trying to look as casual as possible.
“Where did he– fuck!” the hitman came into Quackity’s view. The guy chasing him was a fish hybrid of some kind, with two green fins decorating his face and one long caudal fin swaying behind him. Unsurprisingly, nobody he recognized.
“Hey– you! Duck guy!” the killer fish turned and pointed at him. Alex points at himself, trying his best to act confused.
“Yeah! Have you seen Jschlatt run past here?” he pauses to breathe, “Is he in there?”
Quackity shook his head. “Nah man, I don’t even know anyone here.”
The unnamed fish-guy narrowed his eyes.
Alex clears his throat, quickly adding, “Unless you’re talking about that ram guy–”
“Yes!” fish guy throws his head back in frustration, “Where is he?”
Quackity was at a standpoint. He could rat this random guy out and get called a narc by everyone and their mothers, or he could figure out why he was staring so hard at him.
“He went that way, I think.” He stepped out of the alley and pointed further down the street, quickly side eyeing the man beside him.
“Fuck, you’re a life saver!” Fish guy starts running again. “Thanks duck guy!” he waves before breaking into a full sprint through the crowd.
Quackity sighs and runs his hand down his face. “Jesus christ,” he mumbled.
“Hey, don’t use the lord’s name in vain.” he’s suddenly aware of the ram struggling to get out of the trashcan.
“You need help with that?” Quackity asks, walking back into the alley.
“No, what!” Schlatt scoffs as he awkwardly tries to lift a foot out and almost falls over. “Um– actually, yeah. Please,” his shoulders sag.
Quackity giggles and notices Schlatt whip his gaze up. He looked away as fast as he looked up, smiling. “Yeah, yeah,”
After Quackity basically tips the can over after a few seconds of bickering and struggle, Schlatt survives.
“Man, I can not thank you enough, seriously!” he grabs Quackity’s hand and puts it between his own. “You are a lifesaver– literally!” Quackity chuckles, his feathers ruffling.
“I seriously did not want to die today– wait, what’s your name?” Schlatt lets his hand go, leaving it daintily in the air. “I need to know the guy who saved me a respawn.”
Quackity puts his hand down after a second, reeling from the switch up. “Oh– Alex Quackity– but I’m mainly called Quackity, I’m just in town seeing friends–”
“Ohh, a visitor, huh? Sorry for wrapping you up in that, but uh-” he peeked around the corner for a second. “He chased me here, so. He might be catching a lawsuit from yours truly.” he puts his hand on his chest. “Oh– right, I’m Schlatt. But you might know that already.” he says, smug drenched.
Quackity sucks his teeth. “To be fair, I didn’t know who you were until a few seconds ago. I only know because the guy that was going to kill you said it.”
Schlatt’s eyebrows raise, and Quackity almost senses his vibe change. “Really?” He puts his hand on his hip. “That’s interesting.”
Quackity wasn’t really sure what the vibe changed to.
“Well, hey! Since now I know there’s some people after me, and you can’t be killed,” Schlatt walks towards the street. “Let’s hang out! You’d be my bodyguard.”
Quackity followed him, his eyebrows reaching under his beanie. “Wait– what?! I can get killed–”
“ That's if they wanna risk their right to be here!” he puts a finger up. “And I’m not using you for content, I’m not even streaming right now.”
Quackity blinked a few times. “How many days have you been here, anyway? I can give you a tour?” Schlatt started walking backwards. “Or you can go, it’s not like I care or anything,” he mumbles the last part.
Quackity rolls his eyes. “Fine,” it's not like he has any plans anyway.
Schlatt smiled, turning around fully. “Have you seen the Schlatt Coin?”
Quackity catches up to his side. “ Schlatt coin?” Schlatt looks at him, bewildered. “No shit, you really aren’t a viewer,” he laughs.