Chapter Text
Pull the lever.
That's the only thought on Quackitys mind. Pull the lever, you idiot. What are you waiting for?
Nobody would be here to stop him, after all. God knows where Foolish and Fundy are, and no matter how much Quackity wanted to see someone, he couldn't bring himself to stand up.
To escape his hell, the world that ruined him and his miserable life. Something in him, the stupid, hopeful part of him begs to get out, that he'll be okay if he just tries. It doesn't have to end like this, but Quackity knows it always was going to–
The door to the casino opens.
Quackitys eyes snap open, gazing over– Slime? Did he come back for him?
These thoughts are dissolved almost instantly upon not seeing a green, slimey figure in the doorway. He instead sees a child, one he has never seen before.
He is suddenly too aware of the TNT surrounding his throne, and the lever with redstone connected. One lit match and him and this child would both die.
Why do you care about hurting someone else? You never have before. Flick the switch already!
He bites his lip, hand frozen where it's laid next to the switch. The child looks almost identical to him, save for the grotesque scar.
Quackitys lungs suddenly feel too full, yet so empty. He can't get air in, and nothing is coming out no matter how hard he tries. He needs to pull the lever, he doesn't know why he's hesitating because a little freak is in his doorway.
He's not soft or weak. He knows the small part of his mind has always been soft to children, and truly, he had never seen someone so.. small.
Even when he first came here, Tommy and Tubbo weren't this young. The two had been over 11, no way this child could be over 7.
Memories of a child having bandages over one half of his face, a child with glossed-over dull eyes and blood stained clothes, a child being thrown away from his own land. A man getting what he deserves for hurting Quackitys boys, what kind of a monster–
Fuck.
The child is staring wide-eyed, eyes empty yet so full of innocence. They almost look dead, Quackity had seen the look in many others before, including himself.
A bright red bow sits at the back of their head, the color similar to the red of their sweater. Quackity can't tell if the top is naturally red or if it's blood, or a mix of both.
They haven't spoken a word since laying eyes on Quackity, and he wonders how long they've been staring at eachother for. How long he's been in this casino, debating over if he should blow himself up or jump from the top of the Needle.
He opens his mouth to speak, to ask why this small child has wandered into his place and how. Why he hasn't seen them before, why they look so much like him, why their eyes are so dull, the look so similar to Tommys eyes when Quackity had seen him after the boy had been revived.
As lucky as he tries to be, all that comes out is a cough. It's dry, weak, and Quackity desperately needs some water. “Who–” He rasps, “the fuck are you?”
The kid blinks at him, shifting on their feet. Quackity debates asking if the child is deaf, but he can tell they heard him, going off how their body shifts and gives the faintest flinch at the tone of voice.
He stands up, taking his hand off the table the lever is on. He narrows his eyes, circling it to face the small figure.
The child appears to have blonde wings that are too similar in color to Quackitys own to be comfortable. The only difference is the childs wings are sharp at the bottom, although it seems more like a rabbit trying to be scary.
On their head is another pair of these wings, just a lot smaller. They aren't like Quackitys where they're replacing his ears, instead sat above the ears, almost curled around the ears.
He coughs, “Answer me!”
The child flinches back, opening their mouth repeatedly but nothing coming out beside little whines that resemble a creatures own ones.
Great. Quackity had enough shit on his plate, and Prime just decided to throw this thing on there too. For what? Dessert? He spins back around, hand on the lever–
A sharp cry. The child grabs onto his sleeves, tiny fingers pulling and tugging as if they could pull him away from it. Their eyes are wide and terrified.
A wave of guilt goes through Quackity, the feeling shaking his very soul. What is he doing?
They shake their head furiously, clicking their teeth together as they try to drag Quackity back from the lever. Quackity hisses, “Let me go, kid!”
Another snap of teeth, claws digging into the fabric of his sleeve. Quackity pushes the kid away, “I said let go, you little–”
The child shrinks into themself, eyes becoming glossy. They let go, their little hands returning to where they were on their chest.
Quackitys breath hitches, pulling his hand back. What the fuck is wrong with him? He just hurt a child!
The other seems to gain back their determination after a few seconds of hesitation, claws instead wrapping around one of Quackitys legs and clinging.
“Stop! C'mon, what the fuck!?” Quackity snapped, squirming as he tried to take the kid off his leg.
The child growls, eyes flickering back and forth from Quackity to the lever.
“Fuck, okay, fine!” He hisses, attempting to step back from the lever without falling onto them. This seems to satisfy the child, as they let go and stand back up, but their claws still hold onto his pant leg.
“Do you speak?” Quackity questions, raising an eyebrow. The kid hadn't said a word, or anything audible beside those whines and the growl, so.. maybe?
They shake their head quickly, tugging on his leg again. Quackity holds back the urge to roll his eyes and mock the child.
“You want me.. out.”
A nod.
“Of the building.”
Another nod.
Quackity scoffs, taking the kid off his leg and gently pushing them away. He takes one last glance to the lying TNT, the redstone lined up and the lever basically begging to be pulled. To end it all, who gives a fuck if a child is gone? Nobody knows this kid, probably, and they could always have more lives left—
The child makes another whine, knocking their head into his leg.
So innocent. It'd be so easy to just kil– He stops thinking, instead opting to leave the casino. All he has to do is get this kid somewhere else, and he can end it all. He's done similar things before.
The problem is that even after leaving the building, the child stays gripping onto his pant leg.
Quackity groans, hands going over the kids. “Let go. I'm out. See?”
They seem hesitant, but remove their hands. They click their teeth again, almost as if using it as an argument or a way of showing frustration.
Their eyes go back to the casino, and Quackity can see them practically investigating the building. They seem to curl into themself a bit at the white color, but other than that, they don't show any other physical reaction.
“What even is your damn name?” He asks, crouching down just a bit to be more level with the kid.
They scrunch up their nose, another whine coming from their lips. They make an expression similar to a pout, eyes narrowing and giving him a look that screams ‘I cant talk, idiot’.
“Whatever. Look, kid, I'm fucking busy, and I don't have time to deal with this shit. So, I'm going to drop you off with someone–” Quackity cuts himself off when he notices the child didn't start to follow him.
“..What?” He asks, the kid crosses their arms, and they open their mouth but nothing comes out. Their hands shoot into their pockets, eventually pulling out a small notepad.
..That wouldn't been useful 10 minutes ago.
‘I will stay’
Quackity rolls his eyes, “No you won't. C’mon, I have a.. friend who's good with kids.”
They shake their head, pointing to the written words over and over with growing urgency.
“Okay, fine. We'll just go on a damn walk, yeah?”
They erase the words, nodding and finally starting to follow. Quackity sighs when the kids small fingers intertwine with his own.
He needs a damn cigarette.