Quackity dragged you along for longer then you would've liked.

And by that you meant he gave you a tour of Manberg, wandering around it, showing you everything with a condescending look on his face. There was no point to doing this.

He had absolutely no reason other then the fact that his president had something against you.

So you remained silent, getting tugged along unwillingly until he pulled you up to the white house.

Thee white house.

He opened the door and dragged you through it, and you winced at how polished everything looked.

You were used to your homely little cabin- and the rustic little area in the ravine.

Everything here was streamlined and corporate looking. Too polished- too clean.

With another jerk, he pulled you up the steps, up and up, and into a room,

There, sitting at an overly big desk, was the man himself.

The person who had some grudge against you for no reason-

Who put out a bounty for you.

The big guy.

"Kneel for the president." Quackity murmed, forcing your legs to bend until your knees touched down with the floor.

You were unwilling- and your eyes burned with the fire of disgust.

"No need-" Schlatt spoke chair facing towards the window instead of you and Quackity, "This is a free country remember? No kneeling necessary- stand up."

"How contradictory." You growled, standing back up, "Bringing me in unwillingly and then having the gall to say this country is free."

Finally, he swiveled around in his chair, facing you head on and confidently slouching at his desk.

"Haha-" his laugh had no humor, "Thats priceless coming from a fucking rat."

You glowered at him, consistently, and in return he grinned. Right at you, still humorless, and completely serious despite looking so lackadaisical.

"I didn't do shi-" Your snarl was cut off.

"Ah- ah- ah. Wait your turn daisy-" Jschlatt stood, swivel chair gliding backwards as he planted both his hands on his desk, "I went for a return visit- and what do I find at your little house?"

His stare leveled with you, "A note from Wilbur fucking Soot- a traitor- saying 'here's the meet up area for a supply drop'-"

Finally his smile dropped, and you flinched at how overbearing his scowl was.

Fuck.

You forgot to grab both papers Wilbur gave you when you left.

Of course you forget about the incriminating evidence called a slip of paper with coordinates.

However bad that was though, you had to look at positives.

At least he doesn't know where the actual base is located.

That would be horrible.

He maneuvers around his desk, strutting forward until he's in front of you, "Now tell me who's hypocritical." He roughly snatched your chin in his hand, forcing eye contact, and you bore your teeth at him.

"Answer me bitch."

Almost immediately after he said that, Quackity stuttered out a few jumbled words before settling on a confused, "Me??"

"Not you! You fucking-" Schlatt pinched the bridge of his nose and pointed a finger towards the steps, "Get the fuck out- put her in jail-"

"But we don't have a jail-"

"Then MAKE A FUCKING JAIL- God- idiots- all of you." The president staggered back around to his desk, pulling out a bottle of something and chugging it, "I'm gonna interrogate her once you bitches get your shit in order."

Before you could watch any farther, Quackity ushered you down the steps, scurrying to leave the room.

"And don't even think about asking for a reward! You're a fucking idiot!" His voice carried down the steps, yell clearly meant for Quackity.

Quackity flinched even farther at Jschlatt's words, hurrying you out the door, and softly closing it behind him.

He looked shook. He looked like he wasn't comfortable being treated like that- and honestly no one would be. Being talked to in that way would rip into someone's self esteem.

You opened your mouth to say something, to comment on the obvious discourse that was happening, but his face dropped, back into the snarky look.

Back into the 'ready to demean you' face.

Fuck empathy.

"Come on- you heard the boss- it's jail time now, conejito!"

Fuck empathy so hard.

With a jerk, he led you around, seemingly looking for a suitable spot to put you in prison.

And eventually he did, slamming down some stone bricks, putting some iron bars up, and rather then get rid of the rope around your hands, he just tied them to one of the iron bars.

"I'm watching you-" he said, taking a seat just outside the cramped little prison cell and eyeing you.

You could only roll your eyes at him.

Yeah sure.

Alright.

The prison cell had almost no room for you to move around in. No room to stretch out, or sit down properly, but after ten minutes of standing around you took an uncomfortable seat, legs bent and unable to stretch.

Within your time sitting there, Quackity would phase in and out of actually watching you.

His boredom would kick in and he'd start fiddling with things in his pockets. After enough time he would remember he was guarding someone and snap back into staring at you.

The sixth time he did that you rose your voice, looking him directly in the eyes as he settled himself.

"Does he always treat you like that?" Was what you asked. It was almost an hour into just sitting around and doing nothing.

Quackity pursed his lips and didn't answer, breaking eye contact with you in favor of staring at a random building.

"He's a prick." You mumble.

Any sort of conversation stops dead there, and Quackity still refused to look at you.

Clearly, there was unsaid beef between them, even if Quackity tried to ignore it.

With a groan, you tried stretching your arms, wincing when all you did was rub the rope farther into your wrists.

"How long are we gonna sit here?" You groan, shifting and feeling your legs ache with the need to stretch.

Quackity shrugged, "You think I know?"

"You're the one who put me in here, yes I expect you to know." You gave your rope an experimental tug, frowning when all it did was irritate your skin more.

"I guess when Schlatt comes back around-"

"Yeah, the drunk asshole who can't remember what day it is. I bet he's not gonna come around until the morning." Your griping didn't go unheard, Quackity letting out a sigh.

"Yeah, honestly he's probably not gonna be back." His face turned to you, funky looking grin spreading across his face, "Let's have some fun to pass time!"

Out of absolutely no where he pulls out a guitar, strumming three chords slowly before going absolutely ape shit.

"Conejito! Take it away!"

"What the fuck?" You stared in complete confusion as Quackity gave you a frown at your lack of participation.

The pick in his finger paused strumming, and he groaned, "Oh come on- your ruining my vibe-"

"I'm not good at singing-" You pursed your lips, "Literally I have the musical artistry of a fish."

Quackity shot you a blank look, "... you won't know if you won't try...? Come on, you can try right?"

"Uuuh..." The insistent look Quackity shot you finally made you cave, "Alright- whatever I'll try. Hit me up with a tune. And it better be good."

Quackity cheered, throwing his arms up into the air and doing a little happy wiggle, "Fuck yeah!"

With practiced ease, he dropped his hands back onto his guitar, strumming out a little happy go lucky tune and looking at you for approval.

You shrugged.

It was a passable tune. Not that you knew much about what a melody was.

"..your que.." He whispered, picking up the pace of strumming just a little bit.

"I'm in prison-" You started. Completely unsure sounding, not at all sure of what you were even doing humoring the reason you were in here to begin with.

Quackity grinned a little wider.

"My hands hurt." What the fuck. Why were you humoring him.

"I really fucking hate. The president." His grin lessened at that.

"If I died, would people care."

He kept strumming but let out a humorless and worried laugh, "Haha- uh- getting a little grim there."

You only shrugged at him and kept singing with an unsure tone of voice, "People hate each other. That's evident."

He strummed a bit more, and you drew a blank, letting him rift out another needlessly happy part of it before you barely even sung out a yell of, "Fuck life- why are we alive."

The guitar Quackity was playing came to a grinding halt, and the disturbed look on Quackity's face made you decide staring off into the distance was better than eye contact.

"Holy shit- you're a grim person." He plucked a single guitar string and patted it, "I had such a happy tune too- what the fuck."

You crossed your arms, "Well you're the one who told me to sing-"

"Yeah, but you're supposed to do happy things with a happy tune."

Looking back at Quackity you huffed out a, "I'd like to see you do better."

"I will do better, watch me."

And watch you did, his figure morphing before your very eyes, scrunching like bubblegum until an almost exact copy of you was standing there with a too big guitar in his now smaller hands.

You gave him a bug eyed look, watching him shake his fingers and fix a piece of his (your) hair behind his ear.

The only thing that told you it was still Quackity was his signature grin, which stretched back onto his face when he saw your look of surprise.

"Hello, yes, my name is (Y/N)-" He piped up, and you just guffawed at the poorly imitated version of your voice, too high pitched to even remotely be you, "I'm here to sing a song for you all."

You let out a laugh when he leaned into the iron bars of your cage weird little grin and eyes stretching farther as he himself let out a laugh. You waved an arm at him, "No- please- you foul beast get away from my prison cell."

He chittered, leaning back into a normal standing position and giving his guitar an experiential strum.

"You have short arms." He muttered.

The chagrined look you shot him was enough, and he laughed again before trying out a few chords.

"Alright- this song is about life-"

..

Que the next five hours of listening to Quackity singing and playing guitar.

It wasn't bad, it at least chased away the boredom, but after listening to it for so long it merely traded boredom, for annoyance.

Too much noise. For too long.

You were desperately in need of silence and a comfortable bed to sleep in.

All through the little guitar playing he'd switch between people, even doing Wilbur once, and that was something you still couldn't get over.

He had a gift for showmanship, and you think if there wasn't a government with a fucked up leader, maybe he would've taken that path in life.

Eventually, the singing turned into just mumbling poetic verses, and poetry eventually turned into merely strumming.

Soft, simple strumming, and the testing of different chords you hadn't heard before.

He had his back against your jail cell, eyes closed, body back into his regular appearance.

Much more relaxed then when you first started sitting around.

In fact, if someone were to sneak up, you doubted he'd even realize, too busy humming to himself.

Quite the ironic thing to say.

Considering as you thought of that, a floating diamond shovel appeared, pausing in front of your jail cell as whoever was holding it seemingly glanced between you and the at peace Quackity.

Without a moments delay, the shovel rose into the air, sweeping down and smashing into Quackity's head, effectively and brutally knocking him out.

Well shit- your conscience tugged at you as you looked at his passed out body, the small amount of time you spent laughing with him crossing your mind and making you wince.

"Take this." A voice in front of you said, particles wafting around as they slipped their shovel into an invisible bag. A potion was held out in its place. An invis potion to be specific.

The potion levitated in between the bars, and you hesitantly grabbed it, accidentally cupping someone's hands.

Warm.

Very warm hands.

And all it took to put two and two together was a simple voice, and a simple touch.

It was Technoblade.

Here to lend a helping hand it seemed.

"Thanks..." You murmur, cradling the potion in your hands as you watched a familiar netherite pickaxe slide out of a bag to levitate in the air instead.

"Stand back." Techno muttered, and you did your best to follow his directions.

With another fell swoop, the iron bars were gone, rope becoming taut as they were still connected to one of the iron poles.

Techno grabbed your wrists, tugging you closer, and using the same pickaxe to slice the rope tied around your hands clean off.

He was so close you could almost feel his breath.

Immediately after, he backed off, and you took that moment to scan your hands.

Rubbed raw.

You gently touched the irritated areas around the skin of your wrists, hissing at the parts that were rug burned.

"Are you hurt?" Techno questioned after a moment of staring down at you.

With a shrug you murmured out a, "Nah- I guess I'm good. My wrists are sore and that's about it."

He looked at you for a brief moment, and you stared at the particles sprinkling the air.

It was funny. Techno always seemed to pull you through scrapes.

Like with that one encounter with Dream. And your house. And not letting you fall in lava, even if the lava wouldn't have hurt you. And now- breaking you out of jail.

Even the armor he made you... armor that you have no idea what he did with-

He was pretty generous for being such a... tough guy.

Maybe you should return the favor.

He hummed, forcing your mind back onto the fact that you were in the process of getting out of jail.

He digged around in his bag for a moment before saying, "Alright, I've done my part. Let's get out of here."

You heard him turn to walk away, but you quickly lurched forward, reaching out and latching onto the first thing your hand came into contact with. Which by the material seemed to be his cape.

"Wait-" You called. And he halted his gait, "Can we- I don't know- fuck them up somehow?"

Techno was silent for a moment too long, and you nearly regret saying anything at all, but with a surprise, you heard him laugh.

A sinister, low chuckle, that reeked of ill intent.

"Is this a request to commit minor terrorism?"

You took a moment, biting your lip as you rethought how Schlatt treated you. How he treated everyone around him.

Fuck him.

"Let's fuck up his stuff."

With a quick chug of the potion, you gagged on the aftertaste before tucking the glass bottle into your pocket.

Techno let out another dark laugh, "You have anything in mind?"

"You could say that." You uneasily grinned, even though he couldn't see it.

You were trying your hardest to stay neutral, but the itch to spite someone back after quietly taking so much shit was so strong that you momentarily put down your guilt and tugged Techno's cape in the direction of the White House.

You had to thank Quackity. For giving you a tour and letting you figure out how to move around the place, even if he was condescending while doing so.

In silence, the both of you walked up to the White House, standing on the outskirts of it to avoid the particle effects being spotted.

Through the window, you could make out Jschatt in his office, drinking something by the looks of it, sitting in his chair lopsided.

He looked to be talking to someone.

"Should we wait, or go for it." You asked, nudging Technoblade with your elbow as he shuffled beside you. He thought for a moment.

And you thought as well, analyzing what you could see through the window.

Schlatt was most definitely having a conversation.

"Its either we wait here and our invis runs out, or we go in and they see us messing with their stuff. We're waiting."

"You have more invis potions?"

"Oh I have a few potions on me." The shake of a bag, and the tell tale sign of glass clinking together was all you needed to hear.

That's what you thought. Leave it to Techno to be incredibly over prepared to even the smallest of missions.

In silence the both of you waited, watching Schlatt converse, and casually flop his feet onto his desk.

So lackadaisical looking.

Yet so sinister.

Eventually he motioned towards the steps, and he walked out of the room, talking as he vanished from sight.

He came back into sight on the first floor, casually slamming the doors open and wandering out, a hooded figure following after him and nodding along.

Dream.

Why was he talking with Dream.

With a growl you nudge Techno,  stalking over to the White House and slipping inside the moment they walked out of earshot.

Techno gently closed the door behind you, following after you as you took to the steps.

The office was how you remembered it. Open, a lot of space to walk in any direction you wanted. A few cabinets, but all and all very streamlined.

But his desk on the other hand.

Now that was a different story.

His desk was a wreck of unorganized junk.

A perfect place to start...

"Alright- I'm gonna go wreck his desk." You say, leaving Techno to do what he pleased. The opening and closing of barrels was immediate, so you figured he was looting their stuff.

Strutting over to the desk, you walk behind it, taking in how jam packed the drawers were with paper- they were literally leaking out the side of it.

Cringe.

Huffing, you open the topmost draw, which had nothing more then blank papers and pens.

Opening another draw you're met with a similar state, only this time it had... muscle powder in it?

Muscle powder??

Okay- you guessed Schlatt was into that stuff.

You closed it, opening the next drawer and seeing books.

A bunch of them.

The first one read, 'how to commit tax fraud' so you skipped to the second, which had a similar title but a scummier peice of advice.

All of them were similar, expect the last one.

The last one felt colder- colder then even you- even just looking at the title-less book made hairs on the back of your neck spike straight up. Glossing a single finger over it wasn't any better, skin prickling with goosebumps.

You slowly picked it up, and you knew instantly what this was.

Holy shit-

The closed book nearly fell from you hands-

This was-

Your gut ached with an ill feeling. Of what this was- of what this did-

..of how it was made...

The familiar thrumming under the pages was enough for you. So, so incredibly familiar..

This had to be where Dream's been getting information about you.

He's been getting it from Schlatt.

If Schlatt had this- he had to know. Why else would he put so much interest in you.

A bounty?

A plan to interrogate you?

The fucker.

He had to be spilling everything he knew to Dream.

Why do so many people seem to be figuring you out.

Better question, how the fuck does Schlatt have this book, and why does he know.

You hated it.

An uneasy breath escaped you, and you forced your hands, that had started shaking, to stop.

You glanced up to see if Techno's particles were close- before you slid the book right back into his office desk, closing specifically that drawer as though trying to fend off how chilled you had become.

Techno didn't need to know.

It would only raise suspicions on yourself.

Closing the drawer didn't stop the chill you had. It didn't stop your hair from standing on end, or the goosebumps from prickling.

You refused to carry that book.

Carrying it made you feel sick.

Especially when you knew how it was made.

"You want to start a fire?" You asked, rubbing your arms and opening a different drawer to conveniently be met with a drawer of alcohol.

You were feeling chilly. What better way to warm up.

"Arsonist pog?" His voice chimed from across the room.

You laughed, "Like a small fire. Where we can burn all these useless notes- and the alcohol too."

"Mmm- small arson pog." His footsteps approaching the desk, and you grabbed as much paper as you could.

He did the same, the both of you wandering to the middle of the room and setting them on the floor.

Running back to the desk, you grabbed even more paper, a single bottle of alcohol, and a good few less important books.

"You got a flint and steel?"

You didn't get an answer, only the clink and sparks of said item hovering in the air, to which you tossed the rest of the paper down and doused all of the alcohol into the pile.

"By all means, light away."

A click, sparks, and a fire roaring to life told you your mission was done. The fire was much bigger then expected, and instantly caught onto a potted plant nearby.

"Uuuh- should we run before they see the fire?" You murmured, watching carefully as the fire grew.

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea."

Wordlessly, you both darted out of the building, taking a moment to look back through the window, seeing the fire had already spread to the desk.

You really didn't mean for it to spread that far.

Oh well.

It's not like the only item of actual importance will burn.

After all- its fire proof.