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2024-12-30
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Aftermath | TNTDuo | Based on The End of Las Nevadas, Qsmp, and Karmaland

Summary:

“Alex Quackity. So you finally kicked the bucket?” Wilbur asked with an amused smirk.

“Oh God, now I know I’m in hell.” Quackity said defeatedly.

Or

Quackity died, what’s next?

Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not condone Wilbur and Quackity’s ideas about death in this text. Suicide is not the answer, there is always another way out. No one deserves to die.

If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please contact 988 (the English and Spanish Crisis Lifeline) or whatever helpline is available in your area.
You are not alone.

Work Text:

It was a slow day at work. Well, actually it was always a slow day at work. Not many people were stopping at a gas station on the edge of purgatory. 

 

Wilbur sat at his post, elbows resting on the counter before the cash register. Thank god his manager let him smoke when no customers were around, otherwise he may die of boredom (if that was even possible here). 

 

Just when Wil thought this day would never end, he heard the soft “ding” of the front door opening. The zombie brushed matted, white curls out of his face, eyes falling on the familiar face in the doorway.

 

A stout and disheveled man stepped into the gas station, looking around in confusion. Wilbur’s eyes widened.

 

“Alex Quackity. So you finally kicked the bucket?” Wilbur asked with an amused smirk.

 

“Oh God, now I know I’m in hell.” Quackity said defeatedly.

 

“Ouch, I see you’re hurtful as ever.” Wilbur replied with an amount of melodrama only a theatre kid could pull.

 

“What the fuck is this place?”

 

“I told Tom to tell you I was going to Utah!” Wilbur shouted in exasperation.

 

“HE DIDN’T TELL ME THAT MEANT DEATH!” The avian yelled back, matching Wilbur’s tone.

 

Wil rolled his eyes, “I didn’t tell him either.” 

 

Quackity sighed. Of course Wilbur killed himself, again. He always had a special way of running from his problems (not that Q was any better now). Wilbur lit another cigarette and took a long drag, blowing the smoke in Quackity’s face and watching him fan it away with his hand.

 

Smoke billowed from Wilbur’s lips as he spoke, “So how’d you get here anyway? I knew you’d die eventually but not this quick.”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Quackity said with a scoff. 

 

“I would!” Wilbur replied simply. Q had expected the taller’s usual passive aggressive theatrics, but he seemed quite formal today, as if he was trying to make a good impression.

 

“Fine. I died in an explosion. I was sitting on my throne, someone came along, and they blew up the casino. Are you happy now?”

 

Wilbur could see right through Quackity’s lies, he wasn’t going to quit until he had the full story. “Who was it? Seems kind of suspicious that you were sitting in a chair facing the door and didn’t see someone coming to bomb you. Even stranger is that you didn’t stop them, you’re a good fighter Quackity, not to mention you could have flown away.”

 

Wil had backed Quackity into a metaphorical corner. If anything, Wilbur was good at forcing something out of you. Q couldn’t lie forever, eventually he’d learn the truth. So, he gave up, “I- Wilbur I blew it up man! It’s all gone! My casino, my wealth, it’s gone!” 

 

Quackity put his head in his hands. As much as he wanted to pretend that he did what he thought was necessary, he knew it wasn’t. He killed himself and took his great city down with him in a moment of blind paranoia and insecurity.

 

Wilbur stood in silence for a moment, staring slack jawed at Quackity. And then he began to chuckle.

 

Quackity looked up to scowl at Wilbur. “What’s so funny, Soot?” He asked coldly.

 

“YOU’RE JUST AS BAD AS ME!” Wil blurted out, “Oh my gods, I swear to prime I will never let you live this down!”

 

There was the Wilbur he knew, cocky as ever. Quackity wasn’t in the mood to put up with this. Q dove over the counter, tackling Wilbur into the shelf of cigarettes and nicotine gum behind him. Wilbur grunted as his head collided with the shelf and then the floor.

 

“What the fuck man!?” Wilbur yelled while trying to kick Quackity.

 

After a few seconds of feebly grappling, Wilbur finally managed to grasp a lock of Quackity’s hair and yanked it as hard as he could, pulling the avian off of him. Quackity went to lunge again. Outstretched claws narrowly missed Wilbur’s eye before he grabbed Q’s arm and bit down as hard as he could. 

 

Quackity let out a cry that was somewhere between a shout and a bird screeching. He probably would have turned around and killed Wilbur had someone not interrupted him.

 

“Take it outside Wilbur Soot!” An angry voice came from the staff room.

 

Wilbur groaned, “Yes ma’am.” He then grabbed his cigarette off the ground, stood up, straightened his uniform, and walked out the door. Quackity followed him, wings drooping from embarrassment. 

 

Wilbur walked around to the side of the building and leaned against the concrete wall. He took a drag of his cigarette. Quackity leaned against the wall next to him, closer to the windows of the gas station. He peaked through the glass, trying to see if he could spot who he assumed was the manager. 

 

“… Who is she?”

 

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don't even know if she’s real…” Wilbur looked at Quackity, studying his face, checking for any of the imperfections that are so common in Utah’s imitations. He squinted at the scar on Q’s face. “I don’t even know if you’re real.” 

 

Quackity paused, staring out over the sand. A tumbleweed rolled by as the distorted sounds of birds rang out from an unknown source. Finally, he spoke, “How long have you been here?”

 

“Uh… I don’t know, 70 years? Time is weird in this place so I’m not sure. At this point I think the clock on the wall is to give me a sense of normalcy.”

 

The two stood in silence for a bit, Wilbur smoking and Quackity preening his feathers, which were still mangled from the blast that destroyed his casino. His whole person was mangled. Everything from his clothes to his skin was tattered and charred.

 

“I’ve missed you, Big Q, a lot.”

 

Quackity turned to look at Wilbur, “Really?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“You bit the fuck out of my arm!”

 

“Consider it payback.” Wil looked down at the scar on his arm from where Quackity’s sharp teeth broke skin back in Las Nevadas. “Besides, you know good and well we’ve done far worse to each other and still been on good terms.”

 

Quackity sighed. It was true, he and Wilbur had made each other miserable in life. Between the election, pogtopia, and their rivalry, they had always been at each other’s throats. Yet, they always ended up running back to each other. Quackity rested his head on Wilbur’s arm.

 

“Do you ever wish you could go back?”

 

Wilbur hummed. “Yeah, but it’s for the best that I'm gone. I hurt a lot of people, Big Q. If I stayed I would have just hurt more of ‘em. I belong here.”

 

Quackity fell silent. As much as he hated to say it, the same was true for him. All those failed relationships, all the greed, the power, the death, the torture. He was a bad person, the world would be better without him.

 

“What do I do now?”

 

“I’ve just been acting like I’m still alive, I guess. I have a house, there’s a little town that way, I clock into work every morning. I don’t have to, but what else am I supposed to do?”

 

Quackity stayed quiet.

 

“You could try to find a way out if you want. Though I wasn’t able to do that in 13 years, so I doubt you could.”

 

“No Wilbur, I don’t want a way out. I chose this.” Quackity sighed, “you said you had a house?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I think I’d like to go there then, it’s better than this stupid gas station.”

 

“Alright. I gotta finish my shift first, but I’ll drive you home in a few hours. You go find something to do, play some solitaire.”

 

And with that, Wilbur went back inside, leaving Quackity alone.