𝙽𝚢𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊 {𝙳𝚂𝙼𝙿𝚇𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁}

𝟹. 𝙰 𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎

I settled back reluctantly, Schlatt nodding to Quackity behind me for him to leave the room. I stayed deathly quiet, the door shut behind me and I tilted my head at his frame. One on one, would I do it? Should I?

The man waited for me to answer while he poured his drink, his back to me.

My jaw feathered, "Well I wasn't exactly the one to put myself here was I?" Schlatt whipped around, a couple of drops of the brown substance fell staining the carpet but he paid no heed.

Schlatt laughed, short and humorless, raising his now filled glass to me. "You're expecting me to believe you made that offer to me was for dear ol' Tubbo? For the boy who whimpers at a few loud words, cowers at a new agenda?" My hands had gone white fastened on the chairs' sides. Schlatt noticed and smirked slightly.

"Of course I did it for him."

"You know as well as I do that you don't care for the past leaders y/n."

"They were my friends they-"

"Were?"

I froze, he grinned.

"Yes," he spoke thoughtfully, downing the whisky. "Were... You are not here for Tubbo darling," he grabbed the edges of the desk between us setting the drink down.

"Y/n You hunger for power. You want control." he said simply. As a fact.

I didn't. Never. I was a soldier. I looked up to leaders. No I don't I-"

"You made this deal because a part of you needed to. You were wasting away." Schlatt said softly now, somewhat tenderly, "I'm going to restore you to be what you need to be." He suppressed a smile, "Though I was surprised when you chose this yourself-"

I interrupted, leaning and meeting him in the middle of the table. Heartbeats filled the room, a unyielding beat to my symphony. "What the hell do you want from me, Schlatt. Make it fucking quick, before I 'be what I need to be' and slit your throat."

He didn't smile. He didn't laugh. The room grew cold as he leaned forward seemingly unafraid of my threats. "You will assasinate Wilbur and Tommy."

I folded down bricks of neutrality over my emotion stricken face. Though under my poor facade I knew another layer of my humanity chipped, murdering your friends, stealing life from those you loved.

A dry laugh escaped me, though an air of nerves was hidden in it. "And you really think I would like to do this?" He inched closer, the whiskey on his breath fanning my ear.

"There is a part of you y/n. There's a part that thirsts for death, that dances in destruction. I see it." I scoff, I shake my head, turn to the sorry excuse of a plant. That wasn't true. None of it.

Right?

"What are you a fortune teller? Do you know my inner soul Schlatt please enlighten me." He stood back reluctantly and I followed suit, rolling my shoulders slightly to relieve the tension in my limbs. But something struck me in his posture, the type of language of his situated body. He seemed... genuine.

"I know that look in your eyes. A man I knew before this. He had the same one."
"What are you-"

"Power y/n. You hunger for it. You have trained, and trained, and trained to see a day when you might have a nicer position, maybe get some recognition-"