bang

accidental assassination

Tommy aims the gun shakily at Jschlatt. "You hurt my best friend. You've hurt this nation. You don't deserve to live."

Schlatt chuckles. "Now, now, killing the president will give you something worse than what it will give me."

"Tommy, put down the gun," Tubbo requests gently.

The three all stand in a triangle, moving slowly so as to not accidentally let the gun go off. "He's ruined everything, Tubbo. He's screwed over me and Wilbur and Niki, he's screwed over every person in his cabinet and every person who just so happens to be under this dictatorship. He's screwed over you!"

"They don't know it's a dictatorship. What they don't know can't hurt them. They love me, Tommy."

"You're a psychopath!"

Schlatt laughs again. "Says the one aiming the gun."

Tubbo keeps himself calm. "This isn't you. You- you wouldn't kill someone-"

"I'm not just killing anyone, I'm killing Jschlatt!"

Tommy's chest is heaving as he keeps the gun aimed at Schlatt. The president slowly moves towards Tommy. Panic is starting to shine in his eyes, ever so slightly. "Listen to Tubbo, Tommy. You don't want to let him down, do you?"

Tears gather in Tommy's eyes, and the gun rattles slightly as he shifts his grip. Tubbo's gaze bounces between Tommy, Schlatt and the gun. Tommy's breathing starts to speed up, it sounds more laboured. He pushes the gun forward slightly, mending his aim. Finger hovered over the trigger. Go on, shoot, it seems to be saying.

Well, Tubbo won't let anybody die today. He leaps forward and tries to grab the gun from Tommy. "Just let go! You don't have to kill him! It'll ruin all of us!" he exclaims, trying to pry Tommy's fingers away.

Tommy's eyes are brimmed with tears. "I can't let him hurt any more people, Tubbo! Please, just let me do thi-"

Bang.

Thump.

Everybody freezes. Especially Jschlatt, who is now bleeding out on his lovely new rug. Tommy and Tubbo look down at the gun. Tubbo's finger is closest to the trigger, slipped off just to its side. They both immediately drop the gun. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God."

Blood continues to soak the white rug, the crimson surely seeping underneath to the polished wooden floor. It was a neck shot, and it's resolved to staining Schlatt's usually pristine suit. His hand claws at his neck, brain still processing what happened. But before he can figure it out, he lets out one last strained breath.

Immediately, Tubbo drops to the president's side, blood already seeping into his own suit. "Schlatt, Schlatt, come on." He lightly slaps the president's cheek, yanks at his horns, anything to get him to move. "Get up. Say something. Please."

Hurried footsteps slowly come into earshot, and before Tommy nor Tubbo have the time to react, the door flings open, and Fundy stands there. His tail flicks as his gaze lands on the dead president. "What the fuck-"

"Shut the door!" Tommy hisses, yanking Fundy in and slamming the door.

Fundy keeps his distance from the blood. "I heard a bang-"

"It- it was Schlatt."

Tubbo covers his mouth with a shaky hand. He looks up at Tommy and Fundy. "I killed somebody."

"I'm sorry? You did this?!"

"I didn't mean to!"

The discarded rifle on the ground draws Fundy's attention. He steps over the mess to study it. Engraved on the side are the initials 'W.S'. "Isn't this Wilbur's...? Also Tommy, why the fuck-"