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"IRIS!"
I jolted awake, scrambling to get up. The door to my bedroom shook, barely holding onto its hinges as someone banged on it from the outside.
Shit, shit, shit.
I spotted one of Sapnap's hoodies he gave me many years ago. I snatched it, quickly putting it on. While sticking my hand through, my eyes caught a glimpse of my old uniform. Sleeves blackened from the countless explosions, partnered with the restitched sleeves after getting sliced in the final control room. A scar running horizontally from left to right now etched into my skin, an eternal reminder of their betrayal.
"Iris, it's fucking 11 am. Hurry up and get your ass out here," the voice yelled, clearly pissed off. His words slightly slurred at the end. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make it somewhat decent. Not missing my long hair, which I chopped off at the beginning of the revolution.
Deep breath. In. Out. Smile!
I opened the door to reveal my favourite president.
"Hi Schlatt, what can I do for you, sir?"
"Where is your suit?" He demanded, completely ignoring my question. Dammit. I must have left it at Pogtopia.
Wait.
How did I get back here... I distinctly remember falling asleep with the others. How am I here? I mentally sighed as Will probably brought me back.
"I'm currently washing it at the moment! I didn't want to come out of my room as you know how important it is that you, Quackity and I wear suits. We must show authority and power!" I said, trying to convince him. "It should be dry soon though."
His eyes lit up with pride, "finally someone understands the importance of power. More than Tubbo could ever understand. Glad you took his place as my right-hand woman." He laughed, patting me on the back roughly. I grimaced. It had only been 2 weeks since the Manburg Festival. Images of the Festival were still fresh in my mind.
*'¯'*.¸¸.*'¯'*
"Techno, I know I haven't known you for long, but please don't do this," I whispered over Schlatt's maniacal laughter, who was utterly oblivious to the conversation I was having.
Quackity stood to the side of him, but instead of getting the same satisfaction as Schlatt, he stood there mortified. No longer cheering to box the boy up.
Panic overwhelmed me as Techno raised his crossbow, fireworks already preloaded. This could end badly if he did shoot Tubbo. I have never attempted to heal a wound from a firework. Would there just be a hole? Burns?
"Don't succumb to peer pressure. I know you're stronger than that," I begged, trying to get through to him, yet his gaze still focused on Tubbo.
The boy retreated further into the box, trembling with fear for his life, which now was held in another person's hands.
