BadBoyHalo: The 808th Demon

-Chapter 20- Books and Swine

The needle spun, and so did their stomachs.

The axes weighed so much in their small hands, and their gory uniforms of white and red smacked against their young, tender skin. Tubbo had led his band as bravely as he could, trekking forever into the snowy wastelands and beyond. Even after hitching rides in every abandoned track they could find, it was still one hell of a march. It was so cold, and so remote from anything they knew, the question of complete failure lingered their heads. But the compass that Tubbo clutched so dearly was what kept them going.

"Keep this way," he said. "I'm sure we're right on him."

"I can't feel my feet anymore," Ranboo spoke through snow flying into his mouth. Tubbo said nothing; however, Quackity offered him extra shoes that was stored in his back pack.

"You good there, Fundy?" Tommy asked, but only received heavy gasps for an answer. Fundy plodded along barely standing, almost melting into the ground. He was losing the strength to stay human, even after so much practice exercising strenuously as one over the years. The energy required to keep up his body heat was becoming too much. He relapsed into a fox in minutes, and could no longer talk or carry anything.

"Well, at least he's got a fur coat to warm up in," Tubbo assured to himself.

"Tubbo, how much longer? This is getting ridiculous." snapped Quackity.

"How am I supposed to know? I wasn't aware how much of a pussy you all were about a little snow."

That remark made Quackity roar, and Tubbo continued to shout. A chain reaction came quite fast, with all of them pushing each other around. Ranboo pulled Tubbo this way, and Fundy nipped at Quackity's heels that way... Soon light fists were thrown. More yelling and insults were thrown around as they all slowly dog-piled themselves into the snow. If they weren't cold then, surely they were freezing now. The mission seemed to be dissolving.

"What's that house over there?"

Tommy stood off to the side from the little brawl, surprisingly, and had his hand resting atop his brow. He looked into the blizzard, keeping a steady eye on the small, gray dot sitting in the center of the horizon. It had to be a cottage of some sort.

"Come again?" Quackity said as he brushed off melting snow.

Tommy pointed somewhat north. "That way. Do you know that house?"

"What? No..." Tubbo went to Tommy's side and peered, and soon took out his compass. Sure enough, the needle pointed in its exact direction. Both Tubbo and Tommy stared at each other for a moment, almost frozen in time.

He was there.

Axes out, boots hiked, and heads transfixed— they all marched toward Technoblade's secret home. Of course he would have chosen such an isolated and unforgiving place like this to take refuge in. They almost felt foolish for not thinking so. Fundy scurried along beside them, sniffing out anything that might be worthy of concern. They inched closer, and closer, until the dim lantern light poked through the gray. The outline of a rickety porch appeared, then a stable, and more lights various candles inside. He was in there all right, hopefully not looking out a window. The Butcher Army could only hope that this blizzard would disguise them long enough.

What would happen next, they weren't too sure.

When they were well within eyeshot, Tubbo ordered Fundy to go inspect the windows for any sign of Technoblade. He slinked all over the bottom of the house, almost looking like a fluid, and checked any opening he could reach.

After a few minutes of tip-toeing around the property, the rest followed the little fox into an open hatch leading to what seemed to be the basement. They were hoping for a surprise ambush, maybe even find something to to hold for ransom. Not only was it the smarter option, but it also disguised their complete ineptness in manhunts. They had no clue what they were doing.