BadBoyHalo: The 808th Demon

-Chapter 23- L'manburg Sinks

Playing tightrope with a falling world was not the initial plan for today.

At first the Army scampered haphazardly across the zigzag of bridges buckling right underneath their very toes. As more streets were taken out, stone and debris cluttered each of their paths. Soon they bottlenecked themselves on the only overpass strong enough to stay standing.

"What happens now?" Fundy shouted.

Tubbo whipped his head back and answered him. "Go southwest— toward the water if we can!"

Tommy, staggering behind, had been stumbling his way through the chaos. But, "chaos" was all there was— smeary noise pumped with the horror of unknowns and unanswered questions. There was no sense of direction other than any sort of remnant of sky. The air was getting scuffling to run in, and Tommy's lungs and heart were beginning to whine.

They surmounted the far hill, looking on over the destruction. L'manburg had begun to plunge into its watery grave... again. They watched in apprehension as the White Menace picked the place clean— not just of architecture, but of life as well. The Monster dressed each and every soul out of the poor citizens, before casting away the remaining cold husks as carelessly as the rubble.

"Watch out!" Ranboo shouted, pushing Tubbo out of the way. With a gruesome crunch, the corpse of a man splattered into a post, and rolled over the walkway. His skin, pale as his ratty sweater, had been peeled back like corn shucks.

"Is that... Punz..." Fundy gulped.

"What the fuck is he doing here," muttered Tommy. "Or, was..." Yanking his head up by the neck, he was met with caverns for eyes. The head was nothing but a skin shell with some hair on it, pinned onto a twitching body lying in the dirt, deprived of a true resident.

It took everything he had to refrain from screaming. It was like a jolt of terror flaring from his stomach right up to the little hairs tucked behind his ear. He whipped the corpse away from him, causing a few ender pearls, some money— oh and a potion— to spill out from his pockets.

Potion of Harming, specifically.

Dream was still trying.

Tubbo kicked Tommy's elbow, snapping him out of his transfixion. "Alright, enough staring! Let's go, before you end up like him!"

The run was done in reluctance. Tommy's feet treaded the grass as strenuously as if he were in swamp water. His head was hung downward, mouth agape, and eyes staring at all the dirt and gravel Tubbo was kicking up in front him.

The coast was near.

Popping out of the small forest, no more than a thick tree line, they climbed down to the rocky shore and began working on a raft of some sort. Branches were hauled, ropes were knotted, paddles were crafted— all was done so frantically and helter-skelter, that...

"There's four of us." Tubbo let his axe fall from his hand. His eyes, full of appalled fury, flashed to and fro as he counted over and over again.

One, two, three...

...Four.

"Quackity is not here." The words seemed to spill out from his mouth like a toppled bead box.

Fundy, realizing as well, angrily stamped his foot against the dirt. "For fuck's sake!"

—————

Now, what they didn't know, was where exactly they had left poor Quackity behind. The entire city was thrown into such a hectic state, that backtracking their steps would be utterly senseless. It was a miracle that even the four of them managed to pool themselves together. Perhaps Quackity's chosen bridge did not lead to the overpass, or maybe it had been obstructed.