Quackbur Oneshotssss

Bitten (2)

nothing to say about it except: surprise motherfuckers-

tw// zombie universe which means rotting corpses, violence, and other gore.

Quackity silently crossed the long bridge, watching for any zombies. After Wilbur's disappearance, he was unable to settle anywhere, he had to constantly be on the move, only carrying the most vital items he needed. It had already been a year, but he still wasn't over him. Waking nightmares and thoughts of Wilbur constantly circulated in his mind, haunting him as he continued his exploration of what was now left of California. He had only made his way up north, though he couldn't find anything interesting or noteworthy. He eventually lost his map, so he no longer knew where he was, but he didn't care. He kept pressing forward. He knew that there was no reason to. Anyone that he could possibly meet would only die too, right? What was his purpose? Why did he carry on? He had nothing left, so why keep going?
He didn't even know. He didn't have any answers, all he knew is that something was telling him to survive, so he did, even though he didn't want to.

It was a lonely path, he couldn't find any living survivors, only the undead. It was always disappointing, but with each day, his hopes lowered more and more. He soon stopped expecting any survivors. Maybe he was the last person on Earth.
A part of him hoped he was. That way he could just end it. Not like there was anything else.
Regardless, he kept going. Maybe he was looking for something or someone, but he didn't know anymore.

Quackity sighed softly, he leaned against the wall of the abandoned home. He slid down to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. He was having a hard day, he really couldn't stop thinking about Wilbur. He teared up slightly as Wilbur passed his mind again; he began to cry again. He gently gripped his pant legs, his hands trembling lightly. He wished he could have been stronger back then. Maybe then he could have protected Wilbur instead of running into that house like a scaredy cat.
He sniffled as he began to calm down a little, wiping away his tears. He sniffled softly, taking a few deep breaths before he felt calm enough. He took one more breath before he got up and began setting up his bed for the night... and the bed was just a sleeping bag, a pillow, and an extra blanket for the cold months.
Once it was all set up, Quackity snuggled in, hugging his pillow as he always did, a part of him still imagined it was Wilbur. He sighed softly, cuddling up, and soon enough, falling asleep.

Quackity's eyes fluttered open, he yawned, and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced around the room, seeing the sun shining in through the boarded-up windows. He sighed, getting out of the sleeping bag and packing his things up, securing his bag before he slipped it around his arms so it was resting on his back. He stretched a little again, but suddenly stopped as he realized he needed the bathroom. He sighed, setting his bag back down as he went around the house to find a bathroom.
Once he was done, he exited the bathroom, picked his bag back up, and began to make his way out of the house. He walked for a few miles before he found a spot to settle and make food. While he was busy cooking, he didn't notice a zombie sneaking up behind him. He was focused on stirring his soup until he suddenly heard wrestling, growls, and groans. He tensed up, setting the pot down and he stood up, wielding his gun and aiming, but he got confused to see two zombies wrestling... He would have been less surprised if it was a human and zombie, hell, even two humans, but two zombies? That wasn't right. Zombies never fought, unless they were trying to fight over human meat.

Quackity cautiously stepped back, panting lightly in a panic, unsure of what was going on. He stayed prepared though, if one wins, the winner would certainly come for him next. He couldn't even tell what was going on, they were fighting in the tall grass and bushes, and he couldn't see them... but suddenly, they stopped. It went quiet and still. Quackity took aim, waiting for one to emerge.
Soon, one did emerge. Quackity was just about to shoot when he noticed something was... familiar. He froze in his spot, staring at the zombie in silence. He lowered his gun, tears suddenly filling his eyes. "N-No..." He spoke softly.
The zombie perked up, turning towards Quackity.
Quackity gasped shakily, covering his mouth. His tears fell down his cheeks, "No- No, no, no!" He dropped his gun, falling to his knees. He covered his face, "I-I can't do it- I can't hurt you-" He began to hyperventilate, his hands starting to tremble. "Just turn me! I don't care anymore, fucking kill me for all I care, just don't make me shoot you, Wilbur!"