Assassin|| C!TNTDUO

♡⁠˖ Murder? I hardly know her!˖⁠♡

(A/n: sorry I had to^)

Wilbur POV:

Wilbur raised his hood and stepped out onto the street, making sure to keep a fair distance behind Creedin.

He followed silently, keeping to the shadows and ducking into doorways every time Creedin looked over his shoulder nervously.

Wilbur looked ahead and saw an alleyway.

Taking advantage of this, he strode forward quickly and turned into the narrow pathway.

Quickening his pace, he hurried through the alley, avoiding discarded crates and shadowy corners, until he came out a few yards in front of Creedin, who was, fortunately looking at the ground.

Wilbur stalked quickly towards him, bringing his hood further over his face and colliding with him smoothly, spinning around him and sending a stumble and some mumbled words of apology for good measure.

Mr. Creedins eyes flicked up, but not in recognition, so Wilbur didn't hesitate in continuing in the direction he had come, sliding the letter into his coat pocket.

Once he felt he was a safe distance from the man, he leant against an abandoned wall and carefully opened the unsealed letter, skimming it.

'...wait for further instructions...I'm sure he will suffice, regardless of any doubt you have Creedin...don't fail me again, or it's your head ...once you get rid of the brat update me immediately...the situation here is not going as smoothly as I had originally planned, however, I'm sure it will progress in time...

Ah, Creedin's boss, he presumed. His real employer.

His eyes skipped to the bottom of the page and halted at the signature.

J. Schlatt

Well. That was very interesting.

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

Quackity POV:

Once again, he found himself in his mother's bedroom.

Not much had changed.

He didn't remember much of her, except that she loved him.

He didn't even really remember what she looked like, since all her portraits had been taken down from the castle walls. He didn't know why.

Well, yes he did. Schlatt.

He frowned, and distractedly wiped away the tears suddenly threatening his eyes, feeling silly.

The room smelled distinctly of lavender and he drank it in.

He sat down on the bed, wondering what she would have to tell him right now. About the coronation, and looking out for Tubbo.

It was surprising that someone like his mother could even be related to someone like Schlatt.

Memories flooded his mind, of ushering Tubbo into a room or letting Angelica lead him away so he wouldn't hear the shouting, or see the broken bottles.

For years, Quackity had taken the brunt of it -although he'd do it all again for his little cousin.

But even before Tubbo was born, Schlatt had never liked Quackity, and he had no idea why.

He hadn't even known his uncle before he came forward from god knows where just after his mother had passed,

It was a sickness that took her from him. Fast, out of nowhere. Within a few months, she was gone.

Could you miss someone you'd barely had?

He did.

He stood up, straightening out the creased bed where he'd sat.