Chapter Text
It’s heavy. Dragging the weight of the broken wings behind him in the bloody sand. Beached fish lay facing up toward the sky across the shoreline. “I want them back.” Quackity told himself. Duct tape marked by dirt and sand stapled the wings to his back. Quackity’s eyes roamed the streets. Everyone else had full white wings, a luminescent hallo over their head. “I’m just like you, i swear i fucking swear–Please!” People moved out of the way for him like he was untouchable. A broken halo digging into his palms trying to hold it over his head. It won’t float on its own.
“I’m a good person! I’m a fucking good person, what is wrong with you all!?” He sneers. He stands under the streetlamp, his shadow isn’t like the rest. “We’re all God's children!” His shadow is sharp, pointed, unnatural. “You are an abomination.” A voice whispered. It was deep and sounded like pornos and ciggerettes, late night screaming matches, it sounded like his senior year of highschool.
“Go away!” Quackity held up the fractured halo, pointing it towards the voice. “No one fucking asked you Schlatt!” No one was there.
Quackity’s shoulders tensed and his eyebrows knit together. What was going on? His eyes shifted to an alley with a garbage disposal, a spray painted fish vandalized across it. “Ichthus” He whispered. Quackity stifled a bit between a laugh and a scoff. His hands falling to his sides gawking at the thing. Who was he ever kidding? He’d never escape it. The ball and chain of faith, he takes it wherever he goes.
He gives in.
His fingers gloss over the symbol. “What are you trying to tell me?” His voice warbles. Weak, vulnerable and shaky. Yet he doesn’t have time to dwell when blood seeps out of the garbage disposal. It trickles down slow and stain’s Quackity’s finger. He opens it and sees a body. A lanky brunette with blood on his mouth unmoving fangs stilled, petrified like a statue of a greek god, all the color drained out of him yet Quackity’s eyes follow the devilish tail resting on the trashbags below him and the horns protruding from his head. It’s wrong. The pain he feels for him.
It’s his husband. It’s undeniable. Demons are fallen angels too. The difference between a demon and a fallen angel is one still craves validation from god like a child in a mothers womb leeches off her until the body expels it. Quackity claws at heaven's gate trying to get back in and Wilbur just grabs him by the wrist and drags him away.
“Wilbur.”
Quackity’s voice is a soft whisper. When Wilbur did not respond Quackity knew his lover was gone. Quackity’s mind was split between two emotions; Rage, and an almost gentle sense of relief reaching out to touch him. He slaps the hand away because Wilbur was all he had left. The only one he had left and someone had taken that from him. Quackity took a deep breath trying to calm down. The body smelled like garlic.
Charlie.
Quackity’s pupils were pinpricks. He wiped the blood on his clothes. His body was tense as he searched for Charlie. His fingers dug into the broken shard of his halo, the other half dropped on the floor by the dumpster. A wing fell off. Quackity’s head pounded. Where was he? He couldn’t be far. That body was fresh.
Something clicks and reloads.
“Charlie… Come out, come out wherever you are.” Quackity’s voice is low, yet almost a sing song tone. His eyes snapped back and forth from every alley and corner store as he walked. His grip tightens. When did the Halo stop feeling warm and begin to feel like cool metal against his palm? “I know you’re around here somewhere.”
Quackity’s lips curl into a tight smile, the other wing falls off.
A taxi sat parked on the street with a man inside. Blood dribbled down from his neck. Quackity puts one of his hands behind his back. The free one knocking on the window. “Oh you’re sure out late Q—Are you okay? You look kinda bloody, need a ride to a hospital? I’ll do it free of charg—”
Bang.
A bullet pierced Charlie’s temple. Blood running down from the bone of his eyebrow to his lips. Iron filling the air.
The halo in Quackity’s hand melted into a gun, and the angels that wouldn’t touch him warped into pedestrians. He took his finger and pushed it into the wound before drawing a bloody fish on the window of Charlie’s taxi.
Quackity’s hands were shaky. God what had he done? What was he doing? Fuck, fuck fuck, god just shut up! A gun was personal. A gun was Human. A gun was a crime of passion. He wasn’t killing to just eat. He was killing to kill.
Bang.
The barrel was pressed to the side of Quackity’s head. Blood dribbled down the side of his cheek. Why didn’t it work? It was supposed to fucking work! Fucking work! Fuck! Fuck this! It was fucking Iron bullets not silver! Quackity dropped it as if it was scalding hot because his body was working to heal itself again at the speed of light. He forgot he wasn’t Human because shooting someone was just a Human thing to do.
The gun lay discarded on the broken pavement and Quackity booked it. Police sirens sounded. Quackity wouldn’t go down. Not like this. Never like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. None of his life was supposed to play out like this.
If he crawled in the dumpster next to Wilbur’s dead body he could easily play dead. It’s not so hard to believe two corpses died together. Quackity sharply turns in the alley and gets in the dumpster. Quackity runs his hand through his hair, his eyebrows knit together feeling skin where bone had been shattered only five minutes ago. His body felt so weak, hungry from all the work of healing. Yet the smell of garlic inside here was rancid and made the thought of eating disgusting.
Quackity stared down at Wilbur’s corpse, bloody and pale. Quackity’s shoulders tensed hearing voices grow closer. He needed to find a Human to feed on soon. If he was found alive this weak it wouldn’t go well. Not that Quackity particularly cared at this point. Quackity took a deep breath running his hands through his hair. He never wanted to be like his. Quackity’s fingers trailed down Wilbur’s button up, slowly unplucking the buttons revealing his chest. His finger tip traced along the expanse before he lowered his lips down.
“I’ll meet you in hell.”
Quackity sank his teeth into Wilbur’s heart.