Schlatt worked hard for his position as secretary of state for Manberg. He was the youngest in the room, sure, but his age only highlighted the menacing demeanor he carried. He wasn’t malicious, his threats to those who opposed him were mainly bluffs, but the small uncurled horns topped on his skull and his wide, sharp smile that he flashed when spitting out an empty threat made it seem like he meant it and more. Besides all that, he was very aware that he was seen as a yes man.
Tubbo was elected only a month ago and Schlatt was fully aware of how the country was being smeared in sh*t. Being secretary isn’t a top position, but you still see and hear everything. Ranboo, Tubbo’s right hand, his VP, husband, was similar to Tubbo. They had to be to keep their position, otherwise Schlatt would become the VP.
He and Ranboo had a weird stand off everytime they were in meetings. A constant battle of yes-manning Tubbo’s terrible plans. The one thing that differentiated their strategy was the intention.
Ranboo wanted to stay as VP, maybe for their own selfish reasons, maybe to keep their husband a little more at bay, Schlatt didn’t know.
Schlatt was playing the waiting game.
He knew the ideas he came up were disastrous, he refrained from actually engaging in their conversations, from stopping them mid sentence and going are you guys f*cking crazy?
Because! These stupid, overdone meetings and overwritten speeches are little dominos leading to a big fall, all landing in the hands of Schlatt. After everything goes to sh*t, the worst case scenario is that Ranboo would take over for a month or two. After that, people would realize that out of anyone in that cabinet, Schlatt is all they would have. Everything will be his, that is if everything goes to plan.
Tommy and Wil were ruining his plan.
Wilbur and Schlatt have a complicated backstory, to say the least. They were good friends at their very core, but they both wanted completely different things that would f*ck over the other royally. They respect each other, but they’re used to arguing and going their separate ways . Schlatt initially ran for president but knew that he was nothing compared to the other runner ups. Pog2020 was gonna win by a longshot just because Tommy founded the country, and the citizens might as well settle for what they’ve got.
That is, until Ranboo and Tubbo merged their combined votes into one party. Schlatt saw that coming. He dropped out of the race as soon as he caught wind, which made Wilbur think he came to his senses, or some bullsh*t. Because of that, Wilbur has put way too much trust into Schlatt. He may or may not have let that slide for later opportunities.
Schlatt’s calculated. He knew he would be called up on stage by the newly elected president to join his cabinet, what he did not know was Tubbo’s plan to exile Tom and Wil. He won’t say it, but he panicked a little.
He hated how the country was going, Tubbo’s plan was terrible. Despite this, he knew his plan was foolproof. Even when Tubbo spontaneously suggested hosting a festival, one of the first good ideas that actually made it across the board. It worried him a little, but hell, Schlatt really needs a break from stupid sh*t for a second. He brushed the feeling of Tubbo’s intense stare off when the meeting adjourned.
The Festival was going well so far. Citizens filled the city streets, drinking, letting their kids run free, all that sh*t. Schlatt took it as a constant that he’d see this when he took over. These people have no idea that this place will be a lot different tomorrow (more-so a few months, but that didn’t sound cool when Schlatt wrote it down in his journal along with the rest of his plans).
As he stumbled through another barricade of people halted in socialization, he spotted a tattered coat among the next bunch ahead of him. Visibly so out of place, dirt and gunpowder smeared random spots of the white trench coat, the poorly sewn red sleeves mismatching the rest of it. The man wearing the trenchcoat stopped, half turned towards Schlatt when it finally dawned on him.
“Tom?” Schlatt spoke out against the loud music and talking. Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed, his nose scrunching a little. “What are you—“ Schlatt stepped towards him before getting shoved away by a random drunk stumbling out of a bar. After pushing the man back, he looked back up in time to see Tommy weave through the crowd.
Schlatt took off after him, shoving past anyone trying to close the lane Tom had created. He squeezed himself out of the mass of bodies, frantically searching for any sight of Tom, spotting the tattered corner of his trenchcoat turn to the quieter part of the city.
Schlatt followed, grabbing a sword from his inventory and his communicator with Tubbo on speed dial. He rounded to a dark, empty alleyway still decorated with an old presidential vote for me! posters.
There Tom was, his hands clawed onto the tall chain link fence in front of him, only one foot linked through when he noticed Schlatt’s presence.
“Tom, man, what are you doing here?” he sucked his teeth. Tommy’s shoulders rose up and down with his breathing pattern, dropping a hand from the fence. “Oh, you know!” he laughed out, swallowing the lump in his throat. “celebrating!” he threw his free hand up and took his foot off the fence.
“You gotta go, Tom.” Schlatt said, gripping his sword. “I’m serious, dude. You’re lucky I’m the one who spotted you.”
Tom smiled, his eyes shifting slightly behind Schlatt. Schlatt fixed his posture, confused. “What—“
He turned and met Wilbur’s eyes, also meeting the backend of his crossbow. Schlatt fell to the ground, dropping both his sword and communicator. “Holy f*ck! Wilbur!” He yelled, holding the side of his face that was struck.
“Sorry, Jschlatt.” Wilbur sighed measly. He kicked his sword towards Tom, grabbing his communicator in two swift motions.
Schlatt looked up and saw Wil join his older friend’s side, who patted him on the back.
“What’s going on?” Schlatt sighed, defeatedly touching his upper lip and checking for blood. “Jesus, you assholes. This is gonna bruise in the next five minutes and I have a speech to give.”
Wilbur visibly swallowed, his gaze averted away from both Tom and Schlatt. “We need your opinion on something, Schlatt.” Tom said, studying his new sword. Schlatt got to his feet, sniffing and giving the injured side of his face one last press before letting hand go. “You know that my communicator has a tracker on it, right? They’re gonna wonder why I've been in this random ass spot for more than 3 minutes and send a whole battalion.” Schlatt shrugged, knowing he was lying through his teeth.
Tom looked down at the communicator, “Yeah,” he didn’t buy it. “Anyway. I need insight—“ he looked at Wilbur. “We— need insight. Right, Wil?” he elbowed the tall boy next to him. Wilbur let out a short sigh.
Schlatt stood, popping his leg out and placing a hand on his hip. “Can you stop the mysterious bullsh*t?”
“We want this place gone.” Tom nodded at him, smiling again. Schlatt tilted his head, still feeling his heartbeat on the left side of his face. “Well, no sh*t. The reason why you were kicked out was because of that.”
Tom giggles, taking a few steps towards Schlatt. “No, you don’t get it. The plan is in motion. The button is here. The TNT is placed.”
Schlatt studied his face, his mannerisms. Erratic— shaky, even. But planned. You can tell he repeated this conversation in a broken mirror, wherever their base was.
He had met up with Wil a few times despite Tubbo’s rules. He’d tell him about Tom getting scarier and scarier by the day, how on their first day of exile he admitted that he’s already going crazy without L’manberg in arms reach, without his control. Schlatt didn’t know it was this bad.
The Tom he knew was weird, obviously. Another weird lanky British boy, that’s all he was to Schlatt. He never exactly liked the guy, but Wil loved him like a brother, so he bared through the panicked rambles Wil would churn out on a random hill overlooking Manberg at 2 a.m..
Wil tried getting him on Pogtopia’s side. Schlatt thought about it, he really did, honest to god. Pogtopia’s a wrench thrown into Schlatt’s master plan, though. Joining them means giving Tom— the now crazy one— the reins, and who knows where he’d steer L’manberg when it’s finally back in his control.
Schlatt’s positive Tom knows he refused to be a spy for them, especially with the times he’d see him outside of Manberg, his coat drifting with the wind as he just stood and stared at what was once his nation. He’d catch Schlatt’s eyes, a silent staring competition between the two until Schlatt would decide that it wasn’t worth his time to stare at a 24 year old Brit with braces.
Tom was closing in on Schlatt, who stayed unmoving from his spot. “Why’re you telling me?” Schlatt crossed his arms, suddenly aware of the few inches Tom had somehow pulled out of his ass and added to his height. “Just telling you. I know you don’t like this place.”
Schlatt rolled his eyes, dropping his arms to his side. “So, that’s one thing we have in common?” Tom said, trying to keep his eyes glued to Schlatt’s. “You wouldn’t mind?”
Schlatt looked back at him, arching an eyebrow.
“If we blow it up, I mean.”
Schlatt scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you serious? Yes, I would f*ckin’ mind!” He fixed his posture, eye to eye with Tom. “Did you even think about the people uninvolved? The crowd— look at all the people in the streets, man!”
Tom’s face was unchanging, it’s what finally makes Schlatt break his facade. His jaw clenches, his eyes getting wider under his furrowed eyebrows. “You don’t care?” he says, uncharacteristically quiet. He looked behind Tom, catching sight of Wilbur, the expression painted on his face unfamiliar to Schlatt.
“And you’re okay with this? This is your nation!” he put his hand out towards Wil. “You died for this place–”
“And you took it from us.” Tom grabbed his wrist, forcing the attention back onto him. “Well, you tried.” he broke his intimidation as he giggled. Schlatt ripped his arm away from him.
Tom shrugs. “And– big whoop! Sometimes there’s roadblocks you can only… I don’t know— drive through!” He twirls back around, clicking his tongue.
Schlatt straightened his tie, his eyes slanting. “This won’t help you get L’manberg back, Tom–”
Tom groans, leaning as far back as he could, his hand sprawled across his face. “I’m aware, Jschlatt! I’ve been aware!” he forced the words out of him. “I know this won’t give me my nation. But, what will? Any ideas from you, Jschlatt? All you give to this country is idiot complacency, and that goes for every one of these citizens as well.” he throws his arm out towards the alleyway entrance.
“If you have any ideas, Schlatt, shoot them. Go ahead and try. But none of them will be on target like mine.” he leans in. “If I can’t have my nation, then no one can.”
Holy sh*t, Wilbur was not f*cking around about this guy. Their exile has done a clear toll on the two, Tommy more prominently. But even with Wil, he’s quieter. He doesn’t want to do this, at least not to the same extent as Tommy. Schlatt looks back to Tom, who is really dedicated to keeping eye contact.
“I have it under control.” Schlatt says, his feet planted and his fists at his side. “I’m not telling you all my ideas. I have everything in line for my plan to work, but if you—“ he starts walking up to the pair.
“—ruin this, you’ll have nothing. If everything goes right, you guys can be back in here like nothing happened.” he’s starting to talk like he’s pitching a SharkTank invention. “I’ll be in power, and—“ he puts his finger up towards Tom. “I know you don’t like that. But I’ll give you a chance to take it back, fair and square.”
Tom isn’t smiling. His head is tilted up but his eyes are still fixated on Schlatt’s, his eyebrows stitched together.
“Just give me—“ he counts his fingers. “a month— or two. You don’t have to destroy what’s yours to win. I’ll give it back to you.”
Schlatt puts his hand out. “Shake on it. You can trust me. Wil trusts me.” He nods in his direction. During his quick glance, he saw Wil staring at Tommy intensely. His expression was still almost unreadable, but there was a new layer of what almost looked like… concern?
His hand is alone for a few moments. Tom stares at the offer ahead of him, slowly blinking his gaze back up to the younger boy. He looks back at Wil, who stares back.
He pops his lips. “Okay. Deal.” he’s smiling again, grabbing his hand violently and gripping it like it’s gonna run away. “I won’t do it today.” he pulls him closer. “Today.” he repeats.
Schlatt forces his death grip off of him and takes a few steps back. “Okay. Jesus,” He sighs, putting his hand out for his communicator.
Wilbur goes to hand it back, but gets stopped by Tom’s ruined sleeve. “Ah— no. You’ll get it after—“ he runs the ‘r’ as he opens his own communicator to check the time. “–your speech in 5 minutes.”
Schlatt’s eyes shoot open. “five minutes?!” He cursed under his breath. “At least give me my sword so it’s looks like I wasn’t f*ckin’ ransacked!”
Tom hands his sword over begrudgingly. “Fine. Keep your side of the deal up, and I’ll keep ours up.” He pats his shoulder.
Schlatt nods absently, running out of the alleyway as Tom tries to get some last words of false encouragement out. Wilbur only watches.
As Schlatt casually (keynote; casually) speed walks through the city, he rethinks the deal. He doesn’t exactly know how much he bluffed in his quick summary, or how much he actually meant. He just had to keep Tom calm for the festival.
He felt people staring at his now bruising face. Wilbur just had to pistol whip him, huh? Jesus christ, the nerve on that guy–
“Schlatt, where have you been?” somebody– Ranboo– snarks. Schlatt has to stop and back up a little to look them in the eye with dignity. The guy was a 6’8 mystery hybrid, and a dickhe*d, so can you really blame him?
“I just had to deal with a drunk guy downtown, alright? No biggie!” He shrugged trying to get past them. “A drunk guy did that to you?” Ranboo grimaced, their irises slitting like a cat’s.
Schlatt scoffed, walking past them. “I don’t care right now, I have a speech to deliver.”
“Oh, yeah! Let me just–” Ranboo reaches out and grabs Schlatt’s shoulder, who quickly becomes aware of what they were gonna do. “Wait, no–” Schlatt squeaked out as the air around them swirled.
Everything went black and felt weightless, just for less than a second. And then, there they were. In front of Tubbo’s podium. “I told you to stop doing that,” Schlatt groaned, swallowing the quick nausea he developed everytime Ranboo decided it was time to teleport.
“You need to man up. Come on,” Ranboo takes a few more steps before disappearing into thin air again, only leaving a thin cloud of particles. “f*ckin’ asshole,” Schlatt rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “couldn’t even take me with ‘em.”
“Jschlatt!” he hears someone, Tubbo, yell behind him. Schlatt rolls his eyes, letting out a silent groan before turning to him. “Tubbo!” Schlatt smiled, clapping his hands together. “What’s up, boss?”
“Schlatt,” he repeated, wrapping his arm around his shoulders awkwardly. Schlatt bends his legs down to his level. “listen, kid, you’re gonna kill this speech, alright?”
“Ah, don’t hype me up too much—“ Schlatt shook his head. “It’s true! I have high hopes, Schlatt.” he stops, taking a step back and grabbing Schlatt’s arms, turning to face him. “I don’t want you to underachieve, alright?”
Tubbo’s… in a good mood. For once. It’s unusual to see him display any other emotion besides anger or disgust, or sadness if you catch him a couple of shots in, or anything positive for that matter. He’s made Schlatt drink with him a few times, only to cut it short because Schlatt would start refusing after he could barely start a beer because of the bitter taste. Each time he would get the same reaction from Tubbo: You can’t even finish a drink? God, nobody f*cking likes it. Just get through it, puss*.
He’d get out by bribing him, saying he’d do his paperwork tomorrow, as if he wouldn’t be doing it anyway.
But back to how he is now. This is weird. Even during a festival, Tubbo shouldn’t be this easy going. It made Schlatt nervous.
“Don’t you worry, President. I got it under control, I’m sure everyone—including you— is gonna like it. Capiche?” Schlatt patted the shorter man’s shoulder. Tubbo laughs, his smile trailing off along with it. “Seriously,” Tubbo says, tightening his grip. “don’t f*ck this up! I got an important surprise afterwards.”
That’s probably not good. Schlatt smiles, ignoring the quiet protests his brain is signaling. I need to get out of here, “You got it, Tubbo.” I need to get the f*ck out of here.
Tubbo studied his expression, a small grin spreading across his face. “Okay.” is all he says before letting go of him, finally. He pats his back, motioning towards the stairs leading up to the podium. “Shall we?”
“Shall.” Schlatt puts his chin up high, heading up the stairs before Tubbo. He felt his stare bore through the back of his head.
Schlatt takes his spot behind the podium, placing his hands behind his back. The air swirled next to him, Ranboo appearing next to him. “You made it.” Ranboo says, still staring forward. “You literally brought me here?” Schlatt shook his head, his brows pushed together. Ranboo mocks his tone, snickering to himself. Schlatt scoffs, turning back towards the crowd gathering at the ground level.
Tubbo starts his speech. “People of Manberg!” he roars, the crowd roaring back. He sits in the comfortable sound of cheering and praise for a second before continuing.
“People of Manberg,” he repeats. “Today is a new day. I, along with my cabinet, have thrown this festival in celebration of you.” he points a finger out into the crowd, another touch of applause erupting.
“Yes, yes, Manberg would not be where it is without you all, I have to acknowledge it. But!” He raises a finger up. “You’ve heard me speak long enough. We’re all bored of my voice, aren’t we?” the crowd roars again.
“Schlatt! My secretary,” he turns away from the mic. Already?
“Get up here,” he smiles, motioning to him. Schlatt hesitates. There goes that itching feeling, that feeling that something is wrong. Why is he being celebrated? Now?
Despite everything in his body telling him not to, he makes his way up to the podium, meeting the eyes of the crowd below him. Tubbo pats his back, taking a step back from the podium.
Schlatt waits for the crowd to die down. “Citizens of Manberg,” he starts, gripping the podium so his shaking isn’t obvious. “What a day, huh? What a day. What a month! Thanks to our president, of course!
“We wouldn’t be where we are without him. Manberg itself is a miracle, with the tribulations we have faced as a nation, it is absolutely amazing where we are today.” Schlatt sighs, taking in a shaky breath. Get out.
“I’m honored today to be speaking to you all in such a manner, because I would want to no other way—“
He hears Tubbo snicker. Get the f*ck out.
Schlatt ignores it as best as he can. “I— uh— Can’t wait to see what else this country has in store for us— what Tubbo has in store for us,” He feels sweat bead up on his hairline. “because everything so far has been—“
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“ Tubbo’s full blown laughing, holding his stomach and leaning his head back. Schlatt laughs measly, looking between him and the crowd. “I’m sorry, It’s just…”
Tubbo finally calms down, wiping his eye. “It’s just not true, innit?”
Schlatt stares at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s not true, is it, Schlatt?” he’s getting serious. Get the f*ck out NOW—
He feels Ranboo take both his arms, gripping him with their abnormally large hands. “What the f*ck—“ Schlatt finally says, breaking out of his facade. “Tubbo—“
“Don’t play stupid, Schlatt.” he grabs the mic from the podium, ripping it from its stand. “I know what you’re planning.”
Schlatt’s eyes widen. “What are you—“
“You know fully well what I’m talking about. I saw you in that alley.” Tubbo sneers. Schlatt’s heart drops. “It wasn’t what it looks like— I swear, I f*cking swear!”
“Really? It wasn’t what it looked like?” Tubbo repeated. “Well, I’ll tell you it looked like you were conspiring against me with the two f*ckers I threw out for a reason!”
“Sir, please, you have to listen—“
“I’m done listening.”
“You f*cking— you f*cking idiot!” Schlatt yelled as Ranboo pulled him away from the podium. “You’re a f*cking idiot! I didn’t f*cking agree to anything with them— not to f*cking treason!” he fought their grip as he was thrown into a claustrophobic one-by-one build, a gate closing him in.
“You are a f*cking stupid, stupid f*cking motherf*cker—“ Schlatt grabbed the gate, shaking it violently under his grip.
Tubbo sucked his teeth, nodding with his eyes rolled back. “You’re not talking like you’re on our side, Schlatt.” He said in an innocent, condescending tone. He f*cking hated it.
Schlatt grinding his teeth, tears pricking his eyes. “I didn’t agree to sh*t, you’re f*cking crazy—“
“You know what we do to traitors, Schlatt?”
“you are f*cking crazy—“
“Do you?”
The only sound left in the air was the confused murmuring of the crowd. Schlatt frantically looked around, looking for anything, something to help him, and—
Wilbur and Tom. There they were. Sat on top of one of Tubbo's builds, just watching. Wilbur at least had the nerve to look terrified, but Tommy… he was just staring.
“There! f*cking there!” Schlatt pointed up at the building, leaning over the gate that confided him. “Ask them— just f*cking ask!”
Tubbo stared at where he was pointing, the air thickened. Wil shared several frantic looks between Tommy and the podium, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to press the button, anything to stop this, but—
He smiled. Tommy f*cking smiled.
I’m f*cked.
Tubbo balled his fists, letting out a growl. “f*cking kill him—“
“Wait, Tubbo—“ Ranboo spoke up, a nervous twang to their voice.
“Give me the f*cking crossbow NOW—“
“Wait, wait, wait, stop, I didn’t do anything,” Schlatt found himself begging. “please— I didn’t do anything—“
“Shut the f*ck up!” Tubbo screamed, grabbing something violently that Schlatt couldn’t see. He whipped it into his vision, bright red, white, and blue sparks flying from a small fuse connected to a bunch of fireworks wrapped together to make some makeshift rocket launcher. Schlatt hugged the wall behind him.
“I didn’t do—“
Schlatt heard a loud CRACK, piercing his ears and leaving them ringing. His vision went white, and muffled screams filled his ears as the ringing intensified. All he felt next was burning.
The entire left left of his face, melting, dripping down and burning the untouched skin around it. His opened his mouth the scream, only to—
Wake up. He shot up from the bedding that covered him, breathing hard as he gripped his chest. He was still burning.
He heard muffled screams through the walls of the white house as he fell out of his bed, crawling towards the desk to hoist himself up. He’s still burning.
He let out a pained groan as he looked at his hands, scarred, yet still bleeding. His shirt was torn to shreds, his face felt terrifyingly bare on the entire left side of it, the taste of iron and dust coating the insides of his mouth. “Gaaagahhegjjshs..” he breathed out, blood still pooling out of his face.
He struggled through the white house, finally reaching the door, swinging it open and falling flat back down onto the ground outside. The screaming was clear now, and so were the explosions. He struggled to crawl on his forearms as citizens ran over him, away from the podium.
Schlatt finally connects the dots. He died. Lost a life. Just from some stupid paranoia that went unchecked. How can you die and still feel the pain of death?
He felt steam emit off of him, the burning turning to a dull sting, his eyes fluttering back close. Is it possible to die again if it’s drastic enough?
He didn’t care. His plan’s out the f*cking window and through the woods. It’s over.
He thought he had it figured out, but he really was just some 17 year old who was graced with too much power. Who was he to think he was gonna get elected? Who was he to think he could cheat the system? Jesus christ, who was he?
“Schlatt?”
He lifted his head towards the sound. “Schlatt, oh my god—“
He closed his eyes. That’s me, he smiled, dropping his head to the ground.
