Chapter Text
“Hands up! Now! Get out of the building!”
Wilbur glanced over at Quackity. “What do we do?! Quackity, go, go, do something-”
Quackity glanced around a pillar. They were standing in the lobby of the bank they had been trying to rob when the police decided to so rudely interrupt their business once again. Thankfully, they’d been in this situation before, and they both knew how to defuse or escape a situation like this. It was a little uncharacteristic of Wilbur to freak out.
“Come on. You handle those guys there to make a distraction, I’ll get the money, and we’ll sneak out the back,” Quackity hissed, already moving inside. “You’ve done this before.”
“No, I- Quackity!”
He rushed into the building. The hostages cowered in the corner, but he barely glanced at them. He picked up the duffel bag full of cash, digging around for a bit of a better weapon before-
“Put your weapons down!”
Quackity huffed and pulled out a handgun, better than nothing. He waved it in the direction of the hostages, and one of them cried. “Relax, I’m not going to kill you. Which one of you called the cops?” The hostages started shouting over each other, and Quackity sighed exaggeratedly. “I said I wouldn’t kill you, just relax and-”
“Quackity, love, there’s a situation, please-”
He whipped around, facing the front door. The lights were still flashing, and He rushed over to Wilbur, almost tripping over his own feet. The police were climbing up the steps, guns brandished and lights flashing. Wilbur was huddled behind a pillar, his eyes shut, mumbling something to himself. Maybe praying.
“What are you doing, you idiot! Get inside before they fucking-”
Wilbur pulled the door open, firing a shot behind him as he went. No. No.
Rapid gunfire shattered the windows and blasted through the sound of sirens and megaphones. The hostages cowered. Some covered their heads. Some screamed. Quackity grabbed Wilbur’s hand and they bolted for the rear exit.
“Quackity, Quackity, I think I should have shot earlier I would have gotten one or two of them and they would have backed off-”
“Shut up! Just run!”
The bank was large and grand, filled with both black and white marble and gold accents. The building looked almost like it was littered with veins, which had always made Quackity a bit nervous. Now, though, he barely noticed it as he sprinted through the hallways. He’d lost track of the emergency exit. He thought he’d memorized the layout. He’d spent hours, and now he just felt trapped, so what was it all for? Where the hell was-
“Stop running! Turn around!” A gunshot whizzed past Quackity’s head, and he yanked Wilbur’s hand towards himself, and then felt him stumble.
“Wil-”
Another gunshot whizzed by, and Wilbur choked on his own breath.
There was suddenly a heavy weight dragging along, stopping Quackity from running. He dropped Wilbur’s hand, and didn’t even think about looking behind him.
“Wilbur! Wilbur, get up, we’re-” He glimpsed a sign brightly lit with the word ‘EXIT’ in red. “We’re almost there! Come on!” He ran harder, panting as bullets whizzed by. “Wilbur!”
He decided to spare a glance back-
There was a body on the ground, littered with holes and covered in red. The body wasn’t moving. The body certainly didn’t belong to an officer. The body wasn’t in uniform. The body was wearing a long brown trenchcoat that was now littered with holes.
He felt something deep in his chest, something that almost felt like fear. Wilbur wasn’t dead. They’d been through worse- hell, they hadn’t even considered this a risky heist. He was sure, as he kept running, that Wilbur was going to stand up in perfect health and grab Quackity’s hand and keep running too.
He didn’t stop to mourn. He couldn’t. He just kept running.
Keep running. Never let them take you alive.