Prompt: lies + "no one's coming for you"

Quackity wasn't a bad person.

He did bad things sometimes. But then again, who didn't? The world was a cruel place and ever since his birth Quackity had to fight tooth and nail for every shred of that world he was allowed to exist in peacefully. The odds were always stacked against him - against most people who hadn't been born into overwhelming riches, really.

The only way for lower-class commoners such as Quackity to survive was hard work. In the literal sense, or by applying any other skill they had to offer.

Phil knew this too, he was one of the hardest workers Quackity ever had the pleasure of meeting and he respected the older man for it. He did feel a little guilty about ending their years-long partnership on such a rough note. The knife had been an accident and he briefly considered sending Charlie out to at least make sure he hadn't killed Phil by accident. Quackity was a thief, but he wasn't a murderer. He didn't intend to actually hurt the guy.

It wasn't his fault that Phil seemed completely oblivious to the opportunity that had landed in their laps.

Quackity felt no pity for the high society he regularly scammed out of their money. Again, they didn't do anything to deserve their fortune. They were just lucky to be born in a position of wealth. The fact that so many of them were even dumb enough to get tricked by a charming smile and some big fancy words that carried no meaning but were spoken with confidence was their own stupid fault. They would eat the whole immortality thing up like flies crawling over honey, no questions asked. Quackity could dangle it in front of them like a coveted treat.

Then he would deny even the highest bidder that reward, and he would take his mermaid jackpot straight to the royal castle itself.

Getting coins was nice if Quackity wanted to survive at the bottom of the food chain forever. Asking the king to elevate his status, well… that could change his life and that of everybody he worked with for the better. None of them would have to grovel again just so they didn't have to go to sleep on an empty stomach. None of them would have to continue this pathetic struggle for survival on the daily.

He really wished Phil would have recognized that and not allowed himself to be blinded by stupid morals.

Was it true that this creature had some kind of intelligence to it? Probably. It certainly had a penchant for glaring at Quackity as if the man had personally shat in its cereal. But even if it was as smart as a human, well… tough luck. Other people's suffering was often the price you paid for getting somewhere in life.

Quackity had made choices he wasn't proud of along the way, but he couldn't allow himself to be pushed back into the ground now. Not after all his hard work.

For the moment, he had to lie low. Obviously, Phil knew where he lived - as did Wilbur. They were friends, or had been friends once. Wilbur was the one who introduced Quackity to Phil to begin with. They had known each other for years, as dumb teenagers even. Once upon a time, Quackity thought Wilbur understood his desire for a better life. Back when they were sitting on the hills outside town smoking terrible cigarettes they rolled themselves with yellow-stained fingers, talking about their dreams of finding out what was truly out there.

Quackity never really got to find out, this town stuck to him like mud and stained everything he did. Wilbur left all the time but he always came back, guitar slung over his shoulder and another dirt stain on his coat. Artists were paid even worse than conmen apparently.

But the difference was that Wilbur seemed happy somehow. Content with what little world was afforded for them, returning to the mundanity of his domestic little happy family. Quackity resented that, he resented Wilbur for settling.

Or maybe he resented Wilbur for being able to find peace in something that would only serve to upset Quackity.

Whichever the case: he couldn't go home with stolen contraband in the form of a tiny mermaid in one pocket and a knife he had used to stab a former friend's father in the other.

Purpled's house was kind of shitty, but it was safe. Tucked away. And the guy had already helped him kidnap the mermaid, they might as well stick together. Maybe if Purpled could get him to the capital safely once the worst of the storm had passed, Quackity could split the profit with him instead. They were keeping it in a tub. A metal one Purpled had lying around, filled with water. It kept swimming in circles.

"We should be good in here for a while," Purpled said while dropping the curtain back in place. "What's the plan?"

"I'm working on it," Quackity said. There were somewhat too many leftover threads to detangle for him to immediately have a clear idea of what to do next when the adrenaline was still so fresh in his brain.

"So no plan?" Purpled deadpanned. Quackity kind of half-scoffed at that, but he couldn't exactly deny the accusation.

"I'm working on it," he repeated.

"That's reassuring."

Quackity waved him off. "I need to get in touch with Foolish as quickly as possible. He's probably got connections… no, he definitely does."

"Want me to go out and meet him?" Purpled was already heading for the door. Sitting still would only make him antsy, so Quackity didn't object.

"Find Fundy too. Tell him I need some rumors spread."

"On it boss," Purpled quipped sarcastically before leaving.

Alone in the room, Quackity could finally let his thoughts settle. He knew what his end goal was, he just needed to find a way to get there. Without being killed, preferably. Standing at the side of the tub, he stared into it. The mermaid was… not what he expected it to be when he heard about it.

It was definitely pretty, and biologically speaking it was a marvel. But it swayed a lot while it moved. Small and fragile and not at all healthy. It also looked perpetually thrown off balance. With a sigh, Quackity got up and went into Purpled's kitchen. The kid really lived like a gremlin, there wasn't even any proper food. Quackity found a piece of bread that had at least a minimum amount of mold growing on it and tore off those pieces. Then he went back to the tub.

He ripped off some chunks and dropped them in the water. Maybe the mermaid was lurching so much in its movements because it hadn't been fed? Quackity thought he'd heard of animals doing that sometime.

It stopped when the bread hit the water, darting into a bottom corner of the tub at first. It blinked at him, and Quackity blinked back. It was hard to see underwater, but he could have sworn it was baring its teeth at him. Little shit.

"Eat this before you die," Quackity said, unsure if there was even a point.

But it came up to the surface at those words - ignoring the bread completely - and stuck its head out of the water.

"Did you kill Phil?" it asked.

For all of three seconds, Quackity felt as if the tongue had been stolen from his mouth. He stood there dumbstruck.

"No," he said then. "Of course not."

"But you tried to."

"It was a misunderstanding," he told it. Why was he even explaining this to a fish?

"How do you misunderstand somebody so badly that you stab them on accident? Cringe."

Angered, Quackity kicked the side of the tub. A bit of water sloshed out, but mostly it only served to make his toe hurt. The mermaid had gone back under at his aggression but still Quackity hissed an answer at it.

"You better learn to keep your mouth shut. Where you're going, they don't take kindly to that shit." Something deep-seated and malicious crossed his mind. Quackity smirked. "I can see why Phil wanted to get rid of you now."

It stopped moving. After a moment, its tail curled closer to its midriff, but it didn't turn around to look at him.

Seeing that the words had some effect and urged on by frustration, Quackity continued. "When I came back to meet Phil he was outside the house and we talked. I'm so glad he was willing to see reason once I explained my proposition more thoroughly." Of course it was all a lie, but there was no way this thing could know that. "We settled on a price, but not a proper exchange method or time and that was my mistake. I'm sure that Purpled will clear it all up with him. Especially once we hand him his cut of the money."

Finally it turned around to glare at him, still refusing to come back up and talk. But there was so much less heat behind those blue eyes than before. It had its arms around its own chest, some pantomime of hugging itself that would have tugged on Quackity's heartstrings if he was a better man.

But he wasn't. He was tired and desperate and he had just hit his lucky break.

And he refused to let it be ripped from his hands again.

"They sold you to me and they don't give a crap what happens to you next. Face it, no one's coming for you." Quackity would make sure of it.