Yo, I just wanted to say that C!quackity and C!wilbur remind me of vox and Alistor. Quackity being vox and wilbur being Alistor.
I think I spelt half those names wrong don't look to hard
So true. Stayed Gone is very c!TNT duo. But, I would like to enlighten you real quick. Stayed Gone as c!prey duo (Quackity Vox and Techno Alastor), or as c!rivals duo (Dream Vox and Techno Alastor).
Also, the only name you misspelled was Alastor’s :}
Statement of Alex Quackity, regarding the strange behavior of an old roommate after a peculiar purchase. Original statement given August 2nd, 2019. Recorded by Eret, Head Archivist of the EsEmpi Institute.
Statement begins.
I’m a student at at a local college. I came here because, well, you guys take care of weird things, right? Aliens and stuff like that? No? Whatever.
Have you ever gone hunting? I haven’t, but it always seemed cool. My roommate was big into hunting. His family’s pretty well off, so they even have those pointer dogs. The ones who always know where the blood is coming from.
Seeing weird stuff around any college apartment is pretty normal. Big boxes of old swords or maps were common. All from different wars, used. You could still see the blood on some of them. But everyone’s got their hobbies, so I left them alone. This was temporary housing, after all. He wouldn’t be my roommate forever.
One day, we received a small brown box. Looked like any other package. I was expecting a new mug, as my previous one had gone mysteriously missing. So I opened it.
I should have checked for a label.
The corners were wet and decomposing. Blood was leaking out of the box, leaving a small red print on the table. When I lifted the box up, it dripped. Red ran down my arm.
I immediately dropped the box. Old artifacts are one thing, but a bloody box? A literal bloody box?
I should have called the cops or something. Should have called them multiple times, because it only got worse.
Instead, I left the box on the table. I wasn’t about to move that thing. I texted my roommate, telling him to be more careful when ordering things online or something, and left for class.
I usually walk to class. It was just turning fall, the air sharp and fresh. It wasn’t raining or anything, and the trees were still green. Overall, a nice day out. No reason to take the bus.
The entire time, I kept feeling like I was being watched. I could see a figure in the corner of my eye, dancing at the edges of my vision. Whenever I looked back, it was gone.
The figure wasn’t of a person. It was short. Its shadow had a long snout and short legs. Four short legs. Definitely an animal. Like a hunting dog. I could feel its sniffing on my ankles, a wet nose pushed against my shoes. There was no physicality to it, though, no actual animal following close by. But I could hear it so loudly.
In class, I sat near the back. Can’t have anything behind you if there’s a wall there, right? I spent the whole class watching the room. Service dogs are a thing, I could have just heard one of those. I tried to pay attention to the lecture for a bit. Try to get my mind off of this feeling. It was boring, as usual.
Was I losing it? I know college is stressful, but I’ve managed everyone pretty well so far. Nothing weird happened in class. It was like whatever followed me wasn’t allowed into the building.
As soon as I stepped outside, I could feel it. I couldn’t see it, but my chest tightened and the hair on my neck raised. Why was I so afraid of a stupid dog?
At home, the box was gone. Well, not completely gone. It was opened, its contents missing. The inside was filled with white styrofoam, shaped to fit another box. Its cracks were drenched in blood, the cardboard around it now disintegrating on the countertop. Bits of something soft and pink hung off of the edges, having fallen out of the smaller box. At first glance it looked like a plant, maybe a grapefruit or, what’s it called? A lychee? Yeah, that. It looked like that. But it had this sort of sheen on it that suggested it wasn’t natural. Or at least, not a plant.
The whole room reeked of rot. Not sweet, like rotting fruit. It was heavier, more sour. Almost metallic. Like an infected wound, all yellow and red with death. Whatever was in that box was once alive. It had a heartbeat. It was bleeding all over my counter.
The figure was back, standing right by the hallway. Separating me from my room, from my roommate. It was staring at me. I stared at the box. I stared at that box for what felt like an hour, praying for the figure to leave me alone. It wasn’t hurting me, but it felt… this is gonna sound weird, okay? But I swear it felt hungry. That it was sniffing for food. That it thought I was food, and if I moved, it would go for the kill.
The next thing I know, the box was on the floor, and my roommate was in front of me. His eyes were too dark for me to separate the pupil from the iris. His hands were pressed against the counter, like he had slammed them down. He asked me if I had opened the box. I said no. He asked me again, teeth clenched. Listen, I don’t get scared easily. It’s kind of hard to scare someone who lives in the same apartment as ten used swords and a small collection of high-end kitchen knives. But he could have killed me. He would have. I don’t doubt it.
So I backtracked. I said that yes, I had opened it, but it was weird and not my package, so I didn’t look inside. I thought it was mine, and as soon as I realized it wasn’t, I stopped, okay?
He seemed to relax. And I relaxed And then I fucked up. I asked what was in it. And he… he really didn’t like that.
He lunged for my wrist. His nails stabbed between tendons, tearing through the skin. My blood gathered under his nails. His teeth seemed sharper, his eyes wider. And he wouldn’t let go. I apologized, over and over again, telling him that I wouldn’t look, that I didn’t look, that I was sorry for asking. And he just kept digging in. Locked on his prey.
His other hand was still on the counter, curled in on itself. It looked ready to go for my throat. He could rip it apart as easily as he was ripping apart my arm. Blood was flowing freely down my arm, curving around his knuckles. I watched his other hand, hoping he had forgotten about it or had enough restraint to keep it there. I knew he was staring at me. I wasn’t about to stare back.
His phone alarm went off. He dropped my arm and- you know what he did? He left. Just, walked out the door, as if his hand wasn’t dripping with my blood, as if I wasn’t rushing over to the sink and crying in pain as the water seeped into the wound. One moment, he’s about to kill me for opening a package I thought was mine, and the next, he has to maintain a perfect attendance.
I tried my best to avoid him the next few weeks. My friends had a place I could move into once my lease was up, and the semester was almost over anyway. Yeah, he almost killed me, but it left a cool scar, and gave me a cool story. Everyone wants to hear about the weird roommate, you know? So I figured I could bear living with him for a short time.
The figure didn’t go away. If anything, it was more persistent. Its silhouette became a fixture in my vision, the fear a more natural state. I was always on edge, my chest permanently tight. I got used to looking over my shoulder and double-checking the locks.
I did notice a couple things about the figure. I think these realizations only made it worse. I’ll explain. The figure would follow me everywhere- to class, to the store, to a friend’s- but it had vampire rules, you know? It was only there when I was outside or in a public place, lurking behind trees or bookshelves. It was like a real person. It wouldn’t go into my room, unless I happened to leave the door unlocked. Then it would stand by the door, watching.
That’s all it ever did, too. Watch. It never seemed to move or smile or anything. Just watch. If I thought about it for too long, the scars on my arm would hurt. But that’s probably just a coincidence, right?
The last thing, probably the worst thing, was that it wasn’t a dog, and it didn’t have four legs. It was a pig, and it had three. The shadows around it would make it look like four legs, but it was just three. One of the front legs was missing. I could tell it was a pig because it was fat and had that snout, you know? And I know pigs don’t hunt, but they do eat meat. They’re known to eat human corpses.
Last I checked, I was still alive.
I moved out a couple of days ago. I haven’t seen the pig, or my roommate since. And before you ask, no, I never broke into his room to see what was in the box. But I can take a pretty good guess.
Statement ends.
Quackity was right. An odd roommate does a great story. Sapnap went to his new place to ask for a follow up, apparently he still lives at the same address, and Quackity was more than happy to show him the scars on his arm. He does deny seeing any pigs, though, which is fair. If anything would ruin a story, it’s making the antagonist a farm animal.
George somehow got his hands on a copy of the lease. His roommate is named Technoblade. Why Quackity chose to keep him anonymous is a mystery, but if this is the same Technoblade we already have on file… Well, we might have to keep an eye on Quackity for a while. If his roommate truly was Technoblade, these events are far more believable. I hope we won’t have to bring him in for another statement, but we will if we must. He is the last person to know his whereabouts. And with a man like Technoblade, the Institute could use all the help it could get.
