Chapter Text
The Weekly Slap was a broadcast when Schlatt had first entered the camp with Quackity. It had become a weekly broadcast where he would give advice throughout the entire camp about his time outside of the camp and scouting.
A radio transmission aired one morning as everyone around the breakfast tables was enjoying their food.
"How's it going, boys? My name is Schlatt, and welcome back to The Weekly Slap." The radios crackled to life throughout the entire camp as his voice rang.
"Now boys, just thought I'd give a little insight on what to expect for scouting outside. Note to self, and I couldn't stress this enough, but don't go around wasting bullets and going haywire by yourself in a disclosed area. Believe me, that didn't go well." He laughed lightheartedly through the microphone. "It was really stupid of me to do that, and I'm now just publicly humiliating myself, but hey. Times like these make you do dumb shit, amirite?"
For some time, life felt at least okay for Schlatt, but as time went on, he managed his own sect Manberg. He'd been doing less and less of the broadcast simply because it would feel like spite to Wilbur, and he was too busy leading instead of giving advice.
When Quackity came back from the highway, he felt numb as others separated from the sect, gathering and claiming items from the wing. They've all silently agreed to leave the wing to rot, but it was still kept as a little reminder for everyone to not be worse.
As Fundy and Tubbo left with boxes of items, Quackity paced around the room with memories flooding in his head. As footsteps made impact on shabby wooden floors, he hears a loud creak from under his shoe. Taking a double-take, he stepped on the same spot again earning an equally loud squeak. On his knees, he took hold of the floorboard and slid the board to the side careful not to gain any splinters.
The little crypt under the floorboard was covered in dust and webs were beginning to spin inside it. The Mexican blew from his lips as a cloud of dust puffed up making him cough. His hands reached down where he could feel a set of cassette tapes and a walkman. Taking them out, Quackity sits down on the floor and dusted off the headphones attached to the walkman to the best of his abilities before placing them against his beanie-covered ears. He took a cassette titled, "Is it a good idea to start a team?" and placed it into the walkman.
When he pressed play, the audio sounded like it came out of a can, but it was as clear as a radio. The walkman whirred as he hears his partner's calm voice that wasn't clouded in sheer panic.
"How's it going boys? My name is Schlatt, and welcome back to The Weekly Slap-"
When Quackity heard his voice, he couldn't help but smile. So he stayed in the Manberg sect, sat on the floor, listening to his partner's old recordings on loop.
----
As time went on, Quackity eventually stopped looping The Weekly Slap and when a little boy came into his life, he couldn't help but pass it down. Schlatt was resting in the infirmary when Quackity sat Charlie down by his bed. It had been a week since he was brought back.
"What's that?" Charlie asked swinging his feet back and forth, curious to see what his Dad was holding.
Quackity held a rather heavy box of items and opened the lid, "This... is Schlatt."
"Schlatt? The guy that's with Phil?"
Quackity nodded before taking a random cassette tape and placed it in the walkman. The headphones were disconnected, but they had a speaker built-in. The device whirred to life and Charlie looked at it in fascination, leaning against Quackity with his chin on his shoulder. Schlatt's voice from a long time ago came through the speakers of the walkman and Charlie's eyes lit up in surprise, "That's him?"
"Yes, mijo. That's him."
"I like his voice."
Quackity smiled at Charlie before turning his head back to the device in his hands, "me too."
"People ask, "Schlatt, how do you cope with the loneliness of it all at this end of the world type shit?" Well, to answer your question. It's always good to make allies, right? Not just human ones, but it can also be a pet like a dog or a cat. I used to have a pet lizard when I was younger and he kept me company when I was alone at home sometimes, and believe it or not, I actually have a friend who helped me get through with this stupid apocalypse." He laughs. "Just be sure you're making friends and allies with the right people. People you get along with, someone you trust, someone you'd die for... If they get so worked up on keeping people safe and they don't recognize the hurt they're causing to others and pushing them away, they need others the most."
----
When Schlatt came back from the infirmary after healing for a few months, he went to check on Charlie for the night since Quackity was passed out on their bed after a long day keeping watch at the gates with the rest of the sect. Quietly, he opened the door where he finds the teenager sprawled on the bed with a bunch of cassette tapes around him and a walkman that played previous broadcasts of The Weekly Slap. He smiled, as he got into the room to stop the tape from playing, ejecting it from the walkman. Schlatt placed the cassettes and player on Charlie's bedside; draping a warm blanket on the boy. Before he left, he finds a duck plushie on the floor. Patting the plush off for any dust, he placed it between Charlie's arms. He switched off the lamp on the bedside table before closing the door and making his way back to his room to sleep.
The next morning, Quackity woke up to an empty spot beside him. He figured that Schlatt was already out with the others to eat, so he dressed up and made his way to the breakfast table. Arriving at the breakfast table, he noticed that Schlatt wasn't there too. Confused, he asked the table, "any of you guys seen Schlatt?" Responses ranged from head shaking side to side, and audible No's. Quackity turned to Foolish who in turn simply shrugged. The Mexican sat down at his spot and began eating with the others and stopping every so often to ensure a fight doesn't break out at the table.
When they finally settled down (though grudges are still being held) the radio buzzed to life and the microphone was being tapped.
Fundy groaned in his seat, "God, already?! It's too early for a haunted broadcast."
Quackity sighed, "calm down Fundy, I'm sure it's nothing-"
"How's it going boys? My name is Schlatt and welcome back to The Weekly Slap. I'll spare you the whole spiel about the uhh, the whole "weekly" thing, but uhhh let's- let's talk. As you know, I basically died," he chuckled to himself, "But I'm back now, and it has been a rough couple of months, couple of years to say the least. I doubt anyone else that I know misses me but, here I am! I started off with The Weekly Slap as a broadcast where I could provide advice and answer your questions anonymously... and during the lonely years as I would like to call it, I picked up a couple of things I'd share with you."
Quackity smirked as he noticed the sect falling quiet as they listen to the ex-sect leader of Manberg, "Told you Fundy. It's nothing to be worried about."