The Rivals Collide

Chapter One- Routines

The dawn light broke through Quackity's curtains, blinding him with its potent beam. A groan escaped him. He tossed and reluctantly opened his eyes.

“f*****g hell….I hate this….” Quackity mumbled, his voice groggy and hoarse from sleep.

He sat up, getting out of bed and starting his daily routine; Getting dressed, fixing his hair, doing his teeth.

He threw on his shoes, making sure he had his keys. He grabbed his beanie and slid it on his head. Quackity sighed, walking out the front door.

He headed over to his workplace, dreading another day of exhausting labour.

As Quackity sat down in his chair, he yawned, grabbing a pen and starting to read through documents and formal letters to him about ‘innovations’. Quackity's eyes tried to force sleep onto him, but he denied them to do so.

“Ugh… only 8 AM? That sucks.”, Quackity mumbled, his wings drooped in frustration and pure exhaustion. His body ached, practically crying for at least a month off of work.

Before he knew it, his eyes won. His head dropping against the desk and wings curling against him in a protective, yellow, cocoon of soft feathers.

He woke at 7 PM to Charlie poking him in the side gently, unsure what his boss who normally fussed over worktime is doing sleeping at his desk.

“Boss?” Charlie questioned, “Bossss.”

Quackity just incoherently grumbled and muttered. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, his wings stretching and beating against the air like it personally threatened them.

“Boss, you okay?”

“I'm fine…I'm just… tired.”

Slime stared at him for a long while.

“What, What's the matter? Is there something on my face?” Quackity touched his face, feeling for anything that shouldn't be there. His face heats up in embarrassment, ears turning pink while his cheeks became dusted with a red tint

Quackity looked away fast, panicky about how he is presented in front of others.

“No. Nothing is on your face, Quackity from Las’ Navadas, but I'd say you need sleep.”

“I'm not getting sleep till my work is done.”

“Boss, you say that though you fell asleep on your work.”

Quackity spluttered indignantly.

“I did Not!”, he snaps despite knowing that's not quite the case, “I was simply resting my head.”

Slime snickered, finding his attempt to keep his dignity amusing.

“Uh-huh, and I'm not made of Literal goop.”

“Shut up, Slime.”

Slime backed off, now leaving to start organising drawers and files in alphabetical order in a separate room.

Quackity stands up, sighing. He gave up trying to complete his work today, knowing it was a futile scramble to fail at. He decided to take a drink for the day. He grabbed his chips and headed down to the casino floor. The familiarity of the loud music, smell of burning alcohol and cheering when a person won a high stake bet or, losing against one and trying to claim for cheating became background music for Quackity.

He gravitated towards the bar, ordering red wine and taking a swig as soon as it was put in his hands. Time passed, it was around 12 PM now, he'd been playing poker and drinking for 5 hours. He won another bet despite his mind becoming foggy and he was slurring his words, barely able to stand up straight. Wilbur happened to walk in, originally planning to piss off Quackity and leave.