Chapter Text
As the sun rose to another day in Toontown, all, on the surface, seemed well. All across town, from Mezzo Melodyland to Daffodil Gardens, toons awoke to bright sunshine and brighter smiles, greeting their neighbours and setting about opening up their various shops and businesses. In one, more secluded corner of town, known as Drowsy Dreamland, the sun had not risen at all. This was, of course, not particularly strange, for the sun never rose in Drowsy Dreamland, which was suspended with a permanent state of twilight, a little like a dream.
Most toons liked to play and run in the sun, but for those like Doctor Dimm, owner and proprietor of ‘Dimm Nightlights – Scientifically Proven!’, the comfortable darkness and quiet was almost pleasant. It meant she found it far easier to focus on her work, and whilst she had begun her scientific experiments by creating exactly as her shop proclaimed, dim nightlights (they were just bright enough to illuminate any room, without making your eyes hurt or your drowsiness fade), she had quickly progressed to more advanced work.
Of course, another perk of living in Drowsy Dreamland was that it gave the short green duck the opportunity to enjoy her favourite hobby all day long: stargazing. Spending the morning as she always did, with a short trip up to the observatory she had built on the roof of her shop, she sat herself down on her adjustable stool, quick to wind it up and raise herself to the correct level, for there was no adjusting the massive brass telescope that ballooned out of the roof.
Doctor Dimm saw familiar stars, mentally greeting them all, as she did every morning. The familiar constellations soon sprang into view ahead of her; the Doodle, the Anvil, even one that she personally thought looked too much like a pie for it to be a coincidence. As she swung the telescope around to hop off the stool and get to work, Doctor Dimm saw something new, unfamiliar. Something very strange.
Her eyes narrowing, she took a closer look. Were those… new stars in the sky? No, surely that couldn’t be right. But no matter how much it didn’t make sense, they were right there– dozens and dozens of winking lights in the sky, of varying colours. They couldn’t be stars, could they? Well, she had certainly never seen purple stars before, but what else could they even be? The short duck climbed down from her stool, stumbling a little as she landed, moving to another table to retrieve her star map.
It was a diagram of the various constellations she had purchased with the telescope, she hadn’t had the experience to find them herself back then. Examining it closely, before clambering back up onto the stool (with only a little difficulty), she stared over at the new lights. They definitely hadn’t been there before, and they weren’t on the map either. Deciding there and then that she would get to the bottom of this, Doctor Dimm gathered her binoculars, notebook and some stationary supplies, before bounding down the stairs and out onto Twilight Terrace.
Stopping for only a moment to hang a ‘Closed’ sign on the door of her shop, she jogged through the steeply sloping streets towards the top of the hill that Twilight Terrace led to. From there, she ought to be able to get a better look, and she’d be able to chart a course towards those strange lights. Giving a nod and a wave to the various toons that she passed, Doctor Dimm soon entered the mists that cloaked the very highest areas of the street, buildings looming over the patchwork paths and casting deep shadows, even in the darkness of Drowsy Dreamland.
Arriving at the top of the hill, the street faded away around her into a mere dirt path, which she happily followed towards the cliff edge. From here, she had a perfect view of Toontown, whether that be Drowsy Dreamland right below her, Twilight Terrace snaking its way up the hill, or the zigzagging of Lullaby Lane over towards the orange-cast pink hues of Mezzo Melodyland. Towards the east was the Beach, soft sunlight filtering in beautiful rays from above. Barnacle Boatyard, an idyllic, if busy, port, full of pirates and sailors. Daffodil Gardens, an island of greenery and peace in a sea of hustle and bustle. Ye Olde Toontown, the neighbourhood that everything else had originally sprung up from. And finally, Toontown Central, the very heart of it all. Little did the duck know that her investigations would change everything she saw before her forever.
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Many miles away, through the mists that surrounded the edges of Toontown, across rolling hills and barren deserts, Robert Cyger had a headache. Was it even possible to have a headache if you had a chair for a head? The thought crossed his mind for a mere moment before he dismissed it as irrelevant. COGS Inc was his life’s work, his magnum opus– and right now, it was on the brink of failing, collapsing from within beneath its own weight. He was sitting alone in his dimly-lit office, the very top of a huge skyscraper. The room was sparsely furnished, just his desk, a photograph of his son atop it, and an elevator on the other side of the room for access, alongside floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, granting views not of the city below, but of the clouds their headquarters towered above.
He stared at the report from his Chief Operations Officer, brother and close personal friend, Thomas Saggs. It had initially been delivered to his desk by his secretary, Jennifer– something of a gossip, and unbearably talkative, though she still remained acceptably productive– and she had been uncharacteristically silent. It had taken Robert almost an hour to pluck up the courage to read the report, and he could feel his processor involuntarily throttling itself as he did. It was a short report, but that didn’t make the death sentence within any easier to stomach.
The Coal, Oil and Gas Syndicate had officially run all of its natural resources dry. They would be done refining the last of their oil in only a few days time, and once the profits from their main business dried up… well, he was sure that if they wanted to survive, some major downsizing would be in order. Their sales department had no hope of completely sustaining the company, that much was for certain.
But Robert was a fighter. He was not about to let his life’s work, his passion fade into obscurity as just one of many titans of history, long dead. He would do whatever it took. And so that was how the Chairman of COGS Inc had ended up calling an emergency departmental meeting, with his five subordinates. There was Thomas, of course, bless his soul– a hard, dutiful worker who would do just about anything to please. Craig Oilcan, the CEO of the company, from what Robert knew, he had come from nothing and nowhere, rising through the ranks through sheer competency. He respected it. Then there was John Robolts, the Chief Justice of the company’s legal department, a former judge who was trying to keep the corporation in line with the law. Their newest hire, Max Dolair, a talented finance graduate who they had brought in almost a year ago as their new Chief Financial Officer, in order to get their finances under control. Finally, Edgar Bravecog, the Senior Vice President of Sales (a title he had given himself)-- charismatic and charming, he had been Robert’s roommate at one point in the distant past, arriving out of the blue and proposing COGS Inc diversify into selling. It had been a good move at the time, and it was one that might just save the company.
Robert had dressed smartly for the meeting, a navy, zigzag-striped suit framing his head just nicely. Thomas was the first to arrive, the cog nodding his head (one that looked remarkably similar to the ottomans the Sellbots tried to sell) to Robert and taking a seat, stretching out his spindly body. Next came the other four department heads, who had all received extensive body upgrades as part of their work. Massive, towering over the previous two arrivals, they moved on tank treads, with an undercarriage containing all their inner workings whilst their upper bodies were suspended from it by some pistons, the Chief Justice’s own decorated a little like a court bench. Craig had only just come from a golfing session, and still wore both the golf cap and his golfing suit.
Thomas was the first to speak, his slightly monotone voice rumbling onward, like the death toll of an approaching army. “This is a crisis meeting. Our company has completely run out of any raw resources, and we do not have the ability to acquire more. Using Mr. Dolair’s current projections, minus any and all revenue from the sales of coal, oil and gas, we are to experience at a minimum an eighty-two percent drop in revenue.”
The room, which had previously been relaxed, then quietly stunned, broke into nervous clamor and arguments. Max was the first to speak, his built-in calculating unit already having worked out the bad news. “But… with that kind of loss, why, we’d be bankrupt in less than three months! We have to trim the fat and cut costs, immediately!” Anticipating his own Bossbot department’s role in such, Craig cut in. “Mr. Robolts, your Lawbot department will need to shrink dramatically to accommodate these budgetary constraints. There’s no other way to do it.” The Chief Justice fingered a little at the blindfold he wore (for justice was blind, after all), before speaking up in his booming tones. “That’s all well and good, but what of Mr. Bravecog’s efforts? Was his entire pitch not to help support the company and keep us afloat in these changing times? I fail to see his contribution here!” He pointed his accusatory finger at the wall, for he could not actually see where Edgar was. The VP, for his part, spoke up defensively. “It’s not my fault that we’ve seen no funding to scale up our sales efforts, is it? Dolair could hardly liberate a few cogbucks for us! How are we supposed to work with that?!”
Robert sighed. His headache was intensifying as the department heads continued to point fingers and blame eachother. He cleared his throat. Nothing. No response. Waiting a few more moments, his irritation growing, he finally spoke, his voice cold and clipped. “Gentlemen.” Silence instantly fell. “I want all of you to reduce your department’s budgets to the bone. Lay off as many cogs as necessary. There will be no discussion or argument. We will survive this storm.” And though this was an order, it was not one that would be fulfilled.
The elevator at the far end of the meeting room, built large enough to accommodate the hulking department heads, opened, revealing a cog wearing the same suit as Thomas and Robert, a Boardbot. He had a grin on his face, thin frame carrying a large box as he interrupted the meeting. He was a strange-looking cog, one who enjoyed wearing monocles and top hats. In fact, a few of the lower-ranked Boardbots had begun to copy his style, but he was unmistakably the Director of Land Acquisition. He had acquired the position through his inheritance of a large amount of land.
“I hope you have a good reason for this… interruption.” Robert growled, his eyes narrowing into a glare. Whilst ordinarily this glare would almost certainly have intimidated any cog into silence, this was not the case. “I’ve found something.” He began, before continuing. “A massive area of land, chock full of everything we need. It’s inhabited, but cog laws don’t govern it whatsoever, and the local area doesn’t even seem to know of our existence. There’s a city there, but the inhabitants… they’re inefficient, unproductive. It seems ripe for a hostile takeover. It’s perfect.”
Robert allowed himself to smile. Taking a look through the box, he removed a few photographs of the city taken from above, the various colours making him grimace. Had they never heard of how to stop things clashing? According to the documents, the locals called it ‘Toontown’. After a few long moments of deliberation, he spoke up. “Begin drafting plans for an expansion into this new market.”
Robert Cyger would not let his company die if it was the last thing he did. Whether the residents of Toontown wanted them there or not, COGS Inc would muscle its way into that market.