Chapter Text
It was pathetic, sneaking around Las Nevadas in the dead of night. Slinking around corners, narrowly avoiding the visitors that graced the casino country. In the waning hours he could hear the scolding voice of Phil echoing in his head, admonishing him for what he was doing. He had long learned to tune it out.
Stalking. Yeah right. He wasn't stalking Quackity. He was just keeping an eye on him. He knew the guy was up to something and he was going to find out what. He was just making sure it wasn't anything bad. No other reason. If he took a few souvenirs while observing who was going to call him out? Certainly not Tommy.
Wilbur suspected that Tommy knew of his late night excursions, he had caught him eyeing the knick-knacks that decorated his office once or twice. Tommy never mentioned it though. Wilbur hoped it stayed that way. The last thing he needed was Tommy of all people calling him out. That wasn't how their relationship was supposed to work. Tommy was a child, Wilbur was his big brother. Wilbur knew better, always.
Wilbur decided that it didn't matter what Tommy thought. It wasn't like Tommy could do anything about it even if he did have problems with it.
Besides, there were bigger things to worry about. Like Quackity.
Being banned from Las Nevadas did put a damper on his plans, but that was only a temporary setback. It certainly hadn’t stopped Wilbur from sneaking in. By now he had familiarize himself with the layout and most of the security that roamed the place.
Slime by far was the easiest to deal with. Mostly. Slime was seemingly everywhere, in the walls, on the ceilings, peering from inside the machines. Slime could be seen in just about every corner of Las Nevadas. Wilbur had even seen Slime crawling out from a discarded pizza box. Slime was weird, but ultimately harmless to Wilbur’s endeavors. There were even a few times when Slime was helpful, divulging information on future projects and secret entrances without seeming to realize what was going on or what was actually being revealed.
Foolish was a different story entirely. He was friendly, but Wilbur never saw him all that often. He seemed preoccupied with his own project and was rarely seen around. Wilbur had heard rumors about his supposed divinity, but he had yet to see any proof of that for himself. The few times he had seen Foolish he was odd. Almost out of place, Wilbur couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. The strange golden shark-man was clumsy and awkward. Wilbur was confused as to why he was hired to be security in the first place.
Sam by far, was the most intimidating of the three regulars. Dressed in golden armor and always weilding a trident, imposing, solid, and with a stoic glare to match. His impressive height meant that he was one of the few people who were taller than Wilbur. Well, most of the time. Wilbur couldn't quite figure it out, but every time he saw Sam, something was just a little different. The way he walked, the way he talked, even his looks changed. The fur that covered most of him changed patterns, his eyes were a different colour, sometimes even the number of legs and arms he had changed too. Wilbur could also swear that he saw more than one Sam at once. If he saw Sam he would usually turn back around, no need to deal with all that.
Wilbur was only here tonight because of some information that Slime had revealed to him earlier in the week. Apparently, there was a meeting happening in the strip club. An odd place for a meeting that's for sure, certainly not the kind of place one goes to discuss infrastructure. Wilbur had thought it suspicious enough to warrant a visit.
Wilbur squinted through the heavy haze of the club. Security had been surprisingly lax. Wilbur almost lamented the effort he took to sneak in. Dark green contacts covered his now slightly milky eyes, red tinted glasses rested on his face for good measure. A fairly thick layer of concealer and foundation hid his waxy skin and discoloured scars where he had been stitched back together. His skeletal frame, usually hidden by a baggy yellow sweater and a long tattered trench coat, was replaced by slightly more form fitting clothes. Maybe the burgundy beanie was a bit too recognizable but he hadn’t wanted to go through the hassle of hair dye.
The person who was manning the door didn’t spare him a second glance. They didn't even check for any sort of identification. Wilbur worried for the security of the place, if even he could sneak in without any issues. Not because he was worried or -Prime forgive him- scared for anyone who may or may not be inside.
The lights were dim and tinted red, the club hummed with the murmur of people, the atmosphere heavy with smoke and lust. Wilbur took a deep breath and stepped inside. The smell of sweat, cigarettes and alcohol filled his nostrils. There was a low pop song playing in the background, the bass heavy and thumping. He took a moment to look around, the club was fairly empty. Most people were hanging out at the bar and a few had taken seats near the ends of the walkways and in plush leather chairs that were scattered around the room.
He scanned the room trying to be subtle, it didn't take long for him to spot Quackity. It was hard not to. Dressed in a bright white shirt, buttons undone just enough to show the beginning swirl of a tattoo. Black suspenders ran from his shoulders. A gold tooth could be seen glaring at Wilbur every time he opened his mouth to speak. He was sitting on a plush red couch, his three other companions in their own separate chairs. He seemed comfortable, leaning back, head tilted up only occasionally acknowledging the others.
There was a certain casualness to his actions that made Wilbur roll his eyes, he wasn't jealous, no of course not. He was just irritated watching him lean back like he hadn't a worry on his mind, like he was king of the world. He acted like he had better things to do than sit around and talk with people.
Wilbur despised him.
But he was here on a mission, he couldn't let insignificant things like irritation get in his way.
He tried to move closer, to hear more of the conversation. He knew he had to get closer than he would have liked, although it wasn’t that loud a persistent ringing and muffled sounds -a byproduct that hadn’t faded after his revival- made hearing things difficult. It made stealth missions like this one especially hard.
He froze as he made eye contact with Quackity, lazy eyes drifted up and down his body, scanning over dark clothes and lithe frame. Wilbur tried to stand up straight, projecting what he hoped was an aura of confidence. He felt his bones creak in his spine, protesting against the tense posture. He prayed to every god in XD’s pantheon that Quackity didn’t recognize him through the layers of makeup and late night haze.
His mission was already going south, there was no way Quackity was going to talk about his plans while he knew someone was listening. Wilbur should have turned around. He should have left.
But he didn't.
He could hear Phil in the back of his head, warning him. Telling him in that condescending tone of his, how bad of an idea this was. His dad’s heavy accent grated on the back of his skull. Wilbur, ignoring every logical bone in his body, sat down. He was only a few chairs away, close enough that he could make out who Quackity’s other companions were but definitely not close enough to hear what was being said.
He leaned back in his chair, desperately trying to appear casual. For a moment he thought he had gotten away with it as Quackity’s eyes swept back over his frame.
His heart started to jackrabbit in his chest as sharp teeth flashed him. That golden tooth shining against needle sharp pearly whites.
Quackity was laughing at him.
That got the attention of his companions as they all turned to look at him, a golden hand came to rest on Quackity’s shoulder as a similarly sharped toothed man gave him a questioning look. Quackity merely shook his head and went to stand.
Wilbur’s eyes widened as Quackity casually strutted over.
"So what brings you here tonight, pretty boy?" Wilbur knew that he was taller than Quackity, it was something that he had often taken great joy in reminding the other of, but now, under casino chip eyes, he felt small.
"It's clearly not for the entertainment." Quackity smirked, grin sharp as he gave a shrug in the direction of the dancers. Wilbur's eyes darted over to the walkways. In truth, he hadn’t even noticed them until now, much to focused on his mission.
“So, why are you here?"
Wilbur was lost for words. This was all going so badly, and the longer he stayed, the worse it was going to get.
"What’s wrong Wilbur?" Quackity’s grin widened as he leaned in close. He looked as if he was the cat that had gotten the canary. Wilbur may have found some amusement in the metaphor if his heart hadn’t stopped for the fourth time.
Quackity waltzed in front of him, his movements smooth and seductive.
"Did you really think that I wouldn't know you were coming? Slime told me the minute you set foot in my country." He spoke as if he was trying to hold in laughter. "Wilby, you really are to predictable." A gold ringed hand reached out to hold his cheeks.
"Don't call me that." Wilbur spat, finally getting a grip on himself. He batted the hand away from his face.
"Aw, and why not. It suits you so well, little Wilby." He purred, the teasing tone underlined with a threat.
"Just, don’t." Wilbur knew his protests were weak, and from the grin on Quackity’s face, he knew it too.
"You come into my country, try to spy on me and you think you have any right to tell me what to do?" That finally brought a laugh from Quackity’s throat, Wilbur could feel the disbelief and condescension from where he was sitting.
Wilbur had had enough, he rose from his seat, nearly knocking into Quackity.
"Where you going Wilby? Thought we were having fun." Wilbur had already started to walk away when Quackity spoke again a snarl coming from his lips.
"Come on Wilby, I thought that this is what you wanted? Isn't that why you’ve been stalking me for months now?" Wilbur froze, he had no idea that Quackity was aware of his actions.
Quackity’s cackle haunted him as he ran from the strip club.