Redemption's Overrated

5. Things Go Right (For Once)

The day of the inauguration comes, and for the first time in weeks, I actually wake up on time. I lie in bed for a minute, thinking about what could happen if today goes as planned.

Schlatt's deal was... intriguing to say the least. Apparently he and Quackity have a coalition in place, which might be enough to overtake Wilbur. And for some reason, he wanted me in on it.

Unofficially, of course. Corresponding with a felon is usually not that great for your political campaign.

So here I am, putting on my L'manburg suit about thirty minutes before my escort is even scheduled to arrive. I look at my reflection in the mirror, messing with my hair. Look at me, actually putting effort into my appearance. Not that I need to. I'm hot as hell.

I absentmindedly rub my shoulder, tracing the outline of the scars hidden by my sleeves. A little habit I've picked up.

Did you really think those injuries would leave me without a mark?

My entire right shoulder and upper arm is pale, scarred over from the gruesome burns of the acid. A long jagged line, caused by Mr. Innit's axe, is also visible when my arm is exposed. Not to mention all the scars on my chest.

At least they look badass.

Still sucks that respawning didn't fix them, though.

I head out of my room, taking one last look at my, frankly quite amazing, appearance as I leave. I walk into my kitchen and make some breakfast.

Today I made some fruit with a glass of milk. Basically just some apples, watermelon, and berries in a bowl. Truly, I am the greatest chef to ever walk the face of the earth.

I'm about halfway through my breakfast when I hear a knock at the door, which I promptly ignore. Strangely, I don't hear another one for about five minutes. Usually everyone gives me no time to do sh*t, but apparently my escort has decided to be gracious today. I shove the rest of my food into my mouth and quickly wash my bowl. I walk over to the door and sigh before opening it.

"HOLA AMIGO!" A cheery voice says, and quite loudly at that. Quackity is standing on my porch, hands in the pockets of his dress pants. He's dressed quite nicely, actually. He's in a suit and everything. I mean, it is a pretty important day today. Still, not even something as important as the election can get this man to part with his beanie, which is still on his head. He is also sporting some sunglasses, giving him a... conflicting look.

Not something I would wear, but given my style I don't think I'm one to judge.

Ah, who am I kidding, my style is amazing. This idiot, on the other hand, could use some pointers. At least he sorta pulls it off.

"Hey Quackity."

"No need to be so formal! We're business partners, remember man? Just call me Big Q!"

"I am not doing that."

"C'mon man, loosen up a little!"

"I only loosen up when I'm drunk, which, unfortunately, I am not."

He hums in response. We stand on the porch for another minute in uncomfortable silence. Quackity clears his throat. "Um, you coming?"

I roll my eyes. "I can't. Unless you want me to die from electrocution, I need you to turn my monitor off."

"OH SH*T! SORRY 'BOUT THAT!" He digs through his pockets and I look up at the sky.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"Not anything in particular, I just can't look at you while you turn my monitor off."

"Why?"

"They don't trust me not to try to escape."