Quackity could never forget that horrid day - The day it had all went up in smoke;The day Wilbur had pressed the one button that lead to the destruction of the country that they'd worked so hard to make. But even worse, that was the day he had died. The day he had made his own father, the man that loved him so dearly, kill him with his own sword. He'd missed the man every day after that, and wished he'd could've somehow said something to change Wilbur's mind. He'd wished he'd known what the Brit was planning to do. As he trudged through the las Nevadas sand, this day clouded his thoughts. Despite trying to block it out, that day troubled him almost every waking moment.
He could remember the sudden boom from all around, so loud it made his ears ring for minutes after it stopped, the horrible smell of smoke that made his throat burn, and sight of ashes falling, to reveal him and Philza standing in that hidden room. His death, his murder, had been so public, right there for everyone to watch like some sorta sick, messed up play. The man they all trusted, the man that lead them all, dying. Right there, for everyone to witness. Go big or go home, eh? Although, he supposed, Wilbur had always been the type of person to make anything he could into a dramatic scene.
However, after months of his being gone, missing him so much and wishing he were, somehow, in some way, alive - didn't quite prepare Quackity for the shock he'd have as he saw the deadman, Wilbur Soot himself, standing at Las Nevadas's gate.
