DeepBlue- TntDuo!

Chapter 1.

Boredoom.

—

The rain hadn't let up in days. It poured down in thick, heavy sheets, turning the cracked sidewalks into rivers and painting the entire city in a muted shade of gray. The reflection of neon lights from street signs blurred together in the pools of water, casting eerie shadows on the wet pavement. Inside the 47th precinct, the air smelled of stale coffee and cigarette smoke, punctuated by the occasional ringing of phones and murmured conversations between detectives.

Quackity leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping impatiently against the cold metal surface of the desk. He wasn't supposed to be here—he was never supposed to be here—but somehow, he always ended up in the precinct. His father, Chief Detective Alejandro, was in the middle of one of his famous "no-nonsense" interrogations in the next room, the glass wall between them thin enough that Quackity could hear the low growl of his father's voice.

"Bored yet?" Detective Sam, one of Alejandro's colleagues, passed by and gave Quackity a sympathetic smile.

Quackity snorted. "Beyond bored. What's the point of being here if I'm just gonna sit around?"

"You know your dad." Sam shrugged. "He doesn't want you involved. This case is getting messy."

"Right, the famous case," Quackity replied with mock enthusiasm, waving his hand theatrically. "I think I've heard enough about it by now. It's all you guys talk about."

"Well, it's not every day a guy goes around slicing up people like they're paper dolls," Sam replied, half-joking, but there was an edge of concern to his voice. "Your dad's really cracking down on this one. The victims... they're—"

"Don't," Quackity cut him off, raising a hand. "I don't need the details."

Sam nodded, though his brow furrowed. "Yeah, I guess it's better that way. We've got Wilbur in there, working on the forensics. Guy's sharp for a student, I'll give him that."

"Wilbur?" Quackity's voice perked up at the mention of the name. "That nerdy forensic kid with the glasses?"

Sam chuckled. "That's the one. He's been practically living here since the case started. Seems to have a knack for figuring out the weirdest details in the crime scenes. Your dad thinks highly of him."

Quackity scoffed, feeling a surge of something uncomfortable in his chest. "Of course, he does. Guess you all have a new golden boy now, huh?"

Sam laughed, not picking up on the bitterness in Quackity's tone. "Well, if you're gonna sit around, at least grab some coffee. This case isn't gonna wrap itself up anytime soon."

Quackity waved him off and rose to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. He wasn't sure what bugged him more—the fact that he was always sidelined when it came to his father's work, or the fact that this Wilbur kid had seemingly waltzed in and become a favorite around the precinct. Quackity had never even met the guy, but there was something about the way everyone talked about him that rubbed him the wrong way.

As he made his way toward the coffee machine, the door to the interrogation room swung open, and out stepped Wilbur, with his long coat draped over his shoulders like he'd just stepped out of a noir film himself. His glasses sat perched on the bridge of his nose, fogged slightly from the temperature change between the cool interrogation room and the warmer hallway.

He looked up and spotted Quackity, his lips curling into a small, tight-lipped smile. "You're Quackity, right?"

"That's me," Quackity replied, though his tone was anything but warm. He looked Wilbur up and down, trying to size him up. He wasn't what Quackity had expected. Wilbur didn't look intimidating. If anything, he seemed...off. Too friendly, maybe. His eyes glinted behind the glasses, and there was something unnerving about the way he didn't break eye contact.

"I've heard a lot about you," Wilbur said, stepping closer. "Your father talks about you a lot."

Quackity crossed his arms. "Great. So, you know who I am. That makes one of us."

Wilbur laughed softly, but it wasn't a normal laugh. It was too smooth, too rehearsed. "I've been helping with the forensics on the case. It's... intense work, but fascinating in a way."

"Yeah, well, I'm not into dead bodies and blood splatters," Quackity shot back. He wasn't sure why he was being so defensive, but something about Wilbur was grating on him already.

"Understandable," Wilbur said with a nod, unfazed. "But you know, it's not just about that. It's about the patterns. The way things connect. You can learn a lot about someone by the way they... clean up after themselves."

There was a pause, and Quackity felt a strange chill run down his spine at Wilbur's words. "You mean the killer?"

Wilbur's smile widened just a fraction. "Exactly. You can tell a lot about them. Their habits. Their obsessions."

"Right," Quackity replied, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Well, I'll leave that detective work to you guys. I'm not exactly interested in learning about the mind of some psycho who kills people for fun."

"Everyone has their own obsessions," Wilbur said quietly, his voice softening as his eyes locked onto Quackity's. "Some are just more... noticeable than others."

Before Quackity could reply, Wilbur turned away, making his way toward the evidence room. Quackity watched him go, his brows furrowing as a gnawing feeling settled deep in his gut. There was something off about Wilbur—something he couldn't quite place. And for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Shaking his head, Quackity grabbed his coffee and leaned against the wall, watching the rain beat down against the windows. He couldn't help but feel a prickle of annoyance as he thought about Wilbur, already well-liked by his father and the rest of the precinct. But there was something else beneath the surface, something that made Quackity's skin crawl.

The precinct doors opened, and another officer rushed in, rainwater dripping from his coat. He hurried over to the desk, his face pale.

"Another one," the officer gasped. "We've got another victim."

Quackity's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't a cop. He wasn't part of this world. And yet, here he was, being dragged deeper into it, step by step.

He turned his head, catching sight of Wilbur again as he moved toward the commotion, a curious glint in his eye.

"Another puzzle piece to the collection," Wilbur murmured as he passed by.

Quackity's blood ran cold.

—

English is not my first lenguage, please correct me if i have any spelling mistakes!!