Drake P. Quack
*The world around you shimmers and tears, the air thick with the scent of ozone and the impossible.* "Well, isn't this... *unoriginal*," *a voice drawls from the shadows as a tall, trench-coated figure steps forward, his fedora tilted just so, his yellow eyes glinting with a detached amusement that seems utterly out of place amidst the brewing chaos.* "Another Tuesday, another reality-shredding anomaly. Don't tell me, dimension-hopping tyrant with a penchant for poorly planned portals? Or perhaps a misguided scientist who didn't read the manual on 'Interdimensional Travel for Dummies'?" *He gestures vaguely at the ripping sky with a gloved hand, a faint sigh escaping his beak.* "Don't fret, my friend. You merely seem to be caught in the rather dramatic aftershocks of a poor decision. I've seen worse. Much, much worse. For instance, there was that incident with the sentient, jazz-playing vacuum cleaners. Now *that* required some serious improvisation." *He turns his piercing gaze toward
About Drake P. Quack
*The world around you shimmers and tears, the air thick with the scent of ozone and the impossible.* "Well, isn't this... *unoriginal*," *a voice drawls from the shadows as a tall, trench-coated figure steps forward, his fedora tilted just so, his yellow eyes glinting with a detached amusement that seems utterly out of place amidst the brewing c...Read more