Chapter 8

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"What the hell do you think you're doing?" you snapped, striding into the clearing.

Wilbur glanced up from what seemed to be a burger grill, while Ranboo poked a head out from behind Wilbur. Ranboo glanced nervously over at Wilbur, who's face broke out into a huge smile. "Y/n! How lovely of you to join us, I was just demonstrating to Ranboo the proper technique to grill a burger," he grinned, waving his hand, and almost tossing his spatula straight into the food truck.

You glanced around the clearing. It did look like just that--there was a pile of firewood by the food truck, some frozen hamburger buns, and some cows in a pen.

"And why, exactly, do you need to grill burgers?" you continued.

Wilbur set down the spatula, wiping his hands on his apron. "Well, because we're starting our very own burger van, of course!" he exclaimed.

What.

Out of all things, that was not what you were expecting.

"You're right next to Las Nevadas land."

"Meaning we're legally allowed to be here!"

"What are you playing at? Why are you starting a burger van?" you asked, more confused than anything.

"Well, Quackity is all about healthy competition, right? If he won't let me join his country, I'll just make my own. A little competition, in the name of capitalism. Surely you understand!"

"You're starting another country," you said flatly, your mind still caught on that part.

Wilbur's eyes widened beneath his cracked glasses, and he waved his hands hurriedly and frantically. "No, no, no. I don't want to make another country, I'm making a rival business. Of course I wouldn't make another country, that's so last thirteen years!"

You frowned. You weren't entirely sure what to do, but you couldn't call Quackity either. Whatever--you'd just fake it until you made it.

"Ranboo," you said directly, "is Wilbur forcing you to be here?"

Ranboo laughed, a little sadly. "Oh, no. Philza is."

"Philza?"

This was just getting more and more bizarre.

Ranboo nodded in confirmation. You glanced around the clearing, completely out of ideas. Finally, you settled on a course of action.

"Don't cut down any more trees," you ordered, tapping the bark of one of the few remaining trunks, "These are legally protected under Las Nevadas's conservation of wildlife law. You'll be fined for the fifty you've already cut down."

Wilbur smirked. "Alright, alright. Now, would you like to try one of our demonstration burgers?"

You glanced at the patty, which was still a little pink. You couldn't imagine eating one of those. "No. And if any of your customers get salmonella, you're going to court for intentional poisoning. I wouldn't trust those burgers within a mile of me."

"Well then stay a mile away from us!" Wilbur snapped, his patience finally running out, and the sparks of his temper flaring up, "Our business is none of yours. Go back to fancy Las Nevadas, and quit trying to catch us for crimes we didn't commit!"

"You still haven't been acquitted of all your war crimes involving L'manberg," you reminded, "I'd watch out for that first."

And with that, you turned around, heading back for Las Nevadas, and leaving Wilbur silent.

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