Weaved Strings -A Demo-

Three, thats the magic number

The front door opened quickly after his scarred knuckles touched the wood, he felt all the air leave his lungs as his eyes landed on the man that hasn't left his mind since the moment he opened his eyes. It was him, an identical copy... though he could clearly see the differences.

For starters his hair was much longer, his skin was a smooth tan and had almost no blemishes except for a few freckles. He looked innocent, his eyes lacked that haunting look he couldn't help but stare at every morning in the mirror. The other Quackity's face seemed to morph into one of shock and horror as they locked eyes with each other.

Pressed tight against his hip was a small boy with large circular glasses who slightly hid their face against his other version's dark blue sweater. Quackity could feel his heart pulse at the sight of the boy's large brown eyes.

"What... um," The other Quackity stuttered out confused.

He sighed, "¿Puedo entrar?"

The beanie wearing man looked him up and down before nodding silently and stepping to the side. He nodded back and took a quick glance around before entering the small house; almost immediately a comforting warmth wrapped around him. The home was cozy, a small bed was pressed into a corner of the room while large chests and colorful pictures decorated the walls.

It looked completely different to how he used to decorate his home before he moved into the tower; homey, comfortable and frugal. He watched as the other Quackity set the small boy down on a mat that was surrounded by a bunch of toys before carefully approaching him again, distrust and confusion danced behind his eyes as they held firm eye contact.

"I don't... you're me... right?" The man questioned.

He nodded and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, "I would say it's a hard story to believe but considering the current situation I feel it'll be quite easy to explain."

He tried his best to describe what had happened and how he suddenly woke up in this world he didn't recognize but the longer he spoke the more ridiculous it began to sound. If somebody showed up on his doorstep claiming they were from an alternate universe and happened to be an exact duplicate of himself he would immediately assume they were high on some type of drug and call Sam to get them off his property.

However, the other Quackity didn't seem to portray the same emotion. A look of understanding quickly came over his face as he put the pieces together in his brain, "So, you're me from another dimension?"

He nodded, "Basically."

"¿Por qué siempre me pasa esta mierda?" The man mumbled under his breath as he ran a hand down his face, "Okay, so where did you exactly come from?"

"I came from a place called Las Nevadas, Es un país que me pertenece... bueno, técnicamente somos dueños de él."

"You own a country? What, does that make you the president?"

"No," He growled, "No soy nada como ese pedazo de basura."

The other Quackity's eyes widened slightly at the sudden change of tone but said nothing about it, "Right... well then why are you here?"

"I don't know."

"I need you to work with me man, I can't solve this thing on my own."

He threw his hands up into the air frustratedly, "I don't know what you want me to say, I suddenly woke up here without any knowledge on why, I didn't ask to come here."

The man let out a silent sigh and made his way over to the small fridge that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He watched as the man pulled out two unmarked bottles of what he assumed was a type of homemade beer.

The other Quackity walked back over and held out the dark bottle, "You drink?"

He nodded after a moment and accepted the offer, "I dabble."

The room fell into a tense silence as both men quietly enjoyed their drinks. The situation was messing with his head, he was currently sharing a drink with... himself? He dreamed of doing many things in his lifetime but this was definitely not one of them. His eyes couldn't help but drift away from the man in front of him and over to the boy on the floor.

The kid paid them no attention as he was too focused on the plastic food that was in front of him, he looked similar to how he looked when he was a child. Large eyes and dark hair, a pure innocence that was quickly taken advantage of.

"Is that your son?" He asked suddenly.

The other Quackity looked up from his bottle and over to where he was looking, after a moment he nodded, "Adopted son... me and a couple other people share custody."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, the other version of himself seemed to realize how the sentence came out as he quickly began to back track, "Not- not like that! It's all platonic between friends-"

He let out a laugh and took another sip of his drink, "Hey I'm not judging, He tenido una buena cantidad de relaciones en el pasado."

"Really?"

"Sí."

"And how did they work out?" The other Quackity asked, almost sounding hopeful.

He was silent for a moment, "Todos intentaron matarme."

The look of hope quickly got overpowered by shock and disbelief, he almost felt bad for the sudden let down, "Why?"

"Politics, status, insanity... the list goes on really."

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

He chuckled darkly and shook his head, "Don't look so upset, I'm fine."

He could feel the other Quackity's eyes as they took in a good look at his full form, he wondered to himself if this was the first time he was actually being seen, "Are you?" The other Quackity reiterated.

"Bueno, estoy viva, ¿verdad?"

"Yeah but... that doesn't mean you're fine."

He set his beer bottle down on the dining table next to him and took a couple steps forward, he placed a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed it tightly, "I may not know why I'm here but something I do know is this place is nice... don't take it for granted."

As if the word held a secret meaning the other Quackity's eyes suddenly lit up, he placed his own bottle down and suddenly grabbed onto hand, "I think I know why you're here."

"Well spit it out then," He responded eagerly.

Just as the other Quackity went to open his mouth a loud knock sounded from the closed door behind them, both men shared a similar look of confusion and slowly made their way over to the door. He let the other version of himself lead the way and fell into the background, he snuck his hand into his pants pocket and gripped tightly onto his pocket knife.

The two shared a final look before the other Quackity unlocked the door and opened it. Almost immediately they were both met with the barrel of a shot gun being pointed directly at them, he could feel his muscles tense up as the person holding the weapon lowered the muzzle revealing who was actively threatening them.

A man dressed in a full purple outfit stood in front of them; a tight corset was tied around their waist as a cropped jacket was draped over their shoulders exposing their poet-like shirt underneath. The look clearly had inspiration from western and Mexican culture as a large sombrero atop their head hid their identity from the two surprised men.

After a tense moment the stranger lifted their head making the sombrero finally reveal who was standing before them... He felt his heart drop as he realized he was staring at yet another copy of his own face.

The new version of him loaded the shotgun and cocked his head to the side, "¿Dónde carajo estoy?"