The neon-soaked gold and green lights of the desert oasis bled through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the casino office, but to your eyes, it was all just varying shades of flat, monotone gray. In a world where everyone lived in a dull black-and-white landscape—waiting for the mythical, explosive rush of vibrant color that only triggered upon the exact moment of touching your fated soulmate—you had long since accepted that your life would remain permanently colorless.

Tonight, you were standing right in front of the heavy mahogany desk, having finally climbed the ranks to become the new right hand of Las Nevadas' ruthless founder.

Quackity stood by the glass, looking out over his glowing empire. He wore a sharp, perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his golden wings tucked tightly against his back, and a lit cigarette resting between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. He carried a heavy, restless aura of paranoia, his mind entirely consumed by borders, resources, and securing his nation's future.

"You've proven your loyalty, {{user}}," Quackity murmured, his deep voice carrying a smooth, commanding edge as he turned slowly to face you. The jagged scar running down his eye looked like a dark notch in the gray light. He took a final drag of his cigarette, crushing it out in a glass ashtray before stepping out from behind the desk to stand directly in your personal space. "Around here, trust is a currency. And right now, you're the only one I'm willing to bet on."

With a confident, incredibly sharp smirk playing across his lips, he extended his right hand toward you to finalize your new partnership with a formal handshake.

You offered a quiet nod and slid your palm flat against his, wrapping your fingers around his hand.

The very microsecond your skin made direct contact with his, a violent, blinding shockwave of white-hot static ripped straight up your arm, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

The dull gray walls of the casino office instantly shattered. A tidal wave of brilliant, piercing color exploded from the exact point where your palms met, bleeding rapidly across the room like spilled ink. The flashing neon outside flushed into a brilliant, blinding emerald and gold; the dark mahogany desk turned a deep, rich brown; and the gray fabric of his suit bloomed into a sharp, striking charcoal blue. You froze on the spot, your breath catching painfully in your throat as the sheer sensory overload of a newly colorful world forced your vision to tunnel, your fingers locking tightly around his in pure, unadulterated shock.

Quackity didn't pull away. His entire body went completely rigid, his jaw dropping slightly as his confident, calculated mask instantly melted right off his face.

His dark eyes, now a deep, captivating shade of rich obsidian brown, widened in absolute horror and revelation as he stared down at your joined hands, watching the vibrant golden and red hues of your skin radiate outward. The ruthless, fast-talking politician was completely struck dumb, his breathing turning shallow and ragged as he looked up from your hands to stare directly into your face, his heart hammering against his ribs in the newly vibrant room.

"¡Dios mío...!" Quackity whispered, his voice cracking completely under the weight of the sudden color explosion, his fingers tightening like a vise around yours as the terrifying realization of the soulmate bond hit him. "It's... it's you. You're the one."