It was a calm wintry night in Goldcrown Town. A girl walked at a steady pace through the cold windy streets, no doubt walking home to get out of the frigid air.
As she walked the wind suddenly shifted, blowing strongly against her face. As she squinted, the wind stopped suddenly, allowing her to open her eyes.
And it wasn't just the wind.
Time itself had stopped.
The girl looked around, her orange and yellow scarf swinging with her neck's every movement.
She finally saw what looked like a grandfather clock, standing atop a roof across the street from her, and a voice came from the clock as its face swung opened like and old door.
"Good to see you again, little Duck."
She knew that voice. She knew it rather well. Not friend, not foe, but something strange in between. The Writer.
"Nice to see you too Mr. Drosselmeyer..."
How long had it been since the writer stepped out of her life? It seemed so long ago now… So long since she became…
"You don't sound too thrilled to see me child."
She was pulled out of her thought by the writer's interruption. To be honest, she didn't trust the writer before her. His sadistic love of tragedy had caused enough trouble for herself, as well as her loved ones, already.
"What do you want?"
She asked in the friendliest tone she could muster.
"I've been around the worlds and skipped through time, all to find something more fun than tragedy!"
She didn't like where this was going. Not at all.
"Did you find anything… Mr. Drosselmeyer?"
Drosselmeyer laughed, his eyes showing inside the clock.
"Have you ever heard of, a CROSSOVER, little Duck?"