Prologue: Just Another Manic Monday

Once upon a time, Clank was reading on the virtues of technical horology. The afternoon couldn't have been better.

THUD!

Then, something crashed onto their roof hard enough to knock paintings off the walls and crack the ceiling foundations. It shocked Clank quite thoroughly, and he almost fell off the couch. He tensed, looking upwards with wide eyes.

"Ratchet, you…heard that too, correct?" asked Clank, eyeing their unsteady ceiling fan. He looked over to the couch perpendicular to his.

His best friend was asleep, which was peculiar since Ratchet had been awake six minutes ago. Now he was passed out, one arm hanging off the side of the couch, remote settled in hand. The holo-vid was still on from where he had been watching cartoons.

Clank was annoyed. So annoyed, he failed to hear the heavy footfalls traveling across their roof. He set his book aside and slid off the couch, muttering, "How many times have I told him to turn off that holo-vid before he sleeps…?"

However, he hadn't quite made it to the door when a large green fist punched in from the outside. It fumbled around a few seconds before finding the doorknob and then unlocked the door.

"Da-viiid!" Qwark took the door off its hinges as he let himself into their apartment. "I'm ho-oome!"

Clank was prepared to scold him for the property damage, but he was distracted by Qwark's appearance. Even though he was in a business suit, Qwark looked anything but professional. He looked like he had lived in his mother's basement for years and had finally come up for air. He was mousy, disheveled, and there were hideous shadows under his eyes.

"Qwark, are you alright?" asked Clank, concerned. "You seem a bit at ends…or a lot, rather."

"Of course I'm at ends, Clank. I do my stretches every morning." Qwark set their door back into place then noticed Ratchet on the couch, who had finally began stirring at all the noise.

When Ratchet opened his eyes, he saw Qwark's face hovering over his—eyes bloodshot, and wearing a wide, manic grin. It was like waking up to a nightmare. Ratchet let out a scream of terror.

"YES!" Qwark yelled back, holding his arms out. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you too, Ratchet!"

Ratchet avoided Qwark's hug, quickly moving to the other side of the couch. "What the heck, dude?! What have I told you about watching me in my sleep?"

"Oh, I couldn't be bothered to remember," Qwark answered truthfully. "Besides, I keep more important things to remember in my brain. I mean, there's limited space in there, let's be real."

"Qwark, why are you here—" Ratchet then noticed the door, staring for several long moments. "…uh, I didn't do that, did I?"

"No, that was all me! I've been searching for you guys the whole morning! You wouldn't believe what I've been through," Qwark rolled his eyes, leaning his head to the side. "I mean, first I had to go ahead and forget where you guys lived…"

"How—" began Ratchet.

"I had to try to ask around for directions. I went to an old folk's home, a hospital," Qwark counted off on his fingers, "then a library, and the police station around the corner! Can you believe the cops kicked me out for causing a ruckus? I mean, you'd break down if you couldn't find your friends. But! Thankfully, I ran into a good Samaritan who gave me a lift to your cheap apartment! Humble guy, really—too bad I missed his name."

"Sounds to me you've been tormenting people the entire morning, including us," said Ratchet. "Qwark…are you okay? You look like you just murdered someone but don't know how to feel about it."

"That's oddly specific," said Qwark. "What was I saying?"

Clank shut his eyes, rubbing at his face. "…you were looking for us and got lost?"

"Oh. Yes. One moment."

Qwark's eyes glazed over as his brain processed what he had to do next. It was clearly difficult and his face distorted into an ugly grimace as he thought. Ratchet snorted, making Clank shake his head at him in disapproval.

"…oh, there we go!" Qwark announced proudly, tapping the side of his head. "I had to rummage around the think tank for a minute."

He pulled out a flyer from his coat pocket and handed it to Clank, who began reading it aloud. "Congratulations, you have been selected for the Big DEE events…"

"…where only the most ambiguously rational may apply!"

The holo-vid was abuzz, showing a view of a large, vaguely dome shaped structure in space. A familiar face popped up in the picture, with a grin that gleamed like the stars. "I'm your host, Dallas Wannamaker, and boy do I have a story for you!"

He held his arms out to the side as a different view of the dome came up. "This is the newly built, all fancy Dome of Effective Entertainment! Big enough to hold a city, annnd city events! It's big! It's girthy! Folks, it'll have everything you need! It's a whole new world out there! It's the Big DEE!

"But wait, there's more! Here, at the Big DEE, a series of events will be held! They will mark a new turn in the entertainment industry." Dallas leaned towards the screen in a manner of conspiracy, adding, "According to the Director, that is. These events are designed to be all fun, all entertaining to those participating and those watching!

"And WHO'S participating?! Why, only the best—just kidding! It'll be those who have grit! Those who don't mind the leniency of the rules, those who LOVE the lack of firm liability! Enter at your own risk, 'cause I ain't paying for the hospital bill, ha ha ha…!

"Folks, these are the events at the Big DEE! Check it out and sign up for a reservation—or else you'll get yours taken!"

The commercial ended.

"Well, what a convenient time for that to air," said Clank.

"You mean you've never seen it before?" asked Qwark, shocked. "Not with all the publicity and advertising it's been getting here? Even Sasha helped sponsor the events!"

"Oh, really," said Ratchet. "Well, we've uh, been kinda to ourselves for a while."

"It could also have something to do with you watching more cartoons than the news lately," said Clank.

"There's probably a ton other important news you missed, then!" Qwark exclaimed. "Did you hear about me buying my third star cruiser? No? What about Skrunch getting his PhD in astrophysics and minoring in child care management? Ooh ooh, did you hear about Stuart Zurgo breaking out of house arrest—"

"Oh yeah, and he accidentally flew into a star trying to escape law enforcement," Ratchet said, then chuckled a bit. "Yeah, heh, we heard about that one…so what, you came here to give us a personal invite to those events?"

"Yeah! For a while now, I've been extending invitations to dozens of other potential candidates across three separate galaxies!" said Qwark. "I ended up way behind schedule…can you believe the time?"

He showed them his wrist. On it was a drawn on watch that had ten hands and nothing but zeros on its face.

"Well, you being so busy explains why you look…the…way you do," Clank chose his words carefully. Qwark was clearly unstable, and a bit too big for their apartment. One wrong word and their entire living room would be reduced to a smoldering pile of ash.

"It's no big deal," said Qwark stupidly, smiling. Now they knew he was delirious. "And you guys are the last stop, anyway. There was this WHOLE HOOPLA about asking you to come."

"Why?"

"Beats me, I wasn't paying attention during the meeting with the other event staff," said Qwark. "I did come around to the Director deciding to invite you both. And to that I agreed! So, I skeeted over here as fast as possible. Got a little off track, but I made it, didn't I? Aren't I dedicated?"

Qwark stuck his chest out, looking pleased with himself. Ratchet did a poor job at hiding his laugh behind a cough. "Yeah. You're, uh, something else, alright."

"I appreciate the sentiment, James. So, what do you guys think?"

Ratchet tightened his muzzle and shot a look at Clank, whose expression was that of hesitance. Of course, they both knew that anything Qwark was a part of was likely disastrous at best.

"Your tenacity is appreciated, Qwark," said Clank finally. "But I—"

"Now, Clank," said Qwark warmly, "You know I always want the best for you two."

"Yes…I have a question, however. What do you have to do with the events, Qwark? Are you a highly paid spokesman?"

"Or," Ratchet added, "are ya clout chasing again?"

They didn't know if Qwark's reaction was more startling or sudden—he immediately burst like a dam, tears flooding out of his eyes like water spouts. He scooped them up, bringing them close so their faces touched. "NOOOO!" he wailed.

"What question were you answering?" asked Clank.

"Couldn't have been mine," said Ratchet.

"Oh, stop Ratchet…"

"I'm just the event supervisor! Someone else was already chosen to be the spokesman!" cried Qwark. Then his face exploded with manic rage. Ratchet and Clank feared for their lives.

Qwark stood up, dangling his friends from his arms. "People can just butt in where they don't belong 'cause they have money and some charisma! I have all five of those things, and THEN some! Now I can't represent you sorry sacks the way I want to!"

He abruptly turned passive. "Being you guys' ward is a self-reflective journey I've put myself on," he said calmly.

"That is…considerate of you?" said Clank.

Qwark carelessly dropped them, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

"Yes, it is. And you know what? I've got to try to keep my head up for you plebeians. I've got better things to do than mope around. It's time to take further action, Qwark-style!"

He turned towards the wall, then ran at it yelling, "Oh, yeah!" He crashed through like it was made of chalk, leaving a plume of dust, rubble, and drywall in his wake. When it cleared, there was a Qwark-shaped hole in their living room wall. Ratchet and Clank came to gaze out the opening.

Qwark ran and jumped off the edge of the apartment grounds—they were on the top floor—and fell all the way down into the traffic of ships. He landed on the hood of a police cruiser, badly startling the rookie inside.

"Hi, officer!" Qwark yelled, pressing his face into the windshield. "Can you give me an escort? This is an important matter!"

Over the noise of horns and police sirens, Clank turned and looked at Ratchet.

"Oh boy, what'd I do?" asked Ratchet.

"Clout chasing? Really, Ratchet? That was what set him off!"

"How was I supposed to know he'd snap and run through a wall?"

Clank tilted his head to the side, lowering his eyelids. They had to spend the rest of the day repairing the wall—and the front door.

"There…"

By the time they were done, darkness had long settled over Metropolis. Ratchet stepped back from the wall he had finished painting over.

"Big oaf…" Ratchet muttered, dropping the brush into the can of paint. "Just what we need, property damage that isn't even caused by me…"

He kicked the can, making it slide along the floor. No sooner than it had hit the wall, Clank spoke. "Ratchet, do not kick the paint can. If it tips over that will be another mess we have to clean up!"

Clank walked out from behind the couch, holding a broom and dustpan. "I just finished getting up all of the dust and nonsense he left behind. It went everywhere. Absolutely ridiculous!"

"Well, what do you think?"

"I am almost finished. I am not pleased with the amount of fur I found back there, either."

"No, I'm not talking about…just stop nagging for a moment, will you? I'm talking about those events."

Clank had been so sullen and quiet during the cleanup he had never brought the topic up.

"Oh. Well," Clank emptied the dustpan in the trash. "It seems interesting."

"Sounds like it could be fun, right?"

"Your definition of fun varies from my own, but I suppose."

"And hey…didn't he mention Sasha helped sponsor the events?" said Ratchet. "Last time I checked, she wasn't too big on sports."

"Yes, and if she were to support anything, I would think it is very well regulated. Perhaps the events will not be as extreme as they were advertised…"

"Spoilsport," said Ratchet, crossing his arms.

"You Type As are something else," Clank said, grinning. "I am curious to know who the Director of the events are. I would imagine anyone who could do something like this must be wealthy and resourceful."

"Yeah, and good news is that Qwark doesn't seem to have a lot of influence here," said Ratchet. "If he's crying about his position, then that means it probably limits his stupidity."

The wall exploded over Ratchet, knocking him to the ground. Clank narrowed his eyes at the figure lurching into their living room. "Qwark!" he said fiercely.

"Hey, Clank! Bet you thought I'd left you hanging, eh?" said Qwark, dusting himself off. He didn't look any more rested than he had earlier.

Ratchet's hand seized the end of Qwark's tie and yanked hard, forcing his head down. The Lombax rose up from the pile of rubble he'd been buried under until he was eye level with Qwark, bristling.

"You are asking for it!" Ratchet snarled. "Qwark…use. The. DOOR. Not the wall! If you do that again, I'll pound you!"

Qwark looked hopeful. "You will?"

After a slightly awkward pause, Clank threw up his hands, scowling. "Oh, what did you have for us, Qwark?!"

"Yes, right! Since you accepted entry to the games—"

"Technically, we didn't. You screwed off before we could even answer," said Ratchet, releasing Qwark's tie so it snapped back into his face.

"…but…but you HAVE to come!" Qwark exclaimed. "You're COMING, right? I won't be able to sleep at night knowing you're not there! Please, please, please, come come come, PLEASE…"

"Enough!" Clank scolded, raising his voice. "I do not have an issue with coming!"

"Me neither, it's official from the both of us," said Ratchet. "There, now please stop whining."

Qwark dried up faster than a prostitute in rehab. "Oh, that makes Qwark happy! Now we can continue! Ahem...now, you're ready for your invitations to the extra super special and fancy banquet the Director is hosting for all of his future competitors. Formal events bring us all together, you know."

"Not really," said Ratchet, dreading the news a bit. He had launched his last and only suit into a volcano and was annoyed he had to get a new one.

Qwark dug in his pocket, adding, "Oh, another thing. You have until up to two weeks before the events begin to settle on a name, but start thinking of what to call your team-pair. Something you'll be proud of, something that'll speak for itself! I recommend Team Qwark."

"Absolutely not." Clank said, making Ratchet erupt into laughter. Then, so Qwark wouldn't get sad and break something else, he added, "I mean, no thank you. We…will think of one, Qwark."

Chuckling, Ratchet waved a hand. "Ahhh, it's no big deal. What's important is how we'll be cruising through those events like they're nothing. We have all the—"

"That's a good one! Team Cruise!" Qwark said loudly. "Perfect for two rough and tumble people like you! Let me write that down, using the pencil and paper…of my mind."

He squinted for several seconds; a dim smile slowly grew on his face.

"Qwark, you're starting to scare us," said Ratchet.

"Starting?" Clank questioned, then looked at Qwark. "You clearly need rest. Give us the banquet invitation. And can you at least tell us the name of the Director?"

"Oh, sure. It's…Gooouughhh...?"

Qwark trailed off, going slack in the face. "…you know...I can't really remember right now," he said blankly.

With a groan Ratchet smacked his face, pulling down until the pink of his eyelids showed.

"Never mind, Qwark," Clank deadpanned, holding out his hand.

"I want a hug," said Qwark, pulling the invitation from his pocket and flinging it to Clank. "Like, really. I don't get enough of them. Ratchet, can I stroke you?"

"No."

"Not even gently?"

"That's even worse."

Clank caught the invitation. "When Ratchet says no, he means yes."

"WHAT! Don't teach him things like that!" Ratchet exclaimed. "…Qwark, let go of my tail!"

Clank ignored them for a moment. The invite sported a snapshot of a fancy, smart-looking building. Superimposed in front of it was a short message:

Greetings! We're pleased to see you've chosen to participate in our events!
At the banquet, we would like to get you familiarized with others who are like minded like you, and to give everyone a chance to offer their thoughts and questions to the event staff! It will be a pleasure seeing you there!

The Director, Guzman

"Alright," Clank muttered, barely glancing at the directions as he flipped the card over. There he saw a list of names.

Guzman V…...Director

Ophelia T…...Event Manager

Karen M…...Event Spokesman

Copernicus Q…...Event Supervisor

"Ratchet, please don't hide from me," Qwark whined.

Clank looked up. Ratchet had wedged himself behind one of the couches, ducking well out of Qwark's reach. Clank could easily see their furniture being hurtled through a wall within the next few seconds and intervened quickly. "Qwark, the Director has specific qualifications, yes?"

"Huh? Oh, I guess," said Qwark. "He's not a fussy kind of guy. Sort of timid, really. I'd say he wants folk that'll help promote his brand and look good while doing it. You both look good doing a lot of things, just letting you know."

"That is very kind. But…please, stop harassing Ratchet and leave. You can always bother him later."

Ratchet poked his head out from behind the couch. "Oh, you are so gonna get it."

"I will be concerned later," Clank decided. "Qwark, should we call Skrunch to come pick you up?"

"No, I'm a grown independent adult who don't need no monkey," said Qwark.

"Then scram. And…don't hurt yourself, okay?" said Ratchet. "…come on, skeet. Uh, I mean, scoot. I'm not moving until you leave."

"Okay," said Qwark. Then he passed out and fell to the floor with an awful thud. A moment later they heard their downstairs neighbors yelling furiously, pounding their ceiling with what sounded like the end of a broomstick.

Clank held his hands up to his head, looking faint. "Oh, my goodness…" he said weakly.

"That was great," said Ratchet, pulling himself out from behind the couch. "Whelp, time for tarp and staples. I'm not spending the entire night repairing that wall again."

"What do we do about him?" asked Clank, motioning to Qwark lying prone on the floor.

"Just throw a blanket over him."

"What if he suffocates?"

"Oh, well."

"Ratchet!"

"Alright, we'll flip him over first! Yeah, I said we—I'm not doing this by myself! He spent the last of his energy messing with me. Wonder how THAT happened?"

"Heh heh...now who is the one nagging?"

Clank tossed the invitation on the table, its bright letters gleaming in blissful ignorance…