The feel of the city was electric. The ducks were crowding in. The Festival always pulled the best and the worst out of Quackingwax. I was trying to be patient, waiting until the end of my day to start drinking. So, I wasn’t totally surprised that five minutes before my shift ended, this dame burst into the office with salt-stained cheeks and a sob story about her little Maximillian and his friends. I knew the names and recognized the mother was out to lunch. This little gang of duckies had some concerning hobbies that I’d have to look into. I agreed to take the case, if only to get her out of my office. As I turned the key to leave, the sights and sounds of the city hit me; the samurai and fighting ducks, wizards and geishas, the duck-racers and royalty owners. It was crazy during the festival. And I was asked to tame it... or my name wasn’t Detective Thomas Drake.