Darkwing Duck: The Webfoot Weavings Will The Real Beth Webfoot Please Stand Up?
Act I
The trees had leaves of bright green, so vibrant that they looked as if they were glowing. In the branches of one of the trees, a delicate birds' nest was perched. The occupants of the nest were not present, but several pale blue eggs were just barely visible inside. Below, the grass was neatly and evenly trimmed all across the yard, and its colour very closely duplicated that of the leaves on the trees. The sky was also bright, a brilliant shade of blue that seemed to nearly burn itself into your head when you looked at it. A few clouds were positioned here and there in the sky. It looked like a blissful spring day.
And then a dart hit the picture.
About fifteen feet away, Beth Webfoot was sitting in a chair and tossing small rubber suction darts at the photo taped up on her wall. Out of the ten or so that she'd thrown, only three had actually hit the picture, and none had hit her intended target. Beth narrowed her eyes and tossed another of the darts, aiming for the bird's nest in the tree. She missed yet again- testament to her lifelong visual problems.
Her phone rang, and she dropped all her darts and dove to answer it. She reached it just as the first ring ended, and then stopped and ran her fingers through her hair as if she could be seen over the telephone. Then she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and picked up at the end of the second ring. "Hello?"
This routine was done for one simple, rather silly reason: Every time the phone rang, for a brief, split second, one thought ran through Beth's mind: "It could be Drake!" She knew it was stupid of her, to remain faithful to Drake Mallard when he not only didn't return her feelings, he had a girlfriend. A gorgeous girlfriend. Every time this routine was completed, she felt ashamed of herself, but nonetheless it was always performed.
"Hi, Beth!" As usual, the caller was Launchpad McQuack, not Drake Mallard. Beth told herself that she wasn't disappointed, but she knew perfectly well that deep down inside she wasn't feeling slightly empty because she'd skipped lunch. She also unwillingly remembered an odd dream she'd had a few weeks ago in which she'd had some sort of feelings for Launchpad. She hadn't known what to make of it at first, and so for a week after, she'd avoided him to keep from thinking about it. After a time, though, that just seemed to be making things worse, so she tried to talk to him about it but chickened out at the last moment. Then she'd decided it was just a dream, after all, and the effects of it would fade after awhile, so she'd tried to ignore it. Despite that, she was still having flashes of nervousness and guilt every once in a while when she talked to him. Launchpad, unaware of any of the warring feelings in Beth's mind, continued. "What'cha up to?"
"Hi, Launchpad! Nothing much. I'm tossing darts at a picture of my parents' back yard," she replied as casually as she could. "Still no bullseye, and I've been at it for nearly a half an hour."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Um...," said Launchpad after a moment, "why?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm just bored. You know, now that I think about it, it does seem kind of weird." She tore the photo down, wondering what she had been thinking. Sometimes you just got ideas for things to do that seemed normal enough at the time, but later... "So, what are you up to?"
"Aw, not much here either. Got some repairs to do around the house... Gos broke the toaster again."
"Again? As bad as the last time?"
"Not on the outside..." He chuckled.
Beth sighed. "Oh... Well, then I guess you can't drive me downtown to do some banking, then?"
Launchpad sounded disappointed. "Aw, no, I can't. But, Drake was just about togo out and run a few errands. Maybe, if you hurried over, you could go with him." There was no response. "Beth?" he said into the reciever, just as there was a knock on the door. Puzzled, he set the phone down and opened the door to reveal Beth, beaming and clutching her purse.
"You really think I could go with him?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear and still breathing hard from having rushed over. Launchpad smiled to himself. Even if she was still obsessed with Drake, she was just so darn cute.
Before he could answer, Drake came down the stairs, with Gosalyn hot on his heels. "No, you may not come along! You're banned from the athletic's store! Don't tell me you forgot the Trampoline-and-Gatorade Incident?"
"Aw, come on, Dad! That was an honest mistake! Besides, they cleaned it up!" his daughter protested loudly.
Drake shot a glare over his shoulder. "Yeah, but it cost me nearly $200. These are very important errands that I have to run, and you are not coming! That's final!"
"Oh," said Beth, who was still standing at the front door, "I guess I shouldn't ask if I can go with you to the bank, then."
Drake looked her over for a moment. "Hm. Wellllll-- You might be handy to have along. But I have a lot of errands to run, so we have to go now!" he said, and he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her with him to the car.
"What?! She can go to the athletics store and I can't?" said Gosalyn in an offended tone. "There ain't no justice."
"But Drake, I don't have to go to the athletics store!" Beth said uselessly as they left. Launchpad waved as the car pulled out of the driveway.
For two and a half hours, Beth patiently accompanied Drake on all of his errands.
It wore on Beth's nerves just a little to have to keep uselessly going from one store to the next, but she relished the time that she got to spend with him, so she kept her mouth shut about it. Finally they were finished, and he reluctantly agreed to take her to the First National Bank.
"I can't believe you were going to go to Bindler's Hardware," said Beth to Drake as they waited in line for the teller. "I could never go into that place, not after the way I quit." She sighed, remembering how she had yelled at her boss as she'd stormed out. She didn't regret her words, not a bit. In fact, she wished that she could show that kind of backbone more often.
Drake flushed a little, knowing that he had seemed insensitive. "Well, it's nearby, and it's not too expensive. Besides, it's still the only place that carries double-plait bolts."
"That's because there was a manufacturer's recall on them. They're lousy. You're not supposed to use them any more. Trust me, crimple bolts are much more effective."
"I wish I'd known that a few months ago," he muttered to himself.
"I don't," said Beth. She forced herself to look calm as she said this, but inside her heart was beating double time. "If you'd known, you might have gone to another hardware store right away, and we might never have met."
Drake looked away awkwardly. "Uh, heh, yeah, well... " He laughed nervously. He hated it when she made that silly crush of hers obvious. Rather than let the conversation go further, he opted for a blatant change of subject. "Yeah, well, that's why I let you come along. You've got experience with hardware, so I knew you'd know what would be best." She beamed, and started to say something. He tried again. "Ah, heh, this line sure is moving slow." She nodded, still smiling at him adoringly. "Uh... nice weather we're having? Hey, look it's your turn, my feet hurt, I'm going to go sit down, see ya later." With that, he beat a hasty retreat.
"Oh," said Beth. She moved up to take her place.
The bank teller smiled routinely at her. "Good afternoon, I hope you're having a nice day. Thank you for banking with First National, and I hope we continue to meet all your banking needs. How may I help you?"
"Yes, hi, how are you," said Beth automatically as she took out her wallet. "I'd like-"
"All right, everybody be cool! This is a robbery!" yelled a shrill voice behind her. The entire bank broke into concerned mumbles at this.
Beth turned to see a young teenager in a Franklin Goosevelt mask holding a gun nervously at the crowd. From the sound of his voice, he couldn't have been more than seventeen, she thought. Quickly she glanced at where Drake had been sitting; he was gone. She breathed a little easier, and turned back to the teller. "So, as I was saying-"
The robber gave another shrill yell. "Hey!" He lifted his mask, revealing a sweaty, juvenile face. "Hey, I want your attention here!! Everybody down, on the ground, now! Or I start shooting, and- and then things'll get crazy!" Beth sighed; Darkwing was sure taking his sweet time right now. She joined the rest of the people in the bank in lying down on the floor.
Just as they were almost all the way down, she heard a loud whoosh followed by an even louder proclamation: "I AM THE TERROR THAT FLAPS IN THE NIGHT! I AM THE COMBINATION SAFE YOU'LL NEVER CRACK! I... AM DARKWIIIIIIING DUCK!" Beth couldn't help grinning... That was a new one, wasn't it?
The robber began looking around the bank nervously. "Oh man, oh man," he whimpered. "It wasn't supposed to go like this."
"Give up, villain! Or face the wrath of..." Darkwing stopped when he got a good look at the youthful robber. "Oh, brother. Don't tell me, you're from the Junior League of Supervillains?"
"D-don't come any closer, or I'll shoot! I will!!"
"Ooooooh, a gun. Gee, I've never seen one of those before. Did your Mommy buy it for you?"
Beth rolled her eyes. Stop taunting him and just disarm him already, Drake, would you? she thought.
"Uh- back up with your hands in the air, and- and- get down on the, uh, the floor..."
Darkwing sounded slightly incredulous. "You really have no idea what 'having the upper hand' means, do you?"
This was going nowhere, fast. Beth gathered her courage and decided to do something. Abruptly, she stood up. "Darkwing-"
The crook yelled and whirled to face her. The gun went off.
"NO!!" yelled Darkwing, and grabbed the robber just an instant too late.
Beth screamed.
The bullet, on the other hand, had no idea about its intended target and instead soared right over Beth's head, ricocheted off one of the metal bars on the teller's window, zipped across the room, hit the marble corner (and knocked a chip out of it), angled itself down to the ground, bounced back up to the ceiling, and then repeated the process as it crossed the room. The various bankers screamed and rolled out of its way to the best of their ability, and miraculously were all successful despite the fact everyone was rolling around in opposite directions and actually bumping into each other. Beth, Darkwing, and the bank robber watched the bullet's trajectory in fascination as it continued across the room, shot back up to the ceiling, ripped through most of the base of the security camera in the corner, and then came to rest snugly in the wall.
Darkwing blinked, and looked at the robber he had tackled.
The robber blinked, and looked at Darkwing. He grinned. "Uh... hi." Darkwing's expression was nowhere near so friendly.
Beth blinked, and then breathed a sigh of relief. She heard a creaking above her, but disregarded it. "Well, that was-"
Her sentence was then interrupted as the security camera lost its now-precarious balance completely and toppled onto her head. After a moment or two of standing in silence, she simply fell forward.
"Beth!" Darkwing sprang to his feet and ran toward her. Halfway there, he turned back the robber. "You stay there."
"Yes sir."
When he reached her, she was lying face down across two other bankers and showing no signs of consciousness. "Beth?" he said tentatively as he picked her up. She groaned. "Speak to me!"
Her eyes fluttered open and focused on him for a second. "Please insert twenty-five cents or ask your operator for assistance," she mumbled, and her eyes shut again.
"It looks like it hurts," said Launchpad.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't my fault," grumbled Darkwing. "I sure didn't ask her to stand up in the middle of a robbery."
"Nobody said it was your fault, DW," Launchpad reassured him.
"Yeah, you're the one who keeps bringing it up, Dad. Launchpad just said it must hurt, and I bet he's right. Look at the size of that lump!" Gosalyn reached out a finger to poke at the swollen spot on Beth's forehead, but Darkwing swatted her hand away.
"Gosalyn, if it looks like it hurts, then it probably does hurt," he said as he covered Beth's forehead with a damp washcloth. "So why on earth do you keep trying to poke it?!"
"I wanna see what it feels like!" she exclaimed. "And this is the best time to, 'cause she's not going to feel it right now!"
Launchpad sighed. "I wish she'd wake up," he murmured.
Gosalyn patted him on the back solemnly. "Don't worry, Launchpad. It takes time. Although, we could see if anything happens when we poke her lump-"
"Gosalyn! Out!" ordered Darkwing. Gosalyn obediently - if one could call it that - stalked out of the room, and Darkwing breathed a sigh of relief. "It really wasn't my fault, you know," he said to Launchpad.
"I know," his sidekick said. "Stuff like this happens. An' she'll probably be fine, right? I mean, she hasn't been out that long, right?"
Darkwing checked his watch. "Fifteen minutes. She'll probably be waking up soon. We better keep an eye on her until then and make sure she doesn't have a concussion." Launchpad nodded. "You know, if she hadn't stood up-"
He was interrupted by a crash from downstairs. That was never a good sound. What made it worse was that it was followed immediately by another bad sound: the voice of his ten-year-old daughter, saying the most terrifying four words Drake Mallard had ever heard. "I'm cleaning it up!!"
Darkwing was little more than a purple streak as he ran out of the room. "Gosalyn, don't move anything until I get down there!!"
Alone in the room with Beth, Launchpad heard another crash. Gosalyn called, "Oops! Sorry!" Launchpad shrugged; what could he do? He turned his attention back to Beth.
Poor Beth. She had only wanted to help, he was sure. It was in her nature to help. She was so kind, so caring, so... helpful... So nice, and smart, and beautiful, sometimes he just wanted to take her in his arms, and-
Oops. Heh heh. He was getting off the subject.
"Uh... Beth?" he tried softly. She stirred, but didn't wake. Maybe if he shook her arm, or... The phrase, "Happily ever after" suddenly popped into his mind. Prince kisses Princess, Princess wakes up, instant happily-ever-after.
Well, no one was in the room... He could still hear Gosalyn and DW, downstairs, either arguing or cleaning up. Maybe both. It was now or never.
He was determined to ignore the ringing phone. Someone else would get it, right?
Right?
Gos and DW kept arguing in the living room. With a sigh, Launchpad got to his feet. He brushed the hair back from her forehead gently, and left to get the phone.
Alone in the room, she stirred again, blinked twice, and then sat up. She looked around. "...Hello?" she said, tentatively. No one answered. She could hear buzzing at the back of her head, although she could have sworn that it was coming from outside the room, perhaps downstairs. Probably in her imagination, though. She sat patiently, waiting for her head to clear.
It didn't. Slowly it dawned on her that this "not knowing who or where she was" business was not the normal way to start the day, and it occured to her that maybe she should be worried. She decided a walk was what she needed, to focus her mind, and so she swung her legs over the bed and stood up. She had that part down just right, so she decided to start moving her legs. That went well, too. Pleased with herself, she passed on down the hall towards the staircase.
She was surprised to find that the voices really were coming from downstairs, and not just in her head. A man and a girl were yelling at each other, although not too loudly. She wondered if this was a usual part of her life.
"No, get the bottom part!" said the man frantically. "Ow! Ow!! Get the bottom!"
"I've got the bottom, Dad, just shift your grip!" said the girl. She sounded somewhat strained.
The man spoke again. "...Okay. Now walk this into the kitchen with me."
"Like I have a choice."
By the time she made it downstairs, they were gone. She regretted this; they might have been able to answer her questions. But, too late now. She left the house, and was pleased to find herself on a rather quaint little street in what must have been the heart of the suburbs. She smiled; what a lovely day! Oh well, amnesia or no amnesia, at least she'd get a good walk in. She started off down the sidewalk, humming to herself.
The picture that was hanging on the wall was sickeningly bright and happy. There were about three trees in the picture, with one big, ugly oak standing out in the foreground. The leaves on it were a color of green that was best comparable to radioactive waste. The blades of the grass on the lawn were nearly the same color- a little darker, maybe, but not by much. The grass was long, which was the only good thing about it- there could be anything hiding in that grass. Snakes, insects, sharp objects. The sky was also bright, bright blue, with nary a cloud in sight. It looked like a crayon box had thrown up.
Negaduck had only one purpose for this picture. He raised his left arm, which was holding a relatively dull knife, and aimed. Then he let the weapon fly, and got a bullseye on a knothole on the disgusting oak. The first knife was immediately followed by a shower of subsequent ones, some razor sharp, others as dull as butter knives. After he had run out of knives, Negaduck leaned back in his chair for a moment and glared around the room he was seated in. There was absolutely nothing left to do. The whole room was pretty wretched looking, since he'd been bored for a few hours now. "Stupid city," he muttered. "Nothing worth doing here."
He considered leaving for a little while, maybe taking a sort of vacation and terrorizing the locals in a place that didn't know of him yet, but he dropped the idea when he thought of what St. Canard might look like when he came back. Who knew what might be done to the place if he left now. He realized that he was remembering what the Friendly Four had done to his St. Canard before he had left the last time. He hadn't had time to fix it before getting stuck in the dimensional gateway, either. At the memory, he grit his teeth and his expression turned into a snarl.
This may not be his St. Canard, but he owed to Darkwing Duck to make it as close as he possibly could. Maybe, he thought, it was time for the city to have a little remodeling. He had an extensive arsenal of weapons that were perfect for just such a task. An evil grin spread across his face.
