Otherworldly Union

By: Xavier (xavier319@hotmail.com)







The huge form basks in the light of a full moon from the top of a five story building.



"Ah..." breaths the hairy form, "So many victims, so little time... Hehehehe!" A huge lupine head turns and grins, showing off rows of razor teeth. The wolf turns around and looks expectantly at a small, shrouded figure behind him. "Well, you must be in a good mood, you haven't told me to shut up yet!"



"Shut up, Bane." growls the small form in a scratchy voice.



Bane grins again and bobs his head, "Oops! I spoke to soon!"



The black form walks up next to the wolf, and points to a single figure walking down the dark street. "There is our mark." Bane looks at the victim for a moment, then nods and jumps from the roof, and into an alley.



* * *



Gregor Mank walks through the streets of his town, whistling softly to himself. Yup, being the police chief of a small town has it's advantages! While at thirty thousand inhabitants, Mallardville is no St. Canard, but it is big enough for him to wield considerable political clout.



The mallard's webbed feet slap the pavement rhythmically, as he spins his billy club around one finger. His revolver bounces of his hip with each step as he turns a corner and passes a dark alley. Now, in his early days, he would have shined his flashlight into the alley to make sure it was uninhabited, but Gregor is sure of his place in life, and doesn't need to waste his time checking in dark allies. His mistake.



A huge clawed hand suddenly reaches out and clamps his bill shut, dragging him into the alley with a marginal squeak. Gregor futilely scrambles for his gun, only to have it, and his belt ripped for his waist. He is thrown forcefully into the alley wall, and feels a sickening crunching sound in his gut that tells of broken ribs. The portly police officer struggles to his feet and is immediately struck across the face, and sent flying into another wall. This time, it is his right arm that shatters under the impact. He screams in pain and cradles his broken wing, his face clawed to the bone, and hanging in rags with one eye ruined. He looks up with his good eye and whimpers, the blood running down his face going cold. Standing in front of him, at almost ten feet tall, is a huge wolf creature with some kind of mechanical implants all over his body.



~I don't want to die...~ thinks the mallard sadly, his bowels emptying at the sight of the wolf. He cringes back as the wolf approaches, a sadistic grin plastered on his face.



* * *



Bazil sighs as the duck's pitiful screams waft up from the alley on the warm night air. He shifts around under his black trench coat and adjusts his mask. The black fabric rubs painfully over his long-healed scars, causing him to squint his one, sea-green eye. He looks down the alley again and sees that the policeman has finally died, and whistles sharply. Bane's head shoots up and he nods, grabbing the dead duck's body and scrambling up the side of the building.



Bane's huge metal claw grips the lip of the roof, crushing the brittle brick as he heaves himself up with one powerful arm and kneels in front of Bazil. Bazil's grey and while furred tail twitches in pleasure at controlling such a killing machine.



"Good job Bane. Place his body over there." commands Bazil while indicating a spot on the roof. Bane does so and then comes back to stand next to his partner.



"So, how much were we getting payed for this job again?" asks the wolf curiously.



Bazil looks up at his blood-soaked partner and smiles under his mask. "Enough. Now, let's get out of here."



* * *



Drake Mallard groans and lifts his head up off of the keyboard. He blinks a few times and stares at the screen blankly, not really comprehending where he is. Then his vision comes into focus as the sleep clears, and he sees the large alert message on his screen. He sighs and opens it, right into an e-mail from SHUSH.



"Hmmm... I wonder what SHUSH want me to look into now?" muses the purple-cloaked crime fighter. He opens the mail and reads, his enthusiasm quickly draining away. "A prominent police captain killed in his own town? What the heck is going on here?!" Drake swings up from his chair and begins pacing around his tower. "SHUSH said that there have been a series of assassinations in the towns surrounding St. Canard, and the trail seems to be spiraling inward." He spins around and flops down in his chair, brows knitted in concentration, "SHUSH wouldn't have bothered alerting me, unless they were afraid that these murderers were headed for St. Canard, which seems to be the case."



He stands again and picks up his hat and walks briskly over to one corner of his huge main room. He pulls his mask on and puts on his hat as he nears his destination, and climbs on the Ratcatcher. He revs the powerful engine of the machine and races out of the tower with a screech of tires and the smell of burnt rubber.



~If those murderers are heading for my town, then I'll be damned if I'm going to let them continue on their little spree!~



* * *



The crowded metro sways back and forth, the smell of stale sweat and molting feathers fills the air. The numerous ducks and other creatures on the train shift around, trying to relieve the cramped conditions on their way home from work.



"Hey! Watch it buddy!" exclaims a rather large duck as a small form runs into him when the train takes a bump.



"My apologies sir!" exclaims the small duck in a timid voice.



"Yeah, you better be sorry!" growls the over-worked citizen. The smaller, greyish duck moves away from him and stands next to the door.



The train stops and the small duck gets out of the subway in a rather bad part of town. He walks through the dirty streets as dusk approaches, seemingly unconcerned. He turns into an alley, and walks toward a shadowed end, where he knows a door resides. Suddenly, two figures appear out of the shadows, and confront the him.



"Give us your money shorty!" exclaims one of the assailants, a large, brown and black mallard.



"Yeah!" yells the other, a gangly duckling of no more than eighteen years. The larger one is holding a knife, and the other has a lead pipe.



The small duck stops and looks at them, his hands dropping to his sides. "I don't have any money." he states calmly.



"Yeah right! We'll be the judges of that!" snorts the larger duck. He advances and reaches out his free hand, grabbing the small duck's black trench coat and dragging him up off of his feet. "Now," snarls the large duck in the other's face, "where's your money?"



"Right here!" snarls the small, grey duck as he suddenly pulls a .357 magnum revolver out of his coat and sticks it in the brute's stomach. He pulls the trigger and a loud crack follows an explosion of red from the back of the would-be mugger.



The grey duck falls to the ground with the still body of the lager one on top of him. He struggles to get the dead weight off as he hears an enraged scream from his right. He barely fends of a wild blow of the lead pipe with his arm. He rolls up and kicks the younger duck away, firing three shots with his magnum. The youth grunts and slides back, three scarlet spots appearing on his chest feathers. The grey duck stands up and labors for the next few minutes, disposing of the bodies and cleaning the blood-stained walls. After this is done, he pulls out a key and unlocks the small door at the end of the alley.



Inside is a dark room with a single light over a bare table. The small duck walks into the room and rips his beak of and throws it on the table, revealing a much scarred canine snout. Bazil twitches his nose and suddenly spins around, his .357 up and ready. Bane slides out of the shadows, his mechanical claws clicking.



Bazil's eye narrows and he sneers at Bane, "Don't try that again, I might shoot next time."



Bane grins at him, his pointed teeth showing. "I'm not worried." replies the wolf arrogantly. Bazil snarls and turns to the table, and discards the rest of his disguise. The scar over his left eye throbs terribly, and he touches it, tracing it down his face from his eye to his scarred mouth. He snaps out of his revery and picks up the simple black mask, and ties it around the lower half of his face, leaving only his one glaring eye.



The grey fox turns to Bane, who has decided to lay down and watch his partner, and grins, his bushy tail twitching.



"Well, my psychopathic partner..." sneers Bazil, "We've arrived in St. Canard!"



* * *



Screams. Smoke. Laughter. Blood. Negaduck looks around the jewelry store, and grins in acceptance.



~It'll have to do.~ thinks the twisted villain as he pushes the limp form of a cashier out of the way, the long gash in her torso bleeding heavily. The demented duck grins and adjusts his red hat, reaching in his cape and pulling out some C-4. He places the plastique all around the vault door in the back of the store, and retreats as the timer ticks quickly away.



* * *



"Oh, God! Someone help us! Negaduck has attacked the jewelry store on 13th Street! He's slaughtering everyone!"



That's what the police band had said as Darkwing had made his evening rounds through the streets of St. Canard.



~Oh, just great!~ thinks the super hero, ~With these assassins coming to town, you think Negaduck could have taken a vacation or something! I've got enough problems without having to deal with him!~



Darkwing takes a sharp corner at 12th Street, and heads for 13th, leaving rubber marks on the road. Suddenly the sticky-sweet smell of blood assails his nostrils, and Darkwing kicks the Ratcatcher into high gear, zooming down the road toward the jewelry store.



Then he comes upon the store, and almost turns away, the grisly sight bringing tears to his eyes. The store front has been blown out, obviously by one of Negaduck's many bombs. Smoke billows out of the shattered window, rising into the sky like a specter of death. Diamonds and glass are littered all over the street in equal numbers, light glinting off of the crystal shards mockingly. Darkwing screeches to a halt and dismounts his cycle, drawing his gas gun. He runs forward in a fury, then he sees the bodies.



"Oh my God..." he whispers in horror. There are bodies everywhere. In the store, on the street, and even one hanging from a lamppost. Darkwing falls to his knees, his kind eyes brimming with tears. Some are burnt and blasted by bombs, some viciously hacked to pieces with a chainsaw, and some just beaten to death.



~Why?~ thinks the duck, ~Why does he do these things?~ Drake stands and his resolve hardens inside of him, his heart growing icy and cold. ~I've got to stop him! At any cost!~



Darkwing crouches over and creeps toward the storefront, his gas gun at the ready. He nears the door and his stomach knots inside of him, almost causing him to stop. He realizes he could be walking right into an ambush. Negaduck has every advantage in the smoke-filled room.



Just as he is about to dash inside, a red, black, and yellow figure rushes by him at a sprint. Drake spins around, his gun up and a battle cry on his beak, but the explosion interrupts him. The force of the C-4 picks Darkwing up off of his feet and hurls him forward, dislodging more of the glass and hurtling it after him. He lands on his stomach in the body-littered street, his gas gun flying from his hand and skipping across the pavement. He groans and tries to move, only to cry out in pain, a thousand needles in his back. He reaches back to feel his cape shredded, and hot, sticky blood flowing down his back. He finds a large piece of metal embedded in his back, just above the tail bone. He tries to remove it, and is rewarded with a spike of searing pain. He looks up as his vision is beginning to blur, and the world seems more distant. He tries to crawl towards his motorcycle, slowly moving inch, by painful inch. Suddenly, he hears the crunch of stone behind him, and looks into a shard of glass by his head to see the distorted visage of Negaduck. Then his world goes black.



* * *



Bazil sighs and leans back in the heavy oak chair. He was so sure that this painfully overt and blatant crime would draw out that caped idiot that he had heard inhabited this pitiful city. He was a supposed crime fighter, but as far as the merc was concerned, he wasn't doing all that great of a job at it.



"Boss?" comes a horse call form the front of the bank.



"What?" is Bazil's tired reply.



"What can I do again?" asks the huge wolf, crouching over the fallen body of a whimpering security guard.



Bazil sighs and rolls his eye, "Can't you ever remember anything for more than a few minutes? I said don't kill anyone, only maim them! Their cries of agony should attract this "Darkwing Duck's" attention."



Bane nods, "Oh, yeah!!" He grins sadistically and looks down at the guard and flexes his cyber-claws, metallic muscles clenching. The guard scoots back as far as he can go and hits a wall.



Bazil looks away as Bane does what he does, and blood flies over and splatters on his black coat. The fox snarls and yells over his shoulder, "Bane! I said don't kill him!"



"Sorry! I... I forgot!" yells back the cyber-wolf.



The fox grunts and raises from his chair, pulling out his .357 and strides into the room, "I guess what we're doing isn't enough to grab his attention.



The dull thunderclaps of a magnum going off fills the night air as the cold-blooded merc makes his presence known in the once-quiet city of St. Canard.



* * *



The world comes back into focus slowly, the browns and blues of the surroundings swirling together in a made chaos of color. His head throbs almost as much as his back. Drake looks up and his bill hangs open, not having the strength to hold it shut. He is chained to a metal pipe, his shredded back pressed painfully to the slightly hot pipe. His mask has been ripped away, and his gas gun is no where to be found.



"AH!!! He's finally awake!" yells a familiar voice, interrupting Drake's thoughts.



"Well," coughs Darkwing as Negaduck struts into view, "I see that capturing me hasn't improved your manners any."



The villain grins and pokes Darkwing with his chainsaw, thankfully not on at the moment. "And I see that being captured by me hasn't improved your common sense. It's not good to insult your captor, it speaks of a short life expectancy."



Darkwing scowls and fixes the killer with a hard stare, "Do what you want, you'll never succeed in whatever mad scheme you're planning."



His Negaverse counterpart grins, "No elaborate scheme this time chum, only a simple plan. Torture and kill you."



Drake gulps, "My legacy will live on, you can't kill justice."



Negaduck smirks, "You call running around in a purple suit justice? HA! You're nothing more than a pathetic worm trying to get the lime-light!"



Drake shoots the looks right back, "And you're nothing more than a psychopathic murderer that will fall to the purity of justice!"



Negaduck's face contorts into a block of rage and his eyes take on a dangerous tinge, "You'll regret that!" He reaches up to a lever above his head and pulls down, and a loud roaring sound fills the small room. Darkwing suddenly screams in agony as scalding water surges through the pipe he is tied to, further damaging his already ragged back. He arches his back, screaming and vainly trying to get away from the torment. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops. Drake sags against the chains, his pain-numbed mind not registering the mad cackle of Negaduck, or the renewed roaring sound as the lever is pulled again.



* * *





The color TV set casts an eerie glow over the sparsely furnished room. The room's only inhabitants being a dark figure, and a box of sixty watt lightbulbs. A purple-gloved fist slams into the table as the current news bulletin scrolls across the screen. It reads: "Fifteen killed in bank robbery. Entire bank destroyed by explosives. Bandits are unknown, but it is not suspected to be any of St. Canard's resident villains."



"There is someone encroaching on our territory!" The figure stands up and begins pacing, his whiskers twitching. A spark flies from his nose and suddenly all of the light bulbs in the box light up, illuminating the mad visage of Megavolt, a sick grin twisting his face.



"There is only one way to deal with this. I say it's time that we had a return meeting... of the Fearsome Five!"



* * *



Chief Manterson ducks behind his squad car as another volley of high-velocity magnum bullets fly over his head. He curses and slides along the car on his stomach, his .38 pistol clutched tightly in his hand. His partner had already been claimed by the gunman inside the bank, the high-caliber bullets going right through his police body armor like it was nothing. Another few shots ring out, and the right front tire of his squad car goes flat with an angry hiss. The shots stop for a few moments, then resume again, slowly picking his car to pieces around him, eroding at his cover. The shots pause again, and then resume, a bullet tearing all of the way through the body of the car and coming out right next to the police duck's head. He starts and almost bolts, but knows that would be suicide, because he had already seen how good this gunman was with that magnum.



Manterson grits his teeth and grabs his revolver, which has three shots left. Dankon, his rookie partner, was killed suddenly as they drove down the street on their evening rounds. They were at least two blocks from the bank, and in a squad car, AND it was dark out. That gunman has some definite skill. Another round of six shots breaks the mallard's thoughts, and he suddenly realizes something.



~Six shots! He's using a magnum REVOLVER! If I make a break for when he's reloading, I might just make it to cover!~ thinks the twenty year veteran of the St. Canard Police Force. After he hears six more shots, he suddenly bolts from his hiding place, and sprints for the alley across the street. While not a spring chicken, Manterson had kept in decent shape, and was not making too bad of time across the wide street. But how fast he could run didn't really matter. Because after only three steps, a single shot rings through the air and the mallard drops to the pavement, a red pool forming around his body.



* * *



Bazil grunts and puts the Glok 17 pistol back in the holster under his arm. He turns and grins under his mask, still placing bullets in his .357, and faces the deceased cop's squad car. He pulls his magnum up and sites along the long barrel and fires one shot, a hole appearing right above and in front of the car's rear wheel. Suddenly gas begins dribbling out of the hole, the tank punctured. Another shot rings out and the vehicle explodes in a red ball of flame. The fox turns back and walks into the bank with the flames reflecting off of his black coat.



* * *



Negaduck sighs and puts his chin in his hands, bored. Darkwing is sagging against the pipe, unconscious, the flesh of his back scorched and blackened. The Negaverse inhabitant stands and sighs, it's just no fun without him screaming in pain. He shrugs and walks over to a small table and flicks a television set on, just in time to catch a news bulletin.



The screen showed a blown out front of a bank, with a smoldering car in front of it, and a cop's body laying face down in the street. The reporter's voice comes over the speakers with a minimal of static. "The unknown gunman holed up in the 1st Canard Bank has already killed two police officers and a least a dozen bystanders. The gunman's motives are unknown, as he does not seem to be interested in the almost one million dollars in the back vault." The bulletin ends and Negaduck flips off the set.



"Interesting." he ponders while sitting down.



"Yes, interesting in deed." agrees a voice from the shadows. Negaduck jumps up and pulls out his chainsaw, only to have it short out with a crackle of electricity.



Negaduck narrows his eyes and stares at the shadow, "Why are you here?"



Megavolt steps into the light and frowns, "I assume you have seen the news?"



Negaduck nods.



"Well... then you must also have seen the need for us to deal with this 'trespasser'."



Another nod.



Megavolt looks around and laughs, a high, cackling sound. "So, you finally caught him?" he asks, gesturing to the tattered hero.



Negaduck grins, a truly fearsome sight, "Yup, I got 'im!"



Megavolt looks at him, and then grows serious, "I move that we reassemble the Fearsome Five until this problem is dealt with, then we can go our separate ways once again."



Negaduck seems to ponder for a second, though his mind is made up, "I... I don't know Meggy... I just..."



Megavolt grows impatient and sparks begins to fly between the prongs on his helmet.



Negaduck chuckles and puts up his hands, "I'm just kidding! I agree that we should reconvene the Fearsome Five to deal with this."



Megavolt's face shows obvious relief, "Good, I will contact the other members with news of your agreement. I'll let you know when we are ready." The mouse slides back into the shadows and is gone, leaving only a grinning Negaduck and a groaning Darkwing behind.



* * *



Bane slips through the alley very quietly for a ten foot tall cyber-wolf. The huge creature grins and reaches his destination, another bank. He crouches down next to the bank's brick wall in the alley, hidden from the last few customers as nine o'clock approaches, and with it, the bank's closing time. Bane's half-mechanical jaw hangs open for a moment in humor, thinking about the pitiful creatures' screams from the other bank. He hopes for a repeat and suddenly slams his metal fist into the wall beside him, punching a hole in it and setting off the security alarm.



Yells of alarm and screams of frightened patrons echo in the chill evening air as the hulking beast uses the in-human strength attained from cybernetic muscle enhancements to rip a sizeable hole in the brick wall. Bane chuckles and shakes his head sadly as he hears security guards telling customers that everything is under control.



Fools.



Suddenly Bane enters the main lobby and vaults over the teller's counter and hits the first guard with a crunch, a flurry of metal claws and bloody spatters.



* * *



Reggie Brown shakes his head and playfully pushes his partner back, "I do NOT look like Bushroot!"



Constan San'kon nods vigorously and grins, pointing back, his mute muzzle creased into a wide grin. Reg shakes his head and opens his bill again, "Just because we have the same first name doesn't mean we're related!"



Constan nods and signs, I know! He looks around and then turns back, But I like to joke with you, you're the only one that understands me.



Reg smiles back and signs as well as talks, "I know, having a mute panther for a partner forces you to learn sign language really quick!" Constan's grin widens and his eyes twinkle in genuine friendship. Instead of adapting, his partner and now best friend could have asked for a new assignment, leaving the immigrant alone.



From a primitive land across the ocean, Constan was hailed by his people as a prophet seeing as he could not talk. He did not understand how this made him any more special than any of his brothers or sisters, but the elders had said something about him not needing speech because his thoughts were ordained by the gods... or something like that.



The sleek cat adjusts his light blue police officer's uniform, which is quite a contrast to his onyx fur, and really brings out his bright gold cat-eyes. He inhales deeply, smelling the starched and pressed uniform with love. He had stowed away on a trading ship and snuck into St. Canard illegally. He was caught by the police when trying to steal food, and they found him out to be an alien. They gave him the choice of either going back, or paying off his debt working for the police. Constan had readily chosen the latter, wanting to stay in this new, magical land. Having only been on the force a few weeks, the jungle cat has yet to see any real action. Thought taller and more muscled than any duck, he has little knowledge of any modern marvels, such as guns or the like. Though he wears his pistol and radio with pride, he has little knowledge on how to use them, relying on his almost seven and a half feet to get him by with shear intimidation alone.



Reggie is about to say something else when a dull thud is followed by the bank's alarm. His hand immediately goes to his pistol, and he curls his fingers around the handle, fingers twitching. He makes eye contact with Stinson and Berkly, the other two officers from his precinct that are on this job. They nod and put their hands on their guns and yell for the now screaming customers to stay calm, and that everything is under control.



Constan looks around wildly, gold eyes wide in confusion. He turns to Reggie and gets his attention. What is going on? he signs quickly.



"Law-breaker." yells back Reggie as Constan nods, the familiar term making him understand. He reflexively extends the long claws from his fingertips and hangs back at the bank door at Reggie's direction to guide people out of the bank.



Suddenly another series of loud crunching and crashing noises echoes from the back of the bank and the other two officers, a dog and a goose, draw their .38's and run towards the noise. Suddenly, much to Constan's horror, a huge creature of metal and flesh bursts out of the back and immediately rips Berkly in half with a single swipe of it's huge claws. The goose dies in a bloody flurry of feathers before he can even bring his gun up. Stinson squeezes off a singe shot from his .38, which goes wide and hits a window, before suffering the same awful fate. Reggie stumbles back from the monster in fear, clutching at his still-holstered pistol. Constan stands still, eyes wide, and mind filled with the tales of his elders, which spoke of great metal beasts in the "other world". These beasts are daemons, with the strength of many mortals, and strange powers. Reggie's scream brings the panther out of his trance, and he looks up and his breath catches in his throat. The creature is holding the disemboweled body of his partner over his head, the mallard's blood running down and pooling in the monster's upturned mouth. The beast throws away the still alive Reggie and looks at Constan, his mouth and arms stained red, with blood dribbling down his chin.



Fear suddenly turns to rage as the panther's mouth opens and a silent scream of rage and pain fills his mind. He sprints toward the creature of metal and flesh, bent over and with his tail stretched out behind him for balance. He leaps at what now appears to be a canine of some sort, and slashes at the monster's head with is claws, his gun completely forgotten. The wolf moves his head aside and grabs the cat's clawed hand in his own. Constan lands in front of him and looks up. The daemon is almost ten feet tall! He swallows his momentary fear and slices at it's head with his other set of claws, only to have his hand grabbed like the first. He strains against the monster, his tremendous strength seemingly useless against his adversary, who isn't even trying. The beast suddenly jerks it's arms up in the air, throwing the panther off his feet, and up into the air above the thing's head. He hangs there for a seemingly everlasting moment, before the beast jumps into the air and spins around, delivering a crushing claw blow to his chest, sending him flying. Constan feels his chest explode in pain as a trail of red follows him to the stone wall of the bank, where he stops abruptly with a sickening crunch.



* * *



Bane watches the large cat smash into the stone wall with terrific force, and go limp, his chest ripped raw and bleeding heavily. He grins and turns toward the bank door and looks up at the night sky, with a full moon hanging in the blackness like a demonic lantern. He throws his head back and howls a message across the once lawful city of St. Canard...



The Draconians have arrived!