AN: NEW STORY! Cause, ya know, I can't ever finish something without starting a half dozen new things. There have been a couple of stories where the Ducks get turned into humans. These stories frustrate me because they never get finished! It's like the author does the transformation, everyone reacts, and then nothing ever happens again. Makes me sad cause I love seeing a story's ending. I've decided to remedy this with my own, unique take on the 'transformation' story line and take things in the opposite direction- turn the Mighty Ducks into ducks! And I've got the whole story outlined/planned, so don't worry about this becoming another abandoned tale ;)
Anywho, I'm trying to get this one out quick so I can get back to focusing on convention work. Enjoy more madness!
Phil whistled a nonsense tune as he walked into the Pond. He had his coffee; he had his donuts from the Happy Buccaneer Bakery; there were some interesting public appearances and product endorsements on his desk to work on today. Life was good.
He glanced at his watch before taking another sip of his coffee. He was running a little late, but the line at the bakery had been longer than anticipated. The ducks should have already started practice fifteen minutes ago. No big deal; they did that if he was around or not. Still, it couldn't hurt to stop and watch how his team was doing. He may not know much about hockey from a coaching aspect; but, he could certainly tell when things were going well or not.
The arena was strangely silent. Normally, there would be the sounds of laughter and taunting, the sharp crack of pucks hitting the boards or pinging off the goal posts, and the whoosh of skates on the ice. Phil paused and looked down the concourse leading towards the rink. Was that quacking? No… His team may be ducks, but they didn't quack. Well, not unless they sneezed or Tanya was snoring.
Phil's steps were slow, tentative as he emerged from the dark hallway and into the well lit arena. One glance through the glass barrier and his jaw fell open in shock.
"No, no, no, no!" He dropped his coffee and bag of donuts. Fumbling with the latch, he threw open the gate onto the ice and ran out, nearly slipping in his loafers on the slick surface.
Phil stood near center ice, shocked at the ducks surrounding him. Six ducks waddled around, quacking quietly or shaking their tails, occasionally stretching upwards and flapping their wings. There was a large, white one with a poof on top of its head and a smaller, yellow one stayed near it. One small, brown duck with a red sheen to its head had laid down on a jersey and fallen asleep, its bill tucked under a wing. There was a tall, thin, gray duck that looked ready to fall over at any moment; it bill was chipped and an eye patch dangled around its neck. He easily recognized a mallard hen; there were plenty of those outside at ponds and lakes. A massive, gray goose took one look at Phil and hissed, charging at him with wings flapping and neck down.
"Whoa!" Phil slipped backwards, landing firmly on his rump. Pushing himself backwards, he tried to escape.
The goose honked and bore down on Phil, biting at his hands and beating him with broad wings. Phil rolled over onto all fours and crawled off the ice, barely managing to slam the door shut and free himself from the attack.
"What the hell's going on here!" He stood and dusted himself off, giving his rear end a good rub where the goose had bit it. Gray feathers fell from his suit.
The goose bit at the wall and hit it with its wings before throwing Phil a dirty look through the glass and backing up. Wings folded, it calmed and watched him, gaze never wavering.
Phil took another look at the ice. There was a pile of goalie gear and Wildwing's mask near the home goal. Sticks and several pucks lay scattered about, as did the rest of his team's uniforms and protective padding.
"Shit." The white and yellow ducks had to be Wildwing and Nosedive, the skinny, gray one must be Duke, and the mean goose had to be Grin. Grin was a goose? That didn't make any sense. Well, maybe. It would explain why his bill was shaped so differently from the others and why he was so much larger. Huh. Why would Grin say he was a duck if he was really a goose? That didn't matter right now. He studied the two remaining ducks. The mallard hen must be Tanya and the one with red had to be Mallory. But how did this happen?
The rotund manager stared at what had become of his team with one thought chasing itself around his head- What am I going to do now?
Footsteps and youthful voices changed the swirling confusion's path. Turning around, he saw Thrash and Mookie coming down the same concourse he'd used to reach the ice.
"Yo, Phil!" Thrash raised a hand in greeting.
"How's it going?" Mookie smiled.
"Thrash! Mookie! You've got to help!" Phil ran forward and grabbed the lapels of their jackets, one in each hand. "The ducks! They're ducks!"
"Uh, yeah," Mookie wiggled her head to emphasize how stupid his comment was. "They've, like, always been ducks."
"Dude, what's the problemo?" Thrash removed his plastic sunglasses and hung them on the neck of his shirt.
"THAT'S the problem!" Phil thrust an open hand towards the ice.
Thrash and Mookie stepped past him to look through the glass.
Grin hissed at them and paced back and forth, beady eyes staying on the humans.
"So, what? You're doing some sort of crazy promo?" Mookie frowned, not getting the point.
"You know," Thrash watched the goose, "I don't think that one likes you. Don't you already get enough publicity with having an alien hockey team? Why the flock of Earth ducks?"
"That is my team!" Phil's voice echoed in the arena. "They're actual ducks now! I don't know what happened! Dragaunus must be back or they were cursed or something."
"Okay, like, chill." Mookie glanced at the floor and picked up the fallen bag of donuts. "So, we'll catch them, pen them up, and then figure out what happened." She opened the bag and took a cream filled pastry for herself before handing it over to Thrash.
"Where are we going to put them?" Thrash took the Boston cruller for himself and tucked the end of the bag into his pants pocket for later enjoyment.
"Um, I dunno. The locker room?"
Phil looked at Nosedive's friends and made a snap decision. Wildwing had threatened Phil's job and bank account if he dared bring anyone else into their base without permission. But, he wasn't really able to get permission if Wildwing was an actual duck. And this was for the good of the team. He needed help and help had appeared.
"There's a pool downstairs. We'll keep them in there." It took him a moment to realize they had just stolen his breakfast; but, the emergency at hand was more important.
"Down… Stairs?" Thrash raised a hopeful eyebrow. "Like, secret base downstairs?"
"Ooh," Mookie's face stretched wide in a devious grin. "We can totally TP Nosedive's room!"
"No!" Phil was beginning to regret his decision. "No TP-ing or pranks or anything."
Mookie tisked her disappointment and shrugged. Thrash gave her a commiserating glance before heading off towards the locker room.
"Uh, where do you think you're going?" Phil asked.
"To get something to put them in!"
"Yeah." Mookie's tone of voice grew condescending as she followed Thrash. "You're not going to be able to carry them all at once without their wings being tied."
"Um, okay. Fine." Phil started following them.
"Yo, it's okay, manager-dude," Thrash soothed. "You stay here and watch them to make sure they don't fly off or anything. Mookie and me'll get the stuff we need."
"Yeah! Right. Good idea. I'll just stay right here."
Phil watched the ducks, studying them and trying to figure out exactly what had happened. There was the right number for his team and they all looked right. Strange that Duke had an eye patch but nothing was wrong with his eye. He'd never seen what Duke looked like without the patch. Maybe it was all a show to enhance his roguish, dangerous image? The chip in that duck's beak was unmistakable as Duke. And what the hell was up with Wildwing's hair? Wildwing had always had wild, flyaway hair that he fought to tame; but, now it looked like he had a giant cotton ball stuck on top of his head! Surely, these weren't all mallards. They had told him they were mallards when he'd asked what kinds of ducks they were; but, only the one he assumed to be Tanya was what he would consider a mallard.
Thrash and Mookie returned with several large towels and a laundry sack. Phil didn't bother asking where they had found them.
"Okay," Thrash held out an arm draped with towels. "You doing to catching or the bagging?"
"Catching," Mookie smirked. "I've always been faster than you."
"Good. I hate grabbing their necks."
"Wait," Phil broke in. "What?"
Mookie tisked and rolled her eyes.
"Dude," Thrash opened the gate, eyes never wavering from Grin. "Sit back and watch this primo rodeo. We'll get 'em."
Grin backed away from Thrash, neck low and issuing a sibilant hiss.
Mookie stepped around Thrash, working her way behind the goose while her friend kept the bird's attention.
Grin's head turned towards Mookie and he started flapping his wings at her, preparing to chase.
"Hey!" Thrash flipped a towel. "Pick on me, you big bully!"
The moment Grin charged Thrash, Mookie made her move. She half lunged, half fell on the waterfowl, trapping one wing with her knee and grabbing at his neck. After a moment of wrestling, she managed to pin his wings between her thighs and held onto his neck with both hands.
"Damn! He's strong." She struggled to control the angry bird. If she let go of the neck, she was sure to receive some nasty bites. "Hurry up!"
Thrash dropped the towels in favor of the laundry bag. Working together, they managed to cram Grin into the beige bag and tie it around his neck. The large bird calmed once he realized he couldn't move.
"One down," Thrash said.
"Five to go," Mookie finished.
Phil watched in fascination as they worked together to capture all six ducks. Thrash always grabbed their attention, giving Mookie the opportunity to sneak up and immobilize them like a pro. The way Thrash rolled each duck into a little towel burrito was quick and efficient.
"Guys!" Phil held his arms out in surprise. "That was beautiful! We should turn this into an event between game periods. You know, let people catch ducks for a prize or something."
Mookie raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Uh," Thrash picked up Nosedive and Wildwing, tucking them under each arm. "There aren't going to be any hockey games if you don't figure out how to get them back to normal."
"Oh, right." Phil laughed nervously.
Mookie picked up Grin, holding him just behind the head with one hand while supporting his body with the other arm.
"Can you, like, get the others?"
Phil stepped onto the ice and picked up Tanya, moving her to the crook of one arm like Thrash had done. He stared down at Mallory, unsure how to pick her up while still holding Tanya. And what were they going to do with Duke? Mookie couldn't handle two at a time while carrying Grin.
"Hang on a sec, guys." Phil set Tanya next to Mallory and vanished from the ice.
Thrash and Mookie glanced at each other in excitement. They'd always wanted to see the secret base part of the Pond but had never been allowed in before. Hopefully the Ducks wouldn't be too pissed when they found out. This wasn't an opportunity they were going to pass up.
Phil came back with a flat bedded wagon type thing. It had a tall, metal bar for pulling it along and a beat up, white base to put things on.
"We can use this," Phil said. "Get them all down there at once."
"Awesome." Thrash nodded and set his avian burden on the cart while Mookie followed suit.
"How did you two know how to catch them anyway?" Phil started pulling the cart behind him while Mookie walked next to him and Thrash followed behind the cart to keep an eye on its cargo. Why on earth would a punk have so much knowledge of waterfowl or even catching them?
"Oh, well," Mookie lifted an uninterested shoulder. "My grandmother raises show ducks. I'd spend the summer with her sometimes and she'd have me help take care of her flocks. She always loved her Peking ducks and Indian runners!"
"Wha?"
Mookie pointed over her shoulder to Nosedive and Wildwing. "Those two are Peking ducks and he," she pointed to Duke, "Is an Indian runner. The others are a redhead, mallard, and gray goose."
Phil paused to study the short, mohawked woman next to him. Her knowledge didn't equate with her appearance. Maybe that was what Nosedive liked about them so much.
"Hey, Phil!" A blond woman pulling a rolling duffel bag waved to the ragtag group as they walked towards each other. "What's up?"
"Oh, uh," Phil tugged at his tie and cleared his throat. "Nothing. How about you, Daphne?"
"Just dropping off Daffy before meeting with Wildwing. We're working on some street hockey stuff for the next game I have to do."
"Yeah, about that." Phil cleared his throat again and began jogging away from her, pulling the cart along with him. "He had to reschedule. World saving emergency. Bye!"
Daphne watched the retreating manager and Nosedive's friends with a frown. Something was definitely up.