The Night of Getting Dangerous

"Grounded for two whole weeks! Grounded – again!"

Gosalyn Mallard was a girl who had spirit. She also had suction cup boots, and didn't look very grounded at all to Honker as she stomped across the ceiling of her bedroom.

"I mean, can you believe that?" she fumed.

He sure could. The most amazing part of the whole conversation, to Honker, wasn't the fact that his best friend and homework partner stared down at him from ten feet overhead and upside down. It wasn't even what Gosalyn had done to get punished either – extreme mischief was par for the course with her. No, what amazed him the most was that her punishment had been set at only two weeks. If Honker's parents had caught him trying to help catch a gang of bank robbers, Honker was pretty sure he'd be grounded for the rest of his life! Then again, he was also pretty sure his parents didn't wear costumes except at Halloween and they didn't (as far as he knew) go hunting after criminals. Herb and Binkie Muddlefoot might scold litterbugs caught in the act, but that was about it.

Gosalyn didn't think her punishment was too light though.

"What good is having a superhero dad when he never lets you be his sidekick?" she complained.

"But Launchpad is his sidekick," Honker pointed out, sniffling. "Besides *honk* maybe he wants to keep you safe."

"Safe shmafe!" Gosalyn flapped. "He just doesn't want to let me have any fun!"

Neither did the ceiling plaster, because at that moment it gave way. Luckily Gosalyn had marched herself over the bed, so as plaster and suction cups peeled loose, she fell onto that soft, springy surface before somersaulting and landing upright without batting an eye.

"Ta da!' she cried, as if she'd intended the fall and quick acrobatics to happen on purpose. Darkwing couldn't have done it with more showmanship himself.

Honker, who should have known better, clapped obediently.

"See?" she said, suction-cupping her way over to her dresser. "I'm totally ready for this stuff now! I can fight crime too! That whole growing up thing is for grown-ups!"

Sometimes Gosalyn's logic could be hard to argue with. But Honker still tried to raise an objection as he saw her wrap a used towel from the floor around her neck and try to flap it like a cape.

"Uh, may- maybe we could concentrate on our homework . . . ." he suggested.

"Homework!" Gosalyn spat it out like a swear word. "What kind of superhero does homework?"

The kind that wants to stay alive, Honker thought to himself. Gosalyn wasn't listening though. She was putting on a leftover Halloween eye mask to go with her makeshift towel cape and suction cup boots. Then she did something that alarmed Honker most of all – from behind the dresser, she pulled out a bow and quiver of arrows that looked all too familiar from her short-lived masquerade as Quiverwing Quack and his (very reluctant) turn as her sidekick.

"Your dad didn't take those away from you?" he gasped.

"Sure he did," she admitted. "But I found where he hid them, so I took them and hid them right back! And now it's time I put them to good use! He said I'd become a great superhero someday! Well maybe someday is now!"

"But-"

She shot him a sharp look but fortunately no arrows as she turned around and began suction-cupping her way over to the bedroom window.

"Aw, c'mon, Honk, you're not going to tattle on me now, are you?"

The last time 'Quiverwing Quack' had made a daring escape from her bedroom via the window, she'd caught Honker in a net arrow to keep him from tattling. He sure didn't want to get netted again, even if the net hadn't held him for very long. To his relief, she wasn't reaching for an arrow this time, though they both knew what the answer to her question was.

"At least give me a head start!" she pleaded. "I mean, it's my destiny we're talking about here!"

And his too, he realized. He'd never forgive himself if he let anything happen to his best friend. But they both also knew he had little chance of stopping her from going if she wanted.

"A head start, that's all I'm asking," she begged. "Like when we're playing hide and seek and you're It."

Honker wasn't happy, but at least it was better than being netted. With a sigh of sad resignation, he closed his eyes and began counting out loud to one hundred.

"Thanks, Honker! You're the best!" he heard her exclaim as she began suction-cupping her way out the open window.

Meanwhile . . . .

"Launchpad, are you sure you can handle this?" Darkwing asked for the second time as he adjusted his hat and crimefighting mask. "I mean, I know I've given you some dangerous assignments before, but-"

"Sure, DW!" Launchpad McQuack chuckled. "No problem-o! How hard can a little babysitting be?"

Darkwing Duck and his lovely date for the evening, Morgana Macawber, exchanged worried glances.

"Dark, darling," Morgana whispered, "perhaps we shouldn't . . . ?"

Darkwing was about to nod in agreement when Launchpad clapped them both on the backs so hard it took their breath away in an attempt to reassure them before practically shoving the romantic couple out the front door of the Mallard residence.

"Listen, you kids have fun!" Launchpad ordered. "I know you've really been looking forward to that new museum show all month, so you don't want to be late for it now!" In his eagerness to play matchmaker, Launchpad slammed the door behind them so fast that he never heard the sound of falling plaster from upstairs.

"Kids?" Darkwing scoffed, straightening his sleeves and glaring back at the front door, peeved to be given the bum's rush out of his own home. "Why, I'm older than-" Suddenly he remembered who he was with and wondered if this was the time to be talking about his age when he might better avoid the subject. Neither he nor Morgana were anywhere close to past their prime, but such a topic was often touchy with women. Not that Morgana was your average woman . . . . Glancing back at her made him realize that Launchpad's hearty backslaps weren't the only thing capable of taking his breath away – as if he didn't know that already! His gorgeous lady love touched his heart as well as his libido with her own concerned glance not at the door but in the general direction of the house's second story. Although he and Morgana weren't married (yet, he added mentally), she shared his parental concern for Gosalyn already. Yes, his darling little girl could be quite a handful, but Morgana didn't mind that. She admired Gosalyn's spunk as much as Drake himself did. She'd even paid Gosalyn her ultimate compliment by considering her to be 'practically a Macawber!' Well, if Drake/Darkwing got his way, his girlfriend Morgana would someday be a Mallard! If-

HAAAAAWWWNKKKKKKKKK! HAAAAWWWNKKKKKKK!

Darkwing and Morgana both jumped out of their contemplation as Morgana's faithful pet spider leaned into the horn of the ride awaiting them. Darkwing would have preferred to have himself and Morgana travel in the Ratcatcher, but Morgana's family was still suspicious enough of her dating a superhero (and suspicious of Darkwing's intentions) that they were insistent she bring a family chaperone on this big date. She'd solved this problem by carting along Great-great-great-step-grandpapa Loring the Boring who was so old he practically had to be disinterred to join them. This satisfied propriety, and the relative in question was already sleeping through the evening in the back seat and could be expected to remain so. But bringing him along meant they needed a bigger vehicle than just a motorcycle with a sidecar. The Macawbers had an impressive collection of autos, and for a sentient, magical spider, Archie wasn't a bad chauffeur, but the little creature was eager to see the new museum show too and a tad impatient.

"I suppose we'd better be going," she sighed. "It's just that I have the strangest sense of foreboding, as if one of my student loans was overdue."

Darkwing had a similar feeling – not about any loans – more like a distant, intuitive prickle that he sometimes got when the most sinister, threatening forces (such as the PTA) were nearby. Give him a raft of megalomaniacal supervillains over the local tiger moms and dads any day of the week!

"Er, anything more specific than that?" he asked Morgana.

The sorcerous beauty raised a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes in mystic concentration.

"I see a . . . a strange castle . . . ." she intoned slowly, " . . . . and a train . . . a steam-driven train . . . ."

Any further supernatural vibes Morgana might have picked up were cut short by another set of honks from Archie. She trembled, opened her eyes and shrugged her shapely shoulders.

"That's it, I'm afraid. The vision doesn't make any sense to me."

"At least it isn't anything around here," Darkwing mumbled with some relief as they made their way to the waiting car. Drake Mallard might like to think of his home as his castle, but its appearance on this end was nothing but ordinary. Aside from the rotating furniture, secret tunnels and passages inside that led to his superhero hideout in the St. Canard bridge, there wasn't anything at all about his house that could be called strange! It wasn't near any railroad tracks either. And steam trains? Who in their right minds (Quackerjack didn't count obviously) had anything to do with steam trains these days? "Could be something to do with the new exhibit."

Determined to keep their eyes peeled for trouble, Darkwing Duck and Morgana Macawber climbed into their spider-chauffeured conveyance and took off into the night.

"Well, that takes care of that," Launchpad said to himself out loud. It was always good to see DW, uh, Drake take a little time off from his nightly crime patrols to do something normal. And Launchpad thought Drake and Morgana made such a swell couple too!

Now to make some popcorn and scroll around for a good movie on Duckflix . . . .

Launchpad wasn't heedless of his responsibilities as a babysitter though. On his way to the microwave, he stopped by the stairs to take a careful listen. He heard Honker say 'fifteen,' and the word sent a chill down his spine. The kids must be doing math homework. Launchpad had always hated math class. He'd make some extra popcorn for the poor little tykes, but he'd better leave it near Gosalyn's bedroom door and not disturb them just yet or they might want him to help . . . .