Just Like That
It was over now. Broken pots and freshly uprooted plants littered the floor, but... it was over.
It was deathly quiet now, as it was after any visit from Negaduck.
He'd been particularly fierce on that night, making threats and demands while spouting insults.
Bushroot no longer recalled his exact words, only that they'd triggered something within himself.
His arm had extended, becoming solid and branchlike as it stretched several yards to reach the source of his annoyance. The ranting duck was far too busy punctuating a sentence by kicking something over to notice what was going on behind his back.
As he rounded on Bushroot, preparing to unleash yet another stream of shouts, the branch connected, entering his mouth.
Its sharp point penetrated the back of his throat, severing his spinal cord and rupturing the brain-stem. Its speed and force was such that it protruded several feet from the back of his head before coming to a stop, leaving him to dangling like some sort of oversized ornament.
Slowly, the branch began to retract, returning to its original shape as the body slumped gracelessly to the floor. Bushroot regarded the blood soaked limb with a neutral expression, as if studying some form of foreign object.
The idea that he'd actually killed someone with his bare hands seemed so very strange to him. He'd killed before, true enough. But never so directly. He'd always had his plants do the dirty work for him.
He would have expected to feel something more in this situation. But somehow... he simply didn't.
Whatever emotional build up he'd experienced prior to this moment, was simply gone now. Released, as if by its own accord, within a single act. All that remained was an odd sort of detachment from the moment.
Perhaps he would feel more later on. But for now, there was work to be done.
He lowered his arm, returning his attention to the body of Negaduck. The dead eyes of his former leader remained locked open, forever frozen in a look of total shock.
Never had he imagined he would meet his end at the hands of his most timid associate. But just like that, the great Lord Negaduck had fallen.
No grandiose battles. No dramatic final words. Simply... death.
His body would now serve as fertilizer for a number of young plants. Poetic justice, considering how many he'd destroyed during his visit.
The other members of the fearsome five would at some point wonder what became of their leader, but wouldn't care enough to investigate too deeply. The same would likely be true of Darkwing Duck, or any other citizen of St. Canard.
Yes, it was safe to say that the world at large would be more than happy to be rid of him.
Life would go on. And the bones... would never be found.
End
Disclaimer-I don't own DarkWing Duck. I don't pretend to own DarkWing Duck. And I'm not making any money off this story.
