Disclaimer: I do not own anything featured in this story. The characters belong to their respective owners or distributors. The story belongs to Paul Dini, Alan Burnett, Michael Reaves, and Martin Pasko.
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"I'm telling you, friends, it's vigilantism at its deadliest," Councilman Robert Underdunk Terwilliger, formerly known as Sideshow Bob, declared from a podium outside of City Hall. "How often are we going to let Batduck step over the line?"
Enforcer Commander Ulysses Ferrell growled at the councilman. His second-in-command, Lucky Piquel, watched his boss' fur bristle. The Enforcer leader may have hated the SwatKats, but Batduck was different. This was a toon who had come to him, told him his plans, worked with him, trusted him, and he would not stand for this kind of bashing.
"I'm sorry, Councilman," he interjected, "but you can't blame the Batduck for what happened to Fat Tony."
"Why not?" Bob snarled. "He's a loose cannon, Commander. And it's not just my opinion. A lot of people, including the Enforcers, I might add, that believe that Batduck is as dangerous as the crooks he hauls in. What kind of city are we running when we have to rely on the support of a potential mad-toon?"
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The television in the Duck-Cave was muted, the feathered hand of Plucky Duck pulled away to focus on the shard of glass he had lifted from the crime scene.
"That, I say, that, I say, right there is a load of Rudolph droppings, sir," Foghorn Leghorn commented to his employer with that erasable Southern drawl, a tray carrying a pot of tea and cup in his hands. "You're the very model of sanity," he placed the tray next to Plucky. "By the way, I pressed your tights and put away your exploding gas balls."
There was a hint of sarcasm in his butler's voice which was not lost on the green duck. He arched an eyebrow at his oldest friend.
"Thank you, Foghorn," he said, returning his attention back to the glass.
"So, whatcha' got there?" Foghorn asked.
"A piece of windshield from Fat Tony's car." Plucky replied. "There's a chemical residue on it. It's kind of nice to know that some of the things from Springfield don't just burn up."
"Was the car from the first 10 seasons? It would explain it."
"Zing!"
Plucky adjusted the sight on his microscope, he wasn't sure what he was looking for, but there something he couldn't shake. He readjusted the sights again, his instincts were right, there was something attached to the glass.
"I say, I say, did you find anything, boy?"
"Yep," Plucky said, that arrogant smile forming on his face. "It seems like some sort of dense long chain macro molecular polymer. Adaptagenic, of course."
"Of course," Foghorn commented. These sorts of things always went over his head.
Besides, he had to prepare the house for the charity gala at Duck Manor.
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Outside of Goth-Toon City, a plane flew overhead.
"I should be landing any minute," one of the passengers said over her cell phone. "It'll be good to see you again, Robert."
"You too," Bob said on the other line. "And don't worry about a thing; we'll clear up these old family finances. Don't forget, you've got a big time city councilman on your side."
"I can't believe it's been ten years," she said solemnly.
"Thinking of looking up some old friends?" Bob asked.
"Don't start, Robert," she said, looking at the latest addition of Fortune, the face of Plucky Duck staring back at her. "He's ancient history."
"That's encouraging," Bob said. "I'll see you soon."
The two hung up their phones.
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The gala was a rousing success. Most of the events held by the Duck Foundation were a rousing success, but tonight it even exceeded Plucky's expectations. He had managed to escape the press long enough to refill his drink when he was joined by Gwen Tennyson, Shirley McLoon, and Brittany Pierce. Each of the young women he considered good friends…as close as he could get to friends…though the blonde girl was a little simple for his tastes.
"Honestly, Plucky," the voice of Gwen Tennyson asked flirtatiously, "all alone in this big house, you never think of marriage? Not even once?"
"Oh, don't say the 'M' word in front of Plucky," Shirley commented, the traces of her Valley Girl accent gone after years of running her father's company. "It makes him nervous."
Plucky glared playfully at his friend.
"What about the 'I' word?" Brittany inquired.
Plucky raised an eyebrow. 'Okay, I'll bite,' he thought. "The 'I' word?"
"Engagement," Brittany said with supreme confidence.
Gwen gave Shirley a look that said, "Who keeps inviting her to these things?"
Shirley countered with the classic, "Do you wanna fight her girlfriend?"
"I'd watch myself with Plucky if I were you, ladies," the husky voice of Rogue the Bat said. She sauntered over to Plucky and the girls, a smug smile on her face and wine glass in her hand. "First, he wines and dines ya', makes you think you're the only gal he's ever been interested in. And just when you're thinkin' where to register the china," her expression changed to one of annoyed anger, "he forgets your phone number." Rogue hurled the wine in his face. "That's Plucky Duck's style."
Before Plucky could say anything to defend himself, she was gone. Plucky didn't even bother to wipe away the wine
"Excuse me," he said to the concerned women.
He moved past them, hoping Foghorn was nearby with a towel.
"A friend in need," a familiar baritone voice interjected, a handkerchief waving in front of his face.
Plucky looked up to see Sideshow Bob standing over him. Plucky took the handkerchief from Bob, wiping his face.
"Councilman," he said politely. "How goes the Bat-bashing?"
"Better than your love life," Bob quipped. "Seriously, Plucky, it's as if you pick them because you know there's no chance at a long-term relationship."
"Says the master of relationships," Plucky quipped.
Bob laughed and continued to press the issue. "Except for that one girl. Gill…Joss…Gosalyn."
The name no one in Duck Manor ever said. Plucky's reaction even caught him by surprise and it almost made him swallow the handkerchief.
"Gosalyn Mallard," Bob said, slapping his host on the back. "Now, there was a sweet little number. How'd you let that one shake loose?"
Plucky coughed up the handkerchief, his now glassy eyes narrowed at Bob. Still he managed a polite 'thanks' to the councilman. But, honestly, was Bob really asking him that question?
"Thanks for the handkerchief, Bob," Plucky said, shoving it back into Bob's breast pocket, "you know where you can stick it."
He had barely been able to gasp out that quip.
"I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?" Bob asked as Plucky pushed past Bob and moved toward the study.
The study was the most rational choice; time in there always cleared his head. Closing the door behind him, Plucky walked over to the desk and opened one of the drawers. Inside of said drawer was a picture of as a younger duck, probably in his early 20s, with a young she-duck, around the same age. The picture, no older than 10 years, took Plucky back to a simpler time…a happier time.
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10 years earlier, Plucky Duck stood at the graves of his parents, Daffy and Melissa Duck. It was a solemn tradition that he always followed through with every month. But, today there was a change in the air. Plucky, himself, couldn't anticipate it. He was standing by the grave when he heard a voice off in the distance.
"And I swear that if Daddy gets any more protective, I swear, he's gonna build a moat around my room." The voice was female. "It's times like this I wish you were around to…"
Plucky walked past the tombstones, following the voice. He saw a young she-duck standing in the grass, talking to what appeared to be thin air. She stopped talking.
"Yes," she said after a split second of silence.
"Excuse me," he said to the girl.
The girl turned around and Plucky immediately felt something akin to a kick in the bill, this girl was a knock-out.
"I thought you were saying something," Plucky stammered. "I mean…to me…"
"No," she said.
"Okay," Plucky said before walking away from the girl.
"Do you who that was?" she asked her seemingly non-existent partner in talk. "Plucky Duck. You know, Duck Enterprises. I've seen him around campus a couple of times. Real moody. Cute though."
Plucky turned around again.
"I'm sorry, I heard my name," he stammered again. "Who are you talking too?"
"My mother," the she-duck said, stepping aside to reveal a tombstone that read Morgana McCrawber Mallard.
"Oh," Plucky said. "Well, I didn't mean too."
"It's okay," the she-duck insisted. "We're done. Mom doesn't have much to say today."
Plucky looked at her quizzically. The she-duck began to move toward the cemetery exit.
"Hey, I'm not the only one who talks to their loved ones," she defended.
"I didn't say anything," Plucky insisted, following after this strange yet entrancing girl.
"It's just that when I talk to her out loud," the she-duck explained, "I can imagine how she'd reply. I can hear her like she's right there."
Plucky nodded understandingly. "I talk to my parents too."
"What'd you say?"
"I made a vow."
"What kind of vow?"
"A secret one."
"Ooh," she said, moving in front of him, "a duck of mystery. Have you kept your vow?"
Plucky smiled slyly. "So far."
The two stopped in front of her car, the girl placing her purse in the driver's seat.
"Gosalyn Mallard," she said, extending her hand.
"Plucky Duck," he said, taking her hand and shaking it.
"I know," Gosalyn said, "the boy billionaire."
Gosalyn stepped in toward Plucky reaching around his neck. Plucky wasn't sure what to make of this until he realized she was turning down the collar of his jacket.
"So tell me," Gosalyn pressed, "with all that money and power, how come you always look like you wanna take a header into some jagged rocks?"
"Why should you care?" Plucky asked.
"I don't," Gosalyn quipped, opening the door to her car and stepping into it. "Mother was asking."
She closed the door and drove off, leaving Plucky to wonder if he would ever see her again. The day's shift into night made him put this chance meeting to the back of his mind. The night always brought out the promise he had made years ago. The promise he had no intention of breaking.
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There's old saying, the freaks come out at night. Plucky was pretty sure that there was even a song that mentioned this, but nonetheless, Goth-Toon City was no different. The green duck hit the top of the roof, decked out in an all-black outfit, something reminiscent of a black-ops outfit. He looked down to see a tied up guard and a group of thieves, each one wearing white and black costumes with matching boots and winter facemasks. It was, without a doubt, Team Rocket. They were busy loading a truck with items they had pilfered from the warehouse Plucky stood atop of.
"Okay, Meowth," a purple-haired man said. This was James of Team Rocket, "we're done shopping."
"All clear here," a noticeably New York accent sounded off from the other side of the walkie talkie.
This was his cue. All the years of training were leading to this moment.
"Here goes nothing," Plucky said, pulling the black attack mask over his face.
He leapt from the top of the building letting out a feral battle cry. Unfortunately for our hero, the Looney Tune blood that coursed through his veins did not allow for a perfect entrance. He missed the center of where the criminals had circled and crashed into the nearby garbage cans. He heard the bound security guard groan in frustration.
'I bet this never happens to Super-Mouse,' Plucky groaned, stumbling out of the trash and into the line of sight of the criminals, who seemed more amused than intimidated by the duck in black.
"On your stomachs!" Plucky barked. "Arms spread!"
The Team Rocket quartet exchanged stares before they broke up laughing.
"Did you hear this guy?" a raspy voiced member named Butch asked.
"We better do what Mr. Kung-Fu over there says," another one named Archer quipped, pulling out his pistol.
James followed suit, but as they raised their weapons, Plucky reacted. Reaching into his belt, his launched an edged-ninja ball at James, knocking the gun out of his hand, sending it flying under the truck. With equally impressive skill and speed, he tossed another into the chest of Archer, knocking him back against the wall.
Butch charged at Plucky, swinging a crowbar wildly. Plucky used that rage against, ducking out of the wall and cracking Butch in the jaw, leveling the last armed attacker. What he didn't anticipate was James recovering, putting him in a full-nelson. A hulking man named Tyson moved in for the attack, his fist colliding with Plucky's ribcage and then another punch connected with his face.
Plucky was quick to react, head-butting James, forcing him to relinquish his grip. James fell back, his head slamming into the concrete. Plucky then made fast work of Tyson, elbowing him in the face and kicking him in the head, sending him sailing across the ground and into wall.
"Wahoo!" Plucky exclaimed, not noticing that the guard was trying to warn him of impending danger.
He only noticed when the sound of a shotgun rang out and nearly took his beak with it. Meowth unloaded the shotgun at Plucky, who grabbed the guard and ducked into the warehouse. The Pokémon thief spun on his heels and raced for the truck.
Meanwhile, Plucky propped the guard. "Excuse me," he said politely before taking chase to Meowth.
By the time he reached the lot, Meowth had started the truck and was making his escape. The empty crates in the back of the truck fell in front of him, nearly impeding the wannabe crime-fighter's pursuit of the thief. Silently thanking his training for his increased speed, Plucky leapt for the open doors of the back of the truck, hooking the lock.
Meowth turned the corner, almost throwing Plucky off of the back of the truck, but the tenacious duck held on. Meowth by a police car, where rookie officer Lucky Piquel was sitting in the passenger side, focused on a cup of coffee. The truck passed the cruiser, Plucky waving to the cops.
Lucky's eyes snapped open as he spit out his coffee. What the heck was going on here? He put the siren on, his partner picking up the speed, and they began to chase down the thief and the vigilante.
Meowth heard the siren and tried to turn the truck again, only for Plucky to appear in the driver-side mirror. He switched lanes again, only for the cops to pull in front of him in an aggressive manner.
Meowth stepped on the gas, forcing the cruiser onto its side and out of the truck's range. The cruiser flipped onto its roof and came to a stop nearly fifty feet away from the speeding truck. Plucky cringed at the sight, but turned his attention back to his prey. He scaled the truck and leapt onto the roof of the truck as they entered a tunnel. He reached into his makeshift utility belt, pulling out a hammer.
Needless to say, Meowth leapt out of his seat when the hammer came crashing down on the windshield. This caused the truck to begin bobbing and weaving in the tunnel. Meowth slammed onto the brake, sending Plucky tumbling from the cab roof. Plucky hooked the truck grill, hanging on for dear life.
Thinking quickly, Plucky reached into one of the still-filled pouches of his belt, pulling out his spike-strips, tossing them to the ground. The tires exploded, sending the truck onto its side.
A shower of sparks kicked into the air, almost striking Plucky, who hung onto the grill for all he was worth. He managed to crane his head around fast enough to realize that the truck was moving closer and closer to a wall.
"Mother," he cried, closing his eyes and preparing for the end.
When he opened his eyes again, the truck had stopped only ten inches away from the wall. Plucky leapt onto the door of the fallen truck, checking to find Meowth lying in the cab, unconscious.
The newly-christened vigilante heard the sound of sirens barreling down at him.
Plucky sprang off of the truck, scaling the wall and escaping the scene as the cops arrived.
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The following morning, an energized, though thoroughly bruised and bandaged, Plucky stood on his front lawn, throwing punches and kicks to the wind. His form was flawless, his normally clumsy nature gone, replaced by a new vigor.
"I read about your anonymous exploits," Foghorn said, looking at the article: Mysterious Vigilante Repels Bandits, "and I say, I say, you should pick bull-riding instead, son."
"Sorry, Foghorn," Plucky said, dropping into attack stance, "but the plan is working." He threw a kick. "I had the edge." He dropped low and threw a kick. "I could feel it."
Stopping his practice, Plucky stood erect.
"There was just one problem," he observed. "They weren't afraid of me."
"Would crashing into ash-cans have anything to do with it?"
"Ha, ha, how drawl!" Plucky's face became serious. "I need something that'll strike fear in them right from the start."
He returned to his practice.
"Pardon, Master Plucky," Foghorn interjected. "But, we may have to postpone the shoptalk as it were. I believe you have a visitor."
Plucky turned, unsure what his loyal friend was talking about. He spotted Gosalyn moving toward him, looking as beautiful as ever in a red sundress and white hat. Plucky accidentally swung his arm around and clocked himself in the face, sending him stumbling back. He looked around, noticing that Foghorn had vanished from sight.
"I'm okay," he declared. "I'm okay."
"Hi," she said brightly, suddenly really catching sight of the bandages. "Hey, what happened to you? Trip over some loose cash?"
She reached out and touched his shoulder, causing the green duck to squeal in pain. He turned from her, rubbing some feeling back into his arm.
"It's been almost three days since we met and still no calls," she said. "I figured you were dead or something."
Plucky returned to his practice. "You expect every guy you meet to call you?" he asked, surprised by his own flirtatiousness.
"The ones who are smart enough to dial a phone," she quipped with an equally flirty fury.
When she was met with dead air, Gosalyn continued talking. "What is that?" in reference to his martial arts form.
"Jujitsu!" Plucky said, throwing a punch and blocking against his invisible foe.
"Gesundheit," Gosalyn said.
Plucky raised an eyebrow at her.
"It was a joke," she said.
"Jujitsu is no joke," Plucky said. "It takes years to master."
Without saying another word, Gosalyn hooked Plucky's arm and flipped the master jujitsu practitioner to the ground with relative ease.
"Got a few moves of my own," she said arrogantly, stepping in front of Plucky, who seemed stunned speechless. "Miss Prince's Self-Defense Class for Girls." She explained.
Much to his own surprise, Plucky started laugh at this comment. This surprised Gosalyn even more.
"He laughs," she said.
Plucky struck, tripping Gosalyn to the ground. He leapt onto her, pinning her arms to the ground. Gosalyn struggled for a few seconds before she smiled at him.
"Nice footwork," she said. "Can you dance too?"
Plucky smiled and he made his move, kissing square on the lips. Foghorn emerged from the house, a tray of lemonade in his hands. He saw the scene unfolding in front of him.
"Oh," he turned back toward the house, leaving his master alone with she-duck that seemed to have captured his attention. He smiled, praying that this would be the thing that put him back on the right track.
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In the present, Plucky sat at the desk in his study, staring at the picture of himself and Gosalyn. They seemed so happy. He heard the study door open and he quickly put the photo back into the desk.
"Master Plucky?" Foghorn pulled Plucky out his memories. "Boy, I'd get back to, I say, I'd get back to the party if I were you. Miss Fawn Deer is dancing on the piano."
"Plucky!" the inebriated voice of Fawn could be heard from the ballroom.
Plucky sighed, walking closer to the door. Time to play millionaire playboy again.
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A/N: Another chapter in the books…or crossover section…whichever you want to call it. I hope you guys enjoyed it. This one was a wild one and I apologize for taking so long to getting it out.