Aaand, we're back online -literally.

First of all, let me give a great big thank you to all my trusty readers and reviewers. It's always nice to know that people still enjoy my writing.

Still working on the outlining, but we're slowly getting somewhere. Enter stage left: S.H.U.S.H., along with a few other patrons. And no, I haven't forgotten about Liquidator; but he just didn't fit into any of the previous chapters. Don't worry, though; our favourite liquefied canine will be showing up soon enough.

I do hope the formatting doesn't go belly-up in this chapter; due to its length it would be rather confusing if it did. Again, I apologize if J. Gander Hooter sounds a little OC; I had great difficulties regarding his characteristic speech patterns. As for Grizzlykoff...we'll see about him.

~ stands for past happenings

Disclaimer: Darkwing Duck and all related characters belong to Disney. This is done for pure entertainment and without no profit what so ever.

Warnings: PG-13, though I'm not aware of any grave violence or swear words.

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Zenith

lV

J. Gander Hooter had seen many things in his life, both as field agent and director of S.H.U.S.H.
He knew talent when he saw it.
And dedication, loyalty, tenaciousness and an extremely versatile mindset when it stood before him in the shape of one Darkwing Duck.
All the more it saddened him, that the vigilante would throw in the towel because of something so..so..insignificant as a reporter's comment.
But perhaps it was just one of his many plans to lull criminals into a false sense of security?
The elder owl fervently hoped that that was the case.
Having seen the broadcast, it was obvious to anyone with halfway decent eyesight and a minimum of common sense that it had been entirely Lockjaw's fault, Megavolt had managed to escape.
Still, most viewers didn't use common sense when watching news, and rather took for granted what the media fed them.
J. Gander reconsidered it a bout of good fortune that Darkwing had not given up his position as freelance agent, but actually even pushed the issue of taking on extra missions.
Adjusting his spectacles, he regarded the caped crime-fighter before him sternly.
"Well, Darkwing, I must admit, your...resignation as hero of St. Canard has come as a great surprise to both me and Chief Agent Grizzlykoff. Still, we're thrilled that you decided to remain true to SH.U.S.H. "
Puffing his chest, Darkwing nodded in silent agreement, even as J. Gander continued,
"Yet, I am afraid that we can not pay you more than we already do due to the fact that you are a merely a freelancing operative."1)
Darkwing, still nodding, conceded,
"Of course, after all -WHAT?" Grizzlykoff gloated,
"Hah!"
Clearing his throat, the director drew the others' attention back on himself.
"However, we are ready to pay you extra bonuses depending on the importance and hazardousness of the mission."
Darkwing shot the "HAH!" back at Grizzlykoff with a vengeance.
Scowling, Director Hooter admonished,
"Gentlemen, please. Now, Darkwing, I have an assignment for you. I first wanted to charge Chief Agent Grizzlykoff with it, but seeing as you have the capacity, I'm trusting you with this operation. This way Agent Grizzlykoff can focus intently on training the new cadets."
Ignoring the bulky bear's smug grin, Darkwing snatched the file J. Gander handed him, scanned the lines-
"Bodyguard? You're hiring me to babysit a professor?"
J. Gander shook his head.
"No just any professor, Darkwing. Dr. Geoffrey Quackenheimer was the late Professor Waddlemeyer's best friend and assistant. For over two decades they worked side by side."
Darkwing perked up at that.
"Waddlemeyer? The Professor Waddlemeyer, who built the ramrod?" 2)
The S.H.U.S.H. Director nodded.
"One and the same. Since the Waddlemeyer ramrod was destroyed due to an -unfortunate incident," at that Darkwing gulped and fingered the collar of his sweater nervously, 3)
"chances are slim to none that F.O.W.L. or anybody else will be able to rebuild it -especially seeing as how Dr. Quackenheimer destroyed all relevant files. Yet, we're not willing to risk any fiend gaining hands on him. Seeing as how he used to be Waddlemeyer's closest confidant, there is a great probability that they could use his knowledge to create a similar device. So we decided to move him to one of our safe houses. And that's where you come in."
Again, Darkwing puffed up.
"Yep, yep, yep, trust me on bringing your precious doctor safe and sound to his new habitat. With me to guard him, no evildoer what-so-ever will dare lay one fing-"
"Oh no, no, no, no," J. Gander put him off with a wave of his hand,
"I will be personally overseeing Dr. Quackenheimer's relocation. You, however, are in charge of orchestrating the decoy's transfer."
Darkwing blinked, then his jaw fell even as Grizzlykoff erupted into guffaws.
"What? Decoy? Me?" sputtered the vigilante.
"Bu-but what about importance and hazard and-and-and -boom! and getting dangerous, and-" The director cut him short.
"No need for worries, Darkwing. We intentionally leaked the rumour of the professor's transition. You will surely have both hands full keeping the decoy alive."
Opening and closing his beak soundlessly, the masked mallard finally managed,
"Yes, but- what about you and Dr. Quackenheimer?"
A warm smile creased the aged owl's features.
"Oh, don't you worry about us, Darkwing," he laughed quietly, as he reached into a drawer of his desk and came up with a fisher's hat adorned with various fish hooks and spoon-baits,
"me and the professor will merely be two old men gone fishing."

The sun shone down from a sky so blue it almost seemed like something out of a holiday advertisement.

An old duck with grey curls, navy blue cardigan and fitting handbag cautiously made her way towards her favourite bakery. Mere feet away from the entrance she was stopped by a nervously grinning Roger Lockjaw and cameraman. 4)
"Pardon me, good citizen of St. Canard, I'm Roger Lockjaw from CNDC, St. Canard's number one news broadcasting station, here to ask you a few questions about the current situation. Now that the police have re-established a fair amount of piece in our beloved city, aren't you glad that you can walk about the park without being harassed by that thuh-rrible nuisance named Dartwing Duck?"
The old duck merely glared at Lockjaw's exaggerated smile.
"A walk, huh? Have you been to the park lately, sonny-boy? It's a jungle out there."
She thrust her thumb direction the city park, where trees dwarfed the high rises; vines hanging from branches sturdy enough to balance convertibles -say what?
Both Lockjaw and Kurt gaped at the scenery splayed before them:
large canopies of moss and mistletoes, interlaced with orchids and common ivy dangled from the green giants. The formerly well-trimmed grass was an ocean of emerald haulms freckled with a myriad of wild flowers of all varieties and colours. In the centre of the garden, rising from the grove as Venus rose from the sea, stood a single purple poppy anemone, shadowing everything in a sixty feet radius. 5)

Watching the two men stare in baffled silence, the little old lady cawed,
"Oh, he was a nuisance for sure. Kept running over my foot whenever he was out catching crooks. But at least I could go feed the birds in the park without having to worry about being eaten by some critter or another. Now, out of my way," she swung her handbag and hit Lockjaw over the head with it,
"there's an order of cinnamon rolls with my name on it."
Rubbing his aching head, the news anchor asked,
"Why are we doing this again?" Kurt coughed nervously.
"Because the boss insisted?" Lockjaw winced as he recalled the morning's events.
"Oh, yeah, I remember..."

~Six point four feet, two-hundred-thirty-eight pounds and one mean temper, Dorian Day ruled CNDC with an iron fist.
Currently, the chief editor watched the squirming Roger Lockjaw huddled before his desk. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his massive desk and rumbled,
"Roger, Roger, Roger. Do you have any idea how much you disappoint me?"
Gulping, the reporter squeaked,
"Disappoint? You? Why, I'd never-"
"You see, when you first came in here with that report about Darkwing Duck leaving, I thought 'Hey! What a story!' When the troops came marching in to establish peace and order, I knew we had the coverage of the year. And then you went and bumbled it. Do you know how you bumbled it, Lockjaw?"
Trembling at the switch from first to last name base, the paparazzo nodded,
"I do -not?"
"Because you interviewed everyone except for the viewers! You questioned every pampered snob on the Swany Heights, all the military personnel you stumbled across and even harassed both the mayor and Police Chief, but not once did you stop to ask the common people about their opinion of the situation at hand!" roared Day.
Clinging to the carpet save the editor's roar threatened to blow him away, Lockjaw felt his hair blanch to the very roots.
A benevolent smile, so insincere it made Lockjaw sick to the stomach, was thrown his way when his boss ground out,
"Now, you're going to go out there and ask every kid, mother and granny you might come across how they feel about the situation in general and Darkwing's departure in particular. And Lockjaw?", the addressed one's eyes went wide as saucers,
"Don't disappoint me. Again."
Stuttering, babbling, tripping over his own feet and tossing out a hundred reassurances and apologies a minute, Lockjaw evacuated the office post haste.
Day drove a brawny hand over his face.~

Head buried under the Thunderquack's hood, Launchpad heard the characteristic thud, as the Ratcatcher landed safely on its designated spot.
Wiping his greasy hands with an old cloth he rose and, walking over to the bike, asked,
"Hey, DW, how did it go on the mi-YIKES!"
Doing a double-take, he watched a severely singed, bruised and scorched Darkwing trudge past him, growling,
"Don't. Ask."
"Uhm, ok, I won't. Still, I'm wondering..." Darkwing, changing into a spare costume behind his screen, bit,
"About what? Whether or not Santa's elves get paid overtime for working on Christmas?" Launchpad frowned at this.
"Eh, yeah, well that too. But that's not it." Sweater half ways pulled over his head, Darkwing threw a worried glance at his sidekick.
Fiddling with the rug in his hands, Launchpad stuttered nervously,
"I-it's just -well- I mean..that is..uhm, well, y' know-"
"Launchpad, spit out already!" screamed the vigilante.
"Well, Iknowyoutookquiteabrusin'withwhatthatotherreporter saidbutdon'tyathinkyou'reovereactingabitbyjustaban d- oningthecity?" sputtered the cowed pilot. Darkwing stared at him for five seconds flat, then screeched in offence,
"Of course I'm not abandoning St. Canard! What do you take me for? The police can handle the usual criminals, and if the Fearsome Five should show their faces, I'll just call in the Justice Ducks."

Neptunia crossed her arms before her chest.
"Newsflash, dimwit. We're outnumbered five to four. Without you, we're one duck short of a team."
Darkwing tsked and cooed,
"Not likely. You see, I have already taken care of that. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the newest member of the Justice Ducks!"
Out of the shadows came a small figure sporting a triangle-shaped hat, short bow and cape.
Quiverwing Quack walked up to the group, a look of fierce determination on her face.
Morgana stared in disbelief.
"Her?" Immediately, her incredulity changed into anger. Glaring at her boyfriend, she snarled,
"You're sending a child to do your work?!"
Darkwing backed away, hands waving appeasing.
"Not a kid, but a heroine-in training. Despite her young age, she meets all the required qualifications for a good cadet. Besides, instead of having one single one, she'll have five tutors."
The others blinked in confusion.
"What other tutors?" asked Gizmoduck puzzled. Darkwing beamed.
"Why, you, of course. Naturally, I'll be teaching her the basics, such as deducting skills, investigation techniques and Quack Fu. You however, will be teaching her on the run, while in action. With your individual skills and talents, she will adapt such a vast array of crime fighting skills, she will become the best crime-fighter ever!" Polishing and inspecting his fingernails, he added more quietly,
"Next to me, that is."
"I will not have any part in this!" declared an enraged Morgana Macawber.

Everybody stared at her in bafflement. Darkwing's jaw hung somewhere between the suspension cables and the basement of Audubon Bridge, and Gosalyn's- pardon, Quiverwing's- eyes were twice the size of coconut burgers.
"But-but- honey-wumpus, don't you think it's a great idea? She already has some experience, and she has followed and watched me for ages. Besides, it's not as if I talked her into it; she basically insisted on joining-" Morgana whirled around.
"Now listen here and listen closely, Darkwing Duck! I will not allow you to endanger a young girl, never mind how brave or talented she is, with your crime-fighting schemes just because your ego took a bruising. And if you insist on this-this -macabre posse of yours, you can consider our relationship cancelled! I will not be acquainted with a hero who puts his charge in danger in order to nurse if wounded pride!"

All were quiet; shocked into silence by the mage's heated words. The livid sorceress made her way towards the exit, ready to leave-
Darkwing stood before her in so fast a movement, it even took Gizmoduck by surprise.
Gazing at her with a sombre expression, Darkwing pleaded,
"Morgana, please, don't -don't leave. Not like this. Please. I understand that you're upset, and I can't blame you for wanting to leave me, but..Morgana, please, I'm asking -begging you..We need you. The Justice Ducks need you. I need you. And so does St. Canard."
He took a deep breath, before he mumbled,
"I -can't stop you from leaving me. I have no right to do so. But -but for the sake of the people, the city..Don't walk out on St. Canard, Morgana. Please."
The mage prepared for a sharp reply...then gazed at him, as if seeing him for the very first time.
And then, suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, she saw it, saw the real Darkwing Duck.
She could see all the hits, bruises, blows, discredits and insults he had taken, the pain and sacrifices he had suffered, the traces of self-neglect and scars of loneliness; she could almost count the stitches beneath his plumage and beyond that, past the superficial marks and faults, underneath it all, revealed, his sincerity, honesty and unwavering, profound devotion to all people and his loved ones in particular.
And Morgana knew why she had fallen for him in the first place the very moment they met.
In that one single unguarded moment, when his emotions(and hormones) had ensnared his thinking and left him fully open and vulnerable, she had glimpsed his soul and found the missing part of herself.

Lowering her eyes, she weighed the options for a moment, then rose her head and nodded, once.
"Fine. For the sake of St. Canard, I will stay."
Everybody present broke into cheers, even as Darkwing took his beloved one's hands into his own and hushed,
"Thank you, Morgana. For everything."
She winked, as she cooed,
"Hey, I can't let St. Canard fall to pieces, right? After all, I have merely just begun to establish my gourmet franchise, and I do need a decent operation base."
Darkwing's response was crushed by his bafflement, even as the enchanting sorceress breezed past him and addressed the others,
"Well then, Justice Ducks, time to get to work! Stegmutt, you will meet me here every morning eight o' clock sharp. Let's see what we can do about that...simple mind of yours. Gizmoduck, since you're the one with the most field experience, you will be patrolling the city and help wherever there's help needed. The police might have things under control for the moment, but there's no telling when any of the Fearsome Five might show up again. Quiverwing, as your mentor already announced, he'll be in charge of your training. Speaking of which.."
Launchpad watched the happenings, then, bending over to his best friend, whispered,
"Sheesh, talk about a take-charge kinda girl. Do you think it's wise to make Morgana leader of the Justice Duck, DW?"
"Please, LP;" rasped the vigilante in return, "we're talking about a witch who can turn you into a snail in two shakes of her pinky. Literally. Do you really want to go up against that?" Launchpad scratched his head in discomfort.
"Point taken."
"Now, Neptunia," Morgana turned to the fish-almost-turned-girl,
"you do have a very tight schedule, seeing as how you are responsible of the ocean and its inhabitants. Being a businesswoman myself, I understand that your time is rather limited. Still, I would be more than happy if you could be our stand-by duck -err, fish. Is there a way we can reach you in case of emergency?"
Neptunia considered this a moment, then nodded.
"Sure thing, lass; I'll fix you up a second horn in a jiffy. But only call when you're really beached and carped, ya hear me?" Morgana smiled reassuringly.
"Of course dear. It would never cross my mind to place a distress signal unless things were really truly dare." Neptunia snorted.
"Well, it's nice to see that at least some land-dwellers have common sense. I'll send ya the horn by seagull. Later, folks."
With that, she jumped out the next window to plunge into the waters below. Resurfacing, she waved good-bye to the others, then made her way towards the ocean.
Launchpad, removing his headgear and wiping some sweat off his brow, declared,
"Now that's one cold-blooded fish-err-girl-err, I mean, well, y' know..."
Gizmoduck, who had watched the whole happenings in silence, worried his chin, then asked,
"There's just one thing that bothers me. Who ever went and made you boss, lady?" he pointed at Morgana.
Who turned and, letting some harmless, but impressive sparks erupt from her fingertips, purred in a low voice,
"Why? Are you questioning my decisions, Gizzzmoduck?"
Hastily shaking his head, Duckburg's hero acquiesced,
"No, of course not, you're the boss, sure enough!" Morgana gave a smile, just a hair wider than a razor's blade.
"Good. Now I would say we all get some rest, then meet back here at sundown to plan our further steps. Until then, take care of yourselves."
Turning, she sauntered towards the spin chairs, Launchpad and Quiverwing in tow. Glancing back, she queried,
"Are you coming, Darkwing?"
"Of course, darling", tweeted the masked mallard and added quietly over his shoulder,
"Besides, who would argue with someone who has such leadership skills?"

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*grin *I could just picture DW giving the audience that last line before leaving the screen. So, the Justice Ducks are back in business with Morgana as leader. I first wanted Gizmoduck to call the shots, but then found Morgana to be both more intimidating and cunning.
And just because she was quiet throughout this chapter doesn't mean that Quiverwing will be anywhere as silent for the remainder of the story. I merely decided that her vocal chords could use some rest.

1) It's established that S.H.U.S.H. pays for DW's entire equipment. Actually, it's shown in episodes #6 Apes of Wrath, #14 Trading Faces, #82 Star-crossed Circuits, #84 The Frequency Fiends
Hey, somebody has to shell out the bucks for a decent health plan! And secret governmental institutions do have quite the budget.

2, 3) Uhm, episodes #1 and #2, anyone?

4) The little old lady from Quackadena...I just had to include her. She's the stereotypical ungrateful, ignorant, wary St. Canardian who always accidentally gets pestered by DW one way or another.

5) I wanted it to be purple as reference to Bushroot. The thought of a bigger-than-life jungle in the centre of a metropolis makes me smile.

So far, so well. Hope you liked this and will be back whenever I update. Next up: the return of one- of two- ehh, a couple of DW's greatest enemies. And perhaps some other surprises, too. Toodle-pip!

P.S: Anyone ever tell ya what a lousy formatter you are, dude? (ref. to DW # 68 'Negaduck')