The rough, pockmarked wood of the bar felt comforting beneath my fingertips as I waited for the bartender to bring me a double shot of whiskey bourbon. I had made many memories in this old place, both good and bad. I knew all of the gangs that did business here, and of the less-reputable patrons that came merely to drink away their wasted lives, hoping to find peace in the empty solace of gin and vodka. I was well-respected by most in this part of town. They'd even hung a portrait of me above the mantle that housed the faux fireplace. I had my own idea of justice, and the patrons knew that. I helped them where it was warranted, I busted those whose aims went against the code of the streets, and I was fair about it. For information, I would look the other way as they committed felonies in front of me. Men had a business to run here. Who was I to judge them as long as they stayed civil?

Glass touched my fingertips and I lifted my eyes to thank the bartender when I froze, every muscle in my body tensing as the surprise shivered through me. It wasn't the bartender's eyes boring into mine, but a set of small beady black ones that I had seen only a few times before from a distance.

The shock passed and I downed the liquor in one easy swallow.

"Ah, I was wondering when I would have the privilege of making your acquaintance," I mused, leaning back on the stool with a careless expression. "I'd ask your name, but your face says it all." I coolly eyed the chrome beak beneath his narrowed gaze.

"A comedian, are yas?" Steelbeak scowled. "I don't have time fer wisecracks. I got infermation ya might be interested in."

I took a sip of bourbon and let the liquor settle warmly in my stomach before I answered him.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Ah, ah, ah, dis is how we're gonna do t'ings. You gotta do some'n fer me in retoin."

"Naturally," I replied with a smooth nod.

"We – meanin' Jake's reputable faction a gentlemen – get official amnesty from SHUSH. Ya get us dat, I kin make it so's ya kin arrest de Fearsome Five single-handed. You'll be a hero to da city, more so den dat dimwit Darkwing, dat's fer sure." He cackled in his tinny, mechanical voice, which grated on my nerves like a rod on a washboard. His laugh could give anyone a splitting headache.

"What makes you think I can give you boys amnesty?" I asked, taking another mouthful of bourbon whiskey.

Now his metal beak was curled back in a disconcerting grin.

"We know you're in real good wit' de director, so don't even try denyin' it."

"Oh, I'm not," I replied with some amusement. It wasn't the first time a criminal gang had tried to exploit my friendship with J. Gander. "But the director's always been by the book. I doubt I'll have much influence, but I'll see what I can do. I suppose you're not going to give me any leads until then?"

"The Natural History Museum," the rooster said evenly. "Eight o'clock sharp, two nights from now."

It was just enough time for me to figure out why Jake was sending his lackey to sell me such a transparent deal. Then something else came to mind.

"By the way," I said casually, "I don't suppose you know anything about the bullet through my office window earlier today."

"Can't say dat I do. But it's unfortunate ta hear dat." I could tell he was lying, but I let him think he'd fooled me.

I shrugged. "It depends on which end of the lens you're looking through."

My cane clacked rhymically in time with my stride, and each time it hit the pavement it sent a hollow echo off of the surrounding buildings. It was the only sound for blocks, but I barely noticed it. The moon peered out nervously from behind the scattered clouds, grazing the cityscape with a hesitant shade of periwinkle, and shadows swam over the alleyways as I continued past without a second glance.

Pieces of evidence were running through my mind as I tried to assemble the puzzle. It would determine my next move.

A Russian bear blackmailed and assassinated. A dangerous device stolen. A suspicious invitation to the museum. And an unwelcome bullet hole in my office window. What did they all have in common? Where did they link up? Something to do with that machine. And the one person I could talk to about what it did was missing.

I knew it was time to confront Jake Mallard. I had evidence I knew he must want, but he was playing cat and mouse by sending Steelbeak after me with that phony lead. I would have to play their game for now.

I stopped cold. The flutter of a sound had whispered past my keen ears like the low hum of conspiracy. I waited for an indication of an encore, but only the moaning wind obliged. My eyes shrank to slits for an instant; I was growing tired of games.

Keeping my senses alert, I continued on my way as if I had consoled myself that it had merely been the wind. But I knew better.

It wasn't long before I heard it again. The dull scrapings of sound, the faint suggestion of noise, the soft murmur of resonance just over my shoulder. I whirled around and in one swift movement had my pursuer up against a brick wall. It wasn't until my eyes focused in the dim moonlight that I could see a thick curtain of straight crimson hair overshadowing a set of piercing hazel irises. As I glared into her fierce stare, I could feel the pulse in her neck quicken underneath my palm where I held her in place.

"Why are you following me?" I demanded lowly.

"I'm just waiting for you to slip up, you slime bag," she spat vehemently. "I want to be there to slap the handcuffs around your wrists and cart you off to the authorities myself." Her voice contained venom that oozed hate as vibrant as the ruddy hue of her hair.

It took me a moment as her words gored my ears for me to realize her error. I smiled.

"My dear lady, I suggest you take a closer look at my person, for I am not the mallard you are so hoping to ensnare."

"Oh no?" she scoffed. "You look every bit like your mug shot."

"Ah, but you see, the mallard you are looking for is one, Jake Mallard, whereas I am Jacob Mallard. If you care to notice, there are a few minor differences despite my unfortunate resemblance to that conniving crime lord. For example, my eyes are completely black."

She raised an eyebrow and opened her bill to make what I deemed to be some sort of retort, so I cut her to the quick.

"And should that not convince your obviously sharp observation skills, you'll notice that I require the assistance of a cane to walk. Hardly an attribute of Jake Mallard's, though that is a situation I intend to remedy quite soon."

Her eyes were scrutinizing me now, most of the initial malice gone.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Jacob Mallard never lies. He merely withholds certain information until the proper time."

"And are you withholding information now?"

"Why don't you investigate that for yourself, madam?" I was enjoying this little banter with her, though I still had yet to discover who she was. Any moment I could toy with someone else was a moment I appreciated.

She gave me a wry expression behind the blanket of hair.

"I would...except you're choking me."

"Oh!" I exclaimed apologetically before I could catch myself. I removed my hand from around her neck and stepped away from her. "My sincerest apologies."

"So you're after Jake too?" she asked me curiously after catching her breath.

I was hesitant to divulge much -- my life is my own business -- but I gratified her with a nod. Normally it was as this point that I took my leave, but something about the way she tilted her head with a sardonic smirk twisting her bill made me pause and wait for her to make the next move.

"So who are you, then? I mean, what do you do?"

"Private investigation," I replied automatically, annoyed that I was giving away more than I wanted to. So I turned the tables. "And what about you? You have the upper hand knowing my identity and occupation. It's only fair that you offer up the same."

"Says who?" the woman said almost tauntingly. She was grating on my nerves which were usually placid, and it was all I could do to keep my tongue under control.

"All right, then. Perhaps an honorable inclination is far too much to ask at this day in age." I tipped my black fedora toward her. "I bid thee farewell."

"Wait."

Her fingers touched the crook of my arm and halted my advance. I turned to look at her expectantly, though inside I was enjoying the fact that she wanted to speak more to me.

"Annie Barrow," she stated simply, her hardened eyes now a bit softer as she looked up into mine. "My name, it's...Annie." Then she straightened up and stuck out her hand toward mine, her professional exterior suddenly placing an invisible wall around her. "I'm the new Chief Agent of SHUSH."

I almost inhaled my tongue. "What? You?!"

That superior smirk returned to her mouth, and I found I wanted to rip it off of her face.

"That's right," she said with an arrogant undertone enough to match my own.

"But you're a...you're..." I stammered, my mind reeling at the thought of a woman in the role of chief agent.

"How perceptive of you," she continued flippantly, reading my thoughts. I hated that. "And should that not convince your perceptibly sharp observation skills, you'll notice my badge."

My eyes darted to the golden insignia just over the left breast of her suit jacket. Damn. How could I have missed that?

"Well, it's been fun," I remarked sarcastically as I swept past her, trying to regain some of my dignity. "But I've got a case to solve."

"Indeed?" Both of her eyebrows arched in unison. "The missing machine, am I right? The one the Fearsome Five stole a couple of weeks ago? And, let me guess, you're trying to tie that to Chief Agent Gryzlikoff's murder."

I didn't grant her the satisfaction of turning back around so that she could see my incredulous expression. Instead, I decided to sweep her conclusions aside.

"I'm following a lead tomorrow night at the museum. Care to join me?"

I blinked. Why had I invited her along? But to my relief, she declined.

"No can do. I've got a lot of training to go through at SHUSH filling that overstuffed teddy bear's shoes. I don't have time for fancy parties."

I shrugged, playing it nonchalantly though I couldn't pinpoint where my strange behavior was coming from. "Perhaps another time, then. Au revoir."

"So long."

My cane again. The only sound for blocks. But all I heard was one word. Annie.