And the Rest is History

43

Not Getting Up

Cafeteria location: Ground level.

Security office location: Ground level.
Camera status: Hooter: Disabled, offline.
Camera footage notes: Darkwing:

Central testing chamber location: Basement level 1.
Purpose of testing chamber: Building security droids.
Purpose of F.O.W.L. security droids: Deter S.H.U.S.H. agents.

F.O.W.L. plot objectives: Hooter: Unassessed. Darkwing:

Assessed number of basement levels: Hooter: 3+, incomplete coverage. Darkwing:
Purpose of remaining basement levels: Hooter: Unassessed. Darkwing:

Agent Hooter looked up from his notebook, noticing the empty team meeting room. He felt he'd been pouring over this for ages. How late was Darkwing?

Hooter checked his coffee. The dregs were stone cold. He looked at his phone again. 11 am? Three hours and no response to his text message. He tried calling.

"This phone is currently switched off." The operator voice intoned.

He got up and went down the lift to the car park. Time for a drive to Mallard Manor.

Morgana answered the door. Tall, dark haired wearing a stylish red coloured dress with maroon pattern. She was looking drawn in the face. Tired.

"He's not here." She stated and left the door open for him.
Hooter followed her to the lounge room.

Morgana sat down on the settee next to Toby. The tiger was curled up with his tail hanging over the edge. Toby put his head on her lap. She petted him. Opposite them, the TV set was switched off.

Hooter was quiet for a moment, "Do you know anything about where he is?"
"It's a dark, empty place." Morgana answered in a slightly less than even tone. "He's not getting up."

How she was petting Toby was a worried kind of motion displaying frittered emotions. Hooter thought better than to ask another question at the moment.

"Shall I make you a cup of tea?"
"No, thank you." Morgana answered with a bit more force in her tone. "Please. Hooter. Find him. He's not getting up." She repeated.

He nodded and left.

Back to the office.

It was midday now. Agent Hooter pressed through the doors and into the cafeteria. He found his duplicate staring out the window over his half-eaten sandwich.

"What have you released on St Canard?" He demanded of the other.
"Not I, but," J Gander glanced at him and to his sandwich he sighed, "A vampire."
"Oh, no," Agent Hooter countered severely, "Darkwing knows how to deal with vampires."

"Not this one." J Gander replied, wrapping up the second half of his meal. "This is the most terrible vampire living in our St Canard. He has a set of skills and methods he likes to use, but there's no point approaching him from that angle, as he's just as want to pull out a stop and do something else entirely!" He finished, gritting his teeth.

"Why didn't you say this before?!" Agent Hooter exclaimed.

"Because I couldn't!" J Gander returned firmly, "Though his arrogance has freed up the topic now. They're in an empty place with a lot of odd noise and a view over Innsworth Fine Jewelry. I'd like to give more details, but frankly I've been so preoccupied with S.H.U.S.H. matters that I haven't even slept."

They were linked? Agent Hooter gazed back at him. "Preoccupied or not, you have to know what this vampire's up to on some level."
"Yes; Larkis Dovesworth." J Gander replied, "Really, it is a very bland motive; I'm sorry."
"What did 'he' do to get so famous?"
"Dovesworth disappeared in the blink of an eye. Off the face of St Canard, and in the middle of a devilish recount that he was doing poorly at. Possibly the worst three things to combine; 'He' is well antagonized."
"If it's just Dovesworth, why go after my partner?" Agent Hooter gritted.
"Because his game is chess," J Gander turned away, "and your partner was blocking his path."

"Chess! What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Agent Hooter exclaimed.

"We're pieces; we move on our own and in our certain patterns." J Gander gestured widely to incorporate a grand size in his statement. "It's a simple matter to rearrange us."
"But not my partner. He couldn't be 'rearranged'?"
"It was my objective to move him," J Gander said apologetically, "I failed."
Hooter stared at him. "You...?"
"I 'am' sorry. But that is how the situation played out."
"You're actively aiding this vampire!"
"I am a piece on a chessboard. I'm simply more aware of the fact than you are."

Agent Hooter swallowed. "Is there anything else you can say to me about this that can help?"
J Gander shook his head. "Console you, perhaps?"
Hooter grunted. "No, thank you." He turned away.
"Coffee, without milk, no sugar." His duplicate said behind.
"Always." Hooter agreed and headed out.

"Even when it's not my fault: it's my fault."

Agent Hooter got to Innsworth Fine Jewelry and its police taped front. He turned, looking at the tall buildings in his view. It was very clear which building he needed to go to. The abandoned complex of Bird Cage Apartments certainly qualified as a home of 'odd noises'. It stood visible behind the occupied block opposite.

He made his way through the busy lunch time street toward the building.

Chess.

His duplicate had failed to 'move' Darkwing, causing him to come under attack from this vampire. The control the vampire was exercising over his other self was unnerving him.

Chess with people? It sounded quite terrible. But then he'd never been good at sending agents into dangerous situations. There was a level of guilt he couldn't shed from his being. SplasherQuack's case had taken the cake in the matter. He knew he had pitched out his job when he first wrote on the cover of the reopened case file.

Hooter took the lift up to level five. This was the start of his search; he'd work his way up from here.

He stopped, hearing a sound in the stairwell. Someone. Going up or down?

Going up.

Hooter gently slighted the door open and attended to a quiet follow.

It wasn't difficult to keep up, as Hooter had only begun the climb and the other had the gradual taking of someone who'd treaded several flights already.

It was a frozen moment when Hooter realised his mistake.

The sound of the bag as it dropped against the door. The vision of Steelbeak came into line of sight, dressed in a white suit jacket. The rooster glared at him for a moment and without a word, charged.

Hooter swerved, jumped to the banister. Steelbeak lunged at him and Hooter jumped on his shoulders and pushed off.
"Argh!" Steelbeak exclaimed behind him.

Hooter landed on the stairs and caught his footing, flinching at the sound of the heavy landing down below. He sighed and headed up the last flight of stairs.

Stepping over the benign bag of wrapped sandwiches and bottled juice, Hooter went in through the door.

The air felt disturbed in here.

Which direction?

The trepidatious feeling sent him left. Hooter went to the door, gently opened it.

The room was empty, but for Drake sitting, chained to the wall.

But of course it would be empty.

Hooter knelt down by his partner's side, considering the medieval manacles. "Darkwing." He stirred him, "Where's the key?"
Wordless, Drake looked at him, then his gaze drifted to the floor in front of him.

Hooter turned to look. He grabbed up the key and unlocked the manacles.
"No!" Drake uttered hoarsely, grabbing his arm, "Don't you understand? He sees through me!"
Hooter grabbed him back with calm firmness. "You're coming home with me."

To that, Drake said nothing and let Hooter help him up.

Hooter led him to the lift, back to S.H.U.S.H. and straight to his car.

"I can't hear him, I can and I can't hear him..." Drake uttered in soft mumbling.

Drake didn't change state on the way back. Hooter wondered, a kind of languor, or a stupor. A daze.

"Home. He wants his home... he's missing... St Canard. That's why the water's gone."

Instead of parking at the gate, Hooter took his car up the drive. It wasn't like he couldn't park right in front of the door.

He got out and had to come about to get Drake to move from the car.
"Come on." He said quietly.

The front door opened and Morgana rushed forwards, enveloping Drake in a hug.
"M-Morgana." Drake's voice picked up slightly.
Morgana drew him up the steps.

Hooter shut the front door and followed them into the kitchen.

The kitchen of Mallard Manor had an old world rustic vibe. Large, well kept. The dining table was the heaviest of oak and the surface was uneven. Pitted, dented, scorched, marked, yet varnished and polished to a dull gleam. It looked as though it had once had sharply defined edges, the same as the chairs. The wood was smoothed by the wear of life times.

Morgana was busying about, making up tea and small open sandwich bites.

Hooter sat down opposite Drake, by Morgana's side. He looked down at his teacup, regretting the fact it didn't taste like coffee.

Even as he ate, there was a dullness in Drake's face; a reservation Hooter had never seen in his features.

He watched Drake, unsure if the food would help, if any signs of improvement would show.

Morgana leaned over to Drake, lifting her fingers to examine his neck.

Drake flinched slightly.
"He didn't take much?" Morgana asked, quietly serious.
Drake shook his head. "Although he obviously liked the way I tasted... there was nothing in him that was coming back for more."

Hooter swallowed, "Is there anything you can describe of him?"
"Yeah..." Drake's eyes darkened and he looked away. "He's me."
Morgana leaned back with a sharp breath.
"He's from an alternate universe." Hooter reminded dryly.
"His thoughts would slip through the cracks between yours." Morgana uttered, "You don't know whose decisions you're acting on."

Drake shook his head. "No I don't. I'm completely corrupted. I'm no more a S.H.U.S.H. agent than J Gander is."

Agent Hooter sat back, a feeling of grave unease. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

Drake sighed. "Because St Canard is bigger than S.H.U.S.H..." His tone lowered, "Something got someone; whatever it was it was genuinely terrible, and given the lack of resolution by S.H.U.S.H.; it's lying in a dormant state waiting for its next victim. If it was a demon, forty years can mean nothing but a stomach getting hungry again. It's conceivable we could find the creature with our current level of knowledge; scour the carnival, simple enough. But what exactly 'are' we facing? The merest touch sent Dovesworth swapping between two universes. No, at the depths of Dovesworth's day-mares dwells not a destructo-demon. The carnival is still in use. Citizens are still at risk. We need the full recount before we can say we've got the best available plan to deal with it."

Hooter stared at Drake. Morgana was also motionless, watching Drake.

"He's ripped him open and poured himself inside..." Hooter swallowed.
Drake slumped back in the chair. "I'm a revenant."
"You're a Mallard!" Morgana responded firmly. "Beyond that, nothing matters. All this is is a... minor setback."
Drake gazed back at Morgana with heat rising in his face.

Hooter stood up. "So long as you're stable. We'll pick this up again tomorrow. After forty years, twenty four hours won't make much difference."

Hooter left the house and stepped down onto the gravel to the driver side of his black 1987 Viper Quack and unlocked the door.

A lasso caught him, making him drop his keys. The rope drew tight around him, loops and a double knot. A white jacketed arm opened the door and thrust him roughly across into the passenger seat.

Steelbeak picked up the keys from the gravel and sat down in the driver's seat. He started Hooter's car with a roar, swung it round and out of the drive.