Disclaimer: This story takes place in the universe of Scyphi's The New Adventures of Darkwing Duck, a world where Darkwing has returned after a seven year disappearance into the Negaverse, Gosalyn and Honker are all grown up and fighting crime as the Crimson Avenger and Techno, where J. Gander Hooter has left SHUSH, and the Negaverse is slowly undergoing new management.
It's extremely important that you read Darkwing Duck Returns and NADWD first, as the prominent original characters (and in some cases, lack thereof), plot developments and daring twists from those stories will be used without much (if any, at times) explanation in these continued stories.
Part 3 – Party Crashers
SHUSH Headquarters, 10 AM
At the same time Techno was having his cross-multiversal existential crisis, the rest of St. Canard – or at least, those in the know – was rocked by a timely message, long awaited.
SHUSH was on high alert. Agents hustled here and there in a pre-deployment flurry, mountains of equipment and paperwork zooming through the halls on carts every half-second. Over the loudspeaker, a flustered voice echoed overhead – sounding just about as desperate as everyone felt.
"This is not a drill. We need midtown on lockdown. Repeat, mid-down… no wait, midtown lockdown!"
In her office, Director Navis listened to the announcement and groaned – if only she had the luxury of the occasional slip up in a situation like this. But an imminent incident with every dangerous organization on the Western Seaboard was not one that allowed the tiniest slip up: she had spent the last hour shouting at city officials to allow roadblocks on such short notice, and would likely spend every moment up until the accursed hour negotiating procedure with bureaucrats and talking strategy with their top men.
She could at least take consolation in being right – simple deduction though it was – and so her blind preparations were paying off. The Air Pirates had chosen a location right in the middle of the city.
In fact, they picked the number one location in the middle of the city. But they weren't the first villains to do so. It would be an complete quagmire, but she swore the Pirates would soon learn just how ready SHUSH was for such things…
Darkwing Tower, 10:30 AM
"Canard Tower!" Darkwing said – or at least, that's all the others could hear through the rush he was in. Like SHUSH's finest, he was methodically – and rather obsessively – checking over every piece of equipment and weaponry he had, rapidly ensuring his was at the top of his game.
"The penthouse?" Gosalyn – now suited up again as Crimson – said curiously. "I've always wanted to see the inside of that place."
"It's overrated." Darkwing grumbled. "And no. It's the convention hall, on the ground floor. Though I've sent a note to Navis reminding her about it anyway, just in case. Who knows if she'll listen…"
His fingers – moving to quickly – slipped and hit the wrong button on the spare gas gun he was inspecting, for the fifth time no less. He couldn't catch himself in time, and instead he caught a full blast of itching powder right in the face. "YEAAOW!" he yelped. He jumped back, his hands darting all over to vigorously scratch his face.
Crimsons snickered, but manage to keep her face mostly straight. "Maybe you should slow down, dad," she said, not bringing up that she was going through exactly the same lengths with her own gear: primarily her bike. She had the odd feeling she would need it at peak condition.
"Have you – ow - gone mad, beloved child of mine?" Darkwing said between scratches, with a melodramatic irritation that made Crimson roll her eyes. "We have lots to – ow- do and no time to do it in, and I am not letting another criminal organization take – yowww - root in my town. It's going to be like a crook convention out there as it is!"
"Kinda literally," came a chuckling comment from inside the Thunderquack, "given where the thing's taking place."
"Thank you, Launchpad," Darkwing said under his breath. "Your input – ayii! - as usual, is invaluable."
"No prob, DW!"
NegaCrimson watched this from the sidelines. Unlike the others, she didn't seem too worried about the Pirates' Auction. Instead she was perusing a printout of possible hideout predictions throughout the city, albeit distracted.
"Sounds like you're going to have your hands full," NegaCrimson said to Crimson, amused at the others' panic. "Where's your boyfriend?"
Crimson gave her a flat look. "Techno left a little while ago to take care of the Rockerduck thing. I sent him the message, though." She glanced at her communicator. The messages she sent to Techno that morning were all marked "unread by recipient," which was unlike him. But she was sure he had his reasons.
"He should be back in time even if he doesn't get it," she said, half to herself. "It won't take that long to dismantle one measly mind control gun." Taking her mind off of Techno, she turned to NegaCrimson. "What about you? We could use the kind of extra punch only a Crimson Avenger can bring."
NegaGosalyn frowned. "I don't know. NegaHonker is still out there. Every distraction just lets him worm further out of my grasp. Trust me, I know from experience."
"Oh?' Crimson said, not so sure that going on a wild McGoose chase was the best plan at the moment.
"NegaDuck's biggest ally was time. If he could find make himself invisible, then lay low to plan and gather resources, sometimes it felt like he could do anything. NegaHonker is no NegaDuck, not by a long shot, but…"
Crimson clapped her on the shoulder. "But you need this to be done, and you can't stop until you make sure. I get it."
A smile chanced at her double's beak. "Call me if you guys really foul this up," NegaCrimson replied. "But don't call me unless it's that bad." She ran over to the nearest window, and turned back at the last minute. "And good luck," she said.
Then she dramatically leapt out of the window and swooped across the bridge, into the skyline.
"And to think she's worried about being a heroine," Crimson chuckled to herself, watching NegaCrimson go. "She's already got the dramatic exit down…"
The Fearsome Five's Underground Lair, 12 PM
Julia walked timidly into what she was already calling the "common room:" a large area in the bunker-like lair with lots of couches and chairs, where the villains would come to blow off steam.
There were other places where Bushroot, Rowe and Quackerjack – or any five members who were up to something – would go to escape the insanity and do some serious planning, but at the moment they were nearly all here: huddled around a mobile television watching old reruns of Davy Quackett on an oldies channel – at Bushroot's insistence ("It's a classic!" she had heard him saying).
How they got a satellite signal this far underground was anyone's guess, though with the amount of mad science running through these tunnels she supposed that was the least concerning thing around her.
When she announced her presence, they all looked up at her with boredeom, as if they had already known she was there. Despite this, they all stared at her expectantly – probably knowing how nervous it was making her.
"I-I just got off the phone with my contact." She said. "The Air Pirates have finally revealed the time and location of the auction."
"No complications?" Bushroot laughed in surprise. "Well, that was refreshingly easy!"
Suppressing a shudder, Julia looked away to the far corner of the room. She couldn't bring herself to look anyone – even this band of amoral criminals – in the eye.
"For you, maybe," she muttered under her breath.
Something sharp suddenly poked her in the shoulder. "What was that?" Bianca Beakley entered the room from just behind her, spitting like a cobra. She spun an offending pen around in her hand, glaring daggers at the younger reporter. "Is our high and mighty poser dissatisfied with the deal she brought to us in the first place?"
Julia glowered at her. "Leave me alone."
"Make me," Beakley shot back, scowling.
Quackerjack leapt to his feet, ignoring the tension entirely. "Beakley! So glad you could make it! We were utterly lost in your absence!"
"Yeah, mate," said Rowe, his voice heavily sarcastic. "It saved us all three minutes it would've taken sending someone to get you." Beakley turned away, snarling, but Rowe continued on as if she hadn't reacted at all. "Get those bugs ready, mate. We've got a job that needs some quick casing."
"And where is that?" Beakley replied, not looking at Julia. But, ever cheeky, the reporter responded anyway.
"According to the source, Canard Tower."
Bushroot sighed. "Of course it is."
"Aw, man…" Quakerjack pretended to vomit. "I never did like that place. The mints on the pillows were all sour."
"I don't remember being served mints," Bushroot said, confused.
Quackerjack blinked. "… then again, I do love surprises."
"Either way, it's time to get moving!" Rowe said, grinning with devious anticipation. The room mobilized at his words, all villains moving to suit up with a newfound determination. "There's a proper old rage going on that could use a wild card!" He went on, like an emcee. "And we're it, mates!"
Every one of the Five gave a shout of support, even Beakley. It was impossible to think, but even Julia - who hated her part in all of this - had to admit that the villains' fervor was almost infectious. These were the people she would be following into the auction, and they were this close to making her feel like this might work out.
It felt dangerous, especially since she was already in so deep. She would have to watch out, and make sure she didn't get carried away...
Standard Preen Co. Inc., Unknown Lab, 3:00 PM
When Techno awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in the same place he last remembered being. His head was swimming and his vision was distorted – he was wearing some kind of mask - but he quickly caught on that this new room was very different: unlike the compact, windowless laboratory from before, this room was larger, with sleek walls and huge windows that covered the entirety of one of its sides. He could see the skyline from here: he was up high, someplace far above ground level.
The second thing he noticed as that he was bound to a chair, which he supposed should have been the first. He halfheartedly attempted to pull himself out of his bonds, but he could already tell that he was wrapped up tight. It would take time to get himself out of these, if it were at all possible. He would have to wait.
Then the third thing: he looked around, and saw that he was not alone. Someone else was in the room... dressed in his supersuit! Despite the fact that he couldn't see their face, he knew it had to be NegaHonker! He looked down at himself as well he could, and was surprised to find only the casual clothing he usually wore under his suit. He was stripped of his gadgets, and what's more he was being impersonated!
NegaHonker was twisting himself around, trying to get a good look at his new ensemble. But he clearly knew Techno was waking up, for he called out to him without provocation. "You really go out wearing this crap? How do you not die of embarrassment?"
"You!" He hissed.
In Honker's mind, he forced himself to keep the hero "persona" up. He wasn't used to internally separating himself like that, and he rationally knew it was pointless - his doppleganger obviously knew who he was, and he wasn't even dressed in his uniform any more – but thinking as Techno, not quite as Honker Muddlefoot, kept him focused against someone who could probably dig at him worse than anybody.
"That all you can say?" NegaHonker turned to him. The suits visor neatly covered up his facial scar, the only visual indicator that they were not the same person. It was like looking in a mirror. "What happened to that genius vocabulary?"
He didn't fall for the bait. "Where am I?"
"Some private penthouse lab for Rockerduck's top eggheads." NegaHonker laughed. "A penthouse lab, can you believe it? Waste of good money, in my opinion."
Underneath the mask, Techno's eyes narrowed. "So you're working with Rockerduck, then."
"Psh. Yeah, right." NegaHonker quit checking himself out and strode over to Techno, chuckling to himself. "That fool would just get in my way. Made a good opportunity, though."
Techno wasn't so quick to believe his word. "If you're not accomplices, how did you get me up here?"
But every word seemed to just make NegaHonker more amused. "You kidding? That was the easy part. I only had to pretend to be 'Techno,' throw a sheet over the your sissy butt and our little science experiment, and waltz right into the elevator." He gestured to the corner of the room, where the Tron Manipulator sat primed, aimed at the window, with a discarded tarp laying beside it. He gripped Techno's shoulder like a vice and whispered jovially, but nastily, into his ear. "You're the one who demanded Rockerduck's people not bother you, and give you everything you needed. If anything, you're my accomplice on this one."
Techno's heart fell. NegaHonker was right: he had practically set himself up, and now there was a mercenary wearing his clothes. It wasn't often he had to deal with hubris. He was quickly deciding that he wasn't fond of it.
NegaHonker pushed him hard, watching as Techno and the chair helplessly wobbled back and forth. "I could thank you," he said, "but you're an loser so I don't think I will."
"So what's your plan?" Techno said, in an attempt to salvage his mistake. "Zap me with the Tron Manipulator? Make me just as twisted as you are?"
NegaHonker half-smirked, half-snarled at him. "You? Please? Why would I need a you on my side, I already have a me. And I think we've just proven you're not as smart as you think." He looked out of the window, into the St. Canard sky. "No, I've got bigger fish to fry. Mostly undoing the way you meddlers turned my world upside down!"
Techno gasped as realization dawned. "NegaGosalyn."
NegaHonker turned to him. Even through the visor, the expression on his face chilled Techno to the bone. He wondered if that was what criminals saw when he was facing them down. "You know, she wasn't meant to be some goody two shoes. You lot ruined her! And now she's ruining the Negaverse! So it's my duty to get daddy's little girl back on track."
"Sounds to me like she's a lot better at running the place than your boss ever was."
NegaHonker rolled his eyes. "Please. Don't forget, I knew her before Negaduck actually started paying that little waif attention. She was weak then, and she's weak now!" It made Techno seethe to hear such awful things in his voice, but he kept it in. If he could just keep NegaHonker distracted... "But once upon a time, she could actually get the job done."
"Like I said. She's better now than she ever was. You won't beat her."
"Why not? All I have to do it wait. Your friends are the caring type, my Gosalyn included now. If you go missing trying to boss around some rich poser, they'll all come running to 'save' you." He jerked his head to the Tron Manipulator. "But they won't be expecting this."
"Sure, my Darkwing and Crimson will," he said, extending his forced insistence on hero names to the others. Keeping it up felt like a small victory, somehow. "But why would she? She's here to get you, remember? And trust me, she's pretty fixated on that. If it looks like Rockerduck did something to me, she might come. Or she might figure Crimson and Darkwing can handle it and keep looking for you. Ironic, huh?"
"So I'll just make sure she knows it's me!" He reached for the suit's communicator, and Techno tried not to lean forward in anticipation. He had done all the talking he needed - now all his double had to do was press the button… but instead NegaHonker stopped himself, just before making contact. "And if I do, Darkwing could just lock the suit up remotely, and I'd be stuck until they came to pick me up." He glared at Techno. "Smart, but I'm no idiot myself."
Techno glowered, though without his mask it looked less intimidating than he hoped. That had been so close… "Clearly."
"Anyway, there are other ways to get her attention. If I can't get her here at a distance, I might as well get her here in person!" A twisted grin spread across NegaHonker's beak, something that just looked wrong on the helmeted face of "Techno." "But luckily, I've had practice…"
NegaHonker pressed a few buttons on the suit, and it flared into action. Lasers warmed up, jets cycled, computer jargon scrolled down the visor... it's designer recognized the motions it was going through: a brief diagnostic of all its major applications, something that it was set only to do on his command! The suit had seemingly accepted its fake master as the real one!
And so the real Techno, now feeling even less like himself than ever, could only stare flabbergasted at the sight. "W-what the..?"
"It's funny." NegaHonker said, punctuating this with a chuckle. He waved his hand in Techno's direction, making a show of the fact that he could now turn the suit's weapons against him if he wanted. "You've got all sorts of defenses and passwords on all of Darkwing's stuff. But when it comes to your pride and joy, all it takes is an eyeball and a bit of your DNA. Both things I have in spades. A little lazy, isn't it?"
"You're the reason I've been having fuel efficiency problems!" Techno shouted. "You've been stealing my suit!"
"Stop the presses, he really is a genius," came the sardonic reply, alongside more laughter. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some aggressive recruitment to do."
Techno actually did struggled against his bonds now, for the first time. No matter his plans to escape before, he could absolutely not sit by and let NegaHonker do this to his friend. Even if he had nothing to fight with, he had to try! "And what's stopping me from getting out of this chair and dismantling the Manipulator while you're gone?" He said quickly, trying to play NegaHonker into staying put.
But NegaHonker didn't take the bait. He didn't even turn around. Instead, he hovered to the massive window and pulled part of it open. A cool breeze come from outside, but Techno was in no mood to enjoy it.
"Probably the fact that you're wired." NegaHonker said bluntly. "Undo those bonds, and you explode. Move that chair too far from that spot, and you explode again. So much as graze the Tron Manipulator, and the whole building goes up! Plus a few other surprises just for fun." He turned back to Techno, grinned evilly. "Do me a favor and don't blow up until I can get a good view. I get so little satisfaction these days."
Techno couldn't see anything behind him, so he supposed it was possible there were explosives running down the chair. But he didn't think he had been unconscious for that long. "You're bluffing."
NegaHonker shrugged. "It's possible. Try me. See what happens." He hovered through the window, indifferent as could be. "And while you figure that out, I've got work to do. See ya, loser!"
The suit's jet boots kicked into high gear, and he was off: disappearing like a gunshot into the sky, where he would no doubt hurt a lot of people – probably people Techno cared about - while wearing his clothes. Just the thought of it made his stomach turn violently.
And while he wasn't completely to be counted out yet, his options were very limited. It would have taken about an hour or so, but Techno probably could have gotten himself out of his bindings. Yet NegaHonker's threat lingered in his mind: he had no way to know for sure whether or not it was a bluff, but from what he knew of his doppelganger Techno was quite sure he would put an entire building of semi-innocent scientists and corporate sharks at risk just to get what he wanted.
The room being wired was possible, and as long as the slightest hint of that possibility existed Techno couldn't bring himself to take the risk. He would just have to sit here after all, and helplessly wait for his moment.
He could only hope that someone would come along after all, in time to stop all this…
Canard Tower, 3:30 PM
It was the cusp of criminal event of the century, and its clientele – both eager and incredibly irate – were arriving in droves. They arrived in limousines, pretending to be high-class citizens. They arrived in busses, pretending to be low-class tourists. They arrived by window like ninjas or by helicopter like the super-spies they were.
And in one notable case, they arrived by sewer.
"Disgusting, mate." Rowe groaned as they finally found a maintenance tunnel that led to the hotel's basement. "Why couldn't we just dress up as bellhops again?"
Quackerjack shushed him. "Never repeat a joke, unless it's funny."
"Us being covered in unmentionable tripe is funny?"
"You being covered in tripe makes the whole trip worthwhile, 'boss.'" Beakley quipped, one of the last to enter. One-Shot snickered, just beside her.
"I ain't your-"
"Yes, yes. We know, 'mate.'" Beakley said dismissively. One-Shot laughed outright.
Rowe turned and snarled at them, briefly giving her and One-Shot pause. "I ain't your mate either!"
Watching this idly, Julia groaned. As the villains' guide, she was near the head of the group with a far less concerned Bushroot. "If this is the way you get along, it's a miracle you lot accomplish anything. Let alone a multi-city crime wave."
Bushroot chuckled, watching his comrades. It was just the six of them, including Julia. Splatter Phoenix opted out, saying something about "not supporting the mercantilist domination over information," and the sewer was too hot for Camille's powers. "Ah, this is nothing," he shrugged. "Wait until we get serious. That's when our true professionalism shines."
"If you say so," Julia said vaguely. She honestly couldn't care less how effective the Five were when they really got going, not any more. All she could think about was the situation she had freely launched herself into, and how she was going to get out.
"But speaking of professionalism, we can't go in there smelling like refuse." Bushroot reached into his hair and pulled out a sweet smelling flower, with stem that looked an awful lot like a perfume bottle attached to it. "I whipped this up earlier. It should kill the smell." He walked away from Julia, preparing to isolate the various criminals and wash them individually. Before he went, he threw Julia a bar of soap without bothering to give her the same treatment. "Though this sort of thing is a lot easier if Armstrong's here." He said as he left."He's got water jets, and all."
Julia pretended to act like this was a big loss, but it almost made her happy to know that the literal tin tyrant wasn't currently around to join in. She wasn't stupid: she had done her research, and she knew that of all the Five Armstrong had the closest history with Glomgold.
Armstrong's presence was the biggest risk to going to the Five, as far as she knew. She was very grateful that the android had been "away" – likely with Glomgold himself - for awhile. Last thing she wanted was to be forced do something incriminating while one of Glomgold's known eyes and ears was focused on her. It was bad enough that she was taking a risk on the Five at all.
Though speaking of eyes, it was time to thank her contact – a fact that already made her want to throw up. With Bushroot distracted, she slipped ahead and dipped into the basement hallways - where Stewie the Pigeon was waiting for her.
"I see y'went w' my advice!" He said as her head became visible. "Welcome back t' th' naughty list, darlin'!"
"No need to congratulate me." Julia grumbled. "Thanks for getting me in. I have what I need now."
"Sure, sure. Jus' 'member, technic'ly m' here with th' Davidson Gang. We wuz invited, see? So once t' fun starts, I may have'ta shoot ya's. You know how it is. Can't pick sides."
Julia glowered at him, but she expected to less. "Duly noted."
Stewie gave her one last twisted smile and strode away to join the rest of his gang, whistling as if he were just out for a stroll. And not a moment too soon: almost as soon as he left, the rest of the Five – a strikingly fragrant Bushroot in front – stepped out from the maintenance tunnel.
"What are you up to out here, faker?"
"I… needed some air." She said. Even in this horrible situation, the reporter's promise to protect their sources remained strong. But knowing that this probably wouldn't satisfy them, she quickly tried to change the subject. "I suppose it's time for you guys to make your entrance."
"Not yet, mate," Rowe replied. "We're not invited, right?"
"So?" One-Shot squawked. "I wanna crash the party! There's pirate plunder to be bullseyed!"
"No! We're not going to crash it, and we're not going to plunder it. We're going to rob it."
"There's a difference?"
"Much like the difference between silver and stonington, it's a gray area."
"Awful joke, mate."
"Says you." Quackerjack stuck his tongue out, then turned to the other assembled villains. "Still, the only reason we'd ever walk into that place like we owned it is if we suddenly stole the deed. Those other crooks would rip their sudden competition apart, and since we weren't invited the Pirates would probably let 'em."
Bushroot shook his head, frowning in disappointment. "Honor amongst thieves at its finest."
Julia stared at them sideways. It was dizzying logic – though maybe that was just Quackerjack's delivery – and it checked out. "So what is the plan, then?"
Quackerjack, Bushroot and Rowe looked at each other, wearing nefarious smiles that made Julia no more reassured than before…
Convention Hall, Rafters
Canard Tower was one of the most modern and upscale landmarks in the entire city. So it was easy to forget that it was also one of the oldest. And as a result, to forget that there were a lot of old leftovers from its original designs hidden in the nooks and crannies of the place.
The extensive basement system with easy access to the city's sewers were one of of those old fashioned decisions. Another was in the convention hall, which started as its own sub-building – a private concert hall. As such, the room that the Pirates adopted for their nefarious purposes had a few interesting additions of its own: most importantly, huge rafters that made watching the proceedings undetected easy.
Darkwing and company had no problem getting into position. Darkwing and Crimson inched to the edges of the rafters, surveying the scene down below, while Launchpad hung back a bit – not having his friends' catlike tread. Besides, he had somehow managed to bring a triple story ham, tomato and cheese sandwich into the danger zone, and it would be a crime not to finish it.
In any case, by the time the heroes had gotten into place they could see the Pirates had already started getting underway themselves. The guests were already filing in on one end of the room, kept in check by both a small cadre of ambivalent looking pirates and their own cautious natures in the face of what was on the other end.
It could only be described as plunder on an unprecedented scale. There were piles of it, but each was meticulously organized: there were filing cabinets and massive cases full of stolen documents or printed communiqués. Rows of liberated experiments in jars and on pedestals: some still wriggling in their containers. Stolen art, possibly with hidden messages from decades past still hidden in their paint. And the occasional weapon - possibly still live and dangerous - haphazardly thrown in heaps that could explode at any second.
And even all that was dwarfed by the center stage. In the front was a simple podium with a microphone set up, no doubt the emcee's spot. And behind it: an enormous pile of gold. It was easily a third as tall as the room itself: the kind of thing that Scrooge McDuck could take a long, midday swim in.
Even from the rafters, it was an intimidating sighting. "That's a lot of money." Crimson said, without hiding a bit of awe. "They're certainly sure of themselves"
"Showing off, more like it." Darkwing grumbled. "Compared to the assets they've stolen from SHUSH and FOWL, that gold is probably the least valuable thing here." He was doing some last minute maintenance on his gas gun, wearing a pronounced scowl. "This whole thing's a farce. We'll be lucky if the city survives the night."
Crimson smirked at him. "Fresh out of that classic Darkwing 'singed, but triumphant' optimism?"
Her father smiled, if only for a second. He knew she had similar fears, but Darkwing had always been proud of his daughter's ability to push past them. "I just have a bad feeling, is all." He said glumly. "Like something in the air. I can't help but feel on edge."
"Well, this won't make you feel better." Crimson quipped, having turned her gaze away from the pirates' ill-gotten gains. "The high rollers have arrived. I see Steelbeak."
Darkwing glanced where she was looking. It was true: the Fiendish Organization for United Larceny's smarmy leader had arrived like a movie star, with a cadre of Eggmen on his heels.
Launchpad craned his head over the rafter, but thankfully dropped no crumbs. "Whoa. How long has it been since he's been in public?" He said gravely, though the fact that he was still finishing up his sandwich ruined the gravity of the question a bit.
"A long time." Darkwing said. "According to SHUSH's intel, he's hardly ever away from his hidden bases and secret projects these days."
"He's probably here to get a few secret projects back." Crimson added, studying Steelbeak's movements. "Just look at him! The guy's pissed."
The nefarious chicken took one glance at the pirates' collection of swag and curled his metallic beak – as best as one could curl metal, anyway. Behind his entourage, several other high-ranking members of FOUL followed. At the front,
Darkwing gasped. "That's Dr. Fossil! I didn't know he was still around!"
"Kind of makes sense, though," Crimson mused. Darkwing looked expectantly at her, prompting her to go on. "If that dragon-breath over there is running Steelbeak's R&D, it definitely explains why they were after the meteorite. Dr. Fossil was obsessed with devolution, so he's probably the only person who wants that thing out in the world."
"True." Darkwing said. "One more thing to worry about. Terrific. And look, there's the Davidson Gang." He continued, pointing out threats as they came. "A few slimy looking gents who probably work for Dr. Slug. Beagle Boys. A few undercover SHUSH Agents. And I thought I just saw a Thembrian!" He pretended to swoon, just to sell it. Crimson rolled her eyes. "It's a full house! Flintheart Glomgold is just about the only crook in the area who isn't here!"
"A full house minus one king. Here comes the emcee." Crimson added dryly, pointing to the right of the stage.
Walking towards the podium was a cat. A big cat: hulking and overweight – even moreso than the legendarily burly Agent Grizzlikof had been, dressed in exaggerated pirate gear – including a large tricorne hat. He walked through the room with an uneven gait – the distinctive step, clop, step, clop of a person stomping around with a false leg – and something about his presence made everyone stop to look.
"I know that walk." Darkwing said, eyes narrowed and voice lowered unnecessarily. "It can't be… is that Pete?"
Crimson leaned forward to get a better look. "Wait. You mean, like Pegleg Pete?" She said, curious and possibly a little impressed. "Keen gear, I remember reading about him growing up!"
Darkwing's nodded, though his tone was a bit less excited. "So do I. Alias Pistol Pete, Big Bad Pete, Putrid Pete, suspected Captain Pietro… the list goes on for a very, very long time." He tapped the recorder on his communicator: this "farce" had suddenly become worth a little more review. "I know a detective in Mouseton who'll be very interested to hear about this!"
"That's guy's infamous!" Crimson replied. "What the heck is he doing with the Air Pirates?"
Darkwing grunted coldly. "Earning a steady paycheck, I imagine." Crimson threw him a look, but he either ignored it or was too deep in thought to notice. "There might be more here than we thought. I thought the Air Pirates were just getting daring and stupid without Don Karnage. But Pete is no fool. He wouldn't be here if it were just a risky cash grab."
"Maybe we'll hear it from the horse's mouth," Crimson said, dropping her voice to a whisper. Pete had reached the podium, and was beginning to speak.
The beefy crime lord grinned at his audience, showing far more sharp teeth than out would expect. Every spotlights on the ceiling – barring one that was broken and dark – was pointed right at him and the pile of spoils. Pete truly had center stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen…" he began, with obvious but surprisingly magnetic showmanship. "Aw, what am I kiddin', ain't nobody here's a lady or a gentleman! And if ya are, ye're in the wrong place… or in a lotta denial!"
The crowd laughed, though the undercover SHUSH agents did so with suppressed unease. Steelbeak stood there watching, without a single chuckle or smile. His Eggmen did their best to do the same, but even a horrible glare from their boss could keep a few unprofessional grins off of their faces.
"Speakin' of which," Pete went on. "Let me say an especially special 'ho' there!' to our dear visitors from the right side of law. Much thanks fer clearing the streets! Saved us a lotta trouble!" The assorted criminals looked around, trying to spy anyone who looked suspiciously unsuspicious. Steelbeak, however, didn't turn his head at all: he knew his foes were out there.
"You don't have to show yerselves just yet," Pete laughed mockingly. "But soon ye'll find out you gotta play the game just like the rest of us!"
"Ya gotta pay. Pay big. Cause everyone else is gonna be doin' the same thing! And if ya wanna start trouble?" He swept his eyes over the assembled criminals, grinning. "Then yer buddies might have a problem with that. Capiche?"
"This is going to get bad. Where's Techno?"
"I-I'm right here!" Came an awkward reply. A moment later, Techno came inching through their covert entrance. "Sorry I'm late, without calling or anything. I kind of had to cannibalize my communicator for parts."
"Again?" Crimson sighed, to which Techno sent her an apologetic grin.
But Darkwing was too flustered to bother caring about that, or to hello at all. "Finally!" He barked, before turning to leave. "I'll get in place on the far side now. Launchpad, man the Thunderquack in case we need to make a quick escape. And you two-" He pointed dramatically at Crimson and her sidekick, making the former slightly exasperated. "-get ready to get dangerous!"
"Aye aye, dad!" Crimson replied with a half-genuine, half-teasting salute, as her father and Launchpad slipped away. Once he left, she turned to her own sidekick.
Concern lined on her face, which made sense. She hadn't seen him in quite a while, and with no word and no response, she had let herself become uncharacteristically worried. It was the day, she figured. Something so crazy happening in her backyard just made her on jumpy. Though her feelings for him didn't help matters. "Being reckless with your tech, huh?"
"Is that a problem?"
She blinked. "I... guess not. Was there a problem dismantling Rockerduck's machine?"
"No..." he replied, with a small smile. "Everything went exactly as planned."
"Then what's with Quackensteining your gear?" She prodded. She spied a lecture coming, which was just great: she was turning into her dad. It had to happen sometime, she supposed.
He apparently came to the same conclusion, because he winced. When he talked, he seemed much more on edge. "It was a temporary problem. I can't modify my own gear?"
"Sor-ry, Tech." She shot back. She hadn't intended to tick him off - maybe he was as set off by the events around them as she was - but being argumentative came easy to her now that it was happening. "But it's you who always says cutting once without measuring twice is for idiots, aren't you? You don't usually do things like that unless there's an emergency. It worries me."
"Maybe I've learned better." He said testily. "We're about to step into a warzone! Taking risks is the only way to win. And that's what we're trying to do in the end, right? Win?"
She tensed, for reasons that had nothing to do with wariness over the day. That really didn't sound like him at all - neither the tone, or the worst said in it. "I... suppose." She said carefully. "Just don't get overconfident. Remember Speck?"
He paused. "Er... yeah. I guess I messed up then." He said, rubbing the back of his neck in sudden, oddly wrongfooted shame. "But we beat him in the end, huh?"
He awkwardly turned his head away at that moment, so Techno didn't see Crimson's eyes widen at his response. When he turned back, her eyes were normal. "Right. Yeah. We beat Speck," she breathed. "Just... nevermind. Let's get into position."
She pointed to an adequate vantage point for "Techno," though she was finding it harder and harder to think she should use that name right now, and watched him like a hawk as he left for for duty. He'd had more to say, though about what she suddenly didn't care to know. Something was not right here, and she had no time for arguments... fabricated, or otherwise.
So instead, once she was sure her "sidekick" was out of earshot she quickly pulled out her communicator
"We have a problem, dad." She whispered. "Something's up with Techno. I'm pretty he isn't who he says he is."
"What? Who else would he…" He paused, and Crimson saw him adopt the same grimace she was becoming familiar with. "…oh. I'm coming over."
"No! We can't ruin this. Not now. I pushed him into position, and as far as I know he doesn't know I know." Her father pulled a face, and she flushed. "Yes, I know it's bad. But I already sent you-know-who a message. Any more ideas?"
Darkwing sighed deeply, sounding like he didn't at all want to say the words he was about to. She could see the war on his face, and could completely understand it herself. "You're right. We can't stop this operation now. SHUSH and all of St. Canard are counting on this. But for heaven's sake, keep an eye on him! And be careful."
"I will. Things are getting worse by the minute." She cut off her communicator and took a deep breath, trying not to look back at where she knew the imposter was. Without seeing, she somehow knew he was watching her, waiting for some kind of sign.
She could deal with him, for now. But despite what she told her father, the obvious implications of an imposter Techno was seriously undercutting her belief that this would go smoothly.
The thought of NegaHonker thinking he could get away with replacing her Honker boiled her blood enough that it was hard to resist the thought of marching over, ripping the visor off and decking him right in the bill. But she couldn't do that. So she would have to wait…
"I hope you're okay wherever you really are, Honk." She whispered to herself. "And please, no more surprises…"
On cue, Pete's microphone suddenly whined – the sound filling the stage with distorted static, making everyone on the ground wince and turn away. A new voice filled the entire room, as the scrambling pirates lost control of the sound system.
"I KNOW THE EVIL THAT LURKS IN THESE WALLS!"
Crimson pulled her hat down over her face. "Of course…" She groaned.
The crowd looked around, trying to spot the owner of the voice. But they didn't have long to look, for a second later all of the lights went out. All except one: the spotlight that appeared to be faulty before.
Evidently, the light was working just fine: modified by person's unknown, without anyone's knowledge. It turned on by itself, shining directly on Pete with something a little extra. The brightness made him flinch, but all others saw Pete recoiling under the shadowed shape of a giant M.
"THE EVILS OF GREED!"The voice continued. "THE BITTER FRUIT OF PIRACY, THE CHAOS OF WAR! THESE ARE THINGS…"
The lights came back on, all at once, and the spotlight shut off. And now, out of nowhere, there was someone new in front of the stage. It was a masked duck wielding a rapier that glinted in the light, pointed directly at Pete.
He dressed like an old fashioned swashbuckler, with a black hat and bandanna that covered the entire top of his face. He wore a long green coat that fluttered like a cape whenever he moved, and covered a black suit and utility belt underneath. On his chest, over his heart, was sown a circle with a green M that also glinted from far away.
"… that the Masked Mallard will not allow!"
The whole room was frozen, staring at this new development in disbelief. One could just barely hear the sound of Pete - and Darkwing, since Crimson knew to listen for it - groaning in irritation, before at once everyone began to move…
Outside The Convention Hall
The Fearsome Five were already in position before the proverbial show started. Bushroot was able to talk to a potted hydrangea next to one of the entrances on the other side, who helpfully fed him a play by play about what was going on: including Darkwing's presence in the rafters – you never know what plants are paying attention to.
Despite this, Quackerjack still had his ears pressed up to the doorway to get a listen of his own – not that any of them needed such a thing to hear dramatic proclamations over loudspeaker. But after that things got hectic fast, and Quackerjack was the first to react.
"I hear fighting!" He shouted gleefully. "In record time, too!"
"With an extra player!" One-Shot said, both excited and irritated. "Who's the new guy?"
"Whoever it is, he's getting everyone's attention." Bushroot said with a matter-of-fact voice. He was still listening intently to make out what the plant across the wall was "saying," and so was less reacting and more repeating. "Nobody's taking notice attention to each other any more."
Beakley scoffed. "'Attention' is right! Did you hear all that 'I know evil' stuff? Playing for the news, no doubt."
Rowe cleared his throat, but didn't sound much like a person trying to corral the troops. "Weren't you listening?" He said, bobbing up and down in excitement himself. "Who cares if he's conceited? Whoever that is, he just gave us our cue, mate! Let's get out there!"
"Hoo hoo! Don't have to tell me twice!" "Tally ho!"
Back Inside,
All hell had broken lose.
It was just as they had all feared. The mystery swordsman's arrival had caused a veritable tidal wave of chaos as every lowlife in the building turned on each other in an effort to get the pirates' precious classified wares to themselves. And the Fearsome Five bursting into the room a minute later had only escalated things: now FOWL was bringing out their big guns, and the whole battle was exploding well out of the pirates' ability to control.
The sting had instantly become a complete botch . The undercover SHUSH agents were getting buried under the growing brawl. And Darkwing didn't even have to move the communicator to his face to hear Navis' furious screaming from mission control.
"What in blazes are you clowns doing!? I didn't tell you to move!"
Darkwing winced. Of course she would assume this was their doing. "This isn't us!" He tried to clarify. "Admittedly, a fine introduction, but not one of ours."
Navis didn't seem completely convinced. "Then who is it?"
"Don't know." Crimson said simply. Darkwing looked over to her, and she sent him a thumbs up. "Let's find out…"
Without another word, she leapt off the rafters and into the fight. As she did, Darkwing watched: his eyes focused on the "Techno" who flew down after her. He grabbed her – for a second, Darkwing's heart raced – and used his hover jets to gently lower her to the ground. Just like like a good sidekick would. A troubling act.
"Keep your eyes open!" He said, trying not to give anything away. For a moment, Crimson stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, nodding. Darkwing could only sigh. That would have to be enough for now. There was no time for anything else.
Swallowing his concern, he dove into the fray himself. It was a long fall, but he had his own ways of getting around. Spotting Dr. Fossil taking flight, presumably intending to rain some kind of weapon down on his enemies, Darkwing aimed his jump at the pterodactyl duck and rebounded off of his back, using him like a bounce pad to soften his fall. Fossil fell some where in the distance, while Darkwing landed gracefully in the middle of the room.
If it looked like chaos down there from a distance, actually being in the middle of it was ten times worse. People were being punched left and right. Eggmen were firing bizarre laser beams across the room, while gigantic vines whipped whole scores of thugs in every direction. Darkwing couldn't tell how well SHUSH's men were doing in this insanity, but he hoped it was better than it looked.
He couldn't help at the moment, at any rate: Darkwing had his own objective to take care of. He wove deftly through the battle, avoiding detection as he made his way to the stage.
If there was anyone who knew that the pirates were thinking with this cockamamie plan, it was the master criminal on the stage. He planned to get the drop on Pete and apprehend him, at least: even at a loss, if SHUSH could force some answers out of him that would at least be a victory.
However, it appeared Darkwing would need to get in line. When he arrived at the stage, the mystery vigilante still had Pete at swordpoint.
"Got you this time," he was saying, a boyish smirk on his face.
Pete was snarling, looking more incensed than worried about the sword at him. "Not you again!"
"Yes me, again." The swordsman said, keeping his rapier trained on Pete's head. "Whenever you or your ilk reap evil, Pete, I'll be there to sow justice! So says the Masked Mallard!"
"Oh brother…" Darkwing said under his breath. He hoped he didn't sound like that.
Pete was no more impressed. "So says an idiot brat. But yer not talkin' to no bumbling buccaneer this time." He snarled. There was a sudden movement, far faster than Darkwing would have expected from someone the hulking pirate's size, and at once Pete had a sword of his own and had parried the Masked Mallard's advantage away. "I'm no slouch myself."
"We'll see about that!" The Masked Mallard replied. He lunged forward and aimed a swipe at Pete's unflatteringly large belly, but again Pete surprised both by deftly slipping out of the way and parrying with a swipe of his own.
"Tsk tsk tsk. I've seen better from losers half yer size, kid."" Pete grunted, smirking nastily. He pushed his sword into the swordsman's own, and for all the Masked Mallard's apparent skill his stance was quickly faltering under Pete's extreme strength.
"Maybe," he said, as his opponent's footing started to slip. "You shoulda minded yer own business."
That was as good a cue as any. "Or maybe he could just use a second!" Darkwing shouted, springing from behind the would-be hero and launching a web kick right into Pete's face. The burly pirate flew back, and hit the floor hard enough to shake the stage.
Darkwing, meanwhile, did a perfect backflip and landed next to the Masked Mallard, ready to strike again.
"D-darkwing Duck!" For a vigilante, the Mallard was younger than he looked from a distance. And he seemed rather too excited to see him for a guy in the middle of a criminal warzone - at least in Darkwing's opinion.
Pete was soon back on his feet. "Not another masked do-gooder!" He grumbled, rubbing his cheek where Darkwing hit him. But he went ignored for the moment: Darkwing, figuring he could trade morebarbs in a moment, decided to focus for a moment on his newfound "friend" instead.
"The Masked Mallard, I presume?" He asked coolly. "Care to explain why you've crashed our little sting?"
"Just evening the odds!" The swordsman replied, as if he hadn't made a mess of the whole thing. "And I have to say, it's an honor to be able to fight alongside you!"
"Yeah… sure." Darkwing grumbled. He would've much preferred things going to plan over having another overenthusiastic ally, but he supposed he would take what he could get.
"'Even odds?' Funny!" Pete snarled. Being ignored clearly didn't sit well with him. "If ya think I can't take ya both on at once, yer in fer a shock!"
Darkwing rolled his eyes. Now it was time to trade barbs. "Yeah? Then why don't you, fuzzy!" He drew his gas gun, and on cue he and the Masked Mallard pointed their weapons at Pete again.
Pete glanced back and forth at his opposition, and now seemed to begrudgingly accept that he was outgunned. "Maybe I got better things to do!" He shot back.
Darkwing knew a parting quip when he heard one, but Pete's instincts were just a hair faster than his own. In a snap movement, Pete turned away and called out.
"Boys! Get yer butts over here!",
An instant later they were surrounded by a half dozen pirates, who seemed to come out of nowhere with swords, guns and surly looks.
"Show our guests here a good time!" Pete laughed. And as Darkwing and the Masked Mallard eyed their new dance partners, he slipped behind the stage and disappeared.
"That guy's starting to annoy me," Darkwing grumbled. He looked to the
As was starting to feel like a trend, the Mallard sprung into action before that could happen. "He won't escape from the eyes of justice!"
He lunged, and half the pirates fell back to avoid a single swipe. Which, Darkwing had to admit, was rather impressive. He was about to retort – something likely hypocritical about dialing back the cheesy dialogue – but he was interrupted by something slamming into him with a powerful WHAM!
"Got you back, you stupid avian twit!" Came a heavily, and Darkwing looked up to find Dr. Fossil looming over him. He cursed his lack of attention: while they were focusing on Pete, the fight had tumbled their way!
To the side, he could see the Masked Mallard being overwhelmed as a three-way brawl between a group of gangsters, One-Shot and Quackerjack, and what looked like a platoon of Professor Moliarty's moles steamrolled over himself and the pirates. That of all things was a perfect testament to how insane the pirates' idea had been: Darkwing hadn't even known Moliarty was still around!
He quickly armed a pellet into the gas gun and shot it into Dr. Fossil's face. As expected, the living dinosaur swatted the projectile out of his face, thinking it was a normal smoke bomb. Instead, it burst into bright light upon contact, disorienting the good doctor and sending him reeling to the ground a second time.
As he moved to get a better sense of his surroundings, Navis' voice came in through the comms. "Darkwing!" She called, sharply. "Some of the smarter criminals are starting to cut and run. We can't let them get away with any of those assets. Where are you?"
He sighed. He had hoped the criminal element would have spent a little more time beating the stuffing out of one another before they moved onto the inevitable looting. That would've given SHUSH at least a little more time to try and prepare before the stampede started going out the doors rather than within them.
But unfortunately, Navis was right. It didn't take much to see that it was like Christmas Eve in there. People were rifling through files while others fought, grabbing whatever looked valuable. He looked around: the Masked Mallard was still trying to get his limbs out from whatever horrible new toy Quackerjack had unleashed upon his enemies. Crimson was about, but while they had the same job she had her own problems to deal with. And Darkwing had outright turned the regular SHUSH frequency off on his comms (only allowing the limited frequency that Navis broadcast from) because the panicked shouts from the undercovers around him were getting too repetitive.
It really was a shame the rest of their SHUSH roadblocks couldn't come in to help here without potentially breaking the line limiting escapes from farther out: it would've made this job so much easier. As it was, Darkwing was sure this was going to continue to be a very long afternoon…
Author's Note: And the Auction is underway! Let it never be said that the Air Pirates can't bring the party. Though unlike the Fearsome Five, one's survival is barely guaranteed in these shindigs at all...
Duck Reference of the Day: Pegleg Pete, also known as... well... a lot of Pete related aliases, is one of the oldest Disney characters in existence, and is in particular the archenemy of that "detective in Mouseton" Darkwing was talking about. He's gone up against Scrooge, the nephews and Donald Duck more than a few times, though, including in a few episodes of the old Ducktales (though he was a different character every time), and when thinking of a "new" villain for Darkwing to go up against with the pirates there were few who fit the bill better. And speaking of Ducktales, the Masked Mallard is sometimes a nickname used for Darkwing, but is also a superhero identity Scrooge went by in an episode of the old show. Though the person behind the mask now isn't Scrooge at all...
A third reference: "Speck" is the nickname Honker made for himself when he was being overconfident to the point of being a jerk in the episode "Calm a Chameleon." When Crimson brought it up, she intended to use it to warn Honker against making the same mistakes. Instead, NegaHonker tried to bull his way through not knowing what it was. Not a smart idea.
As for our heroes, the fight is only just getting underway, and the worst is yet to come. Next time they'll have their hands full with the Final Call, same Darkwing Time, same Darkwing Website!
