A/N: Like, wotevah man.

A/N: You wish it were that simple to shrug off.

The Briefcase

'I am exhausted.' Drake stepped out of the building. These were his hours, but it felt like he'd run a marathon. The briefcase was an easier load if he carried it in both arms, so he clutched it to his chest as he headed home.

"Excuse me, sir." S.H.U.S.H. operatives confronted him. These were Grizlykoff's men, trained and ready to kill him on a single word. "What have you got in the bag?"
"I ... she just gave it to m..." 'Oh, woops!' Joss had put things in his bag and he hadn't even checked it before he walked out of the place! And it seemed so gosh darn heavy. "Do you have a warrant?"
"Look, sir, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."
"I have a question." Drake narrowed his eyes at them. "What makes you two any different from a pair of common criminals?"

On his words, Drake backed away and his tired feet tripped on the pavement. He fell down and the briefcase crashed open, spilling papers on the ground. He scrabbled for the paperwork that went flying. Fortunately the case files were tucked safe into the folds and therefore remained hidden.

One of the agents grabbed some of the paperwork.
Drake glared at him reading it. "That is confidential information, please return it!"
The second agent stepped in front of him. "Take it easy, sir. You wouldn't want to be arrested for attacking a government official."
"I have been more than polite to you!"

The first agent with the papers was on his S.H.U.S.H. intercom link. "Sir, you'd better take a look at this." Drake collected the rest of the paperwork and slammed the briefcase shut, this time twisting the combinations around. That, of course, wouldn't stop these guys once they had the right equipment.

"I am agent Grizlykoff." The agent arrived shortly and took the piece of paper. He read it for a moment. "Mr. Mallard, do you know what is on this piece of paper?"

"No, as I explained before to your little ... friend here, the receptionist only just handed me the briefcase back. I do not yet know what she put in there."
"You have not read this?"
"No."
"Vhy you not know what paper you have in your possession?"
"Obviously it's because I'm not good with paperwork." Drake could have exploded.

"Vhy do you leave your previous job?"
"You ..." Drake hesitated, "you have no right to ask me these questions." He turned his head, gazing at the ominous building. "That should say 'contract service', which should suggest that I can still do my old job."
"Vhy are you taking on another job?"
"Why? Why. Why, you ask?" It didn't take Drake a moment to find an answer. "There's no stability in it, that's why! I'm tired of watching my bank account from one month to the next, not sure on when I'll get another call."

"I'm tired of scraping through. My problem is that I can never fit into a suit like you." He prodded Grizlykoff for emphasis. "I can't sit at a cushy desk looking down on people, never mind the entrance exam. All I am is my uniform. So yeah, it really does get under my feathers, when you with your massive regular pay check have the hide to ask someone with my financial minimalism why they are taking on yet another job. Well, I'm sure not giving up my first job." He huffed. "The second job can go; I've grown decidedly unattached to it." He advanced on Grizlykoff and held out his hand. "Excuse me but that is mine." Grizlykoff handed him back the paper. Drake grabbed the handle of his case and stomped off.

He got home and dropped the case by the stairs. He fell asleep on the lounge.

In due course Eider assembled his security staff in the observation room.

"Alright. It seems that some of you feel my selection for a new employee wasn't game enough. Some of you actually don't believe an Envy can pull the security line." He crossed his arms. "Joss, tell me, what are an Envy's symptoms after losing a large quantity of blood?"
"I ... er ..." She turned bright pink as her heart rate shot up.
"Speak up to the room! Tell us all exactly how much weaker Drake was before He made a fool of You." He stepped back. "I don't appreciate having any member of my staff persecuted like what has just happened, and I do not like having my rational decisions questioned." He narrowed his eyes.

"If you can't take the pressure don't hold it against Drake Mallard. He has signed a binding, legal contract with Hamil Corporation. If you can't make peace with that fact then transfer out of the St. Canard offices. For those of you who do decide to stay, I will not stand to have my decisions undermined again and that is not an idle threat. Do I make myself clear? I-can't-hear-you!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Dismissed!"

However they weren't trained police officers, so they took that as their cue to relax, much to Eider's disbelief.

"I said ..."
"Sir, where did he come from? I mean, why us?"
Lawrence Eider glared hotly at Clive. "I trust you are just curious, Clive?" Clive nodded. "He can't solve the case he's on without our backup."
"We're helping him?" Clive scoffed.
"Drake Mallard is one of the best in our whole entire field. The gap is so great that there is no one like Drake Mallard."
"Sir, how is he going to help us?"
"Clive, you idiot." Eider hissed. "He already does help us; we've just never paid him before."

Eider fixed his eyes on the slouching lot of civilians that he was in charge of. "From now on, when I say 'dismissed' I want you to get out immediately and get back to work. We're going to start doing things properly around here or there really will be some dust flying! Now ... dis-missed!"

Gosalyn came down the stairs. Her father didn't fall asleep on the chair unless he was too tired to get to bed. She spied the briefcase and hauled it up the stairs. On her bed, she figured the code, and sprang the locks. It was a mess of papers. She began sifting through it. She read the signed copy of the employment contract and fought tears back. "Oh, dad, someone's pushed you right to the end. What made you do it?"

She continued sorting through the papers. There were rules for this, procedures for that, a medical statement, identity verification. Then she began digging into the pockets. 'S.H.U.S.H. files. You're not supposed to tell anybody about these, dad.' She thought silently to herself as she pulled out the files. 'I guess consulting people is maybe okay ...' she began flicking through the files.

She blinked at the psychology report. "S.H.U.S.H. thinks you've killed someone?" She gaped at Grizlykoff's covering form. "Idiots." She knew her father was the only person that could find the real killer. She shut the lid and lugged it out into the corridor. There was a sound of frantic movement downstairs. "Dad? Dad, what are you doing?" She called down the stairs.

Her dad looked up at her. "Oh! You have it!" He raced up the stairs. "Oh, thank goodness, I thought they'd stolen it." He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he looked at her, holding his finger against his beak in warning that someone was overhearing them. "So I take it you now know everything just like agent Grizlykoff knows it all." She nodded. "I have to find out who killed my father or I'm Grizzly's breakfast."

"I'd better come with you."
"No!" Drake grabbed her arm, "Gos, Grizz uses deadly force without any warning. S.H.U.S.H. is saying I'm a criminal and I'm violent, but you know I never carry a deadly weapon."
"Heck no, dad." She snorted. "There isn't even a sharp steak knife in the house."

"But on the other hand Grizz freely uses missiles and he's authorised to fire them. If you're standing next to me, you'll only die with me. That is the very last thing in the world I want to let happen, sweetie."
"What happens ..." She swallowed dryly, "if they find out you're ... a 'security officer'?"
"Then Grizz just has an added emotional reason for eliminating his suspect." Drake answered bitterly.

She grabbed him into a desperate hug. "I can't stand the idea of losing you, dad. I've lost so many people in my life."
"Hey, you're not going to lose me, kiddo." He stood up. "But I've just thought of how you can help me." He pulled open the case and handed her a photograph. "Drake Mallard Senior. Could you look for a connection, any connection, between him and Curtis Mane, one of the people that died the other night in the fire? I was far too young to know him. The only thing I remember of my poor dad is that he was a junior woodchucks den leader."

"No problems, dad. Anything to keep you alive, even a trip to the public library."
"Thanks, sweetie. Now, let's get some breakfast, huh?"

After breakfast, Gosalyn moved to the front door.

"Wait. Let me go through first." Drake gestured her back, grabbed the door handle and stepped out onto the porch. No shots rang out, no wood went splintering. "Huh, small mercy." He bent down and hugged Gosalyn. Then he stifled a yawn.
"Bed time, dad." She choked down her tears, "before you fall down."
"Don't you worry about me, sweetie. I'll be alright."

Drake shut the door behind him and crossed the room to the armchairs. He dismantled the trap door trigger in the statue. He did need sleep, but if he didn't get an answer he'd be sleeping with the fish ... as flotsam.

Drake got the briefcase, slamming his bedroom door behind him as he went in. He pulled out the crumpled letter that the agent had tortured him over.

After Due Consideration

Of his continual exemplary results at his current employment,
As well as his upstanding moral integrity
And his trade specific, highly specialised and pertinent studies overseas
We at Hamil Corporation extend our employee equity program,
With the same due and equal permanence as his employment agreement,

To Drake Mallard.

Drake sighed wearily as he opened the case and put the paper on top. 'Yep, that's pretty permanent.' He thought and pulled the case files out of the briefcase. These were the files that possessing them would get him killed sooner rather than later. He closed his eyes.

Darkwing Tower. Drake spun dizzily on the spot. "I wish I could get the hang if it." He put the case files on the table and confronted his walls of books. "You must be in here somewhere, dad."

Over across the way was the faint sound of snoring.

"I'd better leave a note for Launchpad so he knows what's going on."