Author's note: Wow… this one was a bit of a task to accomplish. Not gonna lie, it was kinda a pain in the ass. Soooo much stuff to explain in one chapter. BUT I think I did ok. I had a bit of an issue saying it all in a way that would make sense, so I hope it's not too confusing. At least I managed a pretty speedy update for once. Yay me!
Soooo much dialog. My brainmeats hurt.
The city was hauntingly silent: the streets seemingly deserted in the wake of the decimation the disastrous concert had wrought.
Deep below the foggy metropolis, a hidden realm stirred; with it, a stunned mutant began to wake.
There was nothing but darkness at first. Reggie felt very much as though he was trying to claw his way out of a deep dark pit—fighting for his life against some unknown entity trying to pull him further into the inky depths. Only the soft sound of the disembodied voices around him filtered through the blackness and into his dazed brain.
"I think ya killed him pop."
"He's fine."
"I don't know Drake, looks a bit green to me. Heh, heh."
"… Don't make me hurt you LP."
"You got no sense of humor anymore, ya know that?"
"Dad had a sense of humor?"
"Quiet. I think he's waking up."
A feathered hand grasped abruptly at Reggie's face, two of the digits forcing one of his heavy lids open. The groggy bassist could barely make out the duck through the haze; only an impatiently narrowed gaze registered in his mind. He did his best to force his fuzzy vision to focus on the mallard before him, displeased scowl and lone eye soon solidifying before him.
"Earth to bassist. Wake UP!" the mystery bird snapped.
The familiarity of the voice was terrifying even in Reggie's barely conscious state; if it wasn't for the fact that it was slightly less gruff than Negaduck's he would have been sure it was the other mallard yelling at him. He jolted harshly away from the touch once his mind cleared enough for him to register what was going on.
"DON'T fucking touch me!" he yelled, teeth baring furiously at the unknown antagonist.
The short mallard before him was obviously taken aback at the extreme reaction, stepping away slightly and cocking a scrutinizing brow at him.
Reggie swallowed roughly against the painful dryness in his throat as he scanned his surroundings, panic rising within him when he noticed the tight cable forcing his arms to remain bound behind his back. The room around him was so dingy and dim he could hardly make out anything. He stared uncomfortably at the trio of ducks before him, scrutinizing each of them and shifting as much as he could while still tied to the wooden chair beneath him. At least they had left his feet free.
The three birds made an odd group to say the least. The shortest duck stood sternly in front of him, arms crossed and large grey fedora casting shadows across his face. Two redheads flanked him on either side: both taller in stature but obviously younger in age. The first was a teenage girl with a dark sense of fashion and wild hair tamed into a ponytail as best it could be; Reggie couldn't help but sneer somewhat at the obnoxiously toothy grin she sent his way. The second avian was far more imposing in appearance than his two shorter companions, tattered leather jacket and smoldering cigar in his bill only adding to his gruff demeanor. Despite the unnerving stature of the tall, muscular duck, the one-eyed mallard in the middle made the bound bassist far more uneasy.
Half of his face was shrouded in a black mask, the fabric covering the evidence of an obviously traumatic loss of his right eye. Only the small scars scattered around the makeshift eye patch betrayed the true struggle that had torn the orb from its owner. Many more scars lay nestled amid white feathers, but it was the jagged, angry wound on the mallard's neck was the most difficult to ignore. The large mark spanned across most of his collar—the feathers stripped away to bare the marred flesh beneath. The old wound was unnerving, but it was not what bothered Reggie the most about the strange mallard: it was his eerily similar appearance to another crazed duck currently haunting his life.
A sickening feeling formed in his stomach at the realization of how similar the other bird looked to Negaduck. If this was some even more evil twin, Reggie was sure he didn't want to know.
A single eye narrowed as the nervous bassist continued to silently observe them, the leader of the trio obviously growing more and more impatient as the seconds passed. Despite his obvious irritation, it was the largest of the group that reacted first, moving in for a closer look as he too grew tired of the waiting.
"So, this is our so-called last hope, eh?" he said as he circled the bassist, "He's fucking weird lookin'," he finished, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny and pulling the cigar from his bill as he stopped in front of the fidgeting plant-duck.
Reggie barely acknowledged him, too wary of the shorter bird behind him to take his eyes off the Negaduck lookalike.
The older mallard didn't respond, he simply continued to stare darkly as Reggie's blue eyes stared nervously back. Without warning he stepped closer to the uneasy mutant, the simple action eliciting an unnecessarily extreme response— his twin-like appearance and Reggie's recent assault eliciting an uncontrollable fear of being touched by the other again. Immediately he began to move away as best he could, the chair legs screeching and his heels scratching erratically against the floor as he desperately attempted to push away from them.
"JUST STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he yelled, the furious glare on his face clearly mirroring his mouth's demand to be left alone.
The largest bird hunched over— head turned slightly to the side and one eye widened as though to observe the mutant more closely. "Kinda jumpy ain't he?"
Reggie sneered at the remark as a puff of thick cigar smoke was blown into his face.
"You really think he's gonna be any use to us Drake?" he continued glancing over his shoulder at the mallard behind him.
"He will. Trust me."
"Huh, oh yeah, like the last bassist was, right?" the girl questioned cynically.
"Yeah, Gosalyn's right. That one was a fucking disaster."
"Yeah, well that one was a moron. This one at least has some brains."
"Pfft, what good does that do us if he's a fucking pussy?" Gosalyn muttered under her breath.
The quiet nature of the statement was not enough to conceal the fact that she had said it. She received a barely restrained slap to the back of her head in response as Drake turned angrily upon her.
He father stared sternly at her as she groaned and rubbed her head. "Watch your damn mouth," he scolded. "We're doing things my way and I don't want to hear any more complaining! He's not going anywhere and he's exactly what we need."
"Well, he's still weird lookin'," Launchpad grumbled.
"He's not here for decoration LP," Drake responded through clenched teeth.
"I don't know, put him in the corner might actually brighten this place up," the immature pilot snickered.
"Uh yeah, hello kidnappers," Reggie interrupted, growing tired of being treated like he didn't exist. He waited for all the focus to be on him before continuing, "I'm sitting right here, and I HAVE a fucking name!"
"Well, what the hell is it?" Drake asked impatiently, folding his arms over his chest crossly.
"Reggie."
"Reggie what?"
"Bushroot," he grumbled.
Without warning, an insane round of laughter filled the space—Gosalyn cackling at the hilarity of the name. Her obnoxious chortles slowed to barely stifled giggles as she began to realize she was the only one who found it funny. She glanced from her father to Launchpad as she realized how inappropriate her laughs had actually been.
"Oh, my god you're serious. Wicked sorry," she said, unable to resist the final chuckle that escaped her as the ridiculous irony of the name.
Drake found himself quite unable to react at first, staring at his daughter with his brow cocked and slight exasperation evident on his face. He cleared his throat loudly to focus the attention back on him before answering.
"Riight. Well then, Reginald," he paused obnoxiously as though to be sure Reggie got the message that he had heard him, "Launchpad, Gosalyn, Drake," he finished simply, pointing to each of them in succession and ending on himself. "Now that we're all acquainted, I need to ask you a very simple question."
Reggie shifted nervously at this, unable to decide if he wanted to know what that question was or not. "And that would be?" he asked anxiously.
Blue eyes widened at the knife that was suddenly thrust beneath his bill, Reggie's brain almost unable to comprehend how the shorter duck had managed to close the gap between them so quickly.
"If I let you lose, are you going to do something stupid?" he growled, eye narrowing in warning.
Reggie's breath caught in his throat at the glare, trying to force away the image of crimson eyes haunting his mind as he considered the question. He gulped audibly, finally managing to shake his head jerkily back and forth. He wasn't sure he had the energy to do much in the way of escaping anyway.
"Good," Drake replied, reaching behind the chair and slicing through the rough cable holding the vine-like arms behind the mutant's back.
Reggie rubbed at his sore wrists as they were freed, staring uncertainly at his captors but otherwise not reacting.
"So," he said, finally unable to stand the silence, "What the hell do you people want with me?"
Drake responded to the glare he directed at them with a scrutinizing look, trying to strip away all the false emotion Reggie was showing to discern what really made him tick. "Depends," the shorter mallard finally replied, offering no further explanation.
"On what?" Reggie questioned in agitation, already growing tired of the obtuse answers.
"All in good time. There's a lot more you need to understand first."
"Like why you look like him," Reggie snarled, unable to disguise his disgust with how similar Drake looked to the mallard that had been torturing him.
Drake snorted at this. "Oh, yeah. Negs and I are real close."
Reggie considered this response for a moment before answering. "So, you're like.. his brother or something?"
A soft, bitter laugh sounded at the question. "Or something," Drake responded with a grumble.
The still thoroughly unsettled mutant stared suspiciously at the other as he turned away— his small family quickly following in his footsteps.
"You coming or what?" Drake questioned with a glance over his shoulder.
"Why should I?" Reggie growled darkly.
"For answers," he responded simply before continuing his slow journey down the dark tunnel before them.
Reggie hesitated, slightly taken aback by the response. For a moment he considered making a run for it, but aside from the fact he had no idea where he was, he couldn't deny that he wanted answers.
Wooded feet moved hesitantly, shifting to hold his weight as he stood shakily. He groaned slightly, placing a hand to his head as the movement aggravated the cranial injury he had forgotten was even there. The world began to spin, and for a moment he was sure he would pass out. He was still wobbling slightly and clutching his forehead when he finally managed to make his way down the entire stretch of the first passageway to join the others.
Drake lifted his brow at Reggie when he noted the behavior, the soft, noncommittal sound he produced in response betraying no part of his true thoughts.
"Sorry to crack your skull there," he said, his tone offering little validation that he truly cared. "But with the way you heal you'll be fine soon enough."
"Your concern is overwhelming," Reggie muttered in reply, still rubbing at his head as the throbbing already began to fade. He was starting to question if the ornery mallard was really a good guy or not.
Another noncommittal huff did little to convince the mutant mallard either way.
Reggie scowled at the lack of response but otherwise didn't respond as he followed them deeper into the dingy tunnels. Only the sound of his bark-covered talons dragging against the dirt floor accompanied them as they made their way further into the depths of the hidden fortress. The further down they went, the more on edge Reggie got, reacting instinctively as though he could feel the increased distance between him and his fellow foliage outside. The dark twist of mangled channels finally gave way to a large expanse of interconnected rooms and the wayward group of residents within. Reggie couldn't help but shift uncomfortably at the way they immediately began to stare at him, obviously entranced by his strange appearance. He looked around the space to keep from focusing on their gawking, a glance to the ceiling finally making something click in his mind. They weren't really in the city at all, they were underneath it.
"Welcome, to the underground," Drake stated as though he could hear Reggie's thoughts, arms stretching out to gesture to the space around them. "Time for the grand tour," he continued, leading the way down the steep set of stairs in front of them.
Reggie paused to light a cigarette in an attempt to calm his shaking as he followed the other three hesitantly down the rickety steps. He was unable to keep his gaze from wandering around to take in his surroundings more clearly as they walked. The living conditions looked miserable, the people even more so. They had obviously done their best to make as much of a home in the manmade cave as they could— setting up homes and filling the space with as many fixings as they could scavenge or steal from the world above.
Reggie wasn't really listening to anything Drake was saying as he inspected the space around him. He did his best to ignore the continued stares he received as their journey stretched on.
"Why do you live down here?" he questioned in an attempt to calm his nerves.
"Oh, you know, great school system, lovely view, quaint little downtown. Why the hell you think we live down here?!" Launchpad griped, shoving his face menacingly into Reggie's personal space.
"Alright, I get it! Stupid question," Reggie yelped, backing away from the imposing duck.
"Don't mind Launchpad, he goes a little stir crazy down here," Drake reassured.
"I was made for the air DW," the pilot replied, staring forlornly to the sky, "Not for wallowing in the fucking mud."
Most of what he said fell on deaf ears, Drake stiffening immediately at the mention of two simple letters. "Don't call me that," he hissed viciously, apparently oblivious to the rest of what his larger companion had said.
Launchpad flinched at the growl, eyes widening as he realized that he had slipped up yet again.
"Uuh.. I didn't," he responded in a lame attempt to hide his guilt.
Drake glared at the answer but chose not to respond further, turning back to their resistant houseguest in an attempt to ignore how on edge hearing his old nickname made him.
"This is where we have to live," he said to the nearby plant-duck to keep him from questioning the odd scene. "He's forced us from our homes and cut off our escape to the outside. So we live in the dirt, constantly moving and digging new tunnels, burring ourselves deeper and deeper to avoid his wrath."
"Why don't you just leave?" Reggie asked.
"HA! If only it were that easy," Gosalyn replied, kicking small bits of debris on the ground as they walked.
"You don't just leave St. Canard," Drake clarified, "People can get into town by ferry, but the boats never stay, and no one ever gets on to leave. Once you're here, you're here forever until he either possesses you into his ranks or destroys you completely."
"Sure as hell would have been nice to know that before I got here," Reggie muttered, puffing his cigarette in irritation.
"I can't believe you didn't know that before you got here," the fidgeting teenager responded from beside him.
"It is pretty common knowledge," Drake added.
"Not for someone who's been living under a rock most of their life," the mutant grumbled.
"And you're never heard about any of this? The fucked up concerts, the "disappearing" bassists?" Launchpad queried.
Reggie shrugged at the question. "Not really... pretty much only what I learned standing in line for an audition."
"Wow, you really have been livin' under a rock, haven't ya?" the pilot responded.
"So, why'd you come here in the first place?" Gosalyn asked.
"Guess I just wanted my life to be easier for a while." Reggie replied
"That's fucking crazy!" Launchpad cackled obnoxiously.
Reggie couldn't help the annoyance that welled up at the laughter. "Yeah, thanks. I've noticed," he grumbled, irritation obviously growing.
"You don't seem like the type that would want so much attention," Drake noted.
The sulking mutant huffed audibly, stating his growing annoyance very clearly. "Apparently I'm just a glutton for punishment," he muttered with a slight snarl, eyes narrowing in irritation at the memories of all the bad situations he'd managed to put himself in.
The comment caused Drake to pause in his tracks, stopping to study Reggie for a moment as though it would force the guarded mallard to reveal his long buried secrets. Reggie shifted under the gaze, growing more uncomfortable by the second.
"What?" he finally snapped, barring his teeth at the increasingly irritating mallard.
Only silence met the question.
The lack of response only made Reggie more uneasy.
"Could you just tell me what the hell you want from me already?!" he yelled, his emotions slipping more and more from his control the longer he was trapped with them.
"Easy now, don't get your damn roots in a tangle," Drake responded snidely, continuing to walk as though nothing had happened at all. "I'm getting there. We need to get to our place first."
"Well, where the hell is that?" Reggie grumbled.
"Just follow the cries of chaos," Gosalyn mused distantly, jumping absently around the scattered machines and other random rubbish littering the ground.
The cries she was referring to became very evident as soon as they stopped in front of the banged up wooden door. Reggie backed up a few steps at the yells within, undeniably wary of whatever might be contained behind the flimsy wooden barrier. Drake led the way into the dark room, his spirited daughter quickly following behind him and Launchpad pausing to wait for Reggie to enter first. The larger mallard cocked a brow at him when the cautious bassist didn't move, toothy grin slipping across his face when Reggie lifted a brow back at him.
"Welcome to our humble abode," he said, bending over in a slight bow as he held out his arm in an invitation for the bassist to enter first.
Reggie scowled at the gesture but chose not to respond as he slipped past Launchpad and into the dimly lit room. From what he could see, the large space was something of a mixture between a kitchen, a dining room and a sleeping area— the hand built bunk beds and makeshift stove lending evidence of what it was used for. Aside from a large table situated near the back of the room, there was little else it contained to lend any evidence that it was a home at all. The décor was hardly what was most interesting about the room anyway. It was the pintsized occupants that stopped the bassist in his tracks.
Almost immediately the turmoil within hit him like a freight train. The shouts of dozens of small voices grated against his ears, the visual chaos almost too much to take in all at once. Reggie was nearly plowed over by a group of displaced miscreants, eyes widening as he jumped out of the way to allow them to pass. His jaw dropped slightly as he took in the rest of the pandemonium within the home. All around children chased each other with crude toys, jumping around and crying out in their juvenile playtime. A tabletop game of tug-of-war, an unnecessarily rough round of tag, art projects turned into an all-out war of paint, glue and pointy objects: it was pure chaos.
"These.. all yours?" Reggie questioned, mouth still hanging open and shock evident in his tone.
Drake laughed loudly at the thought. "Oh, hell no. They're not all mine. That one is more than enough to take 20 years off my life without having anymore," he stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to his boisterous daughter who was already stirring the surrounding mass of children into even more of a frenzy. "We just kind of look after them. Feed them, give them a place to sleep, that sort of thing. Other than that they're pretty much on their own."
"They're all… orphans then?" Reggie questioned, an abnormal amount of sympathy in his voice
"Yeah.. they are. Even Gosalyn is, but I adopted her way before all this shit started happening. I might as well have birthed her myself with all the crap she's put me through," Drake grumbled.
"Pfft, he loves it," Gosalyn stated, leaning in closer to Reggie to whisper loudly to him.
"Yeah, that's us," Launchpad chimed in, "The wandering orphanage of insanity."
The way he muttered was more than enough to voice his annoyance.
"Oh, it's not that bad," Drake replied nonchalantly, making his way through the rowdy mob with an obviously practiced ease.
"Easy for you to say," his younger companion grumbled, "You're not the one taking care of the little monsters."
"What are you complaining for? I thought you liked kids."
"I do, but for fuck's sake Drake, 30 is past my limit!"
"34," Drake corrected.
"Whatever! That's just worse!" Launchpad yelled, his normally cool demeanor starting to crack. Luckily the surrounding mass of children was enough to take his mind off it. "HEY! Stop gnawing on your sister Ted!" he cried to a small rodent currently chewing on his crying twin's arm, "Here, chew on this you little freak," he muttered, freeing his sister's arm and shoving some strange wooden toy between his teeth.
Drake hummed noncommittally from the back wall where he was rifling his way through several beat up old cupboards. He grumbled when the brief inspection failed to produce the item he was searching for. He turned back to his preoccupied friend who was currently doing his best to corral the mass of tots that had decided to use him as a human jungle gym.
"Quit messing with the children LP!" he snapped, "We need to find the damn book."
"Gonna be kinda tough there DW," Launchpad replied grumpily, trying his best to pull some of the small bodies from his limbs and torso.
"DON'T call me that! I swear I'm going to start HURTING you if you don't quit it!" Drake yelled, turning upon his daughter and doing his best to keep his temper under control. "Watch the kids Gos," he stated curtly, moving over to Launchpad to help pull the children off him.
"Uuuuh, come on dad. I don't wanna watch the freakin' kids," she whined— much to her adopted father's irritation.
"I said watch the damn kids Gosalyn!"
The fiery teenager groaned in response. "How come every time something interesting happens it's always Gos watch the kids," she grumbled in a mocking tone.
Despite the complaints, her obedience was clearly displayed by the fact that she made her way further into the mini mob. She trudged to the back where a particularly raucous group was still flinging art supplies at each other, stepping into the middle of the arts and crafts war and collecting her paint cans from the grip of tiny hands.
Reggie watched in curiosity as she shook the spray paint and uncovered a half-finished mural coating a large portion of the far wall. The scene was twisted and dark and very reminiscent of some similar designs he had seen before. He watched her for a moment as she grabbed can after can of spray paint, swiping over the lines with a fluidity that was oddly enthralling. The action made it very obvious who was responsible for the painted scenes sprawled across her father's various vehicles. He finally managed to drag his attention from the skilled artist as Drake and Launchpad lead the way into the next room. It wasn't necessary to ask the mutant to follow. He was glad to be free of the commotion. Kids always did make Reggie uneasy.
A cursory inspection of the new room quickly revealed that it was much like everything else he had so far seen in the underground hideout. It was a fairly small space; nothing like the larger room they had just come from. The floor and walls were covered in simple wood planks, and a few beat up pieces of furniture were scattered around the room, including a table near one of the walls and a few small cabinets, but otherwise there was little in the room at all. The only thing that caught Reggie's eye right away was one large bookcase in the back. It was set above what appeared to be some sort of desk; in actuality it was merely a large board held up by several stacked cinder blocks, but Reggie assumed that's what it was due to the maps and books spread across its surface.
Reggie couldn't resist sighing in relief when the door closed behind them—muffling the noise outside. All the racket was starting to aggravate his still sore head. He sat at the table leaning his back against the nearby wall and lighting a fresh cigarette as Drake immediately made his way to the collection of books and other random curiosities littering the shelves of the large bookcase. He grumbled irately to himself when a swift search of the lower shelves he normally used yielded no results. The soft griping never stopped as he began to stretch as best he could to reach the higher boards.
The quiet grunts resulting from Drake's struggle caught Launchpad's attention as he passed by the petite duck, spontaneously prompting him to assist. Without warning he gripped his shorter companion beneath his arms so he could lift him easily onto the high desk.
Drake was absolutely livid. His hands clenched at his side, his back hunching as a slight redness began to show on his face. He hated being reminded of his stunted stature. The fact that Gosalyn was already slightly taller than him was bad enough without Launchpad offering his unsolicited assistance.
"Gee, thanks LP," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"You're welcome," Launchpad replied, beaming obliviously as his partner fumed.
The chipper tone only served to increase the other duck's irritation. Angry fists clenched tighter, the crime fighter's body shaking ever so slightly in his ill-hidden anger. The lone eye narrowed in annoyance at the taller mallard as Drake turned to face him. He gripped the end of the other's bill pulling the appendage down harshly so that he could press his face closely to Launchpad's.
"WHAT have I told you about doing that LP?" he growled deeply.
The shocked bird thought this over for a second, searching his brain as if trying to pull the other mallard's exact words from his memory. "Uhhh, to… not to?" he finally replied, his voice muffled and amusingly distorted by the rough grip still holding the end of his bill together.
"Don't forget it," Drake answered, his sidekick's beak vibrating back into place as it was released.
Launchpad rubbed at where the other had been gripping his face, "Geez DW, no need to get your fuckin' feathers in a knot," he mumbled.
The absentminded pilot didn't even see the fist coming until it had already smacked him roughly in the face. "Oowww," he griped, rubbing at his cheek where the angry blow had been placed.
"Did I not JUST tell you saying that was going to start getting painful?" Drake snarled over his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the bookcase in front of him.
Launchpad chose not to comment to avoid angering the other duck even more. He pouted slightly, muttering under his breath as he moved sheepishly to join Reggie at the table. His eyes narrowed at the "are you serious?" look the mutant directed at him. He didn't appreciate the slight amusement Reggie got out of the large mallard being pushed around by his smaller companion.
"Hey, don't look at me like that," he grumbled, "He may be a little guy but he packs a fucking wallop!"
The thought coaxed Reggie's attention back to the softly grumbling duck who had since continued his search now that he could reach the upper shelves. He cocked a brow as the other began to mutter to himself more audibly. He was starting to seriously wonder about the other bird.
"He.. talk to himself a lot?" he questioned softly.
"Now that you mention it.. yeah," Launchpad replied with a slight laugh.
Drake growled gutturally at the comment, announcing his feelings about their discussion without actually saying anything; he did his best to stop the muttering anyway. The spectacle Drake provided prevented any of them from noticing when the door behind them slowly creaked open to let through a certain redheaded miscreant.
The two drakes at the table were so occupied with observing the griping crime fighter's search that they didn't even notice when she slipped onto the bench to sit beside Reggie.
She sat there silently for several moments before it became obvious the others were not going to notice her. "Psssst," she finally whispered obnoxiously into Reggie's ear, quite sufficiently gaining the mutant's attention.
Reggie yelped slightly, scooting away from her so swiftly that he actually forced himself right off the bench, landing with a thump on the hard floor. His scowl voiced his anger quite clearly without him having to say anything.
"Wow, you really are jumpy," Gosalyn mused, leaning an arm against the table as she continued to stare at him.
"Gosalyn!" Drake yelled as the sound of the altercation brought his attention to the group behind him. "I thought I told you to watch the kids!" his brow lifted as he noted the guitar she had brought with her, "And I thought I told you to get rid of that damn thing," he finished irately.
"They're fine," she stated, flipping a wrist dismissively at her fuming father and choosing to ignore his comment about her guitar entirely.
"That wasn't the point," Drake grumbled as he turned back to his search. He would deal with his disobedient daughter after he found what he was looking for.
Gosalyn smirked in triumph when the reprimanding didn't continue, turning her attention back to the bassist who had since dusted himself off and settled back in his seat so he could rest his chin on the table. He never would quite understand why the position was so comforting to him since his transformation.
Only his heavy sigh broke the silence.
There was no way the antsy teenager beside him was going to allow him to keep sitting quietly.
"So, what's it like being in a famous metal band?" she asked eagerly, nearly bouncing in her excitement.
Reggie's brow lifted in confusion at her, angling an eye to the side to meet her suddenly star struck gaze. "Horrible," he muttered, never removing his chin from the hard tabletop.
The terse answer did little to stop the uncontrolled string of questions that suddenly poured from Gosalyn's mouth in response. Reggie gaped at her as he straightened his back, eyes widened in shock at the sudden assault of inane babble.
"Why the hell do you care?" he finally managed to question, choosing to ignore any specific inquiry.
"Gosalyn, unfortunately, is a big fan of the band," Drake answered grumpily, "And a big fan of yours in particular."
"Yeeah, great stuff," Gosalyn stated, slightly dreamy look slipping across her face as she stared into space.
"You know your dad don't like that shit Gos," Launchpad stated, unable to keep the amused smirk off his face.
"Pfft, don't see why it's such a fucking problem," she muttered as she began to strum on the instrument she had brought.
"Language!" Drake yelled, taking a moment to glare at his daughter before returning to the shelves; he was finally starting to just throw stuff to the ground as his searching stretched on with no results. "First of all," he continued as though he hadn't said anything about her choice of words, "You're supposed to be on our side. Second of all, I HATE METAL!" he finished angrily.
"Hey, I can hate the people and still like the band," she stated stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest in a display of refusal. "Besides, it's not very often an actual good bassist comes along."
The fact that she received no reply at all seemed to annoy her more than being scolded. She turned her attention back to the plant duck beside her when the new round of silence became too much to handle. Reggie shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, glaring at her when she didn't say anything.
"You're one of the best you know," she finally stated, answering some question he never asked as though her thoughts had been obvious.
"You don't say," Reggie muttered unenthusiastically.
"Oh, yeah," she replied, suddenly pulling a small stack of CDs from her inner vest pocket. "Check it out."
Reggie picked one up in curiosity as she placed them on the table. A glance at the back lent an interesting piece of information. Beside every song the bassist that produced it was marked in bright red writing. It was very unsettling seeing 9 different names on one CD, all sprawled upon the back in crimson letters as though to mark the blood they spilt in pursuit of stardom. A painful sickness settled in his gut as a brief inspection of the other discs revealed a similar situation on each album. The sound of Gosalyn placing a dirty little stereo on the table and connecting her guitar to the small, battery powered amp she had finally tore his attention from the unsettling list of eliminated bassists.
"Nearly all the albums have at least 5 different bassists on them," she said, "Very few of them managed to produce more than two songs before Negaduck got sick of 'em. Not that it really made much difference sound wise. Only like three of them have actually been any good."
Reggie lifted a curious brow at her as she loaded one of the discs into the player, nearly jumping out of his green skin when music suddenly began to blare from the CD player's small speakers. Drake covered his ears with a furious snarl at the auditory assault, crying out at the pain that filled his head. Even Launchpad flinched at the noise.
It only got worse when she decided to jump onto the table and bang her head to the music, suddenly playing along with the rhythm and singing the lyrics.
Her voice sounded very much akin to a car crash or perhaps a bag full of squealing puppies. Reggie clenched his teeth at the unexpected blast of vicious sound, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the sound.
The impromptu jam session was put to an end as quickly as it had started— Launchpad yanking her guitar cord from the amp and switching off the stereo.
"Yeeah, that's enough of that," he muttered, rubbing at his own tortured ears once the music had stopped.
The energetic youth seemed essentially unfazed by the interruption, plopping back in her seat as though nothing had happened.
"Don't EVER do that again!" Drake roared, turning furiously on his daughter.
"So, what ya think?" she questioned to the mallard beside her, choosing to ignore her father completely.
She leaned in close to Reggie's face when he didn't respond, grin extending in her excitement.
The still flabbergasted bassist wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Um…. lay off the singing?" he answered, unable to think of anything else to say about the loud and obnoxious display.
"Thank you," Drake responded, pausing his pursuit once again to send a genuinely grateful glance over his shoulder.
Gosalyn huffed at the quick response, plucking at her beat up instrument in annoyance. "Well what about the guitar?" she questioned.
Reggie shrugged noncommittally, "Practice."
"Sooo, I'm awesome then!" she yelled elatedly, huge grin spreading across her face as she once again invaded Reggie's personal space.
The wide-eyed mutant blinked stupidly at the statement; it wasn't a question. In her mind Gosalyn was the greatest musician ever.
"Yoou're…. a little crazy aren't ya?" he finally responded, choosing to ignore the pseudo question completely.
"A little doesn't begin to cover it," Drake muttered as his search finally came to the last shelf. "Finally," he said at last, pulling down a heavy book that was nestled in a dark corner behind several dusty items.
He clutched the item close as he jumped down from the desk, making sure to avoid the pile of clutter he had created during his rummaging. He dropped the book unceremoniously onto the table as he slipped into the spot beside Launchpad. The slightly dingy piece of literature was obviously very old—the age of its material quite apparent even in the dim light shining throughout the room. The entire book was covered in handmade carvings, the delicate designs twisting their way all around the dark stone binding. Sprawled in bold and fancy letters across the cover were some words that Reggie didn't understand; he found himself wishing very much that he could.
"Oooh is that the book?" Gosalyn questioned in awe, running her fingers along the elaborate cover of the manuscript. Immediately her mouth began to once again pour out questions, the sound causing her father's head to throb.
He groaned audibly at the pain. "Uuuh! Will you please leave and let the grownups talk! You're giving daddy an ulcer babe," he grumbled as he rubbed his temples.
"I AM a grownup!" she snapped defensively. "I'm 16 already and-"
"You're 15!" Drake replied curtly, cutting her off before she could continue.
"Only for 3 more weeks," Gosalyn grumbled.
The reminder that his little girl wasn't so little anymore only made Drake's mood worse. "I don't care! An if I hear much more lip from you I'm gonna fuckin' lose it!"
Gosalyn swallowed thickly at the statement as she watched her father's anger grow. Any time his grammar began to slip that badly she knew he really was losing it. The last thing she really wanted was to get her father overly worked up at the moment. She knew he was in no condition for it.
Drake winced as though on cue: an obviously pained expression slipping across his face as his skull throbbed, briefly losing control of his composure in the force of the emotion and physical pain.
Gosalyn sighed heavily, as the action reminded her just how much her beloved parent was actually suffering at the moment. She moved closer, slipping the grey hat from her father's head so she could lay a soft kiss on his feathers before turning reluctantly to leave. The faintest of smiles graced Drake's face as she moved away; it did not remain long, his usual serious demeanor quickly replacing it.
Reggie was suddenly very curious about the ailment the other was experiencing; it was very similar to Negaduck's and he couldn't help but wonder about it. He chose not to comment in favor of inspecting the intriguing manuscript now resting on the table.
"So, what the hell is that?" he queried, pointing a leaf-like finger at the antiquated book.
"The answer to all your questions," Drake replied, sliding the slightly disheveled item across the table so it rested in front of the curious mallard.
Reggie cocked a brow at the unspoken invitation to inspect the pages. He lifted the cover almost hesitantly, easing the heavy binding open gently as though it might injure him if he made any sudden moves. His brow furrowed at the incoherent barrage of letters within. Not a word of it was English, and although Reggie did speak bits and pieces of several languages, Latin was not one of them.
"Sooo, what does it say?" he questioned, continuing to turn the pages as though the later pieces of paper might lend him some information.
"Hell if I know," Drake muttered, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms.
The sulking mallard did not appreciate the annoyed look Reggie directed at him as he lifted his eyes from the book. He didn't even have to say anything for Drake to hear him loud and clear.
"Look, the damn thing is like a thousand years old. It's faded as hell and written in Latin, which I do not read by the way, so you'll have to cut me a fucking break here!" Drake retorted crossly.
Reggie sighed heavily, leaning back against the nearby wall behind him and pulling another cigarette from his coat. He paused to think for a moment as he inhaled deeply from the now lit tube, doing his best to collect his thoughts.
"I don't understand. How the hell am I supposed to get any answers from this if you don't know what it means?"
"I didn't say I didn't know what it meant; I just can't read the damn thing."
Reggie narrowed his eyes at the irritating answer.
"So what does it mean then?" he growled in frustration.
He was starting to suspect that Drake enjoyed torturing him almost as much as Negaduck did.
"Means you're fucked dude," Launchpad decided to reply pointing at him with the fingers his cigar was nestled between.
The statement stopped Reggie mid turn of the page, tearing his attention from the book in front of him.
"Excuse me?"
Drake pulled the book back, flipping through it until he came upon the illustration he was looking for: a hand sketched schematic of what appeared to be some strange machine that Reggie was sure couldn't have even been dreamt of a thousand years ago.
"This is much more than just a book," Drake answered, "It's a trove of dark knowledge that never should have been rendered."
Reggie's confusion was written all over his face. "I.. I still don't understand," he said meekly.
Drake didn't respond at all at first; he just regarded the leafy duck in front of him in contemplation, considering what he could say that would make it easiest to understand. He flipped a few more pages ending on a picture of a very familiar looking form.
Reggie's eyes bulged at the drawing, the faded sketch almost making him want to bolt for the door. He cringed pathetically at the sight of the exact likeness of the statue that had so terrified him: the beast of stone and steel that towered over the devil room within the band's manor.
"Just by your reaction I can assume you are familiar with this particular abomination," Drake said.
A brief nod was his only response.
"I suppose that thing is really where it all started. It is a true monster trying to pass itself off as an innocent hunk of stone. In actuality it's a hideous demon with no business existing in our world," he trailed off for a moment as though searching his own thoughts, "That statue is possessed by a monster," he continued, "An entity that can only truly exist through possession. A sharing of souls and vessels that allows it to exist in this world. I've been told the woman who wrote this book was taken over by this spirit when she rendered it, opening a door to some realm through which this creature entered our world and laid forth the instructions for a machine."
"A machine?" Reggie questioned, his voice weak from shock.
Drake nodded tersely, flipping pages yet again to show the hand sketched details of the device in question.
"That so called home of theirs isn't really a home at all. Well.. aside from the top few levels of course. The rest is a mechanism. An evil machine, powered by death and controlled by a madman."
"A machine that does what?" Reggie questioned, unable to keep his growing nerves out of his voice.
"Heh, that is the million dollar question ain't it," Launchpad grumbled, inhaling deeply from his cigar.
"Truth is, we don't really know," Drake clarified, "It's supposed to be able to grant ultimate power through the merging of a worthy soul with the creature housed within that statue… but we're not totally sure what that means. All we know for sure about that machine is that it can tear souls apart. But, it can also merge them together," he finished, demonstrating the idea by intertwining his fingers as though they were two souls coming together.
"How do you know all this?" Reggie questioned.
"Cause I built the damn thing. How the hell do you think I know all this?" Drake retorted irately.
"So what does that have to do with you? I mean, if he's your family or something and you expect me to help with this fucked up shit I—"
Reggie cut himself off when the question prompted a round of dark, grunting laughter from the other mallard's bill.
"You just don't fucking get it do you?" Drake said, ironic snorting stopping as he lifted his narrowed eye to face Reggie. "He's not related to me. He IS me."
Reggie's jaw dropped, the sentence rolling over and over in his head as though to assure him the other bird had actually said it.
"What do you mean he is you?"
"I mean he's ME! Well… part of me anyway," he sighed heavily, body slumping in his depression. "He's the other half of my soul which I tore from myself in a desperate attempt to save someone I cared for very much. He's the very blackest pit of my soul, my harshest, darkest, and most distasteful of desires.. But he's also my passion. My ingenuity… my lust for life…" he trailed off despair suddenly written very clearly on his face. "And I'm the sense of justice, the conscious… the regret. The love and the caring without the passion to live or feel joy," he continued, doing his best to keep going despite the anguish in his heart. "But he needs me as much as I need him… and that's his weakness. We were torn apart by that machine and he's been fighting to survive on his own ever since."
"What the hell does that mean?" Reggie asked, brow raised in confusion.
"A person cannot live without their soul Reginald. Not you, not me…not even him. And half of it is not good enough."
Drake turned the pages again flipping to one with a drawing of two beings splitting from one another: a black and a white soul in obvious torment with coils of flesh still binding them together despite the forceful separation.
"He was birthed into this world as pure insanity and anger. He didn't even look the same. He looked like something ripped from a dark and colorless realm. Like… like color never even existed. The second I saw him I knew I made a big mistake… but, as I'm sure you can guess, by then it was already too late. Once I let him loose I couldn't stop him. And I still haven't been able to. The only saving grace is that he hasn't been able to stop me either. Negaduck is no longer just that part that was torn from me. He has very much created his own entity… and that's exactly what he wants."
"He's.. trying to survive without you?" Reggie questioned.
Drake nodded.
"The only thing that has been keeping us alive this whole time is his ability to use that machine to ingest souls. Devouring innocents to extend his own life… and incidentally mine by extension."
"So, all those screams.. they're…" Reggie whispered, speaking more to himself than anyone else.
Drake regarded him thoughtfully for a moment but offered no reply. "Tortured souls are always more nourishing," he answered softly after a moment.
"Why would you do this?" Reggie continued disgust clearly voiced by his tone.
"I.." he couldn't control the small choked cry he let out at the thought of what had pushed him to do it. "I.. was in love," he said, the final word barely a whisper. "And love makes us do crazy things…. I was just so desperate to save her. I thought… I thought it would make me stronger. And in a way I suppose it did. Unfortunately, as much as I hate to admit it, he is the one running the city and I'm the one hiding in the dirt."
He paused obviously trying to collect himself enough to continue.
"Morgana," he whispered, the world falling away for a moment in the force of his haunting memories.
For a moment it looked very much as though he might cry.
"Good usually loses because evil does not play by the rules," he continued as though he hadn't said the name at all. "I just… I just couldn't let all those innocent people die to save her. I thought if I could just shut down my conscious.." he choked up once again, unable to continue as his whole body tensed at the knowledge of what he had done. "I thought I could save her from the man that stole her from me, but I just couldn't beat him as I was. He had an army and all I had was myself."
A gruff clearing of the larger mallard's throat made Drake pause and role his eyes. "And my trusty sidekick Launchpad of course."
"Thank you," Launchpad replied in satisfaction.
Drake couldn't help the brief lopsided smile; Launchpad always seemed to manage to keep his thoughts from delving too deep into depression.
"I couldn't beat him," he continued once he had composed himself, "But Negaduck could. The book mentions.. an immortality of a sorts that the two halves possess once split from one another. An inability of death I believe it says."
The cocked brow was enough to say that Reggie didn't quite trust the validity of the statement.
"Oh, don't believe me eh? Well I got the scars to prove it that's for damn sure," he griped, "He skewered my head with a pole, that's how I lost this one," he said pointing to his empty eye socket, "This one, nearly took my fucking head off," he continued pointing to the large scar on his neck, "He tore my HEART out once and the damn thing just grew right back!"
Reggie couldn't keep the somewhat repulsed look off his face at the laundry list of fatal injuries. There was something very unsettling about the other's inability to die that had nothing to do with Drake himself; it dredged up memories of nightmares: the agony of Reggie's own torturous death that happened over and over in his dreams. Each night was different and more horrifying than the last.
"Sounds like a pretty sweet deal eh?" Drake continued seemingly unaware of Reggie's true feelings on the matter. "Well it's not!" he snapped, "Dying is NOT cool. It fucking HURTS!" he paused for a moment, snatching Launchpad's freshly lit cigar from his hand and taking a long drag before continuing. "But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" he finished, smoke billowing from his bill as he spoke.
Reggie's eyes widened at the comment, suddenly terrified that the other duck might just be able to see straight through his head and into his thoughts. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he questioned nervously.
Launchpad and Drake shared a quizzical look, obviously shocked by the response.
"Yooou.. can't seriously not remember," Launchpad replied in disbelief.
"Remember WHAT?!" Reggie yelled, unable to contain his growing fear from morphing into fury.
Drake took one more hit from the cigar still clenched between his fingers before handing it back to his friend and regarding the mallard in front of him thoughtfully.
"He has been experimenting on you Reginald," he finally answered, the softness of his voice somehow lending his sympathy. "And it has not been pleasant."
Reggie didn't even know how to respond. He just sat there staring, mouth agape and mind reeling. "How.. how would you even know that?" he finally sputtered out.
"There is only so much information we can get from that fortress of his," Drake replied, leaning forward and folding both arms on the table. "But the lower levels are one place he can't monitor constantly so we do have some eyes and ears down there and.…. we've seen him do it.. killing you over and over almost every night trying to figure out your weaknesses."
Reggie's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as the panic within him rose. "Y- you're trying to tell me that he's... he's been," he cut himself off unable to even acknowledge out loud that his dreams had not been dreams at all but some retched reality.
He began to shake violently, breath coming out in panicked pants as visions of his dreams— no, memories— ran violently through his head.
"You alright there Reg?" Launchpad questioned, genuinely concerned about the other's state of mind.
Reggie gawked at him like he'd grown two heads. "No, great! I just hear my nightmares are actually memories of him torturing me! I'm fucking FABULOUS!" he screamed, banging his fists on the table.
"Alright now calm down, I know this is all a lot to take in," Drake tried to reason.
"Understatement of the fucking century," Reggie growled, crossing his arms and glaring.
Drake sighed heavily at the response as his head throbbed. He decided they could all use a little calming down at the moment.
"LP, I believe it's time for a drink. Do fetch the rum will you?" he said, moving from his seat and making his way towards the back of the room.
"Sure thing D—err, Drake. I meant Drake," Launchpad sputtered, catching himself before he spoke the dreaded nickname yet again.
Drake's look stated very clearly that the pilot better watch himself. "Just make sure Reginald doesn't hyperventilate himself to death," he grumbled.
"Ugh, would you STOP calling me that?!" Reggie griped using the comment as an excuse to get his mind off the terrifying thoughts in his head and calm his rapid breathing, "He always calls me that, and in case you haven't noticed you sound almost exactly like him. It's weirding me out!"
"Yeah, they certainly have their similarities," Launchpad responded with a slight snort.
"Don't EVER say that! I REFUSE to be compared to that fucking menace!" Drake snapped defensively, growling and swearing under his breath as his moved away from them.
"Well, he sure as hell has a fucking temper like his," Reggie answered in annoyance, perching an elbow on the table so he could lean his chin against his palm as he watched the grumpy mallard storm into a small adjacent chamber.
"Go fuck yourself bush face!" Drake yelled from the other room, his normally strong composure weakening in his debilitated state.
"… and he's insulting like he is," Reggie muttered irately at the muffled comment.
Launchpad laughed at the response, reaching to the small cabinet behind him to retrieve the large bottle of alcohol within. "Yeah, I suppose you can take the lunatic out of the duck but you can't take his temper… or ego.. or tendency to be a bit of an ass.." The sentence just kind of drifted off as the pilot considered the two duck's similarities for a moment.
Reggie didn't even have a chance to respond before Drake returned— several mismatched drink glasses in hand. He dropped himself back into his seat with little more than a grumble, placing the three cups unceremoniously onto the table. Launchpad filled the glasses quickly, wasting little time in downing his first drink before filling the vessel once again.
Reggie simply swirled the amber liquid slowly, staring into the churning depths as though they might lend some solace to ease his shaking nerves. He finally downed the alcohol, shuddering and grimacing slightly at the still unpleasant sensation of the liquor.
Launchpad snorted slightly at the display. "Not much of a drinker are ya?" he questioned, refilling his own glass once again.
Reggie huffed at the comment. "I'm sure as hell gettin' there," he muttered irately.
The alcohol did nothing to ease the barrage of emotion assaulting him, the questions still gnawing at his brain unwilling to give him a moment's peace. His face twisted into a furious snarl as the thought of the vicious attacks that had haunted his dreams resurfaced; the knowledge of being so violated making his blood run cold.
"Why keep killing me?" he growled quietly.
It wasn't necessary for him to clarify what he meant.
For once he could clearly see the sympathy on Drake's face. If anyone knew how it felt to die over and over, he did.
"He never creates someone as powerful as you without knowing how to control them," the one-eyed duck replied, "You were very much a first in that regard. He's been desperately trying to figure out how to kill you ever since. He's avoided using that machine for years because he had no idea what it would result in. It shows how desperate he's getting. He's running out of time to be free of me, and you're the last thing he needs… he can't collect your soul if you can't be killed."
"Then why did he mutate me in the first place?!"
"Keeps the fans happy," Drake replied with a shrug, "Besides, for a soul to really be much use to him it requires a certain.. potency, and putting you through such a significant trauma is the perfect way to accomplish that."
"I still don't understand why he needs me so badly. If you two are so invincible, then what's his fucking hurry?"
Drake laughed forlornly at the question. "Neither of us can be killed, but that doesn't mean we aren't dying," he flipped to the next page in the neglected book, showing an image of the two spirits dissolving into nothingness— oozing into empty space with eyes hallow and mouths agape in silent screams as though they were simply melting painfully away. "The book says that after so long both halves of the split soul will begin to "fade". Essentially this means our essence will degrade so badly that we will be simply unable to continue living and all that we.. I, was will cease to exist. All we can do is continue this stalemate until we either fade away together or he wins… but without you, he can't win. You're the only chance we have."
A sharp jab of pain made it quite impossible for Drake to continue. He couldn't help the groan of agony that escaped him, gripping his head with both hands in desperation to make the stabbing ache go away. Launchpad quickly filled his empty glass, Drake grabbing the vessel gratefully and downing the alcohol in one swallow. He sighed heavily as the liquor eased the migraine slightly, still rubbing at his temples in pain.
Reggie cocked a curious brow at him, unable to resist inquiring about the display. "So, these headaches are.. killing you or something?" he questioned suspiciously.
"Heh, the headaches are just a symptom of the fading," he stated, the roll of his eye stating his annoyance, "It goes way beyond that."
"So, he eats souls to keep his body from just… dying?"
"Yes," Drake responded simply.
"So all these people I've met.. they all lost their souls?" Reggie queried, still somewhat unable to believe all the information he had been given.
"Well not all of them, but most of them I'm sure. And in a lot of cases it's only a piece of their souls. It leaves a large majority of people as nothing but empty husks, devoid of any thought or emotion. There's nothing in their head or their heart but what Negaduck plants there. But some souls are a bit more.. special than that. Those people retain the strongest feelings they possessed when they were whole. Take their first bassist for example, he was left with nothing but his fury to keep him living."
"So, Benny and Jake?" Reggie trailed off eyes widening as he realized the people he had been interacting with who were half a soul and he never even noticed. "… even Darla?"
Drake laughed loudly at the question, obviously finding the answer so obvious it was almost funny. "Darla? That soul crushing witch of a tycoon?!" he said, "She was one of the first! And she is very largely responsible for all this. Now, Benjamin he left intact. He figured it would hurt him more to see his lover turned into a heartless bitch than to turn him too. His soul wasn't really good enough to be of any use anyway. Lucky for us. That dog has been feeding us a lot of useful information."
"Wait, Benny is on your side?" Reggie questioned in disbelief.
"Of course. Jake too, although he's almost more a hindrance than a help," Drake mumbled in obvious annoyance at the disgruntled duck. "Only that bitch Darla really wants Negaduck to succeed."
Reggie couldn't help but be somewhat angered by the degradation of Darla's character—even if it was true. He didn't want to admit that one of the few people he had ever felt comforted by was truly so evil. He did his best to keep the feelings to himself.
"What about Sapphire?" he asked to avoid the thoughts.
"Ha! Sapphire is nothing but a high priced whore. He usually leaves the working girls intact. He found them to be less… enthusiastic once their souls were eaten," Drake responded.
"… and the rest of the band?"
"Nah, he couldn't risk messing with them. He needs them too much… for now. Sparks especially. Without him he could never channel the amount of electricity it takes to power that damn machine."
"How do you know that?"
"Cause that's how I powered the thing in the first place," the crime fighter muttered, obvious regret in his voice. "Look, you know the deal now, so are you going to help us or not?!" he continued, growing more irritated at the constant questioning.
Reggie narrowed his eyes at him, suddenly finding himself hating the other. "Why should I?" he growled.
"Cause you are exactly what he needs and he'll kill you to get what he wants."
"What the hell is so special about me?!" Reggie cried, barely able to control his growing fear.
Drake sighed heavily, trying to calm his nerves to give a reasonable response. "Most souls aren't really much good to him. Just basic nourishment. The souls he really needs are a bit more.. complicated than that. The book refers to these as significant souls."
Reggie lifted his brow in confusion but otherwise didn't respond, deciding to allow the other to continue uninterrupted.
"He needs several of these significants to make the final stage of the soul merging process work. 7 to be exact: 7 significant souls to make one merging of monster and man. The first 6 have no particular order or specifications. They just have to be significant souls. But the last one… the last one is special. It must be in a state of "living death" as the book puts it. A soul that has given up when it's vessel refuses to. A spirit brought into this world in the wake of death, tortured and unwanted throughout its entire life. You are a host to a dead soul Reginald… and he wants it."
Reggie stiffened at the truth of how well the aforementioned criteria actually fit him—it dredged up some very painful memories. Not that he was about to mention it.
"What the hell do you know about me?" he questioned softly: the weakness of his voice betraying the truth of how he felt.
"Enough," was the curt reply.
"So, if he needs me so bad for this all to work why even ask for my help? Why not just kill me and keep him from using me?" Reggie continued, trying his best to ignore the feelings the conversation was stirring up.
"Well, first of all it wouldn't help anyway," Drake replied indifferently, "If you're dead and we're left to simply drift away, all his possessed followers will just wander aimlessly instead of dying; sucking souls and spreading their disease everywhere they go. It wouldn't be a solution it would just be a different way to die. But besides that I'm a good guy— despite my rather rough exterior—and my painfully engrained morals would never allow me to do that. I only kill when I absolutely have to, and in the case of his so called fans.. most of them are worse than dead already. They've lost their souls Reggie, and once they have been taken they can never be given back. I'm doing them a favor. And I did you a favor by taking you away from that madman, so the least you could do is help me!"
"Why?! All you care about is using me for what YOU want! I really don't see how that's much different from what I'd get from him!" Reggie yelled, suddenly furious at the idea of being around either of the lookalike mallards.
"This isn't about what you or I want!" Drake snarled in response, standing from his seat so he could stare down at the other bird. "This is about saving all those innocent people out there. If you don't help he's going to destroy the entire fucking world!"
"I don't care!" Reggie roared, standing and backing away from the others. "I'm tired of being used and tortured and treated like I'm DIRT! What the hell do I care if the whole world tears itself apart?! All I ever got from life was a world full of SHIT, so quite frankly I'm not sure I fucking care!"
"This isn't about your shitty past, and you know it!" Drake yelled furiously, advancing on the retreating bassist, "You're just a fucking coward! That's exactly why you haven't ended it yourself. You're just too much of a pussy to actually do it!" Drake was screaming by that point, absolutely livid at the other's reaction. He would do anything it took to save his city and that included doing everything in his power to force him to help.
Reggie was too furious to even respond: furious at the truth behind the statement, furious at everything he had endured, furious at the world. He snarled angrily at the bird, voicing his wrath with a feral growl as he turned and stormed away. He was already running at full speed by the time he made his way back into the kid filled room—climbing over anything in his path and stretching his limbs to get away from the two avians behind him as fast as possible. He sprinted through the great hall, forcing his exhausted body to move as quickly as he could manage in an attempt to escape the yells chasing him from behind.
The only thing he could think to do was retreat up the same path that they had come from, delving back into the twisted labyrinth of tunnels in his desperation to escape. Panicked pants sounded into the maze of passageways as his anxiety grew, bouncing off the walls as he tried desperately to remember how to get back to the room they had come from. He made his way through each channel almost entirely on instinct, finally finding his way back into the room he had woken up in.
His heart was pounding so fast he could barely breathe, his chest shuddering under the force of his terrified gasps for air. He finally set eyes upon the only exit the room had to offer: a heavy barricade of wood and metal blocking the only way out. Leafy hands grasped desperately at the pieces that made up the door, pulling futilely on the bits of twisted iron in an attempt to pry the entryway open.
"Alright, just hold it right there," a dark voice growled, forcing the terrified mutant to spin around and face the mallard behind him.
Drake stood before him, teeth bared and shotgun focused on the now shaking mutant bird. "I'm NOT just going to let you leave!" he yelled, the angry tone unable to disguise his anxiety.
"And you're not going to kill me either so we have a bit of a problem don't we?!" Reggie retorted.
Drake snarled at this, eye narrowing and jaw clenching in his fury. He knew Reggie was right. He wasn't capable of killing him for no reason. Despair suddenly filled his expression as the realization that his last hope was slipping through his fingers overwhelmed him. He dropped his arms slowly, forcing the barrel of the gun to shift its focus to the floor. The mixture of pain and despair on his face hurt Reggie far more than a bullet from his gun would have. He was suddenly very unsure of what to do.
He wouldn't even have a chance to decide. A sudden, sharp creaking began to fill the space, steeling the attention of both birds as the sound grew louder. Drake's eyes immediately widened at the noise, his already white feathers paling in dread.
"Oh, not NOW," he moaned, eye shifting along the groaning wood surrounding them.
All at once, a flood of water burst through the heavy door before them as the cognizant liquid finally sought out the entrance to the hideout. The water seeped forth in eerie tendrils as it reached its way into the underground haven and began to form into its normal shape.
Drake didn't even try to watch the scene unfold, shielding his face instead as the force of the shattering door flung bits of debris at them. He was very protective of his only good eye.
The watery figure that now stood in the entryway was barely lit by the weak lights in the room, but the silhouette was more than enough to make Reggie quiver in terror. The sight had him immediately backing away from the sopping dog, subconsciously moving so that Drake served as a barrier between him and the drummer.
"Uunh, not YOU," Drake groaned miserably, "I can't catch a fucking break can I?!" He sighed deeply before continuing, trying his best to compose himself. "What the hell do you want?" he growled.
"I think you know damn well what I came here for, Mallard," Bud snarled, his distaste for the bird quite apparent in his voice.
"Oh, I don't think that's going to work out. You see, I need him," Drake stated, crossing his arms and scowling threateningly.
"Why? So you can use him?" Bud questioned darkly, moving closer as the others began to back away.
"Oh, and what are you planning to do with him? Just hand him over and let this happen?!" Drake yelled.
"It's none of your fucking business what I do!"
"When it involves MY city it sure as hell is!"
Bud narrowed his eyes at the short duck, pausing long enough to give Reggie a chance to interject.
"How the hell did HE find you?!" the terrified mutant cried, panic evident in his voice.
"Oh, he always fucking finds us," Drake grumbled, obviously irritated at the truth in his own statement. "We just have ourselves a little agreement. Don't we, dog?"
Bud growled deeply, advancing slowly on the shorter man as his desperation to get Reggie out of there quickly grew.
"Look, I don't have time to shoot the fucking breeze. I'll just take Reggie and be on my way."
"Like HELL you will!" the thoroughly terrified bassist shouted, backing further away from the dripping dog.
Bud didn't wait for either of them to put up more of a fight, sweeping forward and grabbing Reggie roughly by the arm as the other bird advanced upon him. He flung Drake back with a terrifying ease, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the wall. He cried out in pain as the impact aggravated his migraine, struggling to keep the agony at bay. Shaking legs lifted him off the ground as quickly as they could manage, the hazy sight of Bud pulling the struggling plant duck away spurring Drake to his feet. He staggered slightly as his migraine impaired his vision and made his whole world spin.
Reggie dug his feet into the ground in an attempt to keep himself in place, screaming in terror as the other tried to pull him away. His cries stopped when Drake recovered and turned his gun on Bud in a useless attempt to get him to stop.
"I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HIM!" Drake roared, desperate to keep the other mallard in his sight.
"And what are you gonna do about it?" Bud sneered, water bubbling in his inability to control his anger.
Drake opened his mouth to answer but closed it again as he slowly accepted the fact that there just wasn't anything he could do. He lowered the weapon in defeat. Reggie's heart sank at the other duck's submission eyes widening in terror at the realization that he was absolutely powerless to save him. He began to struggle once again, soft whimpers falling from his bill as he resisted the terrifying hold. The feel of the other's water made him sick to his stomach; the only touch that had ever been comforting to him was now more terrifying than any other.
Drake growled deeply as the watery mammal turned to leave, pulling Reggie behind him. "You really are nothing but his fucking dog, aren't you?" he hissed.
Bud immediately stiffened in fury at the question. "You don't know a damn thing about me!" he screamed, turning back and raising his body to tower above the short duck.
"Oh, I'm sorry I was thrown off by the bitch collar," Drake snarled defiantly.
Bud was too angry to even respond. He simply gripped the struggling mutant tighter, wrapping him up in his dripping arm and lifting him off the ground to keep him from getting free. The increase in the hold's intensity only served to make Reggie even more terrified, screams pouring from his bill as Bud swept him from the room and up the mass of tunnels leading to the surface. The fluid grip didn't loosen until they made their way outside the abandoned building that the passage lead to, Bud finally setting the quivering bassist back on his roots so he could drag him into the streets.
"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!" Reggie screamed, pushing at the watery fingers still gripping his wrist.
"Please Reggie," Bud begged, his previous anger fading as he tried to calm the terrified mallard, "Just listen to what I have to say for one second."
The attempt at a comforting tone did nothing to ease Reggie's fear. "I don't want to hear what you have to say!" he screamed increasing his fight to free his arm from Bud's grip. "And I DON'T want you to FUCKING TOUCH ME!"
"I'm trying to help you god damnit!" Bud yelled desperately, latching on to both of Reggie's forearms and pulling him closer in an attempt to keep him from moving away.
It was no use; Reggie was livid, driven insane by pure panic. He couldn't even look at the other mutant, eyes clenched tightly and roots scraping the ground as he screamed into the darkness.
"Just LISTEN to me Reggie! PLEASE! You have to get out of here and you don't have a lot of time! You have no idea what he's going to—."
The sharp squeal of tires against the hard asphalt cut Bud off before he could finish, the familiar sight of Elmo's precious car silhouetted against the faint light of the street lamps making his heart sink.
Reggie's entire body stiffened at the eerie glow of red eyes glaring at them as Negaduck stood on his seat so that he could see them more clearly.
"I see you found my bassist," he said, satisfied edge to his voice. "Where's my other bitch?" he questioned in addition, referring to his allusive lookalike.
It took the drummer a moment to compose himself enough to respond. "I.. don't know," he said, hoping the response was convincing enough. "All I found was him. He was wandering through the abandoned district trying to get out of the city."
Crimson eyes narrowed at the dog, stating very clearly that he knew the story was bullshit. "Of course you did," Negaduck hissed. "Just get in the fucking car," he finished, dropping himself back into his seat.
Bud hesitated, suddenly finding himself incapable of handing his love over to the malicious mallard. Reggie pushed away when the other didn't react, finally freeing himself from the fluid grip and making his way towards the car. He yanked the back door open and shoved Jack over roughly by planting an elbow in his ribs to deliver his demand. Jack grunted slightly but didn't say anything about the rough request; he knew damn well why Reggie wanted him in the middle and he wasn't about to put up any resistance. The fuming and scared bassist closed the door swiftly behind him, sinking down in his seat and crossing his arms tightly as an angry scowl settled on his face.
Bud watched the scene with a heavy heart, his entire body slumping in his despair. Negaduck sneered angrily at the act, quickly growing impatient at being kept waiting.
"Get. In. the fucking car," he snarled, scowl only growing when the other still didn't respond. "NOW BUD!"
The drummer jumped slightly at the fury behind the command, finally forcing his reluctant fluid to slip into the empty seat.
"Good dog," Negaduck muttered, turning his attention to his recently reacquired bassist once the other was settled. "Nice to see you again Reginald," he said gruffly, "So tell me," he continued when the other offered no response, pulling a large side arm from his coat so he could press it beneath Reggie's chin. "What the hell did he tell you?"
Reggie swallowed roughly at the unspoken threat. "Enough to know you won't kill me just yet," he replied, trying his best to keep the fear off his face and out of his voice.
"Doesn't mean I won't hurt you," Negaduck growled in response, pushing the gun roughly against his neck to emphasize his point.
Reggie swallowed nervously as the firearm was removed from his skin; if only he didn't know how true that was.
"Now get us the hell outta here Sparks," the aggravated mallard snapped at the rodent beside him. "I ain't gettin' any younger."
It was all the urging Elmo required. He shifted the car quickly into drive, speeding off into the waning darkness.
Reggie couldn't stop the soft shudders that spread through his body as the cool air licked his skin and erratically tousled his hair. Everything that Drake had said kept turning over and over in his head, begging the inescapable question of what was going to happen to him next. He couldn't help but grip at his own arms in an ineffective grasp for comfort as his heart sank into his stomach.
He suddenly found himself wishing very badly to be kidnapped again.
Holy plotline batman! Nooow we have ourselves a proper story. As for what's gonna happen to Reggie next? Well, you'll just have to tune in next time and see now won't you.
Till next time dearies!
To the Ari cave!