disney owns darkwing duck. i own my characters.

Chapter 11

Saint Canard (Saturday Morning)

Gosalyn awoke to the sound of rustling in the kitchen, yawning and stretching she began down the stairs wondering what the commotion was. No sign of her father as she approached the kitchen's entrance she sighed as she found Launchpad inside digging through several drawers, "Good morning, Launchpad. You looking for something?"

"Well, I was going to make you breakfast before you woke up, but I guess that didn't work out so well." The pilot scratched his hair underneath his cap. "So, how are you today? Your dad said you had a rough night being Quiverwing."

She smiled, slowly sitting down in a chair at the dining table. Launchpad was always so concerned; sometimes she imagined him to be a second father or a close friend to her. "I'm fine, Launchpad. It was just that… I never realized how much I could get in trouble if I really don't watch myself. And I am ashamed of almost hurting my best friend in the process!"

"Well, don't let your dad fool you, Gos', he's gotten me into trouble too. But the important part is getting right out of the same trouble without being hurt." The pilot began to open a package of bacon, pulling the strips apart and placing them in an oiled pan. "And it seems to me, there's no one better for getting out of trouble than Gosalyn Mallard."

Another smile formed on Gosalyn's bill; everything Launchpad said she knew was true. Launchpad's heart was pure gold, and everyone that met him could tell—no matter how 'smart' or 'unintelligent' they assumed him to be—Launchpad was a genius at being his wonderful, caring self. Gosalyn preferred that beyond all other forms of 'smart', the ability to be caring to everyone was a worthy trait in her eyes.

"So where's dad off to?"

"He's gone to see Morgana Macabre about this case. He'll be back pretty soon." Launchpad didn't look up from his cooking to catch the worried look on Gosalyn's eyes. He could tell something bothered her, "Don't worry. I'm sure Darkwing will watch his manners and not get turned into a slug again."

"It's not that." Gosalyn softly told him, "I told dad all about what Mim-z told me about her father and somehow I don't feel like a good person anymore. I want to be Mim-z's friend but all I end up doing is using her."

Launchpad sighed loudly, scratching his head once more, "Do you care about what happens to Mim-z?"

"Of course!" Gosalyn interjected a fist tightening as she became serious for a moment much like she was when she was Quiverwing. "Her father isn't home to take care of her and instead he's on a mission with a dangerous organization that could cost him his freedom or life. Who would be left to take care of her if something happened to him?"

"See? You are concerned about her."

Gosalyn didn't care what anyone said—Launchpad McQuack was perhaps the smartest fowl she knew. As this thought crossed her Gosalyn thought she smelt burning bacon. "Launchpad… how's that bacon?"

"Oh shucks! I forgot to flip it!" Launchpad laughed digging in a drawer for the spatula.

Darkwing's knowledge of ravens was extremely lacking, even more so than his knowledge at how to not anger his girlfriend, Morgana Macbre. But surprisingly as soon as he explained to her his plight she began handing him books on the subject. Within several minutes Darkwing was carrying at least twelve books on Raven Culture and History. All the while during gathering these books Morgana told him, "Some of these books are extremely old and full of rumors instead of facts. You have to be careful what you consider in them, Darky-darling!"

He nodded, moving one of the books with his bill to keep it from falling. "So you personally don't know much about them to tell me then?" She frowned and nodded her head negatively. "I was sure just because they use magic of sorts you would have the most information on them."

"How dare you!" Morgana huffed for a moment, stopping her search for books, "My family's magic is far more relevant and useful—not to mention the only true form of magic in the known world—compared to Raven-tricks. They are only illusions, Darkwing. Like a magician's parlor trick, they are only meant to be taken as magic. As a matter of fact, most the trick's can be performed by anyone with intensive training."

Darkwing gulped, a calming voice, "All-right, okay, Morg! I didn't mean to upset you about it. I guess I'll be taking these books home for a while; I'll give them back as soon as I'm finished…"

"Dark, I'm afraid that's quite impossible. The books can't be removed from my house." Morgana sighed, moving all of the books she had in-hand to a small wooden table, covered in cobwebs. "It's a spell against theft."

"What will happen?" Darkwing wondered, setting the books down on the table, a look of disappointment.

"They'll sprout wings and fly back to this house." Morgana looked more proud of her spell, than disappointed. Perhaps it was a difficult spell to master and she should have been proud. Darkwing nodded and sat down at the table with a heavy sigh, "Sorry, Dark-darling."

"It's okay, Morg. It's a good spell to have." Darkwing picked up the first volume and began to scan through the pages.

"Oh, Dark! Look at this!" Morgana's eyes lit up as she thumbed over a page in a book titled, The History of Magicians and Illusionist. Darkwing was using one arm as a prop for his head, the other to hold his place in a book called Unkindness Groups of the Known World. He glanced at Morgana with an interested, "hm?", and Morgana began to recite from the pages, "Ravens have been long known to be interested in the eye-colors of their rivals because according to their own culture their role in society is determined by eye-color. Blue eyes meaning a great logical intelligence, green meaning a wonderful homemaker, brown eyes gives indications of a wonderful sense of justice and duty to the community, red means a great magical power, black eyes indicated a joyful being and in rare occasions multicolored eyes, or different colored eyes means a grave disaster to follow. Dark, what color of eyes did he have?"

"I don't really know. He hid his eyes, and he was blind so it's not like he used them to navigate. He did it by feelings, I think." Darkwing explained to her. "According to this, all ravens from certain Unkindness have to be registered to a certain territory and never step foot in another Unkindness' land. Rainbird's Unkindness, Greater Alliance of Rainbird is restricted to Alaska and parts of Canada. It says if they are in another raven's territory… it could be punishable by death unless a letter if written a year prior to the Unkindness' leader explaining their reasons for being in the rival-territory."

"So this is almost political. Rainbird probably didn't write to this territory's leaders, right? How would he if he's been kicked out of his Unkindness… no other clan would accept him in their lands; I'd imagine." Morgana sighed, "Do we have a territory here, anyhow?"

Darkwing opened up a page baring a large map with colored areas. Saint Canard was dotted in red, "It says this is the Unkindness of Lesser Valkmoor-Traviusdi. But turning him in would mean he would be killed… that would end the problem shortly, but it's not right…" Darkwing let the book he held drop shut. "This is making my head spin… I won't do anything to jeopardize his family's safety but as a last resort we can always contact the Valkmoor-Traviusdi to speak with them."

Morgana nodded. "But what is certain is that you need to learn how to dodge those illusions of his, and figure out what he's up to!"

Darkwing nodded, closing the book he held and putting it to the side as he looked around for another to read from. The masked mallard found one entitled Raven Dust and Tricks of Lesser Magicians, he assumed it might have been one-sided because it called the raven's techniques 'tricks' and called them 'lesser magicians', but he read anyway. "Listen to this… raven's have long since been able to cast illusions on their opponents without a single spell being uttered this has long bewildered those who wish to see through their tricks. Ravens sometimes use a dust-like potion on their feathers, which has been used since the middle-ages simply called Dust or Raven's Dust. Since it was first used it's been made by raven unkindness for all occasions, more or less like a perfume to be put on daily, than an actual potion. Some ravens even produce it commercially. It's supposed to be a sort of aromatherapy that confuses the senses. Maybe, just maybe if I can't smell it… I won't be affected."

"Even better!" Morgana snapped her fingers, setting one book to the side and rushing off to her bookshelves again. "What if we concoct an aroma of our own to counter it?"

Saint Canard (Saturday; 4:00pm)

Morgana held up a small, pale glass bottle, showing it to Darkwing. "It's done. I call it Morgana's Miracle Dust! You should be able to just put it on your outfit and be able to see through the illusions that he creates, well, those that are created by the aromas!"

Darkwing tenderly held the bottle, wondering whether or not to ask about exactly what was in it. He hoped it wouldn't turn him into something as soon as he put it on… or something else disastrous. But he decided it would do to use it in an emergency (not that he would tell Morgana that plan). But before Darkwing could even begin to think of an alternative plan, that did not involve subjecting himself to an experimental aromatherapy—a.k.a. potion, in Darkwing's eyes—something was brought to the couple's attention. Ekkes and Squeaks fluttered into the room, with Archie the Spider mumbling in tow, chattering to Morgana and resting in her thick black hair. Morgana covered her mouth with one hand, and glanced to Darkwing who was giving her his patented 'well, what is it?' look. She started slowly, "Well, Darkwing, it looks like you might have a chance to try out that aromatherapy quicker than you think. Ekkes and Squeaks tell me that a news broadcast has just said the Saint Canard National Bank Number Four has been held-up."

Darkwing narrowed his eyes, "By a raven?"

"By a raven." Morgana repeated, both nervous and anxious it would seem. Without another word she grabbed the bottle from Darkwing's hand and uncapped it. "Spread it around your body, and your clothes. Especially near your head. It'll be most useful if you can smell it, Dark."

Darkwing nervous obeyed, more hurried now than worried about whether or not the 'potion' would work. Grabbing his fedora as he started for the door he quickly said, "Thanks a bunch, Morg! You are the greatest! Now, without further ado—!"

"Wait, Darkwing!" Morgana cried as her masked comrade prepared to rush out her front door. Darkwing flailed his arms, almost falling on his face before he regained his balance and looked at the taller female duck. Morgana pulled out a dark looking bottle, that looked more like perfume. "This'll mask the smell enough that it won't be so strong."

Darkwing wasn't sure he understood because he couldn't smell anything except the sharp essence of lemon. Once Morgana applied the other bottle of liquid Darkwing could smell nothing but a strong, strangely familiar, scent. Somehow it reminded him of Morgana herself.

Morgana smiled, "Go get him, Dark!"

Darkwing smiled broadly, tipping his fedora as he announced triumphantly, "It's time to get dangerous!"

The bank closed at seven in the afternoon. It was in time for all of the working-class citizens in Saint Canard to cash their checks, and it was early enough that the bank's own employees would be able to get home before the sun completely vanished (until winter time changed). The bank had been robbed before, many times actually, but the list of robbers mostly included Super-villains so the bank had all but given up on trying to stop the super-charged robbers and stuck a single police guard in the lobby to take care of the un-super-villains. Now they wished they'd hired more; their single guard was pinned against a wall with what looked to be large sewing needles and silenced by a gag. The robber himself had not shouted any demands to the customers and employees of the bank—there would be no need—he'd subdued them all. All of the Canardians in the bank were being held down by some invisible force that none of them could see or feel. Perhaps it was normal fear that kept them from picking up a phone or using brute force to ensure their own safety from the robber. But the moment the robber passed the guard, they could no longer move themselves. After a minute of confusion and cries of, "Why can't I move?" "What's going on here?" the raven spoke, "My dear citizens of Saint Canard there is no reason to worry about why you cannot move. I have done it to you, so that neither of us will get hurt. All I ask is that you let me search for what I need to, and then I will leave peacefully."

No one had anything nice to say to the raven at that point; but to the raven it did not matter. With a snug grin fixed on his face the raven pulled out a small device from his pockets. A peculiar buzzing noise erupted through the room and then the raven said, "Open the vault."

He did not bother to turn at the blonde employee—she obeyed not of her own will—and opened the door for him. The raven put his hands behind his back and sulked into the vault, with a soft grumble of: "Thank you." to the tearful blonde. Once inside Brigley used the device to scan the entirety of the vault until he came to a stop over a single stack of money in the lot. The bundle was small, mostly of used one-dollar currency. Snapping off the paper clip that held the money together the raven raffled through the contents until he found a single bill and said, "There you are, my dear."

Turning on his heels as he put the device into his pocket once more, the raven started out of the vault. No longer was he grinning but instead held no expression on his face. Soon after he gave the order for the blonde to shut the vault once more; she did so all the time a questioning look at the one-dollar bill in his clawed hands. Was that all he wanted? A single bill from a vault that held thousands of dollars was all he wanted?

The raven frowned as he stopped in the center of the lobby. His head tilting to the side, a single word spoken, "Interesting."

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" Cried a voice, bold and heroic in tone. "I am the dishwasher that leaves residue on your plates! I am the ink that smears on your paper! I am Darkwing Duck!" A cloud of smoke filled a corner of the room, by the gagged guard's position. Brigley let his needles fly into the cloud, grimly scrunching his bill. But the needles all sailed through the cloud of violet smoke and landed into the wall beside the guard. The guard yelped and strained against the hold on him.

"I'll be taking that." A voice said from behind the raven, snatching the bill from his grasp with ease. Brigley wasted no time whirling around to the sound of the voice and striking out with his needled-armed fist. Darkwing dodged with ease, knocking the needle to the ground, "A dollar, eh? Why just this one? Or do you think I could guess by now, Mr. Rainbird?"

Brigley lowly hissed and struck towards him again, this time unarmed. Once again his attack was fought off with surprising ease. Darkwing laughed, "You seem to be getting slow or something."

The raven stood still for a moment, his mind working swiftly as he heard Darkwing triumphantly proclaim, "No villain gets the best of Darkwing Duck more than once! You're done for, Rainbird. And that weapon of yours is as well! Why don't you just give up? I know this isn't your true calling anyway, is it?"

Rainbird's bill dipped down. Darkwing wondered if he was ashamed, but could not tell. Darkwing asked with a more questioning tone, "You don't hurt anyone, do you? You don't want to… I can tell you aren't doing this because you want to cause people harm. Why do this at all, then?" Darkwing's brow was worried as he approached the raven cautiously, "You aren't fit to be a villain. Your heart isn't in it like that."

"How would you know…" Brigley whispered, though Darkwing could hear every word. "How would you know what I am capable of? I do believe you are quite mistaken of my abilities. I am more capable of doing others harm than you imagine… Hocus Pocus."

"Huh?" Darkwing questioned the last two words the villain spoke, but before he could move out of the way he was swiftly overcome by Rainbird. The raven grabbed his wrist, in shock of the sudden attack Darkwing dropped the money, and he was taken backwards into the bank's vault door. Struggling against the raven, Darkwing found that the raven's strength held him fast to the cold metal door. "What are you doing!"

The raven leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he closed in the distance between Darkwing and he. "Hocus Pocus… lemongrass…"

Darkwing became very worried; was he smelling of him?

"… orange peel. Lavender…" Rainbird announced, leaning in almost against Darkwing's feathers as he continued to call out ingredients, "A hint of mandragoria and a faint smell of…" He paused, pressing his bill against Darkwing's feathers, inhaling strongly. Then, pressing his body against the duck to hold him, the raven licked a finger and scraped it against Darkwing's feathers. Replacing the finger into his mouth Brigley then announced, "How clever. It's cinnamon bark."

Darkwing struggled against the raven's hold on him, remembered something; he worked to get an arm free from the pinned position underneath the raven's body. Meanwhile the raven chuckled at him, "It's a witch's brew alright. Otherwise it would have used more cinnamon and less mandragoria plant. Is that your little secret, Mr. Darkwing? This is how you can move and the others cannot… Very smart. A witch on your side, you must feel very lucky…"

Shaking his head the raven cackled, a maddening laugh, for a moment letting Darkwing's eyes see his own sightless eyes. One free arm going to Darkwing's throat. He dug in his claws to the duck's feathers—it was enough to draw blood. Darkwing's head spun as he continued to struggle, "I am tired of everyone underestimating my abilities to do others harm! Sick and tired of all of it! So I will be sure to show you from now on… exactly how much harm I can cause."

Darkwing's struggles grew as air became less and his arm slung free from the raven's hold. Immediately he grabbed at the raven's shoulder—the one Quiverwing injured the night before—and hit it with enough force to throw the raven back. Brigley let him free, reeling backwards in pain—screaming in agony and going to his knees weakly pawing at his shoulder. Darkwing doubled-over hacking and breathing heavily as he leaned against the door. By the time he looked up again he saw that Rainbird was struggling to get back to his feet. Darkwing reached for his Gas-Gun in his pocket, "Hands up, Rainbird!"

A shot was fired as Darkwing saw a flash of ebony coming towards him. He even forgot exactly what he fired at Rainbird but by the time the smoke cleared the raven was gone. The bill he was after was left on the ground, in Darkwing's possession—a clue to the weapon the raven hoped to revive. The banks customers and employees dazed and wandering around the lobby all thanked Darkwing for saving them. But the thing that worried Darkwing was the 'battle' was only half-finished… the raven had left when the battle could have gone better-or-worse for either of them.

Darkwing took the bill to the tower for studies, telling the bankers his plan to return it if it was indeed safe, but in the meantime—he assumed they could live without the single dollar. Sliding the bill into his pocket and hopping on the RatCatcher he drove off with a solemn look on his face.

He'd been wrong. There was a part in him that had told him Rainbird and he were much a like—they had daughters to raise on their own and they had both fallen at one time and hurt their pride. Pride seemed to be important to them… Darkwing hated to admit it but he was a creature of extreme pride and carried his head high. But Rainbird was different… though he loved his daughter with the same magnitude as Drake loved his own Gosalyn—Rainbird was unable to use his love like Drake. It could prove to be his downfall, Drake knew, holding on to his loneliness and pride and forgetting what mattered the most.

Drake Mallard couldn't help Rainbird, though he'd tried to at the bank just then, but now it was all up to Darkwing Duck to save the day from the stubborn and dangerous villain.