Twisted Strings of Fate
Chapter 12
Growing up, I imagined that I was a princess much like in the fairy tales, waiting for a courageous knight or handsome prince would come and save me from my curse. I invented several stories where Darkwing Duck from the TV series would find a way to break the spell, mostly with a kiss of true love.
Hey, I was a pre-teen. What did you expect from me?
I was certain that if Jim Starling only knew about my curse, he would do all he could to help me. I almost, almost, wrote a letter to him. In hindsight, I was naïve to believe that an actor was equivalent to the heroes from childhood stories.
When I met Launchpad, my dreams became more elaborate, envisioning my best friend pairing up with the duck of the shadows to go on whirlwind adventures to find the cure for my family's curse. But as each year passed, I became less reliant on my imagination, focusing on reality and accepting my fate. And soon, I found myself with more in common with those princesses from legends, locked away in my tower, kept imprisoned due to injury after injury after sickness that wasn't my own.
I became complacent. I no longer imagined a life without the curse. It was a part of me. It was part of my family like a relative that I couldn't disown. My mother, my grandfather, they both took their ailments in stride, having lived with it for so long, it was as if they couldn't exist without the curse just as if they couldn't live without breathing.
And my state of mind was quickly going in that direction.
"You must fight it."
The voice of reason came from an unexpected source. My grandmother, someone who benefitted from the curse. She had been living without pain and sickness for going on forty years.
"Your family has suffered enough," she told me one day. "The curse needs to end."
"There is no way to break the curse," I said. After all this time, if there was a way, wouldn't someone had found it by now?
"Balderdash," my grandmother said, lifting my chin with one finger. "If there's something I know for sure, there is nothing in this world that is indestructible. Even diamonds can be broken. There is a way."
She didn't know how to break the curse, but she had a plan. If it wasn't for her, I would have remained in my tower, the curse a worse prison than stone walls and iron bars.
Even though there are heroes in the world, sometimes a princess can't wait around all day.
Gizmoduck shot through the air, his propeller and thrusters at maximum output. It wasn't hard to follow the Mark Beaks robot that left a smoky trail through the blue sky. His contact lenses showed him the distance between them. With a word, Fenton directed the Gizmoduck suit to zoom in to see if Charity was safe, but could only see her blue and white curly hair whipping around; the robot's bulk blocking any view of her.
As Fenton willed the Gizmoduck suit to go faster, he ran through possible scenarios of how to engage the Mark Beaks robot without harming Charity. Not only did the curse make things complicated, but he had no idea of what his opponent was capable of. Knowing Mark Beaks, the robot was possibly only a knockoff of Gizmoduck with small modifications. The ex-billionaire had little creativity considering that he replaced the signature pies with taffy. And he couldn't count on Beaks keeping things non-lethal.
Fenton had to play things safe.
As he closed in on the robot, it turned its head, red lights flashing in its optics. It knew he was following.
He had to act now before the Beaks robot could do anything. Taking aim, he fired off a pie thick with cream, the Gizmoduck suit taking in account the wind factor, their speed and the weight of the pie. Unfortunately, the robot's reflexes were too quick for the assault, diving quickly and avoiding the tinned pastry.
Fenton followed downward, feeling his speed pick up as gravity gave him a boost, his sensor's showing how quickly he was losing altitude. His audios picked up the shrill scream of Charity in the robot's arms. The buildings of Ducksburg rushed at them, and for a minute, he worried that the robot would slam into the ground. In anticipation of this, he extended his arms and grabbed hold of the robot's wheels. Before he could reverse his thrusters and stop them, the robot took a sharp turn, changing its dive into a barrel roll and dodging between two buildings.
Gizmoduck's mechanical arms turned into proverbial slinkys, bouncing up and down as the robot zig-zagged all over Ducksburg. Fenton did his best to control the suit, but it was too heavy for the extended arms to prevent him from slamming into concrete walls, billboards, water towers, and neon signs. He tried to contract the arms, but they refused to cooperate.
"No, no," he growled as he was once more slammed into the side of a brick building, leaving a Gizmoduck-shaped hole. "Work. Work for once, you stupid suit."
Either yelling at technology and calling it names didn't work, or Fenton was just especially unlucky that day. One way or another, Gizmoduck's arms only extended longer until he was merely a flapping tail for the Beaks robot.
But as Fenton always said when something went wrong, work it to your advantage. If he couldn't retract his arms, he was going to make some use for them. As he vocally commanded the software to run a diagnostics of the systems in the hopes to work out the bugs, he wiggled one of his arms to crawl up the robot. Inch by inch, the metallic fingers walked up the robot, feeling for seams that would open up the fake Mark Beaks' wiring and circuitry.
Unfortunately, Beaks had done a good job with his creation; the seams were too tight and slick for this kind of sabotage. Maybe he could at least disrupt the robot's visuals or some other sensors.
Just as Gizmoduck's hand clamped over the robot's optic, the system diagnosis finished its check and the extended arms retracted at rapid speed. Fenton barely was able to utter, "Uh-oh" before he rammed into the Beaks bot, sending all three of them tumbling through the air.
Before they could hurt anyone or cause any more damage to the city, Fenton angled his thrusters upward. Although they were spinning in a dizzying dance through the sky, he was able to control their path somewhat.
A shrill scream pierced his audios for only a second and quickly faded to nothing. It took him a few seconds to realize that Charity was no longer in the robot's grasp.
"Gizmoduck, find Charity," he shouted, trying to control his sense of vertigo as he searched his visual range for her. His lenses pinpointed her, almost a hundred feet below him and falling fast to her death.
Pushing the Beaks robot away, he straightened out and dove back down, closing the distance between him and the lovebird quickly. A wave of relief flooded over him as the arms of Gizmoduck enclosed the woman, and he pulled up from the dive, soaring above the city.
"Don't worry. I've got you," Fenton said in his Gizmoduck voice, loud and heroic.
"Gizmoduck," his audios barely picked up Charity's voice over the rushing of air.
The program he had downloaded to his lenses picked up Charity's vitals again. Her heart rate and breathing were up, but that was a given considering what she had been through. The pleasure areas of her brain lit up even more so than when he held her hand as Fenton. He didn't even need the high-tech lenses to see the blush spreading over her cheeks. And that look on her face. He had never had anyone look at him that way before.
Not even as Gizmoduck.
Distracted, Fenton was slow to react when the suit warned him of an incoming projectile. He only had time to hold Charity closer and protect her from whatever was going to hit him. The projectile hit his back, and the force wasn't even enough to send him spinning. But almost immediately, his thrusters died, and they plummeted through the air.
A quick check by the computer told him that something was clogging his systems; he could guess what it was by the smell of burning sugar and smoke in the air. He tried to reach back to detach the taffy, but his thrusters weren't the only thing out of commission. The stretchy, sticky candy was gumming his joints as well. He wouldn't be able to fix the suit before they crashed.
Looking around, he clenched his teeth as he saw that they were no longer over the high rise sky-scrapers and large business buildings of downtown Ducksburg. If he had been, he could have reached out and grabbed hold of something, stopping their deathly dive to the streets below. But as luck would have it, they were falling among blocks of warehouses. Fenton had taken worse hits than this. Gizmoduck was made to take a lot of damage without hurting him. But Charity was a different issue. Even if he used his body to cushion her fall, Gizmoduck was made of metal. The vibrations from the impact would be enough to shatter every bone in her body.
He looked for solutions everywhere, but there was nothing he could do, not with the suit as damaged as it was.
And then the Beak's bot zoomed into view, diving down to Gizmoduck but looking as if it were hovering overhead, waiting. Perhaps it was. Because there was only one way to save Charity's life.
"I'm sorry," Fenton said, hoping that the lovebird could hear him over the whistling of the wind. "I'll find you." And then he pushed her away, toward the mechanical Beaks.
He watched Charity's surprised face for a few seconds before the robot's arms clamped around her, her lips forming a word that he was sure was the name "Gizmoduck" before they flew out of sight.
Then he commanded the computer to brace for impact, engaging a system of small airbags that would cushion his body. Normally, this extra safety precaution wasn't necessary for his usual fight with crime, but the suit had never fallen from this altitude. And even with the airbags, he would get a nice collection of bruises.
No, not him. Charity would be the one who would be bruised. This was his last thought before Gizmoduck slammed into concrete and his vision went dark.
The only thing that was keeping Charity together emotionally was the familiar pain of fresh bruises forming underneath her skin that coincided with the sound of Gizmoduck crashing to the ground. She embraced the pain, held onto it like a child with a security blanket. As long as she was feeling that pain, she knew he was still alive.
As the robot with the parrot face flew her to who-knew-where, she clutched a metallic item in her hand, squeezing hard. Before he pushed her away, Gizmoduck had given her an object as small as a bouncy ball. She didn't look at it, not wanting the robot to see it and take it. Whatever it was, she was sure Gizmoduck thought it would help her. Until she could look at it properly, she had to sit tight and wait until the robot arrived at its destination.
But Charity couldn't stop her imagination from wondering exactly what kind of plot she was now involved with. Was this robot a creation of Gizmoduck's nemesis, using her to get to the hero? Or could it have something to do with Scrooge McDuck who was notorious for being a thorn in the side of the rich and powerful all around the world? Evil villain or hostile takeover? Either way, Charity was a means to an end. She was bait, a hostage, a bargaining tool, or some other nonsense.
She was a damsel in distress.
She sighed, rolling her eyes at the cliché. In a few minutes, she had been reduced to the most stereotypical role a female could have in any story. And in today's age, the role was frowned upon, almost a stigma. Everyone hated the girl who was kidnapped, captured, or caged and didn't do a single thing to save herself. If the Internet saw her now, there would be blogs, forums and memes ridiculing her and the writers for choosing such an obvious plot twist.
But what could she do? The robot looked indestructible, as if you could drop a bomb on its tail and it would roll away without a scratch. She didn't know anything about robots or technology. Even if she did, there was nothing she could do to stop the robot when they were thousands of feet in the air. Fighting back would only result in her splattering to the ground.
With another sigh, Charity resigned to her despair and uncomfortable position in the robot's arms. Perhaps there would be more she could do once she arrived in the evil villain's lair, but what chance did she have against a seasoned ne'er-do-well. She had no talents, no skills, having wasted her twenty-five tender years under her mother's thumb.
So it was to be the damsel in distress after all.
Several minutes after leaving Ducksburg's city limits, the robot started to descend, although there were only acres of fenced in farmland and cattle country below. While it wasn't what she expected, it was genius to have a secret lair under a dairy farm or corn crop.
The robot swooped closer to the ground, heading toward a crumbling building that must have been a barn. Whatever paint that had been used in its heyday—she laughed at her own pun—had been washed away from the elements. It looked like it would go up in a flash with just a spark. A Hollywood producer would find it a perfect scene for a horror-slasher film.
The robot's thrusters rotated, slowing down until they were hovering three feet over the ground, entering the decrepit barn at walking speed. The barn was movie-theater dark with the doorway the only source of light.
As Charity blinked away the dust that cascaded over her head and coughed, she made out a gaping rectangular hole in the barn's floor that was slowly growing, right where she expected a secret entrance to a lair under a barn to be.
The robot slowly floated down through the hole, the darkness consuming all light. When they had sunken below ground, the metal platform slowly closed, causing dirt and old straw that smelled of mildew to rain down on them.
Charity trembled, a combination of not knowing what lurked in the darkness and the cold of being underground. She couldn't see a thing except for the red, glowing eyes of the robot that illuminated nothing beyond the mechanical beak. Even the bot's thrusters didn't shed enough light to see by.
She wasn't sure how much time passed before the robot landed on solid ground, its thrusters turned off and the hum from within its metal shell lowering in pitch.
Now no longer at risk of falling, Charity struggled as she felt the robot rolling to some unknown destination in the darkness. She knew that anything she did was futile, but she had to do something just to get her frustration out. She kicked out at the robot, pushing against him as leverage, but its constant, firm grip didn't lessen at all.
When the robot stopped, she was released. Blind and unable to judge the distance to the floor, she landed awkwardly on her feet then onto her knees rather than rolling an ankle. The floor was metallic, and bruises formed around her kneecaps. As she moved to a more comfortable position, she heard the robot roll away and a metal door squealing shut with a resounding slam. By the way noise echoed, she guessed that wherever she was, it was big.
"Hello?" she called out into the darkness. "Is someone there?" She wasn't thrilled to meet her captor, but seeing anyone's face would be better than sitting in complete darkness with only the robot's optics to look at.
Suddenly, bright lights turned on, and Charity shut her eyes tight. When she could open them, she gazed around the place. It looked similar to a warehouse except everything was metal. As large as the structure was, it was empty save for her, her cage and the robot. There were three doors, one on each wall except the one Charity's prison was against. Her cage was bolted to the wall. The three remaining walls were metal bars with a metal plate a few feet above her head.
After taking a look at the rafters, she was certain there were cameras. Careful not to let whoever was watching her see, she opened her hand to take a look at whatever Gizmoduck had given her. It was a metal ball, just as she guessed by touch alone, with a green blinking light on the top of it. Her knowledge of spy and sci-fi movies told her that this was a tracking device. At least, that was her best guess.
She slipped it into her pocket, hoping that it would still work with her being underground. Now all she had to do was act the good, little damsel-in-distress and wait to be rescued. Not that she had any choice. She was a twenty-five year-old with a high school degree and no work experience. Not exactly the type that could bust out of a prison.
"Hello?" she shouted again, moving to the bars. "Hello! Evil villain? Isn't this the moment you show up and reveal your scheme or something? At least come out and gloat."
Nobody came. Not that she was convincing enough to lure out the nemesis of Gizmoduck or Scrooge McDuck or whoever had captured her.
She wished that someone would show up. She would even take a henchman or toadie, anyone besides that horrible robot. She was scared, cold, and tired. But most of all, she was…
"I'm bored!" she called out, leaning away from the bars like a child.
There was a hair-raising metallic screech from speaker feedback before a deep, heavily-accented voice shouted, "Shut up!"
Not the reaction she expected. The voice, while sounding grown up, had an immature quality to it.
But at least it was someone.
"Whoever you are, you've made a big mistake," Charity called out, pushing as much of her face as she could through the bars. "I don't know why you've taken me, but I'm not anyone special."
"I told ya to shut up," the voice through the speakers shouted again. This time, Charity was able to guess his accent was Scottish.
"Please, let me go. I'm just a poor college student, and I was at Mr. McDuck's building for a job. They were paying me to go through a few experiments." The lie tinted with the truth slid easily off her tongue.
"Oh, there's no mistake. You're the one we wanted."
Fear stabbed Charity in the chest. "Why do you want me? Who are you? Where am I?"
The door on the opposite side as Charity's cage opened up and out waddled a squat, obese duck with a long, gray beard and dressed in what looked like a Scottish costume. He crossed the room and stood in front of the cage.
"Yer in the belly of the beast," the Scottish duck growled with an evil smile. "Now shut up!" He jumped up and down and shook his fists childishly at her.
Charity blinked, surprised. She didn't expect reality to emulate TV, but surely this grumpy elder wasn't responsible for the sophisticated robot that had captured her and gotten the best of Gizmoduck. Maybe he was a henchman.
At least it was someone to talk to.
"I'll shut up once I know why I'm here," she said after realizing that a prisoner shouldn't sound so bossy. "Please," she added.
"I don't have to tell ya anythin'," the duck told her angrily. He looked as if he was going to start shouting some more, but a beeping came from his pocket. Startled, he turned in a circle until he finally realized where the sound came from. "What the… Oh, right," he muttered before his tone changed. "Oh, no! It seems that my secret, underground lair has been found out. Whatever shall I do?"
Charity raised an eyebrow. One minute, the grumpy duck was acting like a true villain, but now, it sounded as if he were reading from a script. Badly. But if it meant that Gizmoduck had finally found her and was going to get her out of this insanity, then who was she to judge how this guy got his jollies.
Alarms chirped and red lights blinked a few beats off que, and the Scottish duck continued to narrate. "My most dangerous of enemies has broken in. He will be here momentarily."
The portal to her right burst open. On the other side, a gray parrot posed as if he had just kicked the door. His hands were typical karate-chop ready but the ambiance was ruined by his phone tucked between palm and thumb. He wore clothing that looked to cost more than her parents' house, which was out of place for a rescue mission.
"Don't worry, fair maiden. I am here to save you," he shouted heroically.
Charity tried not to be disappointed. After all, she was expecting Gizmoduck. Her heart had already prepared for his dashing entrance and rescue. But if this guy was a hero and could rescue her, beggars couldn't be choosers.
A hero. Another hero?
The words flooded her mind, jamming any other thoughts. Her curse. A fifth hero. More pain. But wouldn't it be worth it? She would be saved.
And she would fall in love with this new hero as well. Was that so bad? Love wasn't a bad thing. The more the merrier. All you need is love.
But the thought of making room for one more person in her heart, to divide her attention one more time, was enough to make her want to weep. She was already in enough pain. She already had enough people in her life that she loved so much that she could die. What if this time, it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back?
At least he wasn't bad looking. In fact, he looked familiar as if she had met him before. The shape of his beak. The thick eyebrows. The hair.
Her eyes widened and her heart dropped. He was familiar. Horribly familiar. She turned her head to the robot that was a metallic clone of the "hero" in the doorway, still posing as if there were paparazzi nearby.
"What…in…the…world?" Charity breathed, feeling as if she had somehow stepped into an alternate dimension where everything was insane. She had written a Darkwing Duck fanfic where that happened, so she was kind of an expert.
"Oh, no. It is Mark Beaks, the most handsome, powerful, and best superhero the universe has ever known," the Scottish duck shouted, acting as if he were faint. "Curses. You are foiling my evil scheme."
"Yes, I am," the parrot known as Mark Beaks crowed, taking a selfie before placing his hands on his hips. "Hashtag, I'm the best!"
The name of the ex-billionaire completely flew past Charity's notice. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what was going on. Her best guess was that she had been kidnapped by a couple of idiots so they could play some sort of game. But why? And why her? If their goal was to play super hero, they could have used anyone. But the Scottish guy said he wanted her…
Her knees weakened so much that she slumped to the ground. Her grip on the iron bars, which were frozen and tight, was the only thing keeping her semi-upright.
No, it's not possible, she thought, feeling a tremble in her soul. How did they find out about me?
It never occurred to her until this moment that someone would try to join the curse for their own benefit. The curse had been such a tight-knit family secret that it hadn't been until Charity spoke to Scrooge McDuck that someone outside of family or part of the curse knew about it, as far as she knew.
"Glomgold, prepare to meet thy doom," Mark Beaks shouted, brandishing his cell phone like a sword at the Scottish duck.
As Glomgold recited his poorly written, line, Charity directed what strength she had to her voice. "You…you…," she stuttered, her voice strained. She grew stronger, pointing a finger at the parrot. "You're not a hero."
The two stopped their act, eyes on the lovebird in the cage.
"What are you talking about?" the parrot asked, smiling smugly. "I'm here to rescue you. Of course I'm a hero. I'm your hero."
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Charity accused. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice it's your stupid face on that stupid robot?!"
Glomgold and Beaks froze, their eyes slowing turning away from Charity to each other before they both burst out squawking.
"I told ya she would figure it out!"
"You blew it. You're a terrible actor!"
"I'm the terrible actor? I'm not the one whose takin' pictures with yer flat camera."
"It's a cell phone. Get with this century, old man."
Charity groaned. She knew it. She had been kidnapped by a pair of idiots.
But that didn't change the fact that they were dangerous idiots.
"I told ya I should have been the one to rescue her first. Now how are we supposed ta be part of her curse?" the Scottish one shouted, now jumping up and down.
"That's not my problem. The deal was that I help you but I get first dibs on the super powers," the gray parrot said, frowning. He looked bored with the whole situation as he scrolled through something on his phone.
"Super powers?" The weight of how these two wanted to use her bore down upon her like an elephant on her shoulders. Words flooded her mind, wanting to get out. She wanted to yell at these two:
Why would you do that to me?
Don't you realize that you would condemn me to more pain?
How could you?
But these cliché lines died before leaving her lips. Of course they didn't care. They were villains. They only cared for themselves. She was merely collateral damage; not their problem.
"You had your turn, and now it's mine," Glomgold proclaimed, pulling out a remote control with a single red button.
Charity knew red buttons were a very, very bad thing. She braced herself for anything. Once Glomgold's finger pressed the button, the floor slowly opened up. Stunned but not completely petrified, she managed to climb up the bars, holding on with a death grip.
"Behold, my beautiful pets," Glomgold shouted, laughing.
A collage of deadly animals flashed through Charity's mind. Snakes. Crocodiles. Rabid raccoons. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see, but her nose picked up a scent of something definitely animal along with rancid and rotting and fishy.
"What the—" Glomgold growled. He grabbed hold of the bars, tilting his head down. "Beaks, I told you to fill the tank with water."
"Huh?" Beaks asked, disinterested. His eyes never left his phone. "Oh, yeah. About that. Apparently the water I ordered was on backorder. It won't be here until next week."
"We're ten miles away from the sea. You do realize that you didn't have to buy the water," Glomgold yelled at his partner.
"Eww. Do you realize what's in that water? Uh, no thanks," Beaks said, sounding more like a teenage girl than a super villain.
Glomgold spent a few minutes shouting insults and gibberish, jumping up and down in a circle. It was a temper tantrum that any three-year-old would have been jealous of.
"Okay, that was fun, but let's really get down to business," Beaks said, finally putting away his phone. He snatched Glomgold's remote control, pressed the button to replace the floor, and walked up to Charity's cage with a professional business posture. "Let's get to the bottom line."
Now with somewhere to stand, Charity tentatively put her feet back on the floor, eyeing the gray parrot with skepticism.
"We can play super hero all day and eventually get what we want, or we can do things the easy way," Beaks said, sounding like one of those pushy salesmen who work a kiosk at the mall. "Name your price."
"What?" Charity felt dizzy as if the world was tilting and sliding around the universe.
"Money isn't an option. Come on, do something for yourself for once," Mark Beaks reasoned. "You're feeling the pain for those losers for free. What do you get out of it? Nothing. But if you bring me in, I'll write a check out for you now."
A chill (and not a good one) ran through Charity's body at just the thought of falling in love with this slimeball. Yes, money was tempting. After all, she had spent over fifteen years of her life thinking of others and never herself. With money, she could find ways to keep her mind off the injuries and sicknesses her body absorbed, travel the world, have a life. It would be tempting to accept the money if it was just Beaks' pain she would have to accept.
But this man standing in front of her, he was nothing compared to the others. He didn't hold a candle to sweet, carefree Launchpad who had always been there for her. And Drake and Gizmoduck, their heroism was enough for Charity to be glad to take on their pain. And Jim, even after all that he had done in the past few days, she couldn't hold anything against him, especially knowing he was mentally unstable. He needed help, not condemnation.
She loved all four equally and had no regrets about any of them connected to her through the curse.
But this man, this Mark Beaks, he made her stomach churn. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that no matter what he did, no matter how many times he saved her life, she would never fall in love with him. He was no hero.
"No," she told him firmly, stamping a foot for emphasis. "Not for all the money in the world."
Mark Beaks frowned, his thick eyebrows covering most of his eyes. "Do you know who I am? I am Mark Beaks, multi-billionaire. I can—"
"Ex-billionaire," Glomgold interrupted.
"What?"
"You lost all your money, remember?" The Scottish duck looked as if he were gloating.
"You mean you lost my money. Right now, I'm a millionaire. But just you wait, I'll be a multi-billionaire in no time," Mark Beaks bragged.
"Yeah, right." Glomgold rolled his eyes.
"I'm not joking. Do you really think that was the first company I lost? Ha ha," Mark Beaks scoffed before turning back to Charity. "Come on, sweetheart. You could be set for life. You could be famous. You could have anything you want. All you have to do is feel a little pain for me every now and then."
Charity glared at him. "No."
Mark Beaks growled, hitting the bars with his fists. His phone got in the way, the screen cracking. After composing himself, he threw the phone away and pulled out another. "You're making a mistake, sweetie."
"I think you're making a mistake," Charity said, feeling desensitized to fear enough that her courage was returning. "No matter what you do, you'll never become part of the curse."
"I beg to differ," Glomgold broke in, pulling out yet another remote control with another red button. He pressed it, laughing manically.
This time, a small door at the top of Charity's cage opened up. The heightened drama and suspense landed flat as nothing happened right away. Then a black, delicate leg reached out, then another, then six more with a fat, comma-shaped body of a spider. Without the legs, the spider was the size of a silver dollar. With the legs spread out, it could touch the edges of a frisbee.
Charity stepped into a corner of the cage, her eyes on the spider.
"One of the deadliest in the world. One bite, and your flesh starts to melt as if acid was poured on it," Glomgold described, his voice dripping with glee. "If you don't get the anti-venom, you'll be in agony for three or four days before you die."
The spider walked along the ceiling, cautious at first, but then faster, making its way to the wall that was the back of the cage. It hesitated, testing the surface with its legs before crawling down.
"But don't worry, my dear. I'll save you," Glomgold said, pulling out a pair of cans of bug spray, armed like a gunslinger from the old west.
Faster than Glomgold could move, Charity slapped the spider with her bare hand crushing it against the wall. With cold, dead eyes, she turned her head toward the two villains and watched them as she wiped the guts and twitching legs off against her pants then folded her arms like a stern teacher dealing with two unruly elementary students.
Beaks and Glomgold's eyes bulged, and they took a few unconscious steps back. Even though they were the ones outside the cage, they felt that the roles had flipped in an instant.
It took Fenton several minutes to realize that he hadn't been knocked unconscious. It was just that the Gizmoduck visor had malfunctioned and displayed a black screen. A curser in the top, left-hand corner blinked as the system attempted to reboot.
"Hey, it's Gizmoduck."
Fenton moved his head in the direction of the voice. Without vision, he felt completely vulnerable, but from what he could hear, there was a crowd of concerned citizens heading his way.
"Hey, bub. Are you alright?" a deep voice asked.
He felt a tug on one of his arms.
"Just a slight fall, citizens. It's no problem," Gizmoduck said, holding out his hands to indicate they should all stand back. With damaged systems and parts, Gizmoduck barely made it onto his one wheel. (Why did Gyro built it with one wheel? It was so hard to balance when his equilibrium was reeling like a drunk on a ship in a tempest.) When he was upright, he felt unstable, his wheel going back and forth just to keep him from toppling over.
"Are you sure you're okay? That was quite a fall," the deep voice said. "Perhaps you need some repairs. I've got some tools in my truck."
Repairs would have been a good idea, but Charity was also in danger. "There's no need," Gizmoduck said. "Thank you for your concern." His helmet lens still showed a black screen, and he realized it was because he had it on blackout mode. It was a matter of switching cameras for him to see everything completely.
The group of citizens looked to be construction workers fixing a water pipe under the road. Fenton was relieved to see the Gizmoduck shaped hole in the asphalt had been over a hundred yards away from where they were working. "Sorry about the road. Bill Scrooge McDuck for the damages," he called out as he rode away.
The construction worker's suggestion of stopping for repairs had been a good idea, and Fenton decided that he couldn't go into battle without making a quick assessment of damages of the suit before rescuing Charity. After rolling a few blocks, he found an alley in which to idle as he ran diagnostics as well as remove the taffy from his gears and thrusters.
Crawling out of the Gizmoduck suit wasn't easy. The taffy had gummed up even the parts protecting his neck, but eventually he slid out, the suit remaining upright even with him on the outside. Using the contact lenses to keep track of the systems check, he used the few tools stored in the suit to scrape away what he could of the taffy. Unfortunately, he was unable to remove much of the confection projectile. What was still pliable was extraordinarily sticky and almost impossible to move. The rest of the taffy had been burnt by the thrusters and practically bonded with the metal.
One way or another, Gizmoduck wouldn't be flying anywhere.
Gizmoduck's inner systems were all intact, but there were several problems with movement, weapons, and mobility. Fenton didn't have the tools nor the time to do everything, so he performed patch jobs with what was needed and would have to do without everything else.
He checked the GPS. The blinking dot had remained in the same position for several minutes. That must be where Marks Beaks was keeping Charity, at least as long as the tracking device hadn't been found. It wasn't too far away, just forty or fifty miles out of town. He could make it with the Gizmoduck suit as it was, although traveling on the ground would be slower.
Finishing his repairs, Fenton crawled back into the suit and booted it up. Checking his lens, he saw that it was at fifty-five percent complete and working. It would have to do.
"Hold on, Charity. I'm coming."
"Alright, genius. Any more bright ideas?" Mark Beaks whispered to Glomgold as they scrutinized the female in the cage. "Perhaps something less stupid than the sharks and the spider?"
"I'm thinkin'," Glomgold growled.
Charity was tired of being scared. In fact, she was pissed. Everything about these idiots pissed her off. How dare they use her! The degenerates. The filthy cowards. Did they really think they could pretend to be heroes, that she would fall in love with them so they could live a life without pain?
Charged with negative emotions, she wasn't going to let them get away with it.
Moving toward the bars, she grasped them loosely, leaning her body against them. She gave them a resigned expression. "You were right before," Charity said, her eyes on the gray parrot. "You're not going to let me go unless I give you what you want. Perhaps we can make a deal."
"So, you do want money?" Mark Beaks said with a smirk.
"No, what I want is to be left alone. Although money would be a bonus." Charity gave him a crooked smile. "If I make you part of my curse, you'll let me go, right?"
"Sure," Mark Beaks said. "We won't need you anymore."
"Okay," Charity relented. She held her hands out beyond the bars. "Then all you need to do is hold my hand.
Mark Beaks and Glomgold exchanged glances. "That's it? But what about the whole hero thing."
"That's one way," Charity said. "But there is another way to create a bond. Nobody has used this technique for a long time. After all, who would consciously choose to take on an entire lifetime of pain." She lowered her head sadly.
"I'm going for it," Glomgold said, leaping forward, hand extended.
Not one to be outdone, Beaks followed suit, getting ahead of his partner because of his longer legs.
Before either one could grasp her blue hands, Charity grabbed her captors, taking Beaks by his shirt collar and Glomgold by the beard. She yanked, pulling them none-too-gently into the bars.
"Alright, you double dufuses," Charity growled, baring her teeth at the duo. "You're going to let me go without any complaint, or I'm going to make your lives as painful as I can for as long as I hold onto you. And you can imagine how experienced I am in pain."
Mark Beaks dropped his phone.
Glomgold jerked away, his beard coming off like velcro.
Both Charity and Beaks stared at the limp chunk of hair in the lovebird's grip with surprise. After dropping the fake beard, Charity doubled her grip on the gray parrot.
"So what's it going to be?" Charity said to Beaks with a growl in her throat.
"Let her out! Let her out! Let her out!" Beaks shouted at Glomgold, his voice rising in pitch each time he said it.
Glomgold had his back to the two, and when he turned around, he was adjusting another false beard to the bottom of his bill. "Ha ha ha. You thought you could capture ol' Glomgold. I'm more resourceful than you thought." He raced away toward one of the doors.
"Hey, where are you going? Are you going to leave me here? With her?" Beaks called out, pleading.
"Oh, don't make such a fuss. I'll be back," Glomgold said, opening the door.
"Glomgold!" Beaks yelled, holding out his hand as if to grab the elderly duck. "Get back here! Robot, stop him."
Like lightning, the Beaks bot raced at Glomgold, slamming the door before he could escape.
"Ach. What are you doing?" Glomgold shouted as the robot picked him up by the back of his shirt. He swung and kicked at the metallic monstrosity, but never landed a blow.
"What were you doing? You were leaving me behind," Beaks shouted back.
Charity rolled her eyes. It was like dealing with children. She shook the parrot roughly, getting his attention. "How do you open the door? With a key? Or a button? How?"
"Oh, right," Beaks said, his eyes going crossways. "My robot controls that."
"Then have it open the door," Charity ordered, shaking him again.
Beaks put a hand on his head as if he had a headache. When he spoke, he sounded shakey. "Robot, op—"
"Don't do it!" Glomgold shouted over Beak's voice. "She's in a cage. The scheme will still work."
"Dude, she has me in a death grip," Beaks told his partner. "If you want to trade places, I'm more than willing to wait."
"Do it!" Charity screamed into Beak's face, feeling as if her courage and anger might disappear before she could escape. She wasn't normally a violent person, so if her fear took over, she wasn't sure if she could keep up these threats. And what if she had to follow through with them? Could she hurt another person?
"Robot, open the cage," Beaks commanded before anyone else could stop or threaten him.
The robot dropped Glomgold—the duck squawking as he fell over five feet to the metal flooring—before rolling to the cage, disengaging the lock, and pulling the iron door open with a squeak.
Charity didn't waste any time, releasing Beaks and racing out the door. She was free of the cage, but she still wasn't out of her prison. "How do I get out of here?" she asked the parrot, pointing to all three doors.
"You don't!" Glomgold said, rolling around on the floor as he tried to stand up. "Robot, capture her."
The adrenaline coursing through Charity's body was still giving her a boost of energy. She dodged the robot's first lunge and skittered to Beaks, who was leaning against the cage as if he had just run a marathon.
"Make it stop," Charity ordered, hoping she could still manipulate the parrot.
"Don't be such a ninny," Glomgold told Beaks. "You're gonna let a girl get the best of us?"
Beaks merely ran away from Charity, in which the lovebird continued after him with the robot on her tail.
"Get away from me, you demon woman," Beaks shouted, sprinting as best he could.
"Make your stupid robot stop," Charity shouted back, her arms outstretched to grab at his jacket. How could such a skinny, stick bird like him run so fast?
"Don't just stand there. Help me," Beaks yelled at Glomgold as he circled the elderly duck.
"How?"
"Do something!"
As Beaks made yet another revolution around Glomgold, the Scottsman dove at Charity, tackling her legs and bringing her down as if he were a defensive end taking out a quarterback.
Charity hadn't seen the squat duck before he rammed into her; she had been too concerned about the killer robot and getting her hands on Beaks. Within seconds, she was on the floor, a few more bruises added to her collection. Feeling a body near her, she clenched her fists and struck out at him, feeling satisfaction as her knuckles collided. That answered her earlier question of whether or not she could hit another person.
In mid-fight, the robot took hold of her wrists and raised her into the air. Charity cried out in pain as the metal man's grip bit into her fresh wounds. The only thing that soothed her despair was seeing Glomgold huddled in a ball with feathers floating all around him.
She glared as Glomgold picked himself up and dusted his clothing, looking smug. Beaks, on the other hand, still looked bewildered and ruffled at his rough treatment.
"See? Nothin' to it," Glomgold said, gesturing with a hand at Charity. "Let's get back to business. This will go so much easier for you if you cooperate, girly."
Charity had a string of curse words she had prepared to fling at the pair when the robot did something unexpected.
"Intruder," it said in a classic Hollywood robot voice. It then dropped Charity and rolled out the door.
"Uh…What just happened?" Glomgold asked, looking to Beaks for information.
"My robot is following its program. It was designed to follow all my vocal commands, and yours by extension, but first and foremost, it was to protect us. It must have picked up an intruder on its sensors."
"Gizmoduck!" Charity said, perking up. Her heart raced. He was coming for her, like he promised.
"Impossible. He couldn't have found my cleverly hidden lair, not in a million years, the idiot," Beaks said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out yet another phone.
"Unless he gave me a tracking device," Charity added, smiling.
"Yes, unless he gave you a trac—" Beaks' eyes widened. "He gave you a tracking device?!"
Charity stood up, hands on hips. "So, let's renegotiate you letting me go." She cracked her knuckles for ambiance.
Beaks uttered an "Eep" before taking a step back.
Knowing the parrot was already afraid of her, Charity set her sights on the elderly duck. Time to put her womanly wiles to good use.
"Listen up, grandpa!" she shouted, stomping a foot. "Are you going to show me the way out or do I have to send you to early retirement?"
"You wouldn't hurt a feeble, old man, would you?" Glomgold asked, bending his back and shaking his hand a little.
Oh, Charity would. In fact, she may have gone a little overboard, her rage blinding her from knowing when enough was enough. Soon, she held a punch-drunk Glomgold by his collar, his tongue lulling around in his mouth.
He wouldn't be any use to her for a while.
She turned cold eyes onto Beaks. "Now, as for you…"
"Don't hurt me!" Beaks squealed. He back up, tripped over his own feet and fell backward. "The exit is that way. Just go and leave me alone."
"But I want something first," Charity said coldly.
"My bank account number is 6634—"
"I don't want your money," Charity shouted to stop his babbling. "I want you to engage your robot's self-destruct sequence."
Beaks froze, not meeting her gaze. "What self-destruct sequence? There's no self-destruct sequence." He shrugged his shoulders but looked nervous.
"Come on. A guy like you has probably watched all the science fiction movies I've seen," Charity said, smirking and folding her arms. "There's always a self-destruct sequence."
Beaks lifted his gaze to her. "I don't suppose we can just forget this little mishap, and I could somehow persuade you to come work for me?"
Nothing that day stunned her as much as that. Her jaw dropped a little before she composed herself.
"Sorry, but I think I'm over-qualified," she told him. "Now destroy that robot. And make sure it doesn't hurt anyone when it does, especially Gizmoduck."
With a few thumb scolls and taps to his phone, Beaks did as asked, even showing the confirmation and video feed from his robot that it was done.
"The robot will fly two miles up into the air before it explodes," Beaks explained.
The camera feed was already showing the robot soaring through the air, the ground looking like a satellite image. After a few more seconds, the feed turned to static. A moment later, there was a loud noise that vibrated even this far underground.
"Now, where was that exit again?" Charity asked, her voice sultry.
Beaks pointed to the door on the left.
"Thank you."
As the lovebird walked away, Beaks used his phone to capture a few pictures of Glomgold, submitting them to his social media pages with the caption, "Bros, you know the phrase, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'? It's even worse when they're cursed."
Gizmoduck didn't think he could sneak past any security, no matter what Beaks had set up, so he decided to plow right in. However, he didn't even make it within a mile's perimeter before that accursed Beaks bot showed up. Putting on more speed, Gizmoduck didn't flinch as he charged. It didn't matter that he was outgunned. It didn't matter that the robot had higher tech. It didn't matter that he didn't have flight capability anymore.
He was going to save Charity.
He didn't have to pull his punches because he was afraid of anyone getting hurt. It was just him and the tin can. They met with a resounding boom, colliding in the middle of the street. They were head to head, fists, pies and taffy flying. And even though he was damaged, Fenton knew he had a chance because he wasn't a preprogrammed, cold piece of steel. The robot could think faster than he could, but it couldn't think outside the box. It could only do what it was programmed to do; even artificial intelligence had its limits.
It was no match for the brain of Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera.
But, dang, it could throw a punch.
Seeing that his systems were slowly losing power, more and more of the suit getting damaged, Fenton engaged a plan he created on a whim. As quickly as he could, he clawed at the Gizmoduck's shoulder joint and scooped out a handful of the sticky taffy.
"Eat this," he shouted, slapping it over the Beaks bot's optics.
The Beaks bot froze as it ran through a diagnostics check, just as Fenton knew it would.
Now was his chance. Before the mechanical man could figure out what was obscuring its vision, he had to disable it.
Gizmoduck whirled to the back of the Beaks bot with the intentions of opening up its circuitry and wreak havoc, but he didn't have the chance. Before he could lay hands on the device, it rocketed up into the air, the force driving the super hero back.
What's it up to? Fenton wondered, rolling backward so he could keep track of the robot's trajectory. As it rose higher and higher, he wondered if it was going to clean its optics then send an assault from afar, which would leave Gizmoduck at a disadvantage. But to his utter amazement, the robot simply exploded; what pieces that didn't completely turn to ash and dust rained down.
"Does that mean I won?" Gizmoduck asked, confused. He tilted his head one way then the other, trying to figure out if this was a trap. He hadn't done anything to cause the robot to explode on its own, so that must mean Mark Beaks had done it.
Right?
Confused, Gizmoduck turned back to the matter at hand of rescuing Charity, but this time more cautiously. The robot exploding had made him wary of what was ahead of him.
As he scanned the area where the tracking device indicated Charity was being held, he formed a 3D image of the lair, how far underground it was, what it was made of, and what was inside. Along with some tech, he also located three warm bodies. The tracking device wasn't accurate enough for him to know which of those bodies was Charity, so when one of the entities moved away from the others and started to ascend to the surface, he prepared for an enemy. He recalled his last encounter with Mark Beaks, how he had used nano-technology to strengthen his body to rival Gizmoduck's strength.
The second time that day, he was surprised as the ground opened up and the black-feathered face of Charity marched up a set of stairs.
"Gizmoduck!" she called, her face brightening. She waved and ran his way.
"Charity?" Fenton couldn't believe it. "How? What just—" He didn't get a chance to form all the questions he had before she threw her arms around his neck.
"Oh, sorry," Charity said quickly, taking a step back, embarrassed. "I got a little carried away. It's been an interesting day." She gave him a shy smile.
"Let's take you back to Mr. McDuck's mansion," Fenton said, deepening his voice. Her words reminded him that she had been through a terrible ordeal. His questions could wait for when she was somewhere safe.
Picking her up bridal-style, he revved his single wheel and started down the country road back to Ducksburg. As he picked up speed, his contact lenses displayed a few warning signs, indicated severe damage to several areas of the suit. He ignored them, planning on heading back to the lab directly after making sure Charity was safe.
In his arms, Charity shifted, jumped, and wriggled. Looking down, Fenton could see discomfort on the lovebird's face. She winced again, her hand going to a place at the back of her neck.
"Are you injured?" Gizmoduck asked. He gritted his teeth. If Mark Beaks had done something to her, he would be returning very soon to make sure he answered for every scratch and bruise she got.
"I don't know," Charity said, wincing again. "It feels as if I'm being shocked. Ouch!"
"Shocked?" Fenton checked for any damage in the suits arms and hands. Besides the taffy gumming up joints and gears, the appendages weren't bad. He couldn't see any broken wires in those areas that would be shocking Charity.
The warnings flashed once more in his vision, the suit reminding him that there was less than twenty-five percent power and losing more. A map of the Gizmoduck suit appeared in his lenses, showing the danger areas that needed immediate attention.
One of those areas was behind Fenton's neck.
"Oh no."
"What is it?" Charity said softly.
He could see the tension in her body. He screeched to a halt, feeling sick to his stomach. "My suit is malfunctioning. Several wires have been damaged and the electricity is shocking me. In the back of my neck."
Charity's eyes widened as she took in this information. Her body huddled more into a ball. "Are you in danger of getting…?"
"You're the one whose being shocked because of it. I'm fine," Gizmoduck shouted, immediately sorry since he wasn't mad at her.
"I can handle it. But if you could go as fast as you can, I would be grateful." She smiled through the pain.
"We're not waiting that long," Gizmoduck determined, gazing around the landscape. Up ahead, three miles away was an abandoned gas station. It would do. Keeping a firm grip on Charity, he raced forward, his wheel burning rubber against the pavement.
Minutes later, he tore off the glass door of the gas station and rolled in, crushing broken glass and old packages of snack food wrappers that had been left behind. There was a cashier's counter and several rows of shelves empty of merchandise.
Setting Charity down, Fenton tried to exit the suit. Usually when he commanded the suit to release him, several systems would shut down, and the thick collar around his neck would retract. The former happened but not the latter.
"Open. Open," Fenton growled at the suit.
"What's wrong?" Charity asked, her voice tense.
"It's this metal plate," Gizmoduck explained, running his fingers around the collar. "It's damaged and won't open." He wrapped his fingers around the suit's neck and pulled. Unfortunately, it didn't budge either because the parts were fused together due to damage or taffy, or because the suit didn't have enough power and strength to break it. "I can't get it off."
"If we get back to the lab, could Fenton get it off you?" Charity said, flinching a few times. She was trying not to show how much pain she was in.
"Gyro could," Fenton said, not bothering to correct her. "But with the suit losing power, it will take more than an hour to get there." The longer the suit remained damage, the slower he would get.
"It's okay. I told you I can take it," Charity said, looking concerned about him. "I'm used to pain."
Fenton clenched his teeth. That wasn't good enough for him. He couldn't stand to let her be in that kind of pain for that long. Not after all she had been through.
"No. It's coming off now," Gizmoduck said. He opened a compartment in his chest where pies usually were created and catapulted. This time, however, the suit released his tool box. "I can get it off now, but I'll need your help."
"Me? But I—"
"It's not difficult. I'll talk you through it." Gizmoduck handed her a small version of a crowbar, some wire cutters and a pair of rubber gloves.
Looking uncertain but willing, Charity climbed on top of the suit.
Gizmoduck leaned against one of the shelves, which blessedly held his weight. Inside the suit, Fenton guided Charity through the process blindly since his rearview cameras were offline.
"Okay, to start, find the seam that separates the neck from the back," Fenton said. He had his eyes closed so he could envision what Charity would be doing.
"Hang on. Let me get the gloves on," Charity said.
Fenton could feel her shifted above him.
"Ready."
"Take the hooked end of the crowbar and wedge it into the seam. You'll have to put a lot of weight into it."
"Am I going to hurt you?" Charity asked, concerned.
"The armor is thick. I'll be okay. It's you I'm worried about," Fenton said. He waited, hearing the sounds of metal scraping metal, then Charity grunting with exertion and the squeal of the armor bending. "Keep going. Make an opening as wide as you can. It needs to be big enough to stick your hand in."
A few minutes later, Charity said, "I don't think I can make the hole bigger. Now what?"
Fenton imagined what she was looking at. "Reach in and feel for any wires. Pull them out. Don't worry. Your gloves should protect you from getting shocked."
"Again," Charity said, her voice lighter with her dauntless humor.
Fenton imagined her doing as he asked, feeling something brushing against his neck and hearing wires scratching against the armor.
"Oh, that feels better," Charity said with a sigh.
"Did you get them all?"
"I think so. I'm not getting shocked anymore."
"Good. Now comes the tricky part. You're going to manually remove the neck plate from the suit," Fenton said, bringing up the schematics from his memories.
"Uh, now? I thought since I removed the wires, you were good for a while," Charity wondered.
"The suit needs repairs. And if I'm stuck inside, I can't repair it," Fenton explained.
"Okay." Charity sounded nervous. "What do I do?"
"Reach inside again and feel against the back. You should feel a metal ring." He could hear her doing just so.
"Okay"
"That's the tab release to turn off the magnet. Pull it."
He felt a jerk and then the hum of the suit went to a lower pitch. Pushing with his feet, he tried to lift the neck plate. There was a lot more give, but it wasn't completely disconnected. "That should have done it, but I'm still stuck." He was able to twist in either direction several inches.
"Why?" Charity asked.
"Something is caught on the piece of armor. You'll need to feel around for whatever it is." Fenton waited, listening as her fingers slid around the armor. A few times, he could feel her brushing against his feathers.
"I feel something. It's a jagged piece of metal." She moved the plate around, jiggling it and turning it. "I can't get it loose."
"Use the wire cutters," Fenton said. "It'll take a while, but you should be able to cut through them eventually."
It took almost fifteen minutes. Not only was the small cutting tool not made to break through such a thick piece of metal, but the angle was difficult to work with. But eventually, the neck piece broke off, and Fenton spilled out none-too-gracefully to the floor. Grateful to be out of such a predicament, he yanked at the plate of armor still around his neck, forgetting that the Gizmoduck helmet was too big to go through the ring.
Once again, he found himself stuck as he violently jerked at the last remnants of the suit. "I don't suppose I could ask you for help once more," he called to Charity, embarrassed and feeling silly for his predicament.
Charity jumped down, but hesitated to lay hands on the helmet. "Uh…are you sure? Wouldn't that mean I would know your secret identity? I guess I could close my eyes or find a blindfold or something."
"Just get this helmet off me," Fenton shouted, not really listening. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic from being trapped in pieces of Gizmoduck. As Charity tugged from one end, he pulled from another. The helmet popped off easier than either thought, causing them to reel backward.
"That's a relief," Fenton said, pulling off the neck plate and running his hands through his sweaty hair, relieved at the feeling of fresh air.
"You!"
And then it all flooded to him. Charity didn't know it was him in the suit. He recalled her earlier concern as well as a flood of insecurities. Would she be disappointed that it was him in the suit? Or would she be mad that he deceived her during the experiments? And what about all they spoke about, that she believed she was only talking to science-intern Fenton and not to Gizmoduck?
"I tried to tell you earlier, before the robot attacked," Fenton said, looking away. "I'm sorry I had to deceive you. The experiments—" He stopped mid-sentence as Charity threw her arms around him, holding him tight.
"Thank you for coming back for me," she whispered. "Thank you for rescuing me."
(Author's notes: First off, I'm sorry I didn't update last week. Tuesday came and went, and I completely spaced on submitting this chapter. And considering how long this one is, I didn't feel like staying up late and editing it. I am going to try to update each week for a while. I have a lot of chapters in my vault that just need to be edited. The next couple are long. This one was one of my longest, so I hope that having long chapters keep you readers happy.
Also, I have to explain a little bit about my head-cannon with Fenton/Gizmoduck and Darkwing/Drake Mallard. While I try to keep the POV consistent throughout the scenes-and sometimes I head-hop-how these two characters perceive themselves and their alter ego has a big impact on my writing style. With Darkwing/Drake Mallard, he is completely one with the two sides of his life. Although he hasn't been Darkwing for that long, he has melded into the role so seamlessly that he hardly distinguishes between his two names. This I took from the original '91 show, which Drake Mallard would turn into Darkwing Duck at a moment's notice. No joke, one time a door slammed into Drake Mallard, knocking him into the wall. When the door was closed, he had changed into his Darkwing Duck costume while suffering from a head injury. I sometimes wonder if he has costume-changed in his sleep. LOL
As for Fenton, he sees himself and foremost as Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, scientist. Gizmoduck is the suit. If he is in the suit, he is part of Gizmoduck. You may have noticed in my narration that I sometimes use Fenton's name, and sometimes I use Gizmoduck. I do this for a reason. When Fenton is in the suit, if Fenton does/says/thinks something, it is the scientist that is doing that action. When I use the name Gizmoduck, it's the superhero that is doing the action. There is a definite divide between Fenton's two alter egos, one that he needs to distinguish since he would rather be renowned for his science than as Gizmoduck.)