a/n: ...It's dead, Jim.


Mind Warp


74

I Am Not Darkwing Duck


It was a classroom at Drake's middle school.

"Ah, come on, what is this?" Felldrake in his purple cloak complained, looking at the amulet in his hand. "I thought this one was going to be interesting."
"Ach." Scrooge in his red outfit winced, "blurry."

Drake flinched as the brown haired boy in the back row spat a paper pellet at eleven year old Drakey in the third row. In response, his child self tipped back his chair and bounced across the space. Drakey ripped the detention lines page out of the bully's book and stuffed it in his mouth. Then Drakey dashed back to pick up his chair and sit back down.

"Now 'that's' an anger management issue." Glomgold commented.
"Looks like good timing to me!" Drake defended. So now he had all these random people of variously loose morals stomping through his memories casting their own unqualified judgements?

A moment later the teacher came back into the room.
"That's a demon!" Scrooge declared.
The teacher, short, curly light brown hair, a hot pink corduroy skirt and a dark grey blouse, came up the aisle. She checked on Drakey's line work.

Peru read over Drakey's shoulder. "I am not Darkwing Duck. What does that mean?"

"It means," Drake gestured to the bully in the back row, "this kid was probably acting out on some 'vulnerable looking kid' trying to mind their own business and I interrupted him."

The teacher turned away from Drakey and went over to the bully's desk. "Very good, Roger, at least one of you is doing the right thing. You can go home."

"Do you see everyone with this after-imaging effect, Drake?" Fenton asked.
"I'm sorry," Drake was confused, "what are you talking about?"
"Never mind that now, Fenton," Scrooge hurried, "We have more serious issues to deal with right now." He nodded meaningfully towards Felldrake.

"I don't know how this is trust issues." Peru frowned, "I'm sorry."

Drake looked over to Felldrake. "Have you even studied psychology, Felldrake?"
"No, Mystic-Theurgy-with-a-major-in-world-domination." Felldrake quickly answered, "Do you mind hurrying this up? I don't know why you've chosen to repress such a boring memory, but-."
"Why wouldn't I repress it?" Drake gestured to the scene, "It was 'school'!"

Time ticked on the wall.

"But it's boring," Felldrake finished with a grumble, "Can't you at least 'caption' the event or something?"

Drake sighed in frustration. "If there's one thing school teaches you, it's that you can't make friends with everyone." Drake gestured to the teacher, "So I had rotten teachers. I just had to get over it and manage the situation the best I could."

Drakey got up from the table and handed his book to the teacher.
"You certainly took your time." The teacher scolded. "Go on, go home. Unless you want to write more lines."


The empty classroom dissolved to a busy dressing room.

The sound of applause could be heard from the audience in the gym. The small high windows of the grey bessa block room were dark, showing it was nighttime outside.

Drake turned to the support group with a regretful sigh, "I'm sorry, guys. When I picked 'trust issues' I didn't think I was going to trap nine innocent people into a blurry montage of the worst moments of my school life."

"Well done, everyone!" Drakey dressed in a Sherlock Holmes costume was smiling and congratulating the other kids for the performance.
"You made me mess up my lines, Sparky!" Finnigan complained.
"Actually, Finnigan," Drake replied calmly, "Elmo said the right words, you-."

"Drake!" The teacher's voice cracked over his head. She had long black hair and a grey skirt and navy blouse.
Drakey cringed and turned to face her.
"Detention on Monday."
"B-but I was jus-."
"Still arguing? Detention Tuesday as well."
Drakey's shoulder's slumped. "Yes, Mrs Diantra."

"That was confusing." Fenton frowned, "What did you do wrong?"
"You saw exactly what I did." Drake responded frostily.


The room dissolved to the principal's office. A woman in a white spotted dark blue dress stood beside the balding business suited man at the desk.

"This is a very serious situation, Drake." Principal Harggis said. "There's only one option left to try before we expel you."

"Expel me!" Drakey stared in horror at the principal and the doctor, "What did I do?!"

"You're always getting into fights with the other children." Principal Harggis stated.
"Only because the teachers don't do anything to stop them!"
"And you've been having a lot of trouble with your grades."
"It's not my fault the teachers hate me!"
He shook his head. "Now I've got to call your father to discuss your situation."

"Dad's-gonna-be-so-mad!" Drakey's eye's opened wide.
"It's a serious situation, Drake. We're obligated to advise him of everything that's going on. Including your habit of blaming others for your problems. The teachers don't hate you, Drake; you're just a bad child and you've deserved every punishment you've gotten."
Drakey slumped in the chair.

"I don't know what you expected, Drake. You're an utterly incorrigible child. You've completely missed the point of detention. If you're going to stay here, we're going to have to give you harder treatment. Now I want you to go with Doctor Yutal and do what she says. Any argument and I will expel you immediately. Take him in, doctor. I have to call his father shortly and I'd like to have at least one positive thing to say to him."

Doctor Yutal, in her blue dress, stepped to the anterior door to the Principal's right. "Just in the next room, Drakey."
Drakey reluctantly stood up and followed her through. The door shut behind them.

"They had me over a barrel!" Drake gestured angrily to the principal, "The minute I got home, my father was going to ask me: 'did you try to avoid getting expelled?' Of course my answer had to be 'yes'." He turned to Felldrake, "This has to stop immediately."


The scene changed to the school basement.

"I said no!" Drake glared at Felldrake.
"You're the one who entered 'trust issues' into the magic contract." Felldrake complained back.

"My god!"

"An 'unsolicited' magic contract." Drake glanced at the pods and machinery. "Stay out of the pods and you'll be fine." He said grimly.
"How can you be okay with this?!" Fenton argued, "This is horrendous. Are they alive, are they dead, are you just-?"
"The only thing alive in here is the support group." Drake gazed at Fenton.

Drakey struggled out of the pod cubicle of the machine and fell down onto the floor. He got up, looking around at the equipment and other cubicles. "Preena!" He exclaimed, "Roger!" He looked around, terrified, panicking, "Why-why... Dead... I can't... how could... the teachers!" He jumped at the final sight of the teachers lined up in pods at the far end of the room. Drakey bolted out of the basement.


The room changed to the study of the manor. Drakey was standing, looking very terrified.

"I always wanted to visit a castle." Julia commented.
"What are we doing?" Drake complained, "I don't have a problem with my father." He glared at Felldrake, "So apparently I repressed this too?"

Drake's father Harold, wearing a light yellow shirt and green vest over it, stepped into the room, holding onto a yellow coloured leaflet.

"Drake, I'd like to talk about this."
Drakey stood to attention. "Yes sir."
"You've been a little moody and withdrawn these last few months, but I had no idea you were having this much trouble at school. Why didn't you tell me there was something wrong?"
"I didn't want you upset."

"I'm upset now!"

Drakey frowned, his eyes lowering to the yellow leaflet. He looked ready to say something, but closed his beak.

His father raised the leaflet and flicked through. "I have... so many questions."
"Yes sir." Drakey lowered his gaze to the floor.
"How did you get a D in Drama? You had the leading role in that detective play and it went really well; the audience loved it."
"I got my projection wrong," Drakey answered hollowly.
"Your mother and I didn't have any trouble hearing you." Harold folded his arms.
"I was 'too loud' that time," Drake answered.

Harold paused. "You really have no idea, do you?"
"Is it in my report card?"
"No, that's hog-swill, son. I wouldn't burn your eyes with it."

"What about gym?" Harold said in an exasperated tone. "Why aren't you participating?"
"I am!" He added. "I'm team captain."
"Son, how does a team captain get a D?"
"It's just the kids that pick the team captain, not the teacher."
Harold shut his eyes for a long moment. "Drakey, just for a moment compare yourself against the other kids in Gerbus' class. How many of them are actually better than you?"
Drakey shrugged uncomfortably. "Mr Gerbus compares everyone against their own special statistics chart so it's more fair."
"Fair! Where did he get your chart from? The back of a Superpig comic?"
Drakey cringed. "I-I don't know, sir."

"Alright. So that's about as far as the report card goes." He put it on the desk.

"So what about your assignments? You worked really hard on those things. Why didn't you hand any of them in?"
Drakey looked up in a startle, "I did!"
"Son, you don't get a D for putting in that much effort. Where's the one you did on sailing?"
Drakey raced out of the room and came back with a folder.

"Here, sir." He said in a despondent tone, showing his father the page he'd opened the folder up to.
"...Outdated term. Too wordy. Bad metaphor. Outdated phrase. Outdated terminology. Overall: D. What a sadistic perfectionist."

Drake glanced at Felldrake.

Harold flicked through the pages. "...'I can't read this... What is this? ...Wrong tense... Spelling... Grammar... Spelling on a math test?!"
"I was in a hurry!" Drakey defended, "I didn't have space and the letters got smushed."

"What kind of marks do the other kids get?" Harold pointed to the folder.
Drakey lowered his gaze again. "Elmo gets As and Finnigan gets Bs. They-."

"Can we please skip this?!" Drake complained talking over his younger self. "All I'm doing is throwing excuses for the teachers."

"Do you expect me to believe any of those excuses?" Harold worked on containing his fury.
"No, but I can't think of better ones."

Harold put the folder on the desk.

"Alright. So who were you fighting with today?"
Drakey stared at his dad. "I haven't been in a fight with anyone for ages!"
Harold let out a long exasperated sigh. "You got sent to the principal's office for something, son. What was it?"
Drakey frowned, "Finnigan was complaining about his sandwich and the teacher heard me answering him."
"So... you got expelled for commenting on a sandwich."

"Y-." Drakey stared at him, "Principal Harggis said he wouldn't expel me so long as I had Doctor Yutal's treatment!"

"What. Treatment. Drakey?" His father said in quiet venom.

Drakey pulled out from his shirt pocket some folded scraps of paper. "That's what I was talking to Elmo about when you came and picked me up, dad. He says it's a power converter battery thing. It looks like the teachers are feeding on brain juice somehow, but we can't figure out why they're plugged into the machine as well."
"Where is this place?" Harold asked in a gruff tone.
"I woke up in the school basement."
"This explains everything!" His father exclaimed quietly to the page, venting annoyance.

"Not really." Drakey frowned, "For one thing, wouldn't brain juice be better from smart kids? Instead they picked me and Preena... Poor Preena."
"It's not your job to bury the dead, son. Life is a war; always keep your eyes on moving targets."
"Yes, sir." Drakey trembled.

"...I didn't know they were bad. I thought they were only mean to me."
His father frowned, "I'm sorry, son, but you will never be anyone's first or only victim. These teachers have been manipulating you all year to make it look like you've been a bad kid. That way your disappearance from school had an explanation. Everyone thinks you were expelled, meanwhile you're getting eaten by this machine of theirs."
"Oh." Drakey swallowed, "Wow."
"I'm sorry I'm not a detective, son." Harold frowned, "All I could do was sit by the phone for hours, hoping someone would call back saying you'd shown up."
"I'm okay." Drakey stated. "I just got a bit scared."

Harold smiled faintly. "How does Shinqua classes sound to you, Drakey?"
"Do I have to give up Quack Fu?"
"No, you can do both."
"Keen gear!" Drakey smiled and gave him a hug.

"The class is tomorrow morning. You'll get to meet your new teacher, Master Flask, he's a very good person." His father smiled down at him, "He'll teach you how to 'be one with the shadows' and lots of other cool things. So bed time now so you'll be bright and awake for your first lesson."

"Thanks, dad!"
"Sleep tight, son."
Drakey hurried out of the room.
"So much for 'that' birthday present." Harold muttered.


The scene changed back to the classroom, a duplicate of Mrs Cormichael was handing back test pages.

"You cheated!"
Drakey turned to Finnigan. "You think I cheat to get straight Ds?"
Finnigan pointed, "That says A+."
Drakey stared at it for a long time. Then he got up, collecting his stuff.

"The class isn't over, uh, Drake."
Drakey stepped past her, and wrote on the board.

I am not Darkwing Duck.

Then he turned to her, scrunched up his test. He threw it in the bin and walked out of the class.

"That may have been an overreaction." Jose suggested.

"It was a bribe." Drake answered stonily, "My father brought in these duplicates to replace the teachers. Of course they'd try to be nice to me." Drake gestured to the board. "Who wants to be a hero, when it turns you into a cheat? I couldn't trust a single mark a teacher gave me. The only thing I could trust was my ability to kick a ball, and my ability to remember my lines."

"But..." Peru stepped up, "As an adult, you realise that real teachers don't manipulate the marking system and your father brought back the real teachers. You earned that A+."

"Yes." Drake answered. "That's true..."

"That was fun." Felldrake stepped up, "Now it's-."
Drake jumped him and grabbed his hand with the amulet. "Sorry, Felldrake, I still have some trust issues: with you."

The room morphed, dissolving.