A/N I want to explore Jim's reaction at Drake being the one in the explosion.
*proceeds to throw a wrecking ball made of emotions into Jim Starling*
"Uh, Launchpad." Drake said.
"-The most tenacious part to all good men-"
"Hey, dummy, it's about to blow!" Jim turned toward the younger duck. "You really can't stop him once he gets started."
"Well, yeah..." Drake replied, his gaze on the older duck. "He's your biggest fan."
Jim grimaced with that reminder.
"-subjugates his will-"
He lowered the chainsaw.
"-to the will of the good-"
He saw his reflection. He put his fan in danger. All his doing. He wasn't worth having fans, not after this, not with this ego.
"Who's the daring duck of mystery? A champion of right-"
Jim dropped the chainsaw by his side.
"Who's the cunning mind behind that shadowy disguise?"
Jim looked toward the giant duck as he became defiant.
"I am!" Jim ran after Launchpad.
"No, I AM!" Drake chased after him.
"-care about himself-"
Jim shoved the large duck then was shoved immediately out of the way behind Launchpad landing square in a chair that then tipped over. There was a loud explosion behind him then he yanked his head out from underneath the head rest and turned around. There was fire, a distinctive tall figure looking on.
His eyebrows fell as he got up to his feet then ran on into the smoke then searched among the wreckage for the form of the younger actor, frantically. The pain didn't matter, the burns didn't matter, what mattered was finding the young actor who proclaimed to be the president of his fan club. His heart raced at the prospect of failing his fan, his heart squeezed, tearful. The duck that the actor thought him to be were not being the case, disappointing him, leading him into the jaws of death willfully and at the last second, not wanting it to be. But, it was.
A large pair of hands grabbed Jim from the shoulders then withdrew the frantic from the blazing inferno as he screamed, hands reached out, distraught. The aged actor was dropped on the edge of the stage across from the inferno as the taller figure loomed over him. The older duck fell down to his knees, sobbing. He withdrew his fedora resting it on to the stage.
No one could have survived that. He was distraught. Trembling. Shame ridden as the firefighters went past him to tend the flames with their long fire hose as he became silenced over the noise of the water speeding out of the hose. He was quieted, on his knees, his sobbing turning into sniffling. Ridden in shame, his breath shaky.
The flames were tidied up and the smoke was gone shortly thereafter.
"It should have been me. It should have been me!" Jim trembled, emotional, in his misery. "I should have been blown up! Not him!"
Launchpad looked down upon him.
"We don't know if he's really dead or not. He hasn't shown up in any form."
Jim lifted a trembling finger toward the dangling discolored cape.
"The dead gave away that blast destroyed him." then Jim laughed. "It's not like he survived and went insane!"
Jim looked over toward the younger duck then sat down resting his hands on his knees then lowered his head.
"It's better than him being really gone. Some hope, a beacon of one, even if he went insane, there's always a possibility of Scrooge and his family finding something that could heal him."
"What if there isn't? What if the very thing to cease his insanity is by death?"
Launchpad's gaze was on the older duck in pity then he looked aside giving that some thought.
"It would be more of a mercy kill." Launchpad clarified to the older duck. "He was a good guy. Heroic and all. I think that he would want for what's left of him."
Jim squeezed his eyes shut then shook his head quite upset about that.
"I mean, what kind of script is that? A hero becomes a villain because of his role model." Jim's voice cracked. "It's something that I would expect from the old show -" he stretched his arms as he raised his voice with strain. "or a soap opera!"
Launchpad sat down alongside him then picked up the old fedora.
"It's a twist." Launchpad said then offered the fedora.
Jim looked toward the fedora then shook his hand.
"No, thanks." Jim declined then lowered his head. "You can keep it. . ." it came out quite gently. "I . . . I am not worthy of Darkwing Duck." he stared at the fedora. "And he's not worthy of me carrying his torch anymore."
"Hey, you shoved me out of the way." He looked up toward Launchpad. "Oh. . . you didn't intend to be here."
"That duck was made in the 90's, a time where St Canard was riddled with crime, a time where I wasn't this obsessed with this stupid role and a good man!" he clenched his hands then stretched them out opening his palms then lowered his hands down and his shoulders sulked. "Now it's not and neither am I that same duck."
His voice became softer and lowered.
"How can I show my face there for showings when I murdered one of my fans? A walking criminal in a crime-less city. Darkwing Duck never kills an innocent, never."
The smaller duck had a depressed sigh as Launchpad saw how regretful that he were.
"It was an accident the moment you dropped your chainsaw and decided to stop trying to kill him." Launchpad reminded him as Jim sighed. "Hey, maybe if that duck shows up, again, maybe you can take him in?"
"That's a matter for the police." Jim shook his head. "Not a actor who's lost his appeal in the limelight and upset about it."
"But you're as good as him." Launchpad reminded the older duck. "If not better; you knocked him down." Jim looked up toward him not quite proud of his actions in contrast to the fan. "The police would have one hell of a time getting him down."
Jim looked ahead toward the ruins, dreading the reality, dreading discovering that Launchpad was right, dreading discovering what the kid had became.
"It's one thing to play Darkwing Duck. ."
"But to actually be him, that takes courage, some resolve, and strength for the heart to do what needs to be done."
"Oh, and don't forget resting with broken bones!"
"You didn't keep down your legs were broken in that one episode. That was the best episode ever, personally, showing no matter how disabled you are, you can always stand for what's right. Just imagine the disabled kids that you inspired. That conviction inspired . . . uhhh. . . uhhh. . . "
"You didn't get his name?"
"No, uh, never did." Launchpad looked upon the older duck. "You NEVER asked his name?'
"I was too busy being upset about not being in the movie," Jim reminded the duck.
"Right, yeah, big ego blocked your view." Launchpad laughed as he recalled.
"Your name," Jim became curious as he put the fedora back on. "it's Launchpad," he squinted back at the giant. "what the kid called you, or is it your last name?"
"First name," Launchpad introduced himself as he got up then held his hand out. "Launchpad McQuack."
"It's nice to meet you, Launchpad." Jim replied as he took the larger duck's hand and got up to his feet. "By the way," he let go of the duck's hand. "do you want a proper autograph?" then Jim pointed at Launchpad. "The beak does not count!"
"Oooooh YEEESS!"
Launchpad withdrew his poster, stretched it out, then Jim signed the poster and put the pen away as he hummed. Launchpad squealed in delight.
"This is the right time to accept retirement and have some sort of unknown exciting double life." Jim turned away from Launchpad as he smiled to himself then walked on. "Some metropolis like St Canard."
From below Jim, there was a young duck with a red fedora blocking view of his face stewing there in anger.
"He set it up, put Launchpad in danger, just to kill me, just to be the star, well, he wants to be Darkwing Duck, doesn't he?" Negaduck turned away from the direction that he were facing, his eyes, odd, different, lacking the consistent views of sanity, smiling. "Happy to make him be Darkwing Duck!"
Oooh, he had an idea where to go with this. It made him laugh. Just so delightfully so. A sweet melody of an evil caper entered his mind, he needed time, resources, and patience, and all it would take was getting the right grasp.