Blue Waltz

Chapter 3: Crescendo

Sept. 4 (Cont.)

After Gosalyn revealed her big scheme from the beginning where she went to the principal's office for hitting a puck around the school yard all the way to how she tricked Drake into going on a blind date to distract him from all her misdemeanors, Drake yelled at her for ten whole minutes before he decided she had had enough.

"Am I grounded?" Gosalyn asked from her place on the couch.

"Are you grounded?" Drake repeated in a mocking tone. "Oh, you're grounded alright. You're grounded from being able to do anything fun for a month. No a year. Until the next ice age."

"Where's Vanderchill when you need her?" Gosalyn muttered.

"Don't get smart with me," Drake said, pointing a finger at her beak. "Of all the hair-brained ideas you've had in the past, this is the worst. Do you know how much trouble we are in?"

"I know. I know. I messed up. But I didn't mean for things to go this far," Gosalyn said. "Things just got out of control. All I wanted was to play hockey."

"Wait, what does all of this have to do with hockey?" Drake asked, his anger abating.

"Well, I thought if you found out I got in trouble on the first day of school, you'd ground me and then I wouldn't be able to try out for the hockey team," Gosalyn explained.

"Why would I do that?" Drake asked, throwing his hands in the air. "I've been looking forward to you getting on the hockey team more than you have."

"You have?"

"Gos, I have learned a little something about you," Drake said, sitting next to his daughter. "The only times you have actually made it to bed on time was when you've ran yourself ragged. Do you remember when I signed you up for soccer last year?"

"Yeah."

"You could barely keep your eyes open after dinner," Drake said, patting her shoulder. "It was too bad that they didn't have a game or practice every day, but I looked forward to every Thursday while you were on the team. But with school sports, you might be practicing five nights a week, skating around on the ice with several other spirited kids and violently hitting a puck around. It's a dad's dream come true."

Gosalyn folded her arms and glared at Drake.

"And even though you're grounded for all of eternity, you will be allowed to join the hockey team," Drake said.

"Well, if I would have known that, this whole mess could have been avoided," Gosalyn grumbled. "So, it's kind of your fault."

"Well…I should take some of the blame. If I was more attentive of you, I would have caught on to your plan earlier," Drake said, tapping Gosalyn's beak. "If it wasn't for this abominable string of robberies, I wouldn't have been so distracted. And speaking of which, you're going to go to your room and staying there while Launchpad and I get to work."

"Awwww, can't I come?" Gosalyn whined.

"No. You are grounded. Now, go to your room," Drake said, pointing a finger upstairs.

"Can I at least have some dinner? I'm starving," Gosalyn requested.

"Yes, you may," Drake said without anger. "You'll need your strength."

"For what?" Gosalyn asked, hopping off the couch.

"Because tomorrow you're going to tell Binky Muddlefoot all about your lies and then you're going to do chores for her all day to pay her back for the dinner," Drake insisted.

"But Dad!"

"No buts. Now go."

Gosalyn quickly ate before heading upstairs, trying to look contrite.

"Come on, Launchpad," Drake said when Gosalyn was safely upstairs. "Let's get dangerous." They jumped into the twin armchairs and engaged the secret mechanism to the tunnel underneath their home where the Ratcatcher was stashed. Drake quickly put on his disguise, and they were off to patrol the city.

"Are you really that mad at Gosalyn?" Launchpad asked. "You seemed a little hard on her."

"I'm her father. I know what's best," Darkwing said as they drove through town.

Once the words came out of his mouth, he wondered if Launchpad was right. Was he too hard on Gosalyn? She had used all her ingenuity and cunning to nearly pull off the biggest scheme she had ever concocted. Even FOWL would be impressed by her skills. And if he wanted to have any peace in the future, he needed to squash that impish part of her before she really got into trouble. That is, if this situation with the social worker wasn't trouble enough.

It was hard trying to figure out just how hard he was supposed to be. Even though he had had Gosalyn for almost two years, that still wasn't much time to gain experience. And on top of that, Gosalyn was getting older and would be a teenager in a couple of years. When that happened, everything he learned about his daughter would most likely go out the window. He was no looking forward to that.

As they stopped at a red light, Darkwing said to Launchpad, "I may have been too hard on her, but she needs to learn that there are consequences to her actions. And this time, I might not be able to protect her from those consequences."

"You're talking about the social worker," Launchpad guessed.

Darkwing hung his head. "This could be bad. And not in a way that Darkwing Duck can swoop in and save the day."

The two waited for the light to turn green in silence. Just as the street light changed and Darkwing revved the Ratcatcher through the intersection, an alarm went off on his computer.

"Another warehouse was hit," Darkwing announced, looking over the police report. He found the address and turned left toward the scene of the crime.

At the warehouse, police tap roped off the area and only two officers were on duty. After speaking to the officers, Darkwing and Launchpad were allowed inside to look around.

"Snack foods!" Darkwing exclaimed as he looked over the list of stolen goods. "Boxes and boxes of snack foods. Nothing but snack foods."

"Ooooh, Cheese Nibs. Those are my favorite," Launchpad announced, reading over Darkwing's shoulder. "And Choco Birds. Those are great."

"Why would the thief steal snack foods? They aren't worth much. Just a couple of quarters in a vending machine," Darkwing said, pulling out his magnifying glass.

"Maybe the thief is setting up his own vending machine empire," Launchpad suggested, following Darkwing scoured.

"No vending machines have been stolen," Darkwing said, having memorized the list. "And this is too similar to the other times to be a copycat. Maybe we're dealing with a thief with OCD. He can only steal one type of item at a time." As ridiculous as that sounded, it was the closest good idea he'd had so far.

"Hmmm," Launchpad said, his tone indicating he wasn't paying attention. It wasn't rare for the taller duck to get distracted by something.

"Why steal all these different items? And why so many of each?" Darkwing repeated the questions that had been on his mind from the beginning. "And more importantly, what are they doing with them? They are reselling them? Who would buy them? They aren't exactly popular merchandise on the black market. Something wasn't adding up. If he could just figure out the why, he was certain he could find the who."

"Hmmmm," Launchpad hummed again.

Darkwing looked at his partner and found him reading a book. "Are you even listening to me?" he demanded, pushing the book down. He hadn't even realized that Launchpad had brought to book.

"Sorry, DW. I've seen the movie, but I've never read the book. I thought I'd give it a try," Launchpad explained sheepishly. "And since I found it in that corner, I thought that there might be a clue in it."

"You found it? Here?" Darkwing asked incredulously, grabbing the book. He examined it under his magnifying glass, taking in every little detail. He thumbed through the pages, checking to see if anything had been written in the margins or saved inside. But to his consternation, it looked to be simply dog-eared copy of Pinocchio.

"Could the thief left it behind?" Launchpad asked hopefully.

"Maybe. Or it might have been dropped by a night guard or some other employee," Darkwing said. "If the police didn't pick it up, it might be nothing."

"I'll hang onto it, just in case," Launchpad said, finding the page where he left off. "Maybe I'll even start reading it to Gosalyn. She has a lot in common with Pinocchio."

"Yeah. If only her nose grew every time she told a lie," Darkwing muttered and went back to investigating.


Sept. 7

Not only did Darkwing spend the entire weekend fruitlessly hunting for the phantom thief, but the three ducks in Drake Mallard's household was a bundle of nerves as they waited for Monday to come. They didn't mention the incident with the social worker, but they were all worried about what the outcome would be.

Monday morning came around, and normally Drake would sleep until dawn, get up and help Gosalyn get dress before going back to bed, but this time, he was too nerve-wracked to sleep a wink even after a night of fighting crime. Not long after sending Gosalyn out the door to catch her bus, he took out the card Charity gave him and dialed the number.

"DCF, this is Charity Loveatte. How can I help you?"

"Hi, this is Drake Mallard."

Charity's voice softened. "Oh, thank you for calling so promptly, Mr. Mallard. Again, I am deeply sorry for the misunderstanding."

"Well, after talking to my daughter, I'm afraid that we need to apologize to you," Drake said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It appears that the night was poorly orchestrated by Gosalyn. It's a…well, it's a long story."

"I look forward to hearing it," Charity said, her voice tinged with humor. "Unfortunately, there was a reason for me being at your house on Friday. A report has been filed concerning Gosalyn, specifically if she is being neglected."

"I assure you that she's not neglected," Drake said, his voice turning angry.

"Unfortunately, my office must investigate all reports of abuse," Charity said.

Abuse. The word shot to Drake's heart. His wild thoughts went to the worst-case scenario, but he quickly banished them. No, he wasn't going to think that way. This was just a misunderstanding that would quickly go away. He just needed to talk to Charity, explain everything, and it would be over.

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like for you and Gosalyn to come to my office to answer some questions," Charity continued. "I'll be here until five, or if you would prefer, I could talk to the both of you at your house after five."

"No, your office is fine. I could come by after picking Gosalyn up after school," Drake said, leaning against the table where the phone sat. "Would 3:45 be okay?"

"I'll make sure to be here," Charity said. "The address is on the card I gave you."

After saying their goodbyes, Drake wandered the house in a daze before his brain told him to do something to pass the time. He tried sleeping but was too keyed up. He took out his folder of papers on the series of thefts but found himself just staring without thinking, so he put that away. Instead, he began cleaning the house even though it was still neat from when Gosalyn tidied everything up.

If the social worker does think Gosalyn is abused, she'll inspect the house. That set Drake into panic mode and continued cleaning anyway, not satisfied until every surface was sanitized and gleaming. On a whim, he even cleaned Gosalyn's room. Isn't that the first place a social worker would look over? Was it neglect if her bedroom was messy?

He didn't care if Gosalyn would complain about her privacy being infringed, he was going to clean. It took several hours to sift, organize and clean the messy area, only throwing away what was obviously garbage—two trash bags full—took down several armfuls of laundry that Drake couldn't tell if they were clean or not, and set aside several items that he was going to ask Gosalyn where she got them, including firecrackers, some comics that were too violent for a child her age, and a pocket knife.

Satisfied, Drake looked at the clock and was grateful that it was late enough that he could make his way to the school. Normally, Gosalyn would ride the bus home, but he could catch her before that happened.

Within twenty minutes, he was at her school and helping her into the car after explaining why he was there. As the drove downtown to DCF, Drake instructed, "Now, be on your best behavior. And absolutely no lying."

"Even about Darkwing Duck?" Gosalyn asked while batting her eyes. It sounded like a joke but her face was serious.

Drake eyed her. "Use your discretion. Try not to lie. That's what got us in this mess in the first place."

Lucky for them, traffic wasn't so bad and they were able to make downtown in good time. Once they found the building that DCF's office resided, Drake pulled into the parking garage.

"Dad?" Gosalyn asked, the first thing she had said in a long time.

"Yeah?"

"Are they going to take me away from you?"

Drake's heart sank as Gosalyn voiced his darkest fear. Had Gosalyn been worried this whole time that they were going to be split apart? Drake found a parking space and turned off the car so that he could give his daughter his full attention.

"Gos, I'm not going to let that happen." He reached out and hugged his daughter. "There's nothing to be afraid of. We'll go in, tell the truth, and this will be something to look back on and laugh."

Gosalyn's smile was full of faith and trust.

As they walked into the building, Drake held onto Gosalyn's hand tightly, making sure she understood that she was safe with him.

The Department of Children and Family took up the entire third floor. As they got off the elevator, they walked into chaos organized.

Men and women shuffled to and fro, winding through a maze of desks, tables and filing cabinets. Stacks and stacks of papers, folders, and binders rested on every available surface. The air was filled with the sounds of people talking on phones, fax machines dialing numbers and industrial copiers churning out papers. It smelled like stale coffee, musty papers, and Chinese food.

"Can I help you?" a man asked as he passed Gosalyn and Drake.

"Uh…yes, we're here to see Ms. Loveatte," Drake said.

"Charity, your appointment's here," the man called out. He turned to Drake. "Just go directly back. Her office is that one." He pointed to a door that was wide open.

Drake and Gosalyn moved around the hustle and bustle,and were met at the office door by Charity.

"Thank you for coming," Charity said, holding out her hand. Her glasses were perched on her beak again, making her look more severe and business-like. "Please, come in and take a seat."

Gosalyn felt muted. This was far worse than being called into the principal's office.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Charity offered as she gestured for them to sit in the chairs facing the desk.

"Can I have some water?" Gosalyn requested. Her mouth felt dry.

"Of course. And anything for you, Mr. Mallard?"

Drake shook his head.

"One minute." She left and returned with a bottle of water to give Gosalyn. She closed the door before sitting at her desk. "I'm going to be candid with you, Mr. Drake, because I'm sure you and your daughter want to be anywhere but here." Charity took off her glasses. "Your daughter has certainly painted a grim picture, which I'm not sure how to interpret. Last week, I received a call from Gosalyn's school reporting indications of neglect and abuse."

"Dad doesn't abuse or neglect me," Gosalyn protested. When Drake put a hand on her shoulder, she took a sip of water.

"Gosalyn explained everything to me," Drake said. "It seems she was hiding her visits to the principal from me by forging my signature and deleting the messages her teacher left on my machine. It's also the reason we had that…mishap the other night."

Charity raised an eyebrow. "Gosalyn, is this true?"

Gosalyn hung her head. "Yeah." She squeezed her water bottle to make it crackle.

"Why did you do it?"

"Well, first it was because I got in trouble on the first day of school, and I knew Dad would be really mad if he found out. I was only going to forge his signature once, but then I got in trouble again. And by then, I was really scared that if Dad found out, he wouldn't let me tryout for the hockey team, and I really, really, really, really wanted to be on the team and I get grounded a lot and so it just got out of hand, you know," Gosalyn ranted in one breath.

Charity's eyebrow raised even higher. "Well, that covers most of my questions," she said with a tight smile. "But I'm more concerned about Gosalyn falling asleep in school, that she's being left alone at night, and that she's constantly getting bruises and lying about how she gets them." Her eyes slid to Drake.

"Bruises?" Drake repeated with a dry mouth. He wished he had asked for water.

"Are you aware of how often your daughter gets hurt?" Charity asked, her eyes intense.

Drake gulped. Of course he was aware. He was there every time she got one of those bruises, either from her chasing after him or horsing around the house. Gosalyn wasn't a kid that cried and needed someone to kiss her every time she got hurt, but he knew just the same.

"That my fault," Gosalyn said. "I lied to my teacher because I didn't want her to know how I was really getting hurt."

Drake and Charity looked at the duckling.

"How are you getting hurt, Gosalyn?" Charity asked gently. She glanced at Drake. "Maybe your dad could go grab a cup of coffee while you tell me."

"No. It's not his fault," Gosalyn protested, sitting up straight. "You know that I got in trouble because I got in a fight at school. Well, I don't just get into fights at school." She looked down at her water bottle, playing with the cap.

"Do you get into fights after school?" Charity asked.

Gosalyn nodded.

"Who do you fight?"

"Bad guys," Gosalyn said. "Bullies. They like to pick on people who are weaker than they are. And I just want to help." She looked up, her eyes large. Her words were completely true.

Charity had a sympathetic frown on her face before turning to Drake. "Did you know she gets into these fights?"

Drake had to take his own advice. "Unfortunately, yes, I do."

"But Dad is always telling me not to get into fights. He gets really mad," Gosalyn jumped in. "And that's one of the reasons I get grounded all the time."

Charity steepled her fingers as if considering this information. "I believe you, Gosalyn. And I believe what your father has told me. Unfortunately, the state cannot let things lie on simply your word. I'm afraid that I'm going to—"

"Don't take me away!" Gosalyn shouted, standing up on her chair.

Charity's eyes widened, and she looked as if in pain. "Sweetie, I-I'm not going to do that. Despite what you might see on TV, DCF is not in the habit of seizing a child based on a single accusation. Even after investigating and finding abuse is evident, our job is to try and keep families together by working with parents and children to solve whatever problems they are going through."

Gosalyn sat down. "Then what's going to happen?"

"I'm going to suggest your father take a parenting class, and the two of you go through a few months of family therapy," Charity said.

"What?" Gosalyn and Drake said together.

Charity smiled as she pulled out a few pamphlets. "The class is pretty standard and goes for several months. I also have resources if you are struggling with finances or need help at home. I work with a lot of single parents that find it hard to ask for help or finding assistance with their children while at work."
"Hey, I'm a great parent. Gosalyn is taken care of and loved and gets everything she needs," Drake defended, not accepting the pamphlets.

"Yes, and so are many other parents, but there's always room for improvement," Charity said tactfully. "I have seen you interact with your daughter and your wonderful home, and based off of that, I would agree, but the fact is that you leave Gosalyn unattended at night while you are at work."

Drake let the lie stand. He wasn't going to correct her.

"That will be another thing that will need to change. You'll need to make arrangements for someone to be with her when you work. What about your roommate? Is he not home at night?" Charity asked.

"No, he works the same…shift as I do," Drake answered.

"I'm too old for babysitters," Gosalyn grumbled, folding her arms.

"I imagine that you are the independent sort, but what would happen if there's a fire? Or someone breaks into your house? Or what if something happens to your father at work? Wouldn't it be nice for you to have someone you can rely on in case of emergencies?" Charity said placatingly.

Drake smiled, glad that someone else was making this same argument for once, even though Gosalyn was quite capable of handling herself in an emergency. He wasn't going to say anything if the social worker could actually get the stubborn duckling to listen.

"I guess so," Gosalyn said. "Maybe I could just stay with the Muddlefoots, huh Dad?"

As always, whenever the Muddlefoots were mentioned, he frowned. But it did seem like a good idea, especially since they usually watched Gosalyn for free.

"I also suggest that you take Gosalyn to see her pediatrician soon. There are some cases where children who get a lot of bruises sometimes have an underlying condition. And if she's been in a lot of fights, her health should be a big concern for you," Charity continued in her business-voice.

"Of course," Drake said, nodding.

"And I strongly suggest taking her to a child psychiatrist," Charity went on. "If you don't know anyone, I can suggest a few."

"Wait, a child psychiatrist? Aren't you taking this a bit far?" Drake asked, holding out his hands.

Charity tilted her head. "Mr. Mallard, your daughter is getting into so many fights that she is constantly bruised and scratched up. Even now, I can see she's still healing from some of these. Doesn't that concern you even a little?"

Drake shirked from the stern words. "I guess it does," he admitted, taking the fallout from the white lie.

"Seeing a child psychiatrist will not only figure out why she is acting out with aggression, but also find ways for her to solve problems without violence," Charity lectured, pulling out a couple of business cards. "I'm not requiring it, but I hope you will consider the advantage of taking her to one of these doctors."

Drake took the cards.

"Now that we're done talking about Gosalyn, let's discuss you Mr. Mallard," Charity said.

Oh, boy, Drake said, fighting the urge to throw back his head and groan.

"I've noticed that our records are a bit sparse in regards to you and your daughter. I don't know if the adoption agency did a shoddy job or if there's been a mistake on our end, but we don't have much information about you. I know you must have filled out a lot of paperwork when Gosalyn was adopted, but we don't have any of it in our computers. If you could fill these papers out and send them, a copy of your W-2 and proof that you're following through with DCF's wishes, I think we can close this case within the week."

"My W-2? Oh, yes. From my job," Drake said, feeling tense.

Most of what Charity was asking for would be a minor inconvenience at most. Sure, there was a lot to do, but Drake was willing to go to the ends of the Earth for Gosalyn. However, the W-2 would be a lot harder than that.

Darkwing Duck was the paycheck earner for the family. He was employed by both the St. Canard PD as a consultant and by SHUSH. Most of the time, the Mallard family survived on the rewards for bounties or stopping FOWL missions, and was paid in cash—tax withheld of course. He wasn't a tax evader.

Too keep up appearances, Drake Mallard occasionally took up a part-time job or did odd chores for neighbors to make a few bucks, and nobody was the wiser that he was Darkwing Duck.

So how could he solve the problem of the W-2? Maybe J. Gander could help him out. When he wanted to adopt Gosalyn, the Director of SHUSH had helped him out, being the only one outside of Darkwing's most trusted friends to know his secret identity.

"You can fax everything over when you can. My fax number is one the card I gave you," Charity said. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Drake felt so overwhelmed, if he had questions, he had forgotten them. His head was full of words like W-2, parenting classes, psychiatrist, and forms.

Charity gave him a wan smile. "You have my number. I'll answer any questions that you think of later. I know how intimidating this can be for a parent."

"Thank you," Drake said, sensing that they were coming to an end, grateful that it didn't end up worse. When Charity stood up, he did as well, both extending their hands to shake. "We'll get that paperwork to you ASAP."

Charity nodded then turned to Gosalyn. "And you, young lady, perhaps cut back on the lying?"

"You don't have to tell me again," Gosalyn said, looking just as exhausted about the meeting.


Duncan Musman had been a bureaucrat for as long as he could remember. Even in high school, he worked the system to his advantage, learning early in life that it didn't matter how hard you worked, it was who you knew and whose butt you needed to kiss to move up the ladder. He stepped on the little man, stole credit and pushed people under the figurative bus to get where he was.

And his current location was a Department Head working for the state. Someone with his ambition might have chosen politics, pursued a career as an elected official or somewhere else that gave him more power, but not Duncan. Running for office put you in the limelight, gave everyone a chance to judge you and go looking for dirty laundry. No, that wasn't what Duncan wanted. He liked having power unobserved.

His office was cushy, and he had his own secretary, benefits and a salary that kept him happy and stocked in his vices. Whoever said the government didn't pay well hadn't risen high enough in the ranks.

Or tried blackmail. Blackmail could be quite profitable if done right.

However, he didn't get where he was without making a few enemies. The thing about making enemies, you just had to make sure you had even more powerful friends. And by friends, he meant people who owed him favors or he owed favors to. Because that's how lasting relationships were formed in bureaucracy. You scratch someone's back, and they'll scratch yours when the itch becomes unbearable. And as long as he was willing to do a few immoral things or get his hands a little dirty, his friends remain happy. Because with friends like the ones Duncan had, they wouldn't hesitate to make him disappear if he didn't follow through with those favors.

And one of his friends was about to be very happy.

As the Department Head, he oversaw several small departments within the state. One of those departments was DCF which was his absolute favorite. Not that he had any interest in children. It was that he had been smart about running the department. The supervisor he promoted ran DCF like a tight ship and made his job easy. He hardly had to do anything other than check in a few times a month, make sure they didn't go over budget and sign some papers when they came his way. It was the best way to earn a paycheck.

And DCF was the perfect place to gather more friends, the kind that would owe him favors instead of the other way around. He loved collecting those kinds of friends. Sometimes it was a famous person, or the relative of a politician, or maybe someone with money, but eventually they get in trouble with DCF for hitting their kid or forgetting to feed them or something else. And even though the brats are more trouble then they're worth, those parents are willing to do anything to get their children back.

Lucky for them, they have a friend in Duncan Musman. Of course, it usually involved a power struggle with the supervisor, Charity Loveatte. Bleeding hearts were like that, ready to fight for a cause no matter how big the opponent. Because of her, he occasionally had to let friends down.

Oh, he could fire her for her insubordination. In fact, sometimes he was tempted to do just that, but then that would mean more work for him. As much of a pain Ms. Loveatte was in his rear end, it was to his benefit to keep her where she was.

That night, just like every night, he went over the new files that had been saved in DCF's system. Technology was a wonderful thing. Before they set up the database for each department, Duncan had to either go through musty, physical files or peruse hours of security footage that had been recorded on VHS tapes. This way saved a lot more time.

As he went through the files, he concentrated mostly on the names of the parents of the children, hoping to find someone that he recognized from TV or from the social section of the paper.

He moved through the files robotically, his eyes glazing over with boredom. He looked over a picture of a little girl with red hair and read her father's name before moving on to the next file. As the screen changed, his eyes widened. Tapping frantically, it took him a few times to find the back button, returning to the picture of the red-head.

Yanking open a drawer, Duncan found an envelope he had put in the very back. The envelope was given to him under strict instructions by one of his most powerful friends. He had thought the request was a long shot, but perhaps it hadn't been.

Reaching into the envelope, he pulled out several photos. They were dark and grainy, but the figure in the forefront was clear. It was St Canard's very own masked-avenger running through the streets. And on his heels was a little girl. Although she wasn't as distinctive in the photo, it was no doubt the red-head in the file.

It was her. He had found her.

Duncan grinned at the screen, looking at the name. Gosalyn Mallard, previously known as Gosalyn Waddlemyer. Waddlemyer? Why did that name sound familiar to him? Had he heard it before?

He shook his head. The girl's name was of no concern to him. This particular friend who sent him the pictures did not like having anyone poking around in their business. It didn't matter who this girl was or why someone wanted her. His job was done, and there would be a fat deposit heading into his account.

Turning one of the photos over, Duncan picked up the phone and dialed the hand-written number on the back.

(Author's notes:

There are a few things I forgot to mention in the previous chapters. Considering that the Darkwing Duck series takes place in the early nineties, I will try to keep culture references and technology to that time period (exception being the spy gear and tech that Darkwing and SHUSH uses considering that this is science fiction). But normal people will be dealing with technology from the early nineties, which means people don't normally have cell phones, the Internet isn't available for everyone, and most people listen to music on cassettes and watch movies on VHS. I hope everyone knows that these are. If you don't, then you're super young.

I am not a social worker. I appreciate and admire those who are because they have a hard job. I know that they don't have the best reputations or the most glamorous jobs, but I truly believe that they trying to help and have saved lives. I have done research and tried my best to stay within the rules and what a social worker would do in this situation. My main goal is to be realistic in this scenario.

Also, if you enjoy this story and have watched the new Ducktales 2017 reboot, please check out my other fanfics, especially "Twisted Strings of Fate" and "The Hit," which also have my OC, Charity Loveatte in them. Thank you everyone for reading. I'll see you next Thursday. )