(EDITOR: This chapter takes a good look at a rare character in the Mighty Ducks universe, Klegghorn! I'm still in the process of writing Chapter 8, which hadn't been started until recently because I've kind of had a dip in my interest. I was hoping people enjoyed the dancing Phil in Chapter 6, and I can only tell you that it's not the last of him! I anticipate that there'll be 9-10 Chapters total for this story. I'm already thinking about another to start on and I'm debating releasing an older one that I never shared...when I first started writing fan fiction. I think many here would like it because it has a ton of Nosedive-Wildwing angst that had been watered down in the released "The Troubled Times" trilogy (the epilogue was, in actuality, the second ending I wrote). Please read and review; I always like to hear feedback (who doesn't)! Thanks to everyone who actually did leave me reviews too!
Oh, and I made up the references to fan fiction in this story, just so you know.)
Reality Sucks
Chapter 7: The Klegghorn Zone
Klegghorn's police car sped over side streets, splintering puddles from last night's storm. However, the weather outside barely registered as a concern on his focused mind. Tonight, he was hunting duck. The police chief, at first, felt challenged by the presence of alien waterfowl in his precinct, but as more adventures had unfolded and Klegghorn was introduced to perpetrators far beyond the normal scope of vandals and robbers, the stubborn man had learned to accept the Mighty Ducks as credible heroes. However, that did not necessarily mean that the chief found them agreeable. While they were now in an auspicious alliance, Klegghorn was always ready to look for any evidence that would help him land the ducks in hot water, or even better, off the planet.
"You, my little pretties, are going to make my night!" Klegghorn sniveled at the gray duck feathers in his hand, running his fingertips through the downy texture a couple of times before setting them back down. His hand was now inveterately searching for a doughnut among the folds of a Krispy Kreme box smothered in the passenger seat.
"What?!" his eyes momentarily darted to the box, now empty, causing a line of curses to be muttered under his hot breath. Fortunately, his mood was about to experience another sporadic change when a doughnut shop popped up over the horizon, a large Dunkin Dounts sign rotating slowly over the desolate commercial landscape.
Klegghorn pulled into the parking lot, and tried to look for a drive through, but sputtered another grunt of disgust when he found it was closed for renovation. "Great, now I have to go in..." he said, pulling the car recklessly into the nearest parking spot and jumping out, sinking his hands into his pockets and pushing the doors aside with his shoe.
Every doughnut shop in Anaheim knew about Klegghorn's insatiable appetite, becoming a local legend of sorts. What always amused city planners was that Klegghorn's precinct had the majority of the city's doughnut shops, all capitalizing on their favorite customer. The police chief had no preferences; any place that had the word doughnut on it was fair game. His unwavering love for doughnuts had to do with his late wife, who had been caught having an affair with him. Klegghorn was once a happy, athletic man who was willing to do anything for anyone, a real friendly person. Once a mere lieutenant on the police force, his fellow officers thought that he didn't have much of a future ahead of him, especially since he lacked the inexorable zeal that perpetuated officers into the upper ranks. Unfortunately, while he eventually learned this lesson, it was taught the wrong way. His wife was a kind and loving woman, but one with a weak will. When Pierre, the milkman, came into her life with an addicting charm and suave mannerisms, the woman went head over heals. Klegghorn found the divorce papers a short time later. From that day, the cop swore never to drink milk or consume its solid supplement, the cookie, his favorite snack. Soon, Dunkin Dounts up the street found a new reason to be happy. The hardened cop had taken a liking to them and combined with his new vitality in the workplace, he quickly climbed the ladder. Eating doughnuts had endowed him with a small pot belly, but the cop always saw enough action to avoid completely filling out. Needless to say, it was destiny that introduced him to doughnuts, and never again would any other deserts tempt the aging man.
Klegghorn stood in line, staring up at the Hall of Fame, a wall dedicated to popular customers that had patronized the store on a normal basis. The police chief smiled to himself when he saw that the entire wall had his portrait on for every month, since the store had opened. The monotonous display seemed pathetic to other customers, but it was like a trophy to the chief of police. No one would ever topple his monopoly over the doughnut market...but suddenly, something broke the uniformity of the display. A new face had appeared among Klegghorn's, winning the coveted honor this month. The man adopted a contentious snarl as he marched up to the counter, taking his turn to order. It passed undetected by the employee, Jim, who was happy to see Klegghorn.
"Hello, Captain Klegghorn!" Jim smiled warmly. He was a regular employee at this location and one of Klegghorn's favorites. Always dressed in a neatly pressed uniform, the young teenager always adopted a kind sincerity with his customers that had earned the teen a lot of admiration from the customer base. Jim was also supportive of Klegghorn, finding the police chief a strong and sensible man. He also realized the financial weight this particular man had carried; without his patronage, surely the store would have to let him out of a job.
"What is the meaning of that?"
"What?"
"THAT!" Klegghorn's small hand shot out of his pocket, snapping back to condemn the picture of the man invading his wall. His raised voice attracted attention from some of the back employees and customers in line.
"I'm sorry Captain...our boss decided that Mr. Porter down the street would win it this time. It appears he's beating your monthly quota by 100 doughnuts."
"That fat pig down the street is muscling in on my territory! You've seen him...he's a giant blob of a man! He spends all his social security here, while I've been using hard, earned money!"
"Well, there is a way you can dethrone Mr. Porter." Jim responded, drawing a look of sly interest along Klegghorn's wrinkled mouth.
"Oh...and how so?"
"Just beat out Mr. Porter. Order something over 100 doughnuts. He couldn't possibly come back in the next hour before we close and it is the last of the month, so the manager would be forced to give you the title."
"Hmmm..." Klegghorn gave a quick second of contemplation. With a quick inventory of the money in his wallet, he made the order.
Give me twelve dozen doughnuts, on the double!" he raised his hand as if making a declaration. Immediately, the manager, having a quick fling in back with one of the female co-workers, stopped upon hearing the shout of his valued customer. Straightening his greasy hair and unkempt uniform, he came out, fastening the buttons on his shirt and scrambling to greet the cop.
"Mr. Klegghorn...oh, it's so great to see you sir." The manager shoved aside Jim, who frowned at the sycophant of an employer. To Jim's satisfaction, the cop didn't fall for it.
"Can it, Larry! How dare you think you can put a picture of that man on my wall! I'm the top customer, and don't you forget it!"
"Oh, but Mr. Klegghorn...he, uh, uh...threatened me, yeah, that's it!" Larry gave a nervous smile, trying to calm Klegghorn's arched and fiery gaze.
"You're telling me he threatened to sit on you or something!?" he bellowed, the customers and employees in earshot trying to stifle chuckles.
"Well...not exactly..."
"Let me give you a piece of advise....Larry." Klegghorn harrowed the man with a clenched fist, closing in on the loose folds of his uniform and pulling him face-to-face. "You go to that wall, take down that picture, put up mine, and consider me customer of the month before I get mad. When I get mad, it's really a sight to see, Larry. Not to mention, you wouldn't want your store to be the only one in the entire precinct to be blacklisted by myself...do you!?"
"No." the small, fearful peep was barely audible.
"Good, then we are in agreement." Klegghorn stood erect once again, drawing a small line of hoots and cheers from the other employees. They were more than pleased to see their craven manager humiliated.
With a graceful balancing act, Klegghorn took the pillar of boxes and headed out, turning his head just long enough to see the manager take down the portrait of Mr. Porter and replacing it with yet another identical picture of the chief.
"No one, but no one will take me down...I rule the doughnut stores..." he grinned as he piled the boxes in his car. Plopping down into his seat, his heads digging for a couple of greasy sweets, he pulled out and contently resumed his trek towards the Pond. "Now back to business!" he roared happily, accelerating the car and turning up his favorite polka music on the radio.
"And this next song on APRS (Anaheim's Polka Radio Station) is dedicated to our police chief, Klegghorn, who is making our streets safe tonight." The radio announcer bantered over the speakers, followed by Klegghorn's favorite song.
"Sometimes, living in Anaheim ain't so bad..." Klegghorn smiled again, his mood uplifted by his music and doughnuts. Jumping on the highway, he could see the distant form of the Pond materializing on the dawn horizon.
Inside the Pond, the Mighty Ducks, sans Nosedive, were gathered around Drake One, Tanya attempting to replace the broken part and have the system up and running again. Her top half was enveloped under the stomach of the mechanical beast, as her hands pivoted through wires and circuit boards to locate the defective piece.
"How's it coming Tanya?" Wildwing asked, Duke grunting to himself at these annoyingly leader-like questions the white mallard was ceaselessly pressing.
"I need some more time. It would be...uh, easier to do this without a crowd, you know."
"I think I will go meditate." Grin replied, slowly turning around and sliding out the door without a sound. Mallory followed, returning to her top priority, straightening out her income tax information. Wildwing and Duke remained, watching her legs turn and twist as Tanya slowly slid deeper into the dark underbelly.
"Come on Wildwing. Let's try and contact Nosedive or something." Duke was at first reserved to speaking to his friend alone, but he knew that by getting the leader's mind off of watching Tanya, the woman could have a chance to work without his nagging inquiries. As expected, the white mallard immediately perked up at the sound of his brother's name and accepted the invitation.
Leaving Tanya alone, the two ducks got together in the living room and activated their coms. "Nosedive, are you there?" Duke started to speak, Wildwing patched into the signal to join the conversation, taking off his mask and changing into casual wear.
Among the darkened interior of Phil's apartment, a duck was laughing hysterically at the glowing screen of the computer. A lone light flickered overhead, deep shadows grooved into the slumping from of Nosedive, causally sipping at some lemonade and leaning back into the chair, enjoying some reading material he found at an internet site. His com, unlatched and lying along the scores of paper on the desk, was quickly relocated over his wrist, the forms of his brother and friend each occupying one half of the screen.
"Wing! Duke! What's the haps!?"
"Hey, Dive, how are you, little bro? Phil treating you well?"
"He's asleep, but yeah, I'm alright. I also found something to do!"
"What's that?" Duke piped up.
"You guys ever heard of fan fiction?" Nosedive asked, drawing raised eyebrows in response. "Guess not."
"What's that?"
"People write stories about characters and submit them so others can read them too. It's like mondo cool, man!"
"So...that's what you've been doing all this time?" Wildwing scratched his forehead with a finger.
"Yeah! Would you guess that people write stuff about us?!"
"What?!"
"Yeah, really! I was just goofing around on the net and found this really cool site that writes fan fiction about us! Some of these stories are just so weird, and funny!"
"Like what?"
"Well, this author calling himself 'Spring Chicken' wrote a story about Duke's hair, like coming to life and trying to eat us! It's totally wild!"
"Humans..." Duke groaned, giving a quick brush of his hair as if to check on it.
"Geez, who writes that kind of stuff?" Wildwing grinned, peering over to Duke a couple times before looking back at Nosedive.
"Wait, there's lots more here, Wing. It seems people like to write about you and me for some reason. I haven't read the parts about me yet, but boy, these little tales about you are just too funny!"
"What do you mean?" Wildwing readjusted himself on the sofa and grew a little apprehensive. He wasn't convinced that these stories would portray him in a positive light, especially if Nosedive found them extremely amusing.
"Well, half of them say you're a mother hen, but what can I say...they're right!" Nosedive's eyes momentarily returned to the screen, a shocked gasp soon modifying his beak, making Wildwing nervous, especially with Duke's laughter from the chair.
"Why Wing? You and Canard!? Oh my gosh...I never knew!"
"Never knew what?!"
"You two went on a romantic cruise together!!!" Nosedive's image flickered as the com's screen aligned itself with the floor. The teenager had fallen out of the chair, rolling on the carpet amid piles of paper, laughing hysterically at the prospect. Duke, replied with a more restrained, yet equally amused roar of laughter. Wildwing's cheeks flushed as Duke put an outstretched hand over his forehead and leaned back to continue, the commotion drawing Mallory out of her room, caught in an irate mood.
"What's going on out here?!" she screeched, turning a look of condemnation to Duke and then her complexion fading to interest when she saw the cries of denial Wildwing was making into the com. Activating her own, she saw the tearful face of Nosedive, choking on laughter and struggling to stand upright. "What's so funny?! NOSEDIVE!" the female's shriek suddenly melted the humor out of Nosedive's face and he turned to the com again.
"Mal Mal?"
"Who else? Now what is so damn funny?!"
"Well, I found this place that has something called fan fiction...people write stories about characters they like..."
"Yeah, so?" Mallory bitterly replied, the acrid tone convincing Nosedive to get straight to the point.
"Well, there's a story here about..."
"Nosedive, don't you dare!" Wildwing interrupted, eyeing his brother angrily, trying to intimidate him into keeping quiet. Nosedive, however, ignored his brother's protest and continued.
"There's a story about Wildwing and Can..."
"NOSEDIVE!"
"Wildwing-and-Canard-going-on-a-romantic-cruise!" Nosedive slurred the words together in a last ditch effort to get them through. Wildwing chided Nosedive once again, but the teen saw Mallory's face, first hit with surprise, and slowly, all her anger dissipating as her beak turned upward to develop a smile. Suppressed giggles soon followed, suddenly broken by a fit of laughter, Mallory lowering her hand and thrusting her head back to give a strong belly laugh. Wildwing sunk even lower into the folds of the sofa, Nosedive once again continuing his tirade.
"Did any of them wear thongs?" Duke's recovered long enough to ask, tears rolling out of his good eye. Mallory leaned over the chair, joining in with Duke in a chorus of laughter, as Nosedive was reading over the page.
"No, but they are stuck in the Honeymoon Suite!" Nosedive's reply was more than enough to get Duke successfully on the ground, howling once again. Mallory now replaced the thief, taking position in the chair, stretched out over its length, her legs swaying in soft kicks as her form buckled from amusement.
"Nosedive...you are so dead when I get my hands on you..."
"Wing...come on, it's a story!"
'Well, how'd these humans even know about Canard anyway?!"
"Wing...seriously, does the word 'Disney' ring a bell?" Nosedive's snorted as he resumed liberating the last of his giggles.
"But that's all a lie!"
"Wing...it's a fictional story! Yeesh, don't get so defensive!" Nosedive tried to assure his brother, but his words were downplayed by the continuing background noise of Duke and Mallory.
"Is this author trying to say we are some kind of item or something?! I don't go for that sort of thing! Why would anyone insult Canard's memory like that?!" Wildwing started growing more hostile, Nosedive rolled his eyes at his over-reactionary brother.
"Wing...read...my...beak. It's a story! It was meant to be funny...it's fictitious, hence the words FAN FICTION!"
By now, Duke and Mallory successfully quelled their laughter and noticed how defensive their leader had become. Muddled with embarrassment, Wildwing groaned as he sunk back in his seat. "Maybe calling Nosedive was a mistake..." the white mallard thought as he suddenly heard the intercom, signaling the presence of a visitor.
"What the?" Wildwing and the other two ducks jumped up, heading over to the security panel and checking the monitor. They saw the recognizable form of Klegghorn, defiantly stationed in front of the door, looking as if he was expecting answers. The leader thought nothing of it at the moment, and disconnecting Nosedive, he with Duke and Mallory, headed up to the front door. A minute later, the cop was greeted by the towering form of Wildwing and his two teammates, backing him up on both sides and decked out in battle gear.
"Well, if it isn't the ducks..."
"What is it Cap?" Wildwing was casual, but he quickly sensed the distaste in Klegghorn's reaction.
"Don't give me that 'Cap' business. So...just what were you doing at Lectic Land earlier, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Go ahead and play dumb...but I found these little beauties just lying around." A small group of gray feathers flashed in front of the leader's face, the mask gazing at them as if unimpressed.
"And these are ours you think? See...white feathers!" Wildwing took off one of his large gloves and showed his ivory-colored hand to the cop, who only rolled his eyes.
"Hello, and just who is this?" Klegghorn sidestepped the leader, pointing the feathers to Duke with strong accusation, his eyes lighting up with a celebratory gaze as he saw the hue matched exactly.
"Ha, that doesn't prove nothing; Duke L'Orange never leaves feathers lying around!" Duke crossed his arms confidentially, coolly brushing aside Klegghorn's enraged fist, sporting the feathers for inspection.
"Well, in that case, let me bring my witness..." Klegghorn grinned in a reproachful manner, pointing to the approaching vehicle, parking next to his car. Out stepped a dark character in a cape and tight black leather. He had two pointy spikes at the top of his mask, and in the grooves of it featured eyes that were rigid and querulous.
"Mighty Ducks, meet my visiting friend, Batman!"
"Uhhh...hi." Wildwing offered his hand, which only prompted Batman to place them on his hips, striking a heroic stance as dawn's first rays of sunlight shined upon his sculpted exterior. The other ducks were unimpressed.
"How is he going to prove I was connected with the heist?" Duke almost broke out in a laugh, staring down this pitiful excuse of a hero before peering back at Klegghorn.
"I ran these feathers through my Batlab...they are yours, Duke L'Orange!"
"Ha, go home and play superhero someplace else, Batboy. Klegghorn, where did you find this moron?!" Duke started to crack up, but before Klegghorn could reply, Batman was lunging at Duke, the two rolling to the ground, struggling to pin the other. Wildwing shook his head at the sight before him and suddenly found himself looking back at Klegghorn.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Didn't you just hear me...or are you still zoning out here? What about you or your pals taking a visit to Lectic Land last night?" Wildwing blinked rapidly and took a quick survey of the scene. Duke and Mallory were still positioned behind him and there was no sign of this "Batman" person anywhere.
"Yeesh...I must have been imagining things..."
"What?!" Klegghorn's eyebrows slanted at a steeper angle, his mien growing more dissatisfied with each passing moment.
"I mean...we did go to Lectic Land last night, and it was closed. It was very important, and we did pay for the inter-dimensional...uh, chip we retrieved."
"Then why does it look like it's been robbed?!"
"Hey! That place was a mess to start with. We took a little ten-dollar piece, and left the money and a note from Tanya on the main counter. The owner of the store knows her." Duke shot a defensive glance to Klegghorn, before dauntlessly crossing his arms.
"Well, funny how we didn't find any money or a note..." all of a sudden, the radio in Klegghorn's car came on, an officer calling for the chief. Angrily, the portly officer stumbled back to the car, barking into the receiver.
"Klegghorn here, what is it?"
"We found a little more evidence at Lectic Land."
"Like what?"
"Ten dollars and a note listing that it was for something called a...uh, inter-dimensional...uh, transportation relay chip? It was from someone named Tanya or something."
"Damn...foiled again!" Klegghorn grit his teeth, grabbing another doughnut and stuffing it in his mouth gingerly.
"What's that Captain?"
"Nothing. Guess the Mighty Ducks didn't steal...they paid for it, BUT!" Klegghorn's head swung out of the car, turning to the ducks. "I'm going to check with the owner of the store first. He can charge you for breaking and entering, regardless of whether you paid for it or not!"
An hour later and 13 doughnuts later, Klegghorn grumbled to himself as he left the Pond, the ducks (once again, lacking Nosedive) were gathered around the front entrance, watching him go off with inquisitive stares.
"Wildwing, what was that about?" Tanya turned to her leader, confused about the whole altercation.
"Uhhh...beats me. I think he's a very poor little man and we need to pity him." Duke answered for the white mallard, drawing looks from the others.
"He just wanted to bust us." Grin flatly tossed in, his answer seemed to satisfy the others.
"Let's get back to work..." Wildwing commented, waving his hand and leading the others back inside.
On the opposite end of the parking lot, a shapely form grimaced as he watched the police car vanish behind a swarm of buildings. The morning winds shifted and the being kneeled down, looking at a spot of grease and speaking to it amid hushed tones. Unaware to mild-mannered citizens, it was Chameleon speaking to his colorful friend, complaining about the plan not working.
"Some big plan." The saurian said, flicking a small pebble down the sidewalk inattentively.
"Hey, sometimes, plans turn out to be duds. No one's perfect, Greeny."
"Yeah, but you said it was going to be big." Chameleon folded his arms and pouted. The face rolled his eyes in response.
"What can I help it if the ducks are lucky? I thought I hid the money and the note well. You can't blame me if there's actually a credible cop on the Anaheim police force."
"Well, fine..." Chameleon picked up the briefcase next to him and motioned to it with one of his twisted arms. "What do we do with this then?"
"Hmmm...I gotta think. I'm afraid I'm reaching the final stage."
"Final stage of what?"
"The final showdown, the ultimate prank, the masterpiece of mayhem."
"What's that?"
"Well, it's a little iffy, but why not?" the face seemed as if it was trying to convince itself.
"Why not what?!"
"Well, I can't spoil the surprise yet. So far, the ducks have been incredibly apt at solving our little problems. So far, we've successfully retrieved the briefcase, but they have already repaired the computer and the magical erasing I've done of the term in that kid's contract has already worn off. After that, the leader will be able to have the reckless endangerment charges thrown out and the teen will return home. Second, we got the IRS coming in a week to audit one of the female ducks, but she is actually going to get through that fine...her records are spotless."
"So you're saying we got nothing?"
"Exactly."
"So now what?!"
"Well, that's what the iffy part is about. I have a small plan that will hopefully chase the ducks out of house and home. Of course, this is risky since you may be seeing some action...and your underpants-covered robots."
"Well, I got nothing else to loose..." Chameleon shrugged. The face and the saurian faded away in a green light, the final preparations to be set in place. While neither villain expected complete victory, they hoped to at least make things as difficult for the ducks as possible...
(Next Time: Phil and Nosedive gets visitors...who'll be "Stayin' Alive"? And is Chameleon applying for a job at Century 21? The Mighty Ducks face their greatest challenge yet in "Chameleon Hanes the Ducks Out to Dry"!)
Oh, and I made up the references to fan fiction in this story, just so you know.)
Reality Sucks
Chapter 7: The Klegghorn Zone
Klegghorn's police car sped over side streets, splintering puddles from last night's storm. However, the weather outside barely registered as a concern on his focused mind. Tonight, he was hunting duck. The police chief, at first, felt challenged by the presence of alien waterfowl in his precinct, but as more adventures had unfolded and Klegghorn was introduced to perpetrators far beyond the normal scope of vandals and robbers, the stubborn man had learned to accept the Mighty Ducks as credible heroes. However, that did not necessarily mean that the chief found them agreeable. While they were now in an auspicious alliance, Klegghorn was always ready to look for any evidence that would help him land the ducks in hot water, or even better, off the planet.
"You, my little pretties, are going to make my night!" Klegghorn sniveled at the gray duck feathers in his hand, running his fingertips through the downy texture a couple of times before setting them back down. His hand was now inveterately searching for a doughnut among the folds of a Krispy Kreme box smothered in the passenger seat.
"What?!" his eyes momentarily darted to the box, now empty, causing a line of curses to be muttered under his hot breath. Fortunately, his mood was about to experience another sporadic change when a doughnut shop popped up over the horizon, a large Dunkin Dounts sign rotating slowly over the desolate commercial landscape.
Klegghorn pulled into the parking lot, and tried to look for a drive through, but sputtered another grunt of disgust when he found it was closed for renovation. "Great, now I have to go in..." he said, pulling the car recklessly into the nearest parking spot and jumping out, sinking his hands into his pockets and pushing the doors aside with his shoe.
Every doughnut shop in Anaheim knew about Klegghorn's insatiable appetite, becoming a local legend of sorts. What always amused city planners was that Klegghorn's precinct had the majority of the city's doughnut shops, all capitalizing on their favorite customer. The police chief had no preferences; any place that had the word doughnut on it was fair game. His unwavering love for doughnuts had to do with his late wife, who had been caught having an affair with him. Klegghorn was once a happy, athletic man who was willing to do anything for anyone, a real friendly person. Once a mere lieutenant on the police force, his fellow officers thought that he didn't have much of a future ahead of him, especially since he lacked the inexorable zeal that perpetuated officers into the upper ranks. Unfortunately, while he eventually learned this lesson, it was taught the wrong way. His wife was a kind and loving woman, but one with a weak will. When Pierre, the milkman, came into her life with an addicting charm and suave mannerisms, the woman went head over heals. Klegghorn found the divorce papers a short time later. From that day, the cop swore never to drink milk or consume its solid supplement, the cookie, his favorite snack. Soon, Dunkin Dounts up the street found a new reason to be happy. The hardened cop had taken a liking to them and combined with his new vitality in the workplace, he quickly climbed the ladder. Eating doughnuts had endowed him with a small pot belly, but the cop always saw enough action to avoid completely filling out. Needless to say, it was destiny that introduced him to doughnuts, and never again would any other deserts tempt the aging man.
Klegghorn stood in line, staring up at the Hall of Fame, a wall dedicated to popular customers that had patronized the store on a normal basis. The police chief smiled to himself when he saw that the entire wall had his portrait on for every month, since the store had opened. The monotonous display seemed pathetic to other customers, but it was like a trophy to the chief of police. No one would ever topple his monopoly over the doughnut market...but suddenly, something broke the uniformity of the display. A new face had appeared among Klegghorn's, winning the coveted honor this month. The man adopted a contentious snarl as he marched up to the counter, taking his turn to order. It passed undetected by the employee, Jim, who was happy to see Klegghorn.
"Hello, Captain Klegghorn!" Jim smiled warmly. He was a regular employee at this location and one of Klegghorn's favorites. Always dressed in a neatly pressed uniform, the young teenager always adopted a kind sincerity with his customers that had earned the teen a lot of admiration from the customer base. Jim was also supportive of Klegghorn, finding the police chief a strong and sensible man. He also realized the financial weight this particular man had carried; without his patronage, surely the store would have to let him out of a job.
"What is the meaning of that?"
"What?"
"THAT!" Klegghorn's small hand shot out of his pocket, snapping back to condemn the picture of the man invading his wall. His raised voice attracted attention from some of the back employees and customers in line.
"I'm sorry Captain...our boss decided that Mr. Porter down the street would win it this time. It appears he's beating your monthly quota by 100 doughnuts."
"That fat pig down the street is muscling in on my territory! You've seen him...he's a giant blob of a man! He spends all his social security here, while I've been using hard, earned money!"
"Well, there is a way you can dethrone Mr. Porter." Jim responded, drawing a look of sly interest along Klegghorn's wrinkled mouth.
"Oh...and how so?"
"Just beat out Mr. Porter. Order something over 100 doughnuts. He couldn't possibly come back in the next hour before we close and it is the last of the month, so the manager would be forced to give you the title."
"Hmmm..." Klegghorn gave a quick second of contemplation. With a quick inventory of the money in his wallet, he made the order.
Give me twelve dozen doughnuts, on the double!" he raised his hand as if making a declaration. Immediately, the manager, having a quick fling in back with one of the female co-workers, stopped upon hearing the shout of his valued customer. Straightening his greasy hair and unkempt uniform, he came out, fastening the buttons on his shirt and scrambling to greet the cop.
"Mr. Klegghorn...oh, it's so great to see you sir." The manager shoved aside Jim, who frowned at the sycophant of an employer. To Jim's satisfaction, the cop didn't fall for it.
"Can it, Larry! How dare you think you can put a picture of that man on my wall! I'm the top customer, and don't you forget it!"
"Oh, but Mr. Klegghorn...he, uh, uh...threatened me, yeah, that's it!" Larry gave a nervous smile, trying to calm Klegghorn's arched and fiery gaze.
"You're telling me he threatened to sit on you or something!?" he bellowed, the customers and employees in earshot trying to stifle chuckles.
"Well...not exactly..."
"Let me give you a piece of advise....Larry." Klegghorn harrowed the man with a clenched fist, closing in on the loose folds of his uniform and pulling him face-to-face. "You go to that wall, take down that picture, put up mine, and consider me customer of the month before I get mad. When I get mad, it's really a sight to see, Larry. Not to mention, you wouldn't want your store to be the only one in the entire precinct to be blacklisted by myself...do you!?"
"No." the small, fearful peep was barely audible.
"Good, then we are in agreement." Klegghorn stood erect once again, drawing a small line of hoots and cheers from the other employees. They were more than pleased to see their craven manager humiliated.
With a graceful balancing act, Klegghorn took the pillar of boxes and headed out, turning his head just long enough to see the manager take down the portrait of Mr. Porter and replacing it with yet another identical picture of the chief.
"No one, but no one will take me down...I rule the doughnut stores..." he grinned as he piled the boxes in his car. Plopping down into his seat, his heads digging for a couple of greasy sweets, he pulled out and contently resumed his trek towards the Pond. "Now back to business!" he roared happily, accelerating the car and turning up his favorite polka music on the radio.
"And this next song on APRS (Anaheim's Polka Radio Station) is dedicated to our police chief, Klegghorn, who is making our streets safe tonight." The radio announcer bantered over the speakers, followed by Klegghorn's favorite song.
"Sometimes, living in Anaheim ain't so bad..." Klegghorn smiled again, his mood uplifted by his music and doughnuts. Jumping on the highway, he could see the distant form of the Pond materializing on the dawn horizon.
Inside the Pond, the Mighty Ducks, sans Nosedive, were gathered around Drake One, Tanya attempting to replace the broken part and have the system up and running again. Her top half was enveloped under the stomach of the mechanical beast, as her hands pivoted through wires and circuit boards to locate the defective piece.
"How's it coming Tanya?" Wildwing asked, Duke grunting to himself at these annoyingly leader-like questions the white mallard was ceaselessly pressing.
"I need some more time. It would be...uh, easier to do this without a crowd, you know."
"I think I will go meditate." Grin replied, slowly turning around and sliding out the door without a sound. Mallory followed, returning to her top priority, straightening out her income tax information. Wildwing and Duke remained, watching her legs turn and twist as Tanya slowly slid deeper into the dark underbelly.
"Come on Wildwing. Let's try and contact Nosedive or something." Duke was at first reserved to speaking to his friend alone, but he knew that by getting the leader's mind off of watching Tanya, the woman could have a chance to work without his nagging inquiries. As expected, the white mallard immediately perked up at the sound of his brother's name and accepted the invitation.
Leaving Tanya alone, the two ducks got together in the living room and activated their coms. "Nosedive, are you there?" Duke started to speak, Wildwing patched into the signal to join the conversation, taking off his mask and changing into casual wear.
Among the darkened interior of Phil's apartment, a duck was laughing hysterically at the glowing screen of the computer. A lone light flickered overhead, deep shadows grooved into the slumping from of Nosedive, causally sipping at some lemonade and leaning back into the chair, enjoying some reading material he found at an internet site. His com, unlatched and lying along the scores of paper on the desk, was quickly relocated over his wrist, the forms of his brother and friend each occupying one half of the screen.
"Wing! Duke! What's the haps!?"
"Hey, Dive, how are you, little bro? Phil treating you well?"
"He's asleep, but yeah, I'm alright. I also found something to do!"
"What's that?" Duke piped up.
"You guys ever heard of fan fiction?" Nosedive asked, drawing raised eyebrows in response. "Guess not."
"What's that?"
"People write stories about characters and submit them so others can read them too. It's like mondo cool, man!"
"So...that's what you've been doing all this time?" Wildwing scratched his forehead with a finger.
"Yeah! Would you guess that people write stuff about us?!"
"What?!"
"Yeah, really! I was just goofing around on the net and found this really cool site that writes fan fiction about us! Some of these stories are just so weird, and funny!"
"Like what?"
"Well, this author calling himself 'Spring Chicken' wrote a story about Duke's hair, like coming to life and trying to eat us! It's totally wild!"
"Humans..." Duke groaned, giving a quick brush of his hair as if to check on it.
"Geez, who writes that kind of stuff?" Wildwing grinned, peering over to Duke a couple times before looking back at Nosedive.
"Wait, there's lots more here, Wing. It seems people like to write about you and me for some reason. I haven't read the parts about me yet, but boy, these little tales about you are just too funny!"
"What do you mean?" Wildwing readjusted himself on the sofa and grew a little apprehensive. He wasn't convinced that these stories would portray him in a positive light, especially if Nosedive found them extremely amusing.
"Well, half of them say you're a mother hen, but what can I say...they're right!" Nosedive's eyes momentarily returned to the screen, a shocked gasp soon modifying his beak, making Wildwing nervous, especially with Duke's laughter from the chair.
"Why Wing? You and Canard!? Oh my gosh...I never knew!"
"Never knew what?!"
"You two went on a romantic cruise together!!!" Nosedive's image flickered as the com's screen aligned itself with the floor. The teenager had fallen out of the chair, rolling on the carpet amid piles of paper, laughing hysterically at the prospect. Duke, replied with a more restrained, yet equally amused roar of laughter. Wildwing's cheeks flushed as Duke put an outstretched hand over his forehead and leaned back to continue, the commotion drawing Mallory out of her room, caught in an irate mood.
"What's going on out here?!" she screeched, turning a look of condemnation to Duke and then her complexion fading to interest when she saw the cries of denial Wildwing was making into the com. Activating her own, she saw the tearful face of Nosedive, choking on laughter and struggling to stand upright. "What's so funny?! NOSEDIVE!" the female's shriek suddenly melted the humor out of Nosedive's face and he turned to the com again.
"Mal Mal?"
"Who else? Now what is so damn funny?!"
"Well, I found this place that has something called fan fiction...people write stories about characters they like..."
"Yeah, so?" Mallory bitterly replied, the acrid tone convincing Nosedive to get straight to the point.
"Well, there's a story here about..."
"Nosedive, don't you dare!" Wildwing interrupted, eyeing his brother angrily, trying to intimidate him into keeping quiet. Nosedive, however, ignored his brother's protest and continued.
"There's a story about Wildwing and Can..."
"NOSEDIVE!"
"Wildwing-and-Canard-going-on-a-romantic-cruise!" Nosedive slurred the words together in a last ditch effort to get them through. Wildwing chided Nosedive once again, but the teen saw Mallory's face, first hit with surprise, and slowly, all her anger dissipating as her beak turned upward to develop a smile. Suppressed giggles soon followed, suddenly broken by a fit of laughter, Mallory lowering her hand and thrusting her head back to give a strong belly laugh. Wildwing sunk even lower into the folds of the sofa, Nosedive once again continuing his tirade.
"Did any of them wear thongs?" Duke's recovered long enough to ask, tears rolling out of his good eye. Mallory leaned over the chair, joining in with Duke in a chorus of laughter, as Nosedive was reading over the page.
"No, but they are stuck in the Honeymoon Suite!" Nosedive's reply was more than enough to get Duke successfully on the ground, howling once again. Mallory now replaced the thief, taking position in the chair, stretched out over its length, her legs swaying in soft kicks as her form buckled from amusement.
"Nosedive...you are so dead when I get my hands on you..."
"Wing...come on, it's a story!"
'Well, how'd these humans even know about Canard anyway?!"
"Wing...seriously, does the word 'Disney' ring a bell?" Nosedive's snorted as he resumed liberating the last of his giggles.
"But that's all a lie!"
"Wing...it's a fictional story! Yeesh, don't get so defensive!" Nosedive tried to assure his brother, but his words were downplayed by the continuing background noise of Duke and Mallory.
"Is this author trying to say we are some kind of item or something?! I don't go for that sort of thing! Why would anyone insult Canard's memory like that?!" Wildwing started growing more hostile, Nosedive rolled his eyes at his over-reactionary brother.
"Wing...read...my...beak. It's a story! It was meant to be funny...it's fictitious, hence the words FAN FICTION!"
By now, Duke and Mallory successfully quelled their laughter and noticed how defensive their leader had become. Muddled with embarrassment, Wildwing groaned as he sunk back in his seat. "Maybe calling Nosedive was a mistake..." the white mallard thought as he suddenly heard the intercom, signaling the presence of a visitor.
"What the?" Wildwing and the other two ducks jumped up, heading over to the security panel and checking the monitor. They saw the recognizable form of Klegghorn, defiantly stationed in front of the door, looking as if he was expecting answers. The leader thought nothing of it at the moment, and disconnecting Nosedive, he with Duke and Mallory, headed up to the front door. A minute later, the cop was greeted by the towering form of Wildwing and his two teammates, backing him up on both sides and decked out in battle gear.
"Well, if it isn't the ducks..."
"What is it Cap?" Wildwing was casual, but he quickly sensed the distaste in Klegghorn's reaction.
"Don't give me that 'Cap' business. So...just what were you doing at Lectic Land earlier, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Go ahead and play dumb...but I found these little beauties just lying around." A small group of gray feathers flashed in front of the leader's face, the mask gazing at them as if unimpressed.
"And these are ours you think? See...white feathers!" Wildwing took off one of his large gloves and showed his ivory-colored hand to the cop, who only rolled his eyes.
"Hello, and just who is this?" Klegghorn sidestepped the leader, pointing the feathers to Duke with strong accusation, his eyes lighting up with a celebratory gaze as he saw the hue matched exactly.
"Ha, that doesn't prove nothing; Duke L'Orange never leaves feathers lying around!" Duke crossed his arms confidentially, coolly brushing aside Klegghorn's enraged fist, sporting the feathers for inspection.
"Well, in that case, let me bring my witness..." Klegghorn grinned in a reproachful manner, pointing to the approaching vehicle, parking next to his car. Out stepped a dark character in a cape and tight black leather. He had two pointy spikes at the top of his mask, and in the grooves of it featured eyes that were rigid and querulous.
"Mighty Ducks, meet my visiting friend, Batman!"
"Uhhh...hi." Wildwing offered his hand, which only prompted Batman to place them on his hips, striking a heroic stance as dawn's first rays of sunlight shined upon his sculpted exterior. The other ducks were unimpressed.
"How is he going to prove I was connected with the heist?" Duke almost broke out in a laugh, staring down this pitiful excuse of a hero before peering back at Klegghorn.
"I ran these feathers through my Batlab...they are yours, Duke L'Orange!"
"Ha, go home and play superhero someplace else, Batboy. Klegghorn, where did you find this moron?!" Duke started to crack up, but before Klegghorn could reply, Batman was lunging at Duke, the two rolling to the ground, struggling to pin the other. Wildwing shook his head at the sight before him and suddenly found himself looking back at Klegghorn.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Didn't you just hear me...or are you still zoning out here? What about you or your pals taking a visit to Lectic Land last night?" Wildwing blinked rapidly and took a quick survey of the scene. Duke and Mallory were still positioned behind him and there was no sign of this "Batman" person anywhere.
"Yeesh...I must have been imagining things..."
"What?!" Klegghorn's eyebrows slanted at a steeper angle, his mien growing more dissatisfied with each passing moment.
"I mean...we did go to Lectic Land last night, and it was closed. It was very important, and we did pay for the inter-dimensional...uh, chip we retrieved."
"Then why does it look like it's been robbed?!"
"Hey! That place was a mess to start with. We took a little ten-dollar piece, and left the money and a note from Tanya on the main counter. The owner of the store knows her." Duke shot a defensive glance to Klegghorn, before dauntlessly crossing his arms.
"Well, funny how we didn't find any money or a note..." all of a sudden, the radio in Klegghorn's car came on, an officer calling for the chief. Angrily, the portly officer stumbled back to the car, barking into the receiver.
"Klegghorn here, what is it?"
"We found a little more evidence at Lectic Land."
"Like what?"
"Ten dollars and a note listing that it was for something called a...uh, inter-dimensional...uh, transportation relay chip? It was from someone named Tanya or something."
"Damn...foiled again!" Klegghorn grit his teeth, grabbing another doughnut and stuffing it in his mouth gingerly.
"What's that Captain?"
"Nothing. Guess the Mighty Ducks didn't steal...they paid for it, BUT!" Klegghorn's head swung out of the car, turning to the ducks. "I'm going to check with the owner of the store first. He can charge you for breaking and entering, regardless of whether you paid for it or not!"
An hour later and 13 doughnuts later, Klegghorn grumbled to himself as he left the Pond, the ducks (once again, lacking Nosedive) were gathered around the front entrance, watching him go off with inquisitive stares.
"Wildwing, what was that about?" Tanya turned to her leader, confused about the whole altercation.
"Uhhh...beats me. I think he's a very poor little man and we need to pity him." Duke answered for the white mallard, drawing looks from the others.
"He just wanted to bust us." Grin flatly tossed in, his answer seemed to satisfy the others.
"Let's get back to work..." Wildwing commented, waving his hand and leading the others back inside.
On the opposite end of the parking lot, a shapely form grimaced as he watched the police car vanish behind a swarm of buildings. The morning winds shifted and the being kneeled down, looking at a spot of grease and speaking to it amid hushed tones. Unaware to mild-mannered citizens, it was Chameleon speaking to his colorful friend, complaining about the plan not working.
"Some big plan." The saurian said, flicking a small pebble down the sidewalk inattentively.
"Hey, sometimes, plans turn out to be duds. No one's perfect, Greeny."
"Yeah, but you said it was going to be big." Chameleon folded his arms and pouted. The face rolled his eyes in response.
"What can I help it if the ducks are lucky? I thought I hid the money and the note well. You can't blame me if there's actually a credible cop on the Anaheim police force."
"Well, fine..." Chameleon picked up the briefcase next to him and motioned to it with one of his twisted arms. "What do we do with this then?"
"Hmmm...I gotta think. I'm afraid I'm reaching the final stage."
"Final stage of what?"
"The final showdown, the ultimate prank, the masterpiece of mayhem."
"What's that?"
"Well, it's a little iffy, but why not?" the face seemed as if it was trying to convince itself.
"Why not what?!"
"Well, I can't spoil the surprise yet. So far, the ducks have been incredibly apt at solving our little problems. So far, we've successfully retrieved the briefcase, but they have already repaired the computer and the magical erasing I've done of the term in that kid's contract has already worn off. After that, the leader will be able to have the reckless endangerment charges thrown out and the teen will return home. Second, we got the IRS coming in a week to audit one of the female ducks, but she is actually going to get through that fine...her records are spotless."
"So you're saying we got nothing?"
"Exactly."
"So now what?!"
"Well, that's what the iffy part is about. I have a small plan that will hopefully chase the ducks out of house and home. Of course, this is risky since you may be seeing some action...and your underpants-covered robots."
"Well, I got nothing else to loose..." Chameleon shrugged. The face and the saurian faded away in a green light, the final preparations to be set in place. While neither villain expected complete victory, they hoped to at least make things as difficult for the ducks as possible...
(Next Time: Phil and Nosedive gets visitors...who'll be "Stayin' Alive"? And is Chameleon applying for a job at Century 21? The Mighty Ducks face their greatest challenge yet in "Chameleon Hanes the Ducks Out to Dry"!)