Unfinished Business
by Roaming Tigress

Chapter Ten:
The Train Wreck of Thought





"Is dat. youse, Bushroot?" Steelbeak asked, warily poking his head around the corner of the doorframe. He smiled warmly, seeing his plant-duck hybrid friend wave back shyly at him. He saw that he was holding a tupperware container filled with food and hoped that Bushroot was willing to share some of it.

"I-I saw you running around and I thought you might be hungry so I got this out of the fridge in the room upstairs," Bushroot shrugged, handing the container to his old pal. He was lying, for he had been involuntarily hired by Javert and his gang to keep the rooster at bay. Knowing what Steelbeak had gone through in his life, he felt terrible.

"Eat it quickly. Javert will be back soon and if he finds out I've been digging through his stuff he'll kill me! I just know it . . . "

"T'anks!" Steelbeak said with great enthusiasm as he took the food container. "As fer Javert, leave 'im ta me. I ain't afraid of 'im and dere's no reason fer youse ta be, either. Javvy's all show. Just a kid who t'inks he's cool to have a good aim. I gotta good aim, too, but I don't go braggin' about it."

"Y-You're not afraid of him?"

"Not at all," Steelbeak replied with indifference, opening up the food container. "Dere's a coupla t'ings ya need ta know about Javert, and one of dose t'ings is dat he should be de one dat's afraid of me!"

Inside was a half-eaten leftover roast chicken, a boiled potato and a few wilted stalks of celery. Just enough to tide over his hunger.

"Are you going to eat that?" Bushroot asked, pointing a leafed finger at the chicken. "I mean . . . Wouldn't that be cannibal - "

"Of course I'll eat it! ! I don't like ta see good food go to waste!" Steelbeak grinned manically, picking up the chicken and tearing at it like a half-starved vulture. After a few chomps, all that was left were the bones which he crunched with his immense jaw pressure. A few were even swallowed, and he smirked as Bushroot cringed at the macabre noise.

"Jus' gettin' to de marrow, babe!" He gleefully explained, leaving the rest scattered on Javert's desk. He tossed the potato in his mouth and with one chomp it was down his gullet.

"I don't mean to intrude, but . . . Isn't it a bit weird to eat another of your species?" Bushroot asked with the curiosity of a child.

Steelbeak looked at him as if he was from another planet and nibbled on the celery sticks. "I'm a cannibal. Sure it's bizarre, but I'm poifectly comfortable wit' it."

"I'm quite the opposite!" Bushroot laughed nervously, taking a seat on a wooden crate. He looked into Steelbeak's eyes with admiration and wished that he could have his courage and self-pride - - and his good looks, and his money and power. All things he felt he never really had. "I have trouble eating any sort of vegetation, except russets. I'll eat russets!"

"Why russets?"

"Russets are just plain mean!" Bushroot replied cheerfully. He remained unconcerned about the tall, shadowy figure moving about in the hallway and the sound of footsteps that were coming closer which put Steelbeak on the alert.

"Let's just say I've had a couple of unpleasant experiences with them."

"They aren't the only thing that's mean!" Snarled the shadowy figure, stealthily making its way into the room. As it came into the light, both could see it was Javert dressed in a trench coat. "Thank you, Reginald Bushroot for leading Steelbeak right into my trap! I knew I could rely on you someday."

"How could youse?" Steelbeak snapped, backing away from Bushroot and giving him a look that would kill. Gradually his eyes, filled with hate, were softened into an expression of deep betrayal. It had not been the first time he had been stabbed in the back. All his life he knew that it wasn't wise to trust just anyone with pretty eyes and a nice smile.

"I t'ought I could trust youse as a friend!"

"You can . . . "Bushroot said apprehensively, placing a hand on his shoulder and patting him lightly. Just how could he tell him that he was forced at gunpoint to work for Javert? Just how could he say it without sounding like he was lying?

"W-We still are friends Steelbeak . . . I-I was set up for this! Honestly! I know you can't forgive me for this, so don't even try."

"Skip the pleasantries, plant punk!" Javert hissed, violently pulling the botanist away and shoved a 45. Colt to his throat. His

"All good things must come to an end, and I'm afraid this friendship is one of them. Need not to worry. As soon as I dispose of this miserable creature, I'll do what must be done for you, and then you two will be together again in Hell!"

"It was one t'ing when youse tried ta kill me, but when youse go after my friends . . ." Steelbeak growled, seizing Bushroot's assailant by the throat and slamming him against the wall. He snatched the gun from his hands and beat Javert across the side of the head with it until he was knocked out cold.

"Admit it, Javert. I 'ave won again!"

Just as things were getting fun, a cloud of blue smoke appeared in the center of the room. "I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the animal rights activist that protests at fast food outlets! I am Darkwiiiiing Duck!"

With a yelp, Bushroot dashed behind an annoyed Steelbeak and cringed. "Why does he always have to ruin the fun?" He tugged at the ends of the Armani suit and gulped.

"I didn't do anything this time, Darkwing! I mean it!"

"Well, looks like I got here before there was too much bloodshed!" Darkwing stated arrogantly, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at the unconscious form of Javert. With one sharp look, he sent Bushroot scurrying into another room and unintentionally intensified Steelbeak's train wreck of thought.

"I'll tell you what, Steelbeak. We'll - - "

"What do youse mean 'we'?" Steelbeak asked slowly, grabbing Darkwing by the collar of his jacket and bringing him up to his face. With a rough shake, he dropped him to the ground.

"Dere comes a time when youse gotta let other people settle deir problems wit'out 'aving youse come into de picture. Der are t'ings dat youse cannot solve, and dis is one of 'em."

Darkwing Duck picked himself up off the floor, and dusting off his jacket he stepped away from Steelbeak slowly and calmly. In some ways, Steelbeak was more of a threat than the "main public enemy," the notorious Negaduck. Immune to the gas gun and unpredictable in temperament, Steelbeak was a force not to be reckoned with.

In spite of this, Darkwing Duck was normally not afraid of the oversized rooster, but today was different. In front of him, he was facing a different Steelbeak he had never known before -- a truly dangerous one. Ten years ago, he was able to subdue him with single webkick, but now it would take the force of ten of him to do so.

"Let me help you . . . " Darkwing whispered, his voice filled with fear. "I mean no harm to you, and I'm not going to arrest you. I thought we had an agreement on this!"

The morning light shone through a broken window of the warehouse, glinting off Steelbeak's beak as he paced around in the shadows. His anger was mixed with distrust as he still couldn't let go of the fact that this crimefighter really did want to help him. He was a tortured soul; one that constantly had confrontations with others, the law and himself.

"How could I be soiten dat I can trust youse, of all people? All youse ever did was t'row me in jail fer doin' my job, and brag about it to yer buddies! 'Oh look at me, I tossed ol' Steelbeak in the slammer again! He wouldn't be causing chaos for a while'!"

Darkwing could feel his confidence return, and with his trademark determination, he marched right over to Steelbeak, blocking his way each and every time he paced. "And I was doing my job! Do you think I would go and let you run amuck, threaten my citizens just so I wouldn't jeopardize your oh-so-precious career? Well let me tell you - - "

With one hard kick to the gut, Steelbeak got Darkwing out of his way - - for the moment. "Youse don't need ta tell me. Just back de hell off!"

"GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF!" Darkwing roared, leaping onto Steelbeak's back and knocking him to the ground in a surprising show of strength. He expected a struggle of sorts, but the rooster was too stunned and merely stayed where he was.

"Well, easier than I thought . . . "

It was around that time that Javert had awoken from his "nap." As soon as he got his bearings straight, he reached for his gun and took aim at Steelbeak's temple. It was either now, or never, and being the son of a High Commander, Javert knew what victory was when he could practically taste it in his mouth.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the trigger.