by Roaming Tigress
Chapter Eleven:
The Last Confrontation
"Steelbeak!" Darkwing gasped, tackling Javert to the ground to prevent any further shooting. "Don't think you'll get out of jail this time, Javert!"
The bullet struck Steelbeak's temple, causing a small fountain of blood to gush as it penetrated through the flesh. Just by a stroke of luck, it ricocheted off a metal plate in his skull as quickly as it hit him. Miraculously, he felt very little pain and was ready for more action. Surprise, surprise, eh?
Javert snatched back his gun and fired the last bullet at Steelbeak's face. Once again, he hit his intended target, but just barely. The bullet rebounded off the rooster's metal mouth and merely annoyed him. I'd like youse to try dat again, punk!
At the sound of gunfire, Bushroot expected the worst. He looked away in tears, quietly praying that Steelbeak wouldn't be in any pain. He cursed himself for being a coward and not intervening. He wished he was the one that took the bullets, not his dear friend who understood him like no other.
"Please take me instead . . . "
"A cat 'as nine lives, but dis rooster's got forty . . . " Steelbeak growled, slowly walking towards the now very confused Javert.
That angered staccato voice was like music to Bushroot's ears. He survived! Wiping away his tears, he regained his composure for Steelbeak's sake. He watched in amusement as Darkwing swiped the gun away and wrestled him to the ground again. Things were looking good.
"I-I thought I would've surely have killed you with that shot!" Javert stammered angrily, shakingly pointing a finger at Steelbeak.
"You will go down soon enough, though. Those bullets were laced with poison, you see. You will suffer a lingering, painful death within exactly three hours."
Whoop dee doo, Javvie.
Unknown to him, Steelbeak was immune to both poisonous substances. "If yas really wanna kill me, yas gotta try a lot 'arder, babe."
Javert was now afraid, for it now occurred to him that Steelbeak was unbeatable, and that he wasn't. How could he possibly survive being shot directly in the heart and in the head by someone whose aim was (supposedly) deadly accurate? Was he not as deadly of an criminal that thought he was, or was Steelbeak the creature of his nightmares that was bullet - - and Javert proof?
"Oh . . . Let's just say, our rooster friend has his ways!" Bushroot mused, standing in the doorway and smoking a cigarette which he had stolen from Javert's desk.
"To name a few things, he survived a wretched childhood, a horrendous car accident and lived with a ghastly disfigurement for much of his life. This is just a walk in the park! Live with it, Javert. He's a survivor and even your own 'good aim' won't bring him down. You tried before, and you lost."
"Do not meddle with me,
you irritating imbecile!" Javert was now literally trembling with rage
as his temper was further escalated by Bushroot's cocky new attitude. His
conscience screamed at him to step down, but he was too proud to defeat.
"You know nothing of Javert,
you little smartass!"
"What is there to know?" Bushroot scoffed, crossing his arms and arrogantly pointing his chin up to the ceiling.
"You're a gun-toting, ranting idiot. How special is that?"
Darkwing sat back behind Javert's desk, watching the confrontation unfold before his eyes. What looked like an out of character move was actually a psychological mind game. With his relaxed attitude, everyone acted like he wasn't there. For now, he would let Steelbeak run the show, but he braced himself to intervene in case things become worse.
"Yer out of bullets and yer runnin' outta luck, duck . . . " Steelbeak growled, picking up a chair and throwing it at direction. It struck the intended target in the face, sending him crashing into his desk and into Darkwing. "If I have to kill youse I'll do what must be done!"
Javert's head struck the corner of the desk and he let out a sharp cry of pain. Blood trickled down his neck, and he defensively punched Steelbeak in the face as he was throttled violently. He had ignited the rooster's inner wild fury, and would pay dearly for it. Drifting in and out of consciousness, his breathing became laborious from a lack of oxygen.
"Get off him, damn it!" Darkwing yelled, whacking Steelbeak across the back of his head with his gas gun. When that didn't work, he delivered a double webkick to the rooster's broad rib cage and placed him in a headlock.
"Why did you do that?!" Bushroot shrieked, throwing his arms back in alarm. "Javert deserved what he got!"
"He might've but I wouldn't allow a life to be taken!" Darkwing shouted, dodging a blow from a powerful punch as Steelbeak squirmed out of the headlock. "My job here was to ensure that no one, not even that jackal-hearted Javert gets killed! Now, help me get him to the hospital. Both of you!"
Steelbeak glanced indifferently at the groaning Javert. He looked away from his pain, and ignored Darkwing's urgent tone for assistance. "Tell me one reason why I should help dat no-good excuse fer a St. Canardian? He nearly took my life, and I 'ave no desire to try an' save 'is."
"It was an order, not a suggestion!" Darkwing snarled, harshly poking a finger into Steelbeak's chest. "Or would you rather go to back to jail?"
"As a matter of fact, I would rather go to jail den to help dat t'ing!" Steelbeak answered in defiance, shoving Darkwing away. "I've warned youse once, and I'll warn youse again just because I'm a gentleman. Do not meddle wit' my affairs, duck, or you'll end up jus' like Javert!"
Bushroot, annoyed by Darkwing's bantering, snapped his fingers and wrapped him up in a vine. "I really should've thought about doin' that earlier! Sorry, pal."
"Eh, it's s'okay, Bushie," Steelbeak shrugged, elbowing him playfully. "What was done was done and what matters now is dat we's got Javert all to ourselves now!"
In the midst of the argument, two unwelcome visitors decided to show themselves.Amelia came striding into the scene of the crime and yanked out one of her son's topaz tail feathers. "Now you will realize what pain you have caused me over the years!"
Steelbeak shrieked in pain and recoiled from his horrendous excuse for a mother. Too wrapped up in his own emotional battle, he had not noticed that his equally detestable father had knocked out Bushroot with an iron pipe. He locked his eyes onto Amelia's and tried to find at least a trace of remorse for the creature she brought into the world.
There was none. Only hatred. Some'ow dat doesn't surprise me.
"What is the matter, son?" Amelia sneered, circling her son and intimidating him further. His fear of her amused her. "Still trying to make your old lady forgive you for all the mental anguish you caused me? I tried desperately hard to raise you as a normal being, but alas, some things just never turn out the way they are supposed to. You were just one of those things."
Unexpectedly, Steelbeak grabbed Amelia by the right arm and spun her around. " 'Ave youse ever considered what I went t'rough 'all dose years'?" When she didn't respond, he gave her a rough shake and tightened his grip when she tried to struggle free.
"Do youse?!"
Amelia's eyes were wide with terror as she prepared herself for the worst. It was only until now that she knew what Steelbeak was capable of doing. She stopped struggling and began to regret doing the things she said and did to him.
"I was blind to your suffering . . . " She replied quietly, increasingly becoming nervous as her son's expression hardened. "Your welfare was always the last thing on my mind. You weren't expected to live past your third birthday, so I didn't become attached."
"And derefor abused . . . " Steelbeak added solemnly. He withdrew and as his mother calmly reached a hand up towards his face, associating the gesture as getting smacked. This time, she had no intention of hurting him, but he could not see that the move was a gentle one that only wanted to stroke, not to strike. I can't trust 'er . . . I jus' can't.
Javert unsteadily got to his feet, holding a hand over his head wound. He watched as Roberto approached mother and son with the iron bar, and frantically held him back with whatever strength that he had left. I surrender.
"Don't do it, Signor. He is too strong for us!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Robert barked, shoving him aside. "You're just a weakling! A youngster! Haven't you shot him already?"
"I did," Javert muttered, leaning against his desk for balance. His wound had stopped bleeding, but his throat was still sore and his head was pounding from an immense headache. "I shot him twice, as a matter of fact. Once right at the temple."
"But . . . How?!" Roberto retorted, refusing to believe the truth. "Surely there's a conspiracy behind this! I demand you shoot him again, and this time - "
"We have lost, Roberto . . . " Javert lamented.