Dangerous Games: White Castle Engages White King
by Tinselcat
Rated: this chapter is more PG-13ish.
Summary: Steelbeak confronts Darkwing, Darkwing encounters Morgana, and does some heavy thinking.
Disclaimer: St. Canard, DarkwingDuck, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Steelbeak, Bushroot, Spike and Negaduck are all property and creations of Disney and are used without permission. Dr. Kamo Quack, Christine and Investigator Rollins are creations and property of myself.
Note: sorry this chapter took so long in coming, but I for a while I just couldn't really write, and when I finally got my mojo back, I wanted to finish up another fanfic so I could focus more energy on this one. since this one is the only one I'm working on right now, I should be able to get more chapters out quicker. Or maybe I'll be a lazy-ass about it. time will tell.
*****************
The wind whipped against Darkwing's face as he sped along the dark streets of St. Canard at night. The wild whipping of his cape mildly stung his legs, and his fingers were starting to cramp from their long hold on the handle-bars, but his mind was far away, in a laboratory at the other end of the city, perusing the near-empty room and its sole occupant. He patrolled the quieter, less active streets tonight, needing to clear his head and get some thinking done. Detective Rollins was still running the background check on Ms. Quack, and had found nothing unexpected the last time they'd spoken.
"what can I say?" The investigator's words floated back to him, "She's always been on the right side of the law, no criminal record, no suspicious activity, and no known enemies. Looks like she kept a low-profile."
"than what possible motivation could this abhorrent arsonist have against her?"
"you got me. we're still running the check, but I'm leaning toward either a competitor for her research, or possibly a religious zealot who has a problem with genetics and evolution."
Darkwing snorted to himself. The police. . . useless.
So wrapped in his own, crime-solving world was he, that Darkwing didn't notice the black hummer pulling right in his path. Jerking in surprise, he swerved the bike quickly, the tires screeching on the pavement before the Ratcatcher fell on its side, trapping Darkwing's leg beneath it, the crime- fighter's gas-gun skittering away. Darkwing managed to pull himself out from beneath the bike without braking anything, just in time to look up and into the barrel of a gun.
"Stan' up, and stick yer 'ands in de air." demanded a heavily accented voice.
Darkwing slowly stood and faced Steelbeak, keeping his eyes glued to the gun as he raised his hands above his head.
Steelbeak gestured toward his unharmed hummer "get in da driver's side and go where I tells ya."
"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, you vicious villain, but-"
"shaddap and go!" snarled the rooster, prodding Darkwing once.
Throwing Steelbeak a glare that clearly conveyed his opinions on the subject "fair play", Darkwing got into the driver's side, taking care to buckle his seatbelt.
"toin it on, an' drive." Commanded Steelbeak from the passenger's side.
************************
DarkwingDuck stumbled up the back stairs of the posh apartment building, being roughly pushed from behind by a gun pressed to his lower back and a firm grip on his shoulder. He growled and tried to pull away for argument's sake, although he knew that the rooster not only outweighed him by at least 70 pounds, but underneath his tailored Armani lay hard muscles which could pound him into the nearest hard object if they so desired.
He was urged down a hallway, the lights still bright through the night, although it was devoid of people, all reasonable citizens already having bedded down for the night, safe inside their apartments, with nary a thought that there could be a criminal next door.
Darkwing scarcely had time to gawk at Steelbeak's apartment before he was ushered into the bathroom.
"Now, will you tell me what the heck is-"
Steelbeak shoved him over to the bathtub where he looked into it.
"did youse 'ave any'ting ta do wid dis?" Steelbeak's normally loud and boisterous voice was dangerously low.
Darkwing's throat closed at what he beheld: Bushroot, seeming thinner than normal, lay prone underneath a light spray of water coming from the shower head. It beaded on his abused body, the normal healthy green of his skin taking a distinct brownish tone, his unruly purple hair wilted over his eyes. His chin rested on his chest. Ugly scars, like remnants of earthquakes in a dying landscape, cris-crossed his chest, shoulders and arms. Even more chilling was the precise layout of them, which clearly said that they had been deliberately inflicted by someone.
"oh god. . ." was the only thing he could whisper. Unconsciously, he stepped back, leaning against Steelbeak's broad chest, "god. . ."
"do you know any'ting about dis?"
"I. . . I. . ." his eyes were still glued to Bushroot's limp form.
"WELL?!"
Darkwing jumped and whirled about to face his longtime enemy, "how could you possibly think that I would have anything to do with. . . to do with. . ." he made vague motions with his hands toward the bathtub, "I would *never*! *ever*! It's. . . it's abhorrent!" he shuddered and looked away.
Steelbeak seemed to all at once deflate, his energy leaving him. He knelt on the steps that led to the large tub and stroked the botanist's cheek with the back of a hand. "well, it looks like I won't be pumpin' ya full 'a led after all, Darkwing. Youse gots lucky dis time." his eyes never left Bushroot as he spoke to Darkwing.
Feeling as if he were intruding upon something, Darkwing exited the bathroom, entering the living room again. Just as he thought his life was getting together, what with this nice, old-fashioned mystery to solve, things got complicated again. Bushroot and Steelbeak? Who would have thought? Not him, not in a million years. . . but when? And how? Perhaps he'd never know.
He heard Steelbeak enter the room behind him. "All right, let's talk deal." said the rooster as Darkwing turned to look at him.
somehow emboldened by Steelbeak's resumption of his usual demeanor, Darkwing crossed his arms over his chest, which he stuck out as much as possible. "deal? with you? what kind of a fool do you take me for, Steelbeak?"
Steelbeak coughed.
Darkwing ignored him. "Why would I ever cut a deal with a slimy scoundrel such as yourself?"
"yer on dat case 'aving ta do wid dat explosion at da university, right?"
"maybe."
"yeah, you are" stated Steelbeak.
"fine. What does that have to do with anything?"
"I t'ink we can 'elp each-odda out here. I want ta find da bastard who did dis ta Bushroot. You want ta find da bastard who blew da university. I've got connections in places you don't, and vice-versa. Whaddaya say?" Steelbeak crossed his own arms and raised an eyebrow at Darkwing, looking down at the shorter bird over his gleaming beak.
"I say that I *don't* deal with villains, and I certainly don't need to!"
"you coiten about dat?"
"I have never been more certain in my life!"
Steelbeak scowled at him for a moment, then his face relaxed. He smile sarcastically and gestured toward the door, "well, if dat's 'ow ya feel about it."
Darkwing opened the door and went through it.
"oh, one more t'ing, dipwing,"
"what?" growled Darkwing.
Steelbeak walked up to him until they were mere inches apart, using his towering height to its full effect, "when youse come crawlin' back 'ere, beggin fer my 'elp on dis case 'a yours. . ." Steelbeak thrust his face into Darkwing's "you'd better be beggin' on yer knees." He abruptly slammed the door in Darkwing's face.
"jackass." Grumbled Darkwing under his breath as he walked down the hall. However, he couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty and the premonition that he had yet to see the last of Steelbeak while on this case.
*************
"hey dad, how was your night?" Gosalyn bounced into the kitchen, her red ponytail swinging enthusiastically from side-to-side.
"guuuh. . ." replied Drake from the kitchen table.
"hey, launchpad said he was going to go fix the ratcatcher. What happened to it?"
Drake flinched at the memory, "naaagh. . ."
"hey dad, I think we're having some serious communication problems here."
"hmph." He sipped his coffee.
"dad. Dad. Dadadadadadadadaaaad. DAD!"
"HE WAS DRIVING A HUMMER! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?" cried out Drake, banging his forehead on the table-top.
"I think you've had enough coffee, dad." Gosalyn carefully extracted the mug from her father's limp fingers. "I'm going to school now, don't worry, launchpad packed me a lunch last night." she cautiously patted him on the head. "have a nice day."
Drake gave a half-hearted wave in her direction "havva nice day a'school, honey. . ."
"sure thing dad."
"walk safely. . ."
"sure thing."
"try not to beat anyone up today."
"daaaaaa-yaaaaaad!"
Drake lifted his head, "you don't love me, do you?"
Gosalyn rolled her eyes. When her dad was in one of these moods, there was no reasoning with him. "bye dad." She made a hasty exit.
"my life is. . . my life is. . . I suck!" he complained to no one in particular. When no sympathy came gushing forth from his kitchen appliances, he finally stood up to get dressed, drink more coffee, and take a walk to clear his head.
*******************
"what was I thinking? 'a nice, quiet walk in the park. . .' guh. . ." Drake flinched at the shrieks of yet another group of school children taking a field trip to the park. Children. . . they shouldn't be allowed to travel in packs.
He was still brooding and feeling sorry for himself when he caught sight of a familiar figure. Although dark sunglasses obscured the eyes, and cloaked in a dark trench-coat, the mass of dark hair piled atop a widow's peak made Morgana unmistakable. She had a glower on her face that could have wilted flowers, and hunched her shoulders beneath a large black umbrella.
"Morgana, my dear!" Drake exclaimed, giving her a sweeping bow.
Looking about herself in confusion, Morgana walked into a tree.
"methinks the glasses are a bit too dark, hmm?" Drake took her arm and led her, swearing and rubbing her forehead, away from the offending plant.
"it's this ghastly sunlight, dar- I mean, Drake." She said melodramatically, slipping the glasses off and into her pocket, "it's giving me a migraine like you wouldn't believe. Honestly, I don't see how all these people can stand it."
"insert 'normal people' joke here." said Drake quietly.
"what was that?"
"nothing." He said, suddenly very interested in the cloud formations, "whatever brings you out into the civilized world on this. . . absolutely terrible day?"
"I'm visiting the park gardens, believe it or not. there are some flowers I need for a couple potions I'm working on, that I don't cultivate at home."
"so you're going to uproot a few that, technically, belong to the city. . .?"
"I expect something back for my taxes." She sniffed, leading them into the garden pathways. The rose beds and rare orchids swayed slightly in the breeze, as if a rainbow had spilt on the earth, and rippled like a lake surface in the wind.
"cover me for a second." Morgana commanded as she bent down to neatly clip the blossoms from two of the more rare species of pansies.
"by all rights, I suppose I should stop you." sighed Drake.
"you sound like you have more pressing matters on your mind."
"I'm working on the University case."
"oh, that." Morgana stood up and pocketed the blossoms, leading them toward another flower bed. "I almost called Dr. Quack when I heard about it. . . but I wasn't sure if she'd remember me."
Drake nodded, "it's got me going in circles. There's no reason behind it all."
"you don't have any leads at all?"
"no. the P.D. has done a complete background check and, as of this morning, I've read all of it. it's as if she kept a low profile for the specific purpose of seeming totally inconsequential."
"seems odd. She was boastful, to be sure, but she was pretty brilliant. You'd think she'd have gotten a little more recognition for her accomplishments."
Drake's brow furrowed, "it does seem odd, now that you mention it. . . but why? what am I missing. . .?"
Morgana shrugged and clipped another flower, "have you talked to her?"
"no. the detective in charge did that. He did mention that she was a bit. . . secretive. . ."
Morgana straightened and faced Drake, "well, organize your facts. What do you *know* about this case?"
Drake counted off the facts on his fingers, "well, we know someone tried to kill Dr. Quack, and we know that they haven't tried again. We also know that Dr. Quack is keeping something from us. . ." he looked sharply at Morgana, "perhaps a suspect. . . perhaps she already knows who the culprit is!"
"than why wouldn't she tell the police?"
"why not indeed. . ." Drake mused and stared at the pathway ahead of them, as if it might reveal the answers if he looked at it long enough, "unless. . . unless the culprit has something on her!" he stabbed a forefinger into the air, "something he could tell the police if she blabs!"
"if that's all true, why hasn't this criminal tried to kill her again?"
"because he's smart, see?" Drake waggled his finger in Morgana's face, "the first attempt failed, so he's going to bide his time, be careful, look for another opportunity to strike. . . and he knows he can take his time, because there's nothing Dr. Quack can do about it! my singular intellect has struck again!"
Morgana sighed, "so, what now?"
"what? What do you mean 'what now'?"
"what are you going to do now? you still haven't got the motive, you don't have the suspect, and Dr. Quack isn't talking."
Drake chewed nervously on his thumb, immediately thinking of his last conversation with Steelbeak. Dammit, but the big bird had been right. . . he *did* need outside help on this. . . and if he was dealing with the sort of characters he thought he was dealing with. . . well, he needed the kind of connections that only a villain had. He swore aloud.
"thought of something?"
"yes. . . unfortunately, it's none too appealing."
"what is it?"
Drake thrust his chin out at her, "do your worst, but I'll never tell!"
Morgana rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, "fine, fine, do what you like. I have my own matters to attend to. if you need my help with anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"thanks." Grumbled Drake, already dreading his upcoming meeting.
************************
well, there you have it. Next chapter: prepare yourself for some home- cooked, old fashioned Darkwing-humiliation. You don't think Steelbeak'll just let this go, do you? didn't think so. Anyway, keep an eye out for the next chap!
by Tinselcat
Rated: this chapter is more PG-13ish.
Summary: Steelbeak confronts Darkwing, Darkwing encounters Morgana, and does some heavy thinking.
Disclaimer: St. Canard, DarkwingDuck, Gosalyn, Launchpad, Steelbeak, Bushroot, Spike and Negaduck are all property and creations of Disney and are used without permission. Dr. Kamo Quack, Christine and Investigator Rollins are creations and property of myself.
Note: sorry this chapter took so long in coming, but I for a while I just couldn't really write, and when I finally got my mojo back, I wanted to finish up another fanfic so I could focus more energy on this one. since this one is the only one I'm working on right now, I should be able to get more chapters out quicker. Or maybe I'll be a lazy-ass about it. time will tell.
*****************
The wind whipped against Darkwing's face as he sped along the dark streets of St. Canard at night. The wild whipping of his cape mildly stung his legs, and his fingers were starting to cramp from their long hold on the handle-bars, but his mind was far away, in a laboratory at the other end of the city, perusing the near-empty room and its sole occupant. He patrolled the quieter, less active streets tonight, needing to clear his head and get some thinking done. Detective Rollins was still running the background check on Ms. Quack, and had found nothing unexpected the last time they'd spoken.
"what can I say?" The investigator's words floated back to him, "She's always been on the right side of the law, no criminal record, no suspicious activity, and no known enemies. Looks like she kept a low-profile."
"than what possible motivation could this abhorrent arsonist have against her?"
"you got me. we're still running the check, but I'm leaning toward either a competitor for her research, or possibly a religious zealot who has a problem with genetics and evolution."
Darkwing snorted to himself. The police. . . useless.
So wrapped in his own, crime-solving world was he, that Darkwing didn't notice the black hummer pulling right in his path. Jerking in surprise, he swerved the bike quickly, the tires screeching on the pavement before the Ratcatcher fell on its side, trapping Darkwing's leg beneath it, the crime- fighter's gas-gun skittering away. Darkwing managed to pull himself out from beneath the bike without braking anything, just in time to look up and into the barrel of a gun.
"Stan' up, and stick yer 'ands in de air." demanded a heavily accented voice.
Darkwing slowly stood and faced Steelbeak, keeping his eyes glued to the gun as he raised his hands above his head.
Steelbeak gestured toward his unharmed hummer "get in da driver's side and go where I tells ya."
"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, you vicious villain, but-"
"shaddap and go!" snarled the rooster, prodding Darkwing once.
Throwing Steelbeak a glare that clearly conveyed his opinions on the subject "fair play", Darkwing got into the driver's side, taking care to buckle his seatbelt.
"toin it on, an' drive." Commanded Steelbeak from the passenger's side.
************************
DarkwingDuck stumbled up the back stairs of the posh apartment building, being roughly pushed from behind by a gun pressed to his lower back and a firm grip on his shoulder. He growled and tried to pull away for argument's sake, although he knew that the rooster not only outweighed him by at least 70 pounds, but underneath his tailored Armani lay hard muscles which could pound him into the nearest hard object if they so desired.
He was urged down a hallway, the lights still bright through the night, although it was devoid of people, all reasonable citizens already having bedded down for the night, safe inside their apartments, with nary a thought that there could be a criminal next door.
Darkwing scarcely had time to gawk at Steelbeak's apartment before he was ushered into the bathroom.
"Now, will you tell me what the heck is-"
Steelbeak shoved him over to the bathtub where he looked into it.
"did youse 'ave any'ting ta do wid dis?" Steelbeak's normally loud and boisterous voice was dangerously low.
Darkwing's throat closed at what he beheld: Bushroot, seeming thinner than normal, lay prone underneath a light spray of water coming from the shower head. It beaded on his abused body, the normal healthy green of his skin taking a distinct brownish tone, his unruly purple hair wilted over his eyes. His chin rested on his chest. Ugly scars, like remnants of earthquakes in a dying landscape, cris-crossed his chest, shoulders and arms. Even more chilling was the precise layout of them, which clearly said that they had been deliberately inflicted by someone.
"oh god. . ." was the only thing he could whisper. Unconsciously, he stepped back, leaning against Steelbeak's broad chest, "god. . ."
"do you know any'ting about dis?"
"I. . . I. . ." his eyes were still glued to Bushroot's limp form.
"WELL?!"
Darkwing jumped and whirled about to face his longtime enemy, "how could you possibly think that I would have anything to do with. . . to do with. . ." he made vague motions with his hands toward the bathtub, "I would *never*! *ever*! It's. . . it's abhorrent!" he shuddered and looked away.
Steelbeak seemed to all at once deflate, his energy leaving him. He knelt on the steps that led to the large tub and stroked the botanist's cheek with the back of a hand. "well, it looks like I won't be pumpin' ya full 'a led after all, Darkwing. Youse gots lucky dis time." his eyes never left Bushroot as he spoke to Darkwing.
Feeling as if he were intruding upon something, Darkwing exited the bathroom, entering the living room again. Just as he thought his life was getting together, what with this nice, old-fashioned mystery to solve, things got complicated again. Bushroot and Steelbeak? Who would have thought? Not him, not in a million years. . . but when? And how? Perhaps he'd never know.
He heard Steelbeak enter the room behind him. "All right, let's talk deal." said the rooster as Darkwing turned to look at him.
somehow emboldened by Steelbeak's resumption of his usual demeanor, Darkwing crossed his arms over his chest, which he stuck out as much as possible. "deal? with you? what kind of a fool do you take me for, Steelbeak?"
Steelbeak coughed.
Darkwing ignored him. "Why would I ever cut a deal with a slimy scoundrel such as yourself?"
"yer on dat case 'aving ta do wid dat explosion at da university, right?"
"maybe."
"yeah, you are" stated Steelbeak.
"fine. What does that have to do with anything?"
"I t'ink we can 'elp each-odda out here. I want ta find da bastard who did dis ta Bushroot. You want ta find da bastard who blew da university. I've got connections in places you don't, and vice-versa. Whaddaya say?" Steelbeak crossed his own arms and raised an eyebrow at Darkwing, looking down at the shorter bird over his gleaming beak.
"I say that I *don't* deal with villains, and I certainly don't need to!"
"you coiten about dat?"
"I have never been more certain in my life!"
Steelbeak scowled at him for a moment, then his face relaxed. He smile sarcastically and gestured toward the door, "well, if dat's 'ow ya feel about it."
Darkwing opened the door and went through it.
"oh, one more t'ing, dipwing,"
"what?" growled Darkwing.
Steelbeak walked up to him until they were mere inches apart, using his towering height to its full effect, "when youse come crawlin' back 'ere, beggin fer my 'elp on dis case 'a yours. . ." Steelbeak thrust his face into Darkwing's "you'd better be beggin' on yer knees." He abruptly slammed the door in Darkwing's face.
"jackass." Grumbled Darkwing under his breath as he walked down the hall. However, he couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty and the premonition that he had yet to see the last of Steelbeak while on this case.
*************
"hey dad, how was your night?" Gosalyn bounced into the kitchen, her red ponytail swinging enthusiastically from side-to-side.
"guuuh. . ." replied Drake from the kitchen table.
"hey, launchpad said he was going to go fix the ratcatcher. What happened to it?"
Drake flinched at the memory, "naaagh. . ."
"hey dad, I think we're having some serious communication problems here."
"hmph." He sipped his coffee.
"dad. Dad. Dadadadadadadadaaaad. DAD!"
"HE WAS DRIVING A HUMMER! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?" cried out Drake, banging his forehead on the table-top.
"I think you've had enough coffee, dad." Gosalyn carefully extracted the mug from her father's limp fingers. "I'm going to school now, don't worry, launchpad packed me a lunch last night." she cautiously patted him on the head. "have a nice day."
Drake gave a half-hearted wave in her direction "havva nice day a'school, honey. . ."
"sure thing dad."
"walk safely. . ."
"sure thing."
"try not to beat anyone up today."
"daaaaaa-yaaaaaad!"
Drake lifted his head, "you don't love me, do you?"
Gosalyn rolled her eyes. When her dad was in one of these moods, there was no reasoning with him. "bye dad." She made a hasty exit.
"my life is. . . my life is. . . I suck!" he complained to no one in particular. When no sympathy came gushing forth from his kitchen appliances, he finally stood up to get dressed, drink more coffee, and take a walk to clear his head.
*******************
"what was I thinking? 'a nice, quiet walk in the park. . .' guh. . ." Drake flinched at the shrieks of yet another group of school children taking a field trip to the park. Children. . . they shouldn't be allowed to travel in packs.
He was still brooding and feeling sorry for himself when he caught sight of a familiar figure. Although dark sunglasses obscured the eyes, and cloaked in a dark trench-coat, the mass of dark hair piled atop a widow's peak made Morgana unmistakable. She had a glower on her face that could have wilted flowers, and hunched her shoulders beneath a large black umbrella.
"Morgana, my dear!" Drake exclaimed, giving her a sweeping bow.
Looking about herself in confusion, Morgana walked into a tree.
"methinks the glasses are a bit too dark, hmm?" Drake took her arm and led her, swearing and rubbing her forehead, away from the offending plant.
"it's this ghastly sunlight, dar- I mean, Drake." She said melodramatically, slipping the glasses off and into her pocket, "it's giving me a migraine like you wouldn't believe. Honestly, I don't see how all these people can stand it."
"insert 'normal people' joke here." said Drake quietly.
"what was that?"
"nothing." He said, suddenly very interested in the cloud formations, "whatever brings you out into the civilized world on this. . . absolutely terrible day?"
"I'm visiting the park gardens, believe it or not. there are some flowers I need for a couple potions I'm working on, that I don't cultivate at home."
"so you're going to uproot a few that, technically, belong to the city. . .?"
"I expect something back for my taxes." She sniffed, leading them into the garden pathways. The rose beds and rare orchids swayed slightly in the breeze, as if a rainbow had spilt on the earth, and rippled like a lake surface in the wind.
"cover me for a second." Morgana commanded as she bent down to neatly clip the blossoms from two of the more rare species of pansies.
"by all rights, I suppose I should stop you." sighed Drake.
"you sound like you have more pressing matters on your mind."
"I'm working on the University case."
"oh, that." Morgana stood up and pocketed the blossoms, leading them toward another flower bed. "I almost called Dr. Quack when I heard about it. . . but I wasn't sure if she'd remember me."
Drake nodded, "it's got me going in circles. There's no reason behind it all."
"you don't have any leads at all?"
"no. the P.D. has done a complete background check and, as of this morning, I've read all of it. it's as if she kept a low profile for the specific purpose of seeming totally inconsequential."
"seems odd. She was boastful, to be sure, but she was pretty brilliant. You'd think she'd have gotten a little more recognition for her accomplishments."
Drake's brow furrowed, "it does seem odd, now that you mention it. . . but why? what am I missing. . .?"
Morgana shrugged and clipped another flower, "have you talked to her?"
"no. the detective in charge did that. He did mention that she was a bit. . . secretive. . ."
Morgana straightened and faced Drake, "well, organize your facts. What do you *know* about this case?"
Drake counted off the facts on his fingers, "well, we know someone tried to kill Dr. Quack, and we know that they haven't tried again. We also know that Dr. Quack is keeping something from us. . ." he looked sharply at Morgana, "perhaps a suspect. . . perhaps she already knows who the culprit is!"
"than why wouldn't she tell the police?"
"why not indeed. . ." Drake mused and stared at the pathway ahead of them, as if it might reveal the answers if he looked at it long enough, "unless. . . unless the culprit has something on her!" he stabbed a forefinger into the air, "something he could tell the police if she blabs!"
"if that's all true, why hasn't this criminal tried to kill her again?"
"because he's smart, see?" Drake waggled his finger in Morgana's face, "the first attempt failed, so he's going to bide his time, be careful, look for another opportunity to strike. . . and he knows he can take his time, because there's nothing Dr. Quack can do about it! my singular intellect has struck again!"
Morgana sighed, "so, what now?"
"what? What do you mean 'what now'?"
"what are you going to do now? you still haven't got the motive, you don't have the suspect, and Dr. Quack isn't talking."
Drake chewed nervously on his thumb, immediately thinking of his last conversation with Steelbeak. Dammit, but the big bird had been right. . . he *did* need outside help on this. . . and if he was dealing with the sort of characters he thought he was dealing with. . . well, he needed the kind of connections that only a villain had. He swore aloud.
"thought of something?"
"yes. . . unfortunately, it's none too appealing."
"what is it?"
Drake thrust his chin out at her, "do your worst, but I'll never tell!"
Morgana rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, "fine, fine, do what you like. I have my own matters to attend to. if you need my help with anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"thanks." Grumbled Drake, already dreading his upcoming meeting.
************************
well, there you have it. Next chapter: prepare yourself for some home- cooked, old fashioned Darkwing-humiliation. You don't think Steelbeak'll just let this go, do you? didn't think so. Anyway, keep an eye out for the next chap!