Dangerous Games: The Strategy of Both Sides
by Tinselcat
Rated: this chapter is more PG-13ish.
Summary: Events are speeding up, and out of control, and still our hero is at a loss.
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 and Investigator Rollins are creations and property of myself.
Note: I realize it's been soooooo long since my last update. I have had so much crazy stuff to do on this end, you wouldn't believe it. I also lost some of my inspiration, but I'm approaching a point where I think my writing will flow more naturally, parts where I'm more sure of where I'm going with it. Don't be mad at me!! oh yeah, and just a warning, there's a heavy dose of Darkwing-humiliation in this chap. My evil nature just refuses to be quelled. You have been forewarned.
************************ "what do you mean, 'he didn't know'?"
Dr. White straightened his tie and mopped his sweating brow nervously, "I mean that the, er, botanist couldn't have known about this secret project. If he had, he would have told us. I'm sure of it."
"well, I suppose you know best about these matters. . ." growled White's overbearing companion.
Emboldened, White continued, "if we can just get Quack, she will tell us everything we need to know, she-"
"she will be under the protection of the police and that meddling imbecile Darkwing Duck. Striking at her directly is no longer an option. She knows it. However, she also cannot reveal us to the police. That is, if she values her reputation, not to mention her job. . ."
"than what do you suggest we do?"
"that rooster, the spy, the one who interrupted the interrogation. . . what was his name?"
"er, Steelbeak. We don't want to cross him any more. He works for F.O.W.L.. Had I known that he was, hm, allies with Dr. Bushroot, I wouldn't have taken the job. in fact, I'm not so sure it's, ahem, worth it to me to take these risks. That new detective, Rollins, is no fool. And last time I crossed Darkwing Duck, I had to leave the country, which is beginning to sound like a, hm, a good idea."
"oh, does it?" the voice was too calm, too gentle. "perhaps it would be a good idea for me to give these tapes of your 'interrogation' to the police. . ."
"w-what? You were recording. . ."
"I don't take risks. . . and I don't give up."
"y-you. . . you're going to get us both thrown in jail!"
"stop your senseless blubbering, fool!" the other snarled, "we need to lay low for awhile. Wait until her guard is down."
"what about Darkwing Duck? And Rollins?"
"Darkwing Duck will have his hands full before long. . . that is, if everything goes to plan. As for Rollins. . . I understand he has a family back in Duckburg. If we can't use that to shut him up. . . well, his job is a risky one. Anything is bound to happen."
"and Steelbeak?"
"oh, I think you have more cause to worry about Agent Steelbeak than I do. After all, you were the one who tortured his boyfriend. . ."
********************
Darkwing loathed himself more with every step he took. He counted the stairs as he slowly climbed them, emerging in the plush hallway, at the end of which he knew he would find Steelbeak's apartment. He found himself almost turning back several times, but forced himself on, reviewing his reasons. *need help. Cut a deal with Steelbeak. Need more resources. He's got resources. Need information. Need information really badly. He's got information.* he stopped at the door, nervously tugging on the brim of his hat. He pressed the doorbell button and heard the muffled ring from inside. He glowered at the peephole.
"well well well, what do we 'ave 'ere?" said Steelbeak smugly, opening the door and leaning against the frame casually.
"you've got a conscientious, celebrated crime-fighter on your doorstep, who's going to turn right around if you don't let me in!" Darkwing growled at Steelbeak's grin.
"of course. 'ow in'ospitable of me." he stood aside and let Darkwing through, closing the door behind him. "I gather dere's some'tin' you're wantin' ta ask me. . .?" he raised an impeccably groomed eyebrow.
Darkwing stared at his webbed feet, scuffing them on the expensive carpet, "needyourhelp" he mumbled.
"wat was dat?" Steelbeak gleefully cupped a hand to his ear, "is it my imagination, or is dere a breeze in 'ere?"
Darkwing took off his hat and scowled into Steelbeak's eyes, "I. . . need. . . your. . . help. . ." he paused and took a breath, ". . . please. . ."
Steelbeak looked down at him along his shining beak, "funny, I seem ta recall sayin' some'ting about youse beggin' on yer knees. . ."
thinking of all the nasty words he could, and mentally hurling them at Steelbeak, Darkwing knelt on the carpet. "will you help me?"
"wat's da magic woid?"
"please?" he clenched his jaw to keep his chin from trembling.
"let's see ya grovel a bit, eh?"
screwing his eyes shut, Darkwing braced his palms on the floor and bowed his head, "please help me. . ." his voice cracked with the strain of not launching himself up and throttling Steelbeak then and there. At the sound of softly treading footsteps, he looked up sharply.
Bushroot, his coloring almost completely restored, enveloped in a bathrobe several sizes too large for him, shuffled in, blinking startled eyes at Darkwing.
Steelbeak got an evil glint in his eyes, and grinned frighteningly, "bow at Reggie's feet an' tell 'im dat he's da sexiest duck in St. Canard!"
nearly sobbing, all scraps of dignity long lost, Darkwing flung himself at Bushroot's feet, clutching at the botanist's ankles, "Bushroot, you are by far the sexiest duck ever to grace the great city of St. Canard!"
"apologize to 'im an' ask 'im ta spank ya for always messin' up 'is plans!"
"Bushroot, I am so severely sorry for always messing up your exquisite plans, and I deserve to be punished!" he gave a pleading look at Steelbeak.
"and. . ." the rooster prompted, grinning from ear-to-ear.
"please spank me!"
Bushroot elicited a strange sound which was a combination of a girlish giggle and a villainous snicker.
"whaddaya t'ink? Ya think 'e's sorry?"
"I think he looks pretty sincere. After all, he *is* holding my ankles. . ."
"I'm kinda tempted ta make 'im do a strip tease. . ."
Darkwing gave a small scream.
"I think he's learned his lesson." Said Bushroot, giving another giggle behind one green, leaf-like hand.
"alright, youse can stand up now."
Darkwing did so gratefully, picking up his hat and keeping a wary eye on Steelbeak lest the rooster attempt to put him through any further humiliation.
Contrary to his expectations, Steelbeak walked over to Bushroot, putting a hand around his narrow shoulders, "youse ought'a be restin'. Ya gotta save yer strength until sun-up."
Bushroot leaned against Steelbeak's broad chest, "I'm feeling alright. Just a little tired. I have something to tell Darkwing." His soft eyes shifted to Darkwing's.
"yes. . ." Darkwing ventured cautiously, eyes darting back-and-forth between the odd pair.
"when I was being. . ." Bushroot flinched and looked down. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes once more, "when I was being held by Dr. White, they kept asking me about Dr. Quack. She's involved with your investigation, right?"
all thoughts of humiliation banished from his head, Darkwing leaned forward eagerly, "yes, we think someone tried to kill her in the explosion. What did they ask you?"
Bushroot's brows furrowed as he recalled his painful experience, "they thought I was some sort of associate of Dr. Quack's on some secret project she was working on. They kept asking me about it. I got the impression that the only thing they knew was that she was working on something that no one else knew about. Does that help?"
Darkwing began pacing, his eyes focused on the rug, "so she's hiding something. . . something no one else knows about. Something she doesn't want anyone to know about. . . something these guys want. Something they can hold against her. . . but how can they hold it against her if they don't know what it is?"
"don' scuff up my carpet, flippah-feet." Growled Steelbeak.
"maybe they know just enough to incriminate her, and that's why she's not exposing them. . . but why all the questions? What's their motivation? And who wanted to know?"
"um, Darkwing. . ." Bushroot extended his hand.
"not now," snapped Darkwing, still thinking aloud, "why would this project be so important? And who would want to know about a secret project in the first place?"
"er, Darkwing, we already-"
"*not now!!* they're slippery villains, that's to be sure. . . must be skilled in the art of anonymity. Hah, not for long, not while the daring Darkwing Duck is on the case! The rest will fall in place as soon as we find out who wanted the information!" he stabbed a declarative finger in the air triumphantly, beaming at his mystified audience.
"but Darkwing," sighed Bushroot.
"yes?"
"we already know who wanted the information."
The wind seemed to leave Darkwing's sails, "we do?"
"yes, I told you. His name is Dr. White. He was a former collegue of mine, who was expelled from the research team due to his questionable practices. He has a history of them."
Darkwing blinked, "Dr. White? I know him! he skipped the country before we could arrest him! If he's back, that means we can finally get him!"
"well, it seems dat we both want da same t'ing, Darkwing." Commented Steelbeak, a sour expression on his face. He then smiled nastily, "'cept I wan' 'im dead."
"I'll thank you to keep a lid on your temper. You'll recall that, by all rights, I should be arresting you." sniffed Darkwing.
Steelbeak scowled at him, "you'll recall dat, by all rights, youse can't solve dis case wid'out me."
they glared at each other for several moments. Bushroot sighed, then went on tip-toes to peck Steelbeak on his feathery cheek, "I'm going to rest some more."
Steelbeak's "tough guy" facade seemed to melt away as he turned to Bushroot, his expression one of outright adoration, "ya feelin' alright? Need any'ting?"
"no, I'm fine. I just need to sleep."
"you 'ear dat, dopewing? Dat means you keep a lid on da volume!"
"look who's talking!"
"youse want some 'a dis? Come an' get it!"
"ooooh, don't tempt me, you simpering scum!"
Bushroot, tired of the scene, quietly padded off to the bedroom. Seeing that he'd left, Steelbeak immediately rushed after him. Darkwing could hear their voices: Bushroot's quiet and soft, Steelbeak's concerned and sharp. Even now, he could scarcely believe it. he thought that, at this point in his job, he had seen everything. Did the surprises ever stop, or would his life continue to be a wild rollercoaster for the rest of his career as Darkwing duck? Ah well, it'd hardly be worth it if not.
Steelbeak walked out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. "well, wat now?" he asked, folding his arms across his broad chest.
"now," said Darkwing, retrieving his hat and placing it firmly on his head, "we try to find Dr. White. I'll talk to the St. Canard P.D. and get a background check on him, just to cover our bases. And you. . ."
"don' worry 'bout me, I gots my own resources ta use. You do your t'ing, I'll do mine."
"see that you do." Said Darkwing, turning on his heel and marching toward the door.
"oh, and Darkwing," Steelbeak called after him as he paused in the doorway.
"yes?"
"screw dis up, and da local papers'll all be runnin' stories about Darkwing duck beggin' Bushroot fer a little slap an' tickle!"
"you. . . you took pictures. . .?"
"wat da ya take me for, a dope?"
"you wouldn't. . . you wouldn't send pictures to the papers. . ."
"I'm tempted. . ."
"the moment you do, I'm warning you,"
"da moment I do is da moment youse try ta rat me out ta da police. Got it?"
"er, yeah, got it." before he could hear any more blood-chilling threats, he slipped through the door, closing it behind him, and walked hastily down the hall. He jumped about three feet in the air when his cell-phone rang.
************
"There you are," said a familiar gravelly voice coming from the shadows, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."
Darkwing hunched his shoulders against the clammy dampness of the waterfront district and approached the pinpoint of light coming from Detective Rollins' cigarette lighter. His rugged features were briefly illuminated before plunging once more into darkness, his face only marked by the glowing orange end of his cigarette.
"what did you want to talk about and for christ's sake, why did you want to meet in this dump?" he made a face at the stench of old rotted fish and looked longingly at the single, distant street lamp.
"because I'm in deep shit if anyone sees me talking to you." growled Rollins around his cigarette.
"what do you mean?"
"I'm off the case. I've resigned my post."
"what? Why?" Darkwing didn't know Rollins very well, but he did know that, contrary to most of the force, he was willing to work with him. he also seemed to have a shred of intelligence when it came to handling crooks."
"dunno." The canine shrugged, "it just got too much for me. it's. . . eh. . . not my thing."
Darkwing gave Rollins a speculative look, noticing that the cop was refusing to meet his eyes. "what are they holding against you?"
Rollins looked up sharply.
"that's what's going on, right? you've been threatened."
Rollins suddenly grinned and shook his head, sighing, "I didn't give you enough credit, it seems. No, they didn't threaten me. I've got. . . I've got a son who lives with his mom in Duckburg. The bastards have been keeping track of his movements, they sent me photos of him at school, at home. . ." with a disgusted expression on his face, he spat out his cigarette, crushing it into the cracked pavement. He immediately pulled another from the box. Darkwing noticed his hands shaking as he lit it. "they'll kill him. no case is worth my son's life. That's why I wanted to meet you here."
"to tell me?"
"to give you my notes." he pulled a manila envelope from inside his coat, handing it to Darkwing. "this file contains all the info I've gathered, as well as my own deductions."
Darkwing flipped through the pages, an assembly of computer printouts and writing-covered notebook paper of various sizes.
"I gotta go. If they see me talking to you. . ."
"I understand." Darkwing nodded to him.
He turned his back and began walking down the empty street, toward the faint streak of gray just peering over the horizon.
"hey," Darkwing called after him.
"yeah."
"I'm going to get this guy. Don't have any doubts about that. Darkwing Duck never fails!"
"that's what they tell me, buddy, that's what they tell me."
**************
"jeez, there's another explosion over at the mall! They're all over the place, D.W.!" exclaimed Launchpad as he swerved the Thunderquack toward the shopping district.
"that's three in three hours! Put the pedal to the metal, Launchpad!! We'll get the crook this time!" Darkwing set his jaw in determination, although outward appearances were certainly decieving. They'd caught the culprit responsible for the first minor blast, at a convenience store-front. One man was injured, none killed. The second had been set in a vacant parking lot, none were injured. Now this. it was uncanny!
The thuderquack set down in the parking lot of the mall. Darkwing hopped out and strode over to the group of police. "fill me in, has the conniving culprit been brought to justice? or is all the work left to me, as usual?" he griped, feeling a longing for a good cup of coffee.
"for your information, yes, we got him." sneered the officer, pointing to a cop car where a seedy looking man was being shoved in to.
Darkwing gave the miffed officer a sidelong glance before surveying the scene, "damage is minimal, doesn't appear to be any casualties. . . has the incineration device been recovered yet?"
the officer gave him a blank look.
"have you found the bomb?"
"oh, yeah. Cherry bomb, looks like it was made in the guy's basement. Are you finished here? some of us got a job to do."
"bite me." growled Darkwing as he stomped off, gesturing to Launchpad to get them off the ground. "too many explosions in one night for this to be a coincidence. Either some gang is having a field day or. . . or. . ." he furrowed his brows in thought.
"or what, D.W.?"
"or. . . or they're not!" he proclaimed, "take us to the police station. If there are any more explosions, they'll probably follow the pattern of the first three: shoddy jobs done by non-professionals, in areas which aren't very well populated in the middle of the night."
A few minutes later, Darkwing strode into the Police station, leaving Launchpad to watch the Thunderquack. He wasn't taking any chances after last April Fool's day!
The secretary at the desk half stood up and extended a staying hand.
"not tonight, my fine woman! Darkwing Duck is on a case!"
The secretary, for lack of a reply, sat back down and blinked at the costumed duck as he continued to the back of the station.
Darkwing spotted Rollins as the canine sat at a desk, sorting paperwork. Rollins gave him a startled look and a quick nod before lowering his eyes back to the desktop. Darkwing caught a fleeting glimpse of the single framed photo on the desk of a grinning young dog, holding a basketball against his side with one hand, and giving the camera a thumbs-up sign with the other.
"I ain't sayin' shit until I see a lawyer!" the perpetrator was griping to a haggard policeman who had obviously seen his quota of crisis already that night.
"a lawyer won't be able to help you, you villainous scum!" proclaimed Darkwing as he entered the bare room and sat down in one of the plastic chairs, "you can make this as hard or as easy as you want. Why the bomb? What's the deal? you got insurance to cash in on?"
The perp shrugged, "if there was a. I dunno, third party or something. would it affect my sentence?"
"it might." Replied the cop.
"I got a phone call from some guy with a scrambled voice. Said he'd wire money to me if I set off the explosion. He said, somethin' small, but noticeable."
"were you supposed to target anyone?" inquired Darkwing.
"nope.
"He just. . . wanted you to set off the bomb? For no reason?"
"Why should I care about reasons, as long as I get the money, get me?"
"yeah." Replied Darkwing, standing, "well, I'm done here, officer."
The officer gave him an inquisitive look, but shrugged, turning back to the perpitrator for continued questioning.
Darkwing stalked back to the Thunderquack. This wasn't a coincidence. These two matters had to be related. . . right? he rubbed his forefingers into his eyes as Launchpad maneuvered the Thunderquack back toward the tower. There was a time that he never second-guessed himself. Then Gosalyn had hit puberty. Ah, if he could only blame all his problems on the raging hormones of his teenage daughter. He had to think this through. And he needed some damn sleep.
"let's call it a night, Launchpad."
"sure thing, D.W."
***************
Dr. Quack looked about her furtively as she slunk down the darkened side- street. She held her pepper-spray in hand, but kept to the shadows nonetheless, where she knew danger lurked. The problem was, staying in the light was more dangerous still. For the fifth time since taking the subway to this end of town, she quickly darted into an alley, crossed to the other side of the block, and went in the opposite direction from her previous one. She couldn't afford to take any chances. Not with this. This was her last chance for. . . for what? What would this gain her? She knew it was a stupid idea, and would regret it in the long run, but. . .
Revenge. . . she had been cowering in his shadow for too long. And they wouldn't suspect her to make so bold a move. Not her, not the proud scientist, who had a shining reputation at stake. But her pride was nothing in the face of her passions. And her passions that had been torn away from her. Soon. . . soon she would take it all back.
She ducked into a doorway, her key rattling too loud for comfort in the rusty lock to the storage space. She proceeded inside, the shadows swallowing her form until she was invisible within the darkness.
***************
oooooh. . . intrigue. . . excitement. . . pepper-spray! It just doesn't get any better than this! I take it back, add a quart of ice cream and a couple gerbils, and it gets better, but still!
Anyway, I'm still a bit insecure about my characterization. Sometimes I get the feeling that Darkwing is slipping out of character. If you notice this or anything related at all, I'd appreciate suggestions and comments. you know I'm always grubbing for reviews. Yeah, I know it's annoying. but hey, it wouldn't be me if it wasn't!
by Tinselcat
Rated: this chapter is more PG-13ish.
Summary: Events are speeding up, and out of control, and still our hero is at a loss.
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 and Investigator Rollins are creations and property of myself.
Note: I realize it's been soooooo long since my last update. I have had so much crazy stuff to do on this end, you wouldn't believe it. I also lost some of my inspiration, but I'm approaching a point where I think my writing will flow more naturally, parts where I'm more sure of where I'm going with it. Don't be mad at me!! oh yeah, and just a warning, there's a heavy dose of Darkwing-humiliation in this chap. My evil nature just refuses to be quelled. You have been forewarned.
************************ "what do you mean, 'he didn't know'?"
Dr. White straightened his tie and mopped his sweating brow nervously, "I mean that the, er, botanist couldn't have known about this secret project. If he had, he would have told us. I'm sure of it."
"well, I suppose you know best about these matters. . ." growled White's overbearing companion.
Emboldened, White continued, "if we can just get Quack, she will tell us everything we need to know, she-"
"she will be under the protection of the police and that meddling imbecile Darkwing Duck. Striking at her directly is no longer an option. She knows it. However, she also cannot reveal us to the police. That is, if she values her reputation, not to mention her job. . ."
"than what do you suggest we do?"
"that rooster, the spy, the one who interrupted the interrogation. . . what was his name?"
"er, Steelbeak. We don't want to cross him any more. He works for F.O.W.L.. Had I known that he was, hm, allies with Dr. Bushroot, I wouldn't have taken the job. in fact, I'm not so sure it's, ahem, worth it to me to take these risks. That new detective, Rollins, is no fool. And last time I crossed Darkwing Duck, I had to leave the country, which is beginning to sound like a, hm, a good idea."
"oh, does it?" the voice was too calm, too gentle. "perhaps it would be a good idea for me to give these tapes of your 'interrogation' to the police. . ."
"w-what? You were recording. . ."
"I don't take risks. . . and I don't give up."
"y-you. . . you're going to get us both thrown in jail!"
"stop your senseless blubbering, fool!" the other snarled, "we need to lay low for awhile. Wait until her guard is down."
"what about Darkwing Duck? And Rollins?"
"Darkwing Duck will have his hands full before long. . . that is, if everything goes to plan. As for Rollins. . . I understand he has a family back in Duckburg. If we can't use that to shut him up. . . well, his job is a risky one. Anything is bound to happen."
"and Steelbeak?"
"oh, I think you have more cause to worry about Agent Steelbeak than I do. After all, you were the one who tortured his boyfriend. . ."
********************
Darkwing loathed himself more with every step he took. He counted the stairs as he slowly climbed them, emerging in the plush hallway, at the end of which he knew he would find Steelbeak's apartment. He found himself almost turning back several times, but forced himself on, reviewing his reasons. *need help. Cut a deal with Steelbeak. Need more resources. He's got resources. Need information. Need information really badly. He's got information.* he stopped at the door, nervously tugging on the brim of his hat. He pressed the doorbell button and heard the muffled ring from inside. He glowered at the peephole.
"well well well, what do we 'ave 'ere?" said Steelbeak smugly, opening the door and leaning against the frame casually.
"you've got a conscientious, celebrated crime-fighter on your doorstep, who's going to turn right around if you don't let me in!" Darkwing growled at Steelbeak's grin.
"of course. 'ow in'ospitable of me." he stood aside and let Darkwing through, closing the door behind him. "I gather dere's some'tin' you're wantin' ta ask me. . .?" he raised an impeccably groomed eyebrow.
Darkwing stared at his webbed feet, scuffing them on the expensive carpet, "needyourhelp" he mumbled.
"wat was dat?" Steelbeak gleefully cupped a hand to his ear, "is it my imagination, or is dere a breeze in 'ere?"
Darkwing took off his hat and scowled into Steelbeak's eyes, "I. . . need. . . your. . . help. . ." he paused and took a breath, ". . . please. . ."
Steelbeak looked down at him along his shining beak, "funny, I seem ta recall sayin' some'ting about youse beggin' on yer knees. . ."
thinking of all the nasty words he could, and mentally hurling them at Steelbeak, Darkwing knelt on the carpet. "will you help me?"
"wat's da magic woid?"
"please?" he clenched his jaw to keep his chin from trembling.
"let's see ya grovel a bit, eh?"
screwing his eyes shut, Darkwing braced his palms on the floor and bowed his head, "please help me. . ." his voice cracked with the strain of not launching himself up and throttling Steelbeak then and there. At the sound of softly treading footsteps, he looked up sharply.
Bushroot, his coloring almost completely restored, enveloped in a bathrobe several sizes too large for him, shuffled in, blinking startled eyes at Darkwing.
Steelbeak got an evil glint in his eyes, and grinned frighteningly, "bow at Reggie's feet an' tell 'im dat he's da sexiest duck in St. Canard!"
nearly sobbing, all scraps of dignity long lost, Darkwing flung himself at Bushroot's feet, clutching at the botanist's ankles, "Bushroot, you are by far the sexiest duck ever to grace the great city of St. Canard!"
"apologize to 'im an' ask 'im ta spank ya for always messin' up 'is plans!"
"Bushroot, I am so severely sorry for always messing up your exquisite plans, and I deserve to be punished!" he gave a pleading look at Steelbeak.
"and. . ." the rooster prompted, grinning from ear-to-ear.
"please spank me!"
Bushroot elicited a strange sound which was a combination of a girlish giggle and a villainous snicker.
"whaddaya t'ink? Ya think 'e's sorry?"
"I think he looks pretty sincere. After all, he *is* holding my ankles. . ."
"I'm kinda tempted ta make 'im do a strip tease. . ."
Darkwing gave a small scream.
"I think he's learned his lesson." Said Bushroot, giving another giggle behind one green, leaf-like hand.
"alright, youse can stand up now."
Darkwing did so gratefully, picking up his hat and keeping a wary eye on Steelbeak lest the rooster attempt to put him through any further humiliation.
Contrary to his expectations, Steelbeak walked over to Bushroot, putting a hand around his narrow shoulders, "youse ought'a be restin'. Ya gotta save yer strength until sun-up."
Bushroot leaned against Steelbeak's broad chest, "I'm feeling alright. Just a little tired. I have something to tell Darkwing." His soft eyes shifted to Darkwing's.
"yes. . ." Darkwing ventured cautiously, eyes darting back-and-forth between the odd pair.
"when I was being. . ." Bushroot flinched and looked down. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes once more, "when I was being held by Dr. White, they kept asking me about Dr. Quack. She's involved with your investigation, right?"
all thoughts of humiliation banished from his head, Darkwing leaned forward eagerly, "yes, we think someone tried to kill her in the explosion. What did they ask you?"
Bushroot's brows furrowed as he recalled his painful experience, "they thought I was some sort of associate of Dr. Quack's on some secret project she was working on. They kept asking me about it. I got the impression that the only thing they knew was that she was working on something that no one else knew about. Does that help?"
Darkwing began pacing, his eyes focused on the rug, "so she's hiding something. . . something no one else knows about. Something she doesn't want anyone to know about. . . something these guys want. Something they can hold against her. . . but how can they hold it against her if they don't know what it is?"
"don' scuff up my carpet, flippah-feet." Growled Steelbeak.
"maybe they know just enough to incriminate her, and that's why she's not exposing them. . . but why all the questions? What's their motivation? And who wanted to know?"
"um, Darkwing. . ." Bushroot extended his hand.
"not now," snapped Darkwing, still thinking aloud, "why would this project be so important? And who would want to know about a secret project in the first place?"
"er, Darkwing, we already-"
"*not now!!* they're slippery villains, that's to be sure. . . must be skilled in the art of anonymity. Hah, not for long, not while the daring Darkwing Duck is on the case! The rest will fall in place as soon as we find out who wanted the information!" he stabbed a declarative finger in the air triumphantly, beaming at his mystified audience.
"but Darkwing," sighed Bushroot.
"yes?"
"we already know who wanted the information."
The wind seemed to leave Darkwing's sails, "we do?"
"yes, I told you. His name is Dr. White. He was a former collegue of mine, who was expelled from the research team due to his questionable practices. He has a history of them."
Darkwing blinked, "Dr. White? I know him! he skipped the country before we could arrest him! If he's back, that means we can finally get him!"
"well, it seems dat we both want da same t'ing, Darkwing." Commented Steelbeak, a sour expression on his face. He then smiled nastily, "'cept I wan' 'im dead."
"I'll thank you to keep a lid on your temper. You'll recall that, by all rights, I should be arresting you." sniffed Darkwing.
Steelbeak scowled at him, "you'll recall dat, by all rights, youse can't solve dis case wid'out me."
they glared at each other for several moments. Bushroot sighed, then went on tip-toes to peck Steelbeak on his feathery cheek, "I'm going to rest some more."
Steelbeak's "tough guy" facade seemed to melt away as he turned to Bushroot, his expression one of outright adoration, "ya feelin' alright? Need any'ting?"
"no, I'm fine. I just need to sleep."
"you 'ear dat, dopewing? Dat means you keep a lid on da volume!"
"look who's talking!"
"youse want some 'a dis? Come an' get it!"
"ooooh, don't tempt me, you simpering scum!"
Bushroot, tired of the scene, quietly padded off to the bedroom. Seeing that he'd left, Steelbeak immediately rushed after him. Darkwing could hear their voices: Bushroot's quiet and soft, Steelbeak's concerned and sharp. Even now, he could scarcely believe it. he thought that, at this point in his job, he had seen everything. Did the surprises ever stop, or would his life continue to be a wild rollercoaster for the rest of his career as Darkwing duck? Ah well, it'd hardly be worth it if not.
Steelbeak walked out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. "well, wat now?" he asked, folding his arms across his broad chest.
"now," said Darkwing, retrieving his hat and placing it firmly on his head, "we try to find Dr. White. I'll talk to the St. Canard P.D. and get a background check on him, just to cover our bases. And you. . ."
"don' worry 'bout me, I gots my own resources ta use. You do your t'ing, I'll do mine."
"see that you do." Said Darkwing, turning on his heel and marching toward the door.
"oh, and Darkwing," Steelbeak called after him as he paused in the doorway.
"yes?"
"screw dis up, and da local papers'll all be runnin' stories about Darkwing duck beggin' Bushroot fer a little slap an' tickle!"
"you. . . you took pictures. . .?"
"wat da ya take me for, a dope?"
"you wouldn't. . . you wouldn't send pictures to the papers. . ."
"I'm tempted. . ."
"the moment you do, I'm warning you,"
"da moment I do is da moment youse try ta rat me out ta da police. Got it?"
"er, yeah, got it." before he could hear any more blood-chilling threats, he slipped through the door, closing it behind him, and walked hastily down the hall. He jumped about three feet in the air when his cell-phone rang.
************
"There you are," said a familiar gravelly voice coming from the shadows, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."
Darkwing hunched his shoulders against the clammy dampness of the waterfront district and approached the pinpoint of light coming from Detective Rollins' cigarette lighter. His rugged features were briefly illuminated before plunging once more into darkness, his face only marked by the glowing orange end of his cigarette.
"what did you want to talk about and for christ's sake, why did you want to meet in this dump?" he made a face at the stench of old rotted fish and looked longingly at the single, distant street lamp.
"because I'm in deep shit if anyone sees me talking to you." growled Rollins around his cigarette.
"what do you mean?"
"I'm off the case. I've resigned my post."
"what? Why?" Darkwing didn't know Rollins very well, but he did know that, contrary to most of the force, he was willing to work with him. he also seemed to have a shred of intelligence when it came to handling crooks."
"dunno." The canine shrugged, "it just got too much for me. it's. . . eh. . . not my thing."
Darkwing gave Rollins a speculative look, noticing that the cop was refusing to meet his eyes. "what are they holding against you?"
Rollins looked up sharply.
"that's what's going on, right? you've been threatened."
Rollins suddenly grinned and shook his head, sighing, "I didn't give you enough credit, it seems. No, they didn't threaten me. I've got. . . I've got a son who lives with his mom in Duckburg. The bastards have been keeping track of his movements, they sent me photos of him at school, at home. . ." with a disgusted expression on his face, he spat out his cigarette, crushing it into the cracked pavement. He immediately pulled another from the box. Darkwing noticed his hands shaking as he lit it. "they'll kill him. no case is worth my son's life. That's why I wanted to meet you here."
"to tell me?"
"to give you my notes." he pulled a manila envelope from inside his coat, handing it to Darkwing. "this file contains all the info I've gathered, as well as my own deductions."
Darkwing flipped through the pages, an assembly of computer printouts and writing-covered notebook paper of various sizes.
"I gotta go. If they see me talking to you. . ."
"I understand." Darkwing nodded to him.
He turned his back and began walking down the empty street, toward the faint streak of gray just peering over the horizon.
"hey," Darkwing called after him.
"yeah."
"I'm going to get this guy. Don't have any doubts about that. Darkwing Duck never fails!"
"that's what they tell me, buddy, that's what they tell me."
**************
"jeez, there's another explosion over at the mall! They're all over the place, D.W.!" exclaimed Launchpad as he swerved the Thunderquack toward the shopping district.
"that's three in three hours! Put the pedal to the metal, Launchpad!! We'll get the crook this time!" Darkwing set his jaw in determination, although outward appearances were certainly decieving. They'd caught the culprit responsible for the first minor blast, at a convenience store-front. One man was injured, none killed. The second had been set in a vacant parking lot, none were injured. Now this. it was uncanny!
The thuderquack set down in the parking lot of the mall. Darkwing hopped out and strode over to the group of police. "fill me in, has the conniving culprit been brought to justice? or is all the work left to me, as usual?" he griped, feeling a longing for a good cup of coffee.
"for your information, yes, we got him." sneered the officer, pointing to a cop car where a seedy looking man was being shoved in to.
Darkwing gave the miffed officer a sidelong glance before surveying the scene, "damage is minimal, doesn't appear to be any casualties. . . has the incineration device been recovered yet?"
the officer gave him a blank look.
"have you found the bomb?"
"oh, yeah. Cherry bomb, looks like it was made in the guy's basement. Are you finished here? some of us got a job to do."
"bite me." growled Darkwing as he stomped off, gesturing to Launchpad to get them off the ground. "too many explosions in one night for this to be a coincidence. Either some gang is having a field day or. . . or. . ." he furrowed his brows in thought.
"or what, D.W.?"
"or. . . or they're not!" he proclaimed, "take us to the police station. If there are any more explosions, they'll probably follow the pattern of the first three: shoddy jobs done by non-professionals, in areas which aren't very well populated in the middle of the night."
A few minutes later, Darkwing strode into the Police station, leaving Launchpad to watch the Thunderquack. He wasn't taking any chances after last April Fool's day!
The secretary at the desk half stood up and extended a staying hand.
"not tonight, my fine woman! Darkwing Duck is on a case!"
The secretary, for lack of a reply, sat back down and blinked at the costumed duck as he continued to the back of the station.
Darkwing spotted Rollins as the canine sat at a desk, sorting paperwork. Rollins gave him a startled look and a quick nod before lowering his eyes back to the desktop. Darkwing caught a fleeting glimpse of the single framed photo on the desk of a grinning young dog, holding a basketball against his side with one hand, and giving the camera a thumbs-up sign with the other.
"I ain't sayin' shit until I see a lawyer!" the perpetrator was griping to a haggard policeman who had obviously seen his quota of crisis already that night.
"a lawyer won't be able to help you, you villainous scum!" proclaimed Darkwing as he entered the bare room and sat down in one of the plastic chairs, "you can make this as hard or as easy as you want. Why the bomb? What's the deal? you got insurance to cash in on?"
The perp shrugged, "if there was a. I dunno, third party or something. would it affect my sentence?"
"it might." Replied the cop.
"I got a phone call from some guy with a scrambled voice. Said he'd wire money to me if I set off the explosion. He said, somethin' small, but noticeable."
"were you supposed to target anyone?" inquired Darkwing.
"nope.
"He just. . . wanted you to set off the bomb? For no reason?"
"Why should I care about reasons, as long as I get the money, get me?"
"yeah." Replied Darkwing, standing, "well, I'm done here, officer."
The officer gave him an inquisitive look, but shrugged, turning back to the perpitrator for continued questioning.
Darkwing stalked back to the Thunderquack. This wasn't a coincidence. These two matters had to be related. . . right? he rubbed his forefingers into his eyes as Launchpad maneuvered the Thunderquack back toward the tower. There was a time that he never second-guessed himself. Then Gosalyn had hit puberty. Ah, if he could only blame all his problems on the raging hormones of his teenage daughter. He had to think this through. And he needed some damn sleep.
"let's call it a night, Launchpad."
"sure thing, D.W."
***************
Dr. Quack looked about her furtively as she slunk down the darkened side- street. She held her pepper-spray in hand, but kept to the shadows nonetheless, where she knew danger lurked. The problem was, staying in the light was more dangerous still. For the fifth time since taking the subway to this end of town, she quickly darted into an alley, crossed to the other side of the block, and went in the opposite direction from her previous one. She couldn't afford to take any chances. Not with this. This was her last chance for. . . for what? What would this gain her? She knew it was a stupid idea, and would regret it in the long run, but. . .
Revenge. . . she had been cowering in his shadow for too long. And they wouldn't suspect her to make so bold a move. Not her, not the proud scientist, who had a shining reputation at stake. But her pride was nothing in the face of her passions. And her passions that had been torn away from her. Soon. . . soon she would take it all back.
She ducked into a doorway, her key rattling too loud for comfort in the rusty lock to the storage space. She proceeded inside, the shadows swallowing her form until she was invisible within the darkness.
***************
oooooh. . . intrigue. . . excitement. . . pepper-spray! It just doesn't get any better than this! I take it back, add a quart of ice cream and a couple gerbils, and it gets better, but still!
Anyway, I'm still a bit insecure about my characterization. Sometimes I get the feeling that Darkwing is slipping out of character. If you notice this or anything related at all, I'd appreciate suggestions and comments. you know I'm always grubbing for reviews. Yeah, I know it's annoying. but hey, it wouldn't be me if it wasn't!