by Roaming Tigress
Chapter Ten:
The Jailbird
"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the cat that leaves footprints on your car! I am Darkwiiiiiing Duck!" He announced, standing right behind the determined young villain.
"You think a little smoke trick will intimidate moi? You seem to forget I am ze son of ze leader of F.O.W.L High Command!" Javert said with a snide tone as he turned around, his arms folded in annoyance. "I've heard a little about you, leetle purple punk with a big Napoleon complex!"
Pah, as if I'm supposed to be afraid of THAT. Darkwing was equally unintimidated by Javert's attitude. He merely whipped out his gas gun and straightened his fedora, making himself appear as important as possible. "It doesn't make a difference in the world if you are with the Fearsome Five or with F.O.W.L! A crook is a crook, and they all fear the one and only daring Darkwing Duck!"
"I don't fear you, neither does High Command!" Javert taunted, sharply poking Darkwing in the chest. He took one look at the gun, and laughed heartedly. Never in his short life had he saw such a ridiculous looking and harmless weapon. To him and the rest of F.O.W.L, the only good guns were the ones made to kill.
"What's in ze gun, bonbons? Dog dung? Rotten henfruit?" He scoffed, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke in Darkwing's direction.
"Were did you get it at, ze local second-hand toy store?"
Coughing, Darkwing scowled bitterly at Javert. One of his pet peeves was underage smokers, and this gave him another reason to dislike the teenager.
"Why? You want the collector's set? An exact replica?!"
Just to be a pain, Javert blew another puff of cigarette smoke into his face. "No, so I can add it to ze world's most ridiculous inventions!"
The crime fighter knew as much about Javert as Javert knew about him: very little. He was not just some kid who killed somebody on a whim - - this was this was an upstart serial murderer. He had dealt with young criminals before, and relatively speaking they were easy to take care of. The threat of going to jail was usually enough to keep them at bay from committing crimes. Javert, however, would prove to be an exception.
"You'll soon see enough if you don't surrender silently, FOWL fiend!" Darkwing ordered, his voice a little strained from coughing.
"Suck gas, or give yourself up!"
"Suck gas?!" Javert laughed again, nearly buckling over. "What is next, lets all jump in ze pool and see how fast we can swim? C'mon, I dare you to pull ze trigger! Show me what you are made out of, big shot!"
Sure enough, the young Indian Runner Duck got what he asked for. He reeled back as tear gas got into his eyes and kept them shut, attempting to drain out the itching substance. Itching and rubbing made it all the more worse.
"I will get you for this, just you wait!" He growled, tears streaming down his face as he slowly opened his reddened eyes. Had be been a little younger and less proud of himself, he would've surely thrown a temper tantrum.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Javert! You could've gave yourself up, but nooooo!" Darkwing piped up, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. He nonchalantly approached Javert, unprepared for what would happen next.
Javert reached a hand into a pocket in his pants and pulled out a small knife, slashing it at the crime fighter's throat. He had missed the jugular vein by an inch, but didn't miss the kick that Darkwing gave him. Clutching his stomach, he staggered back and rolled up his sleeves.
"It takes a little more than a little kick to bring me to my knees!" He sneered, uneasily getting up onto his feet. Feeing ill at ease, he staggered over to the nearest garbage can and vomited up his lunch. Even for his own good Javert was unwiling to give himself in. He was too dedicated to F.O.W.L to let this happen, he had to be out and about, committing as many murders as possible.
"I'm going to sue . . . " Javert moaned as he was quickly handcuffed and brought into to a police car. "I really, really hate you!"
"Oh, I'm so hurt!" Darkwing replied sarcastically, waving to him as the vehicle drove off down the street. "Looking foward to seeing you in court!"
The ride to the St. Canard Penitentiary was a humiliating one to Javert. He sunk out of view from passing cars, hoping that no one from his organization had spotted him. For the first time in ages he was at the poing of crying, for he had felt he had let down on his mother's expectations.
"I can never show myself at FOWL again . . . " Javert whimpered.
"Well, you won't be showing your face there for a while," the cop in the driver's steat grumbled at him. "We're not going easy on you just because your a kid. You took a life, numerous ones from what we gather."
Hearing this, Javert bashed his head up against the window. "Damn, damn, DAMN!"
"Go easy on the window or you'll be spending even more time behind bars!" The other cop snapped. "You're really asking for it today."
When the police car arrived at the penitentiary, a Red-Tailed Hawk was responsible for brining in the thrashing scoundrel. In spite of his slender appearance, it took another jail guard to restrain Javert. A muscular German Shepherd came up and grabbed hold of his other arm and helped the avian take him to were he belonged.
"Lets see if you cool down after spending a little time caged up!" The eagle grumbled, shoving the duck into the only empty cell. Sure, the cops probably woundn't miss the occassional slaughtered felon, but they didn't want to be responsible for cleaning up the blood.
"Crazy kid . . . " The dog sighed, shaking his head as he walked down the aisle. "They're getting more violent these days. I can't help but to wonder what he would turn out to be like fifteen years down the road."