Disclaimer: Look at me! I'm writing about stuff I don't have any legal right to! Wahoo!

cringes Ouch, long time no update. But as always – thank you for the reviews!

It was 6:30 in the morning when Drake Mallard and Launchpad McQuack finally spun back into the Mallard household.

"I'm telling you LP – this dog, this massive mutt, was coming right for me when it just vanished into thin air!"

Launchpad yawned heftily; an all-night, not to mention fruitless, search for the Fearsome Five had left him a little less than awake.

"I dunno DW…I think you might've been a bit overtired…" Launchpad suggested groggily.

"But I could've sworn it was real, it dove straight at me and I didn't even have time to – say, speaking of time, I've got to wake Gos up."

Drake climbed the stairs, slid through his daughter's various intruder traps, and made his way through the clutter and to her bedside.

"Rise and shine!" he called.

The duckling rolled over and mumbled into her pillow, "Aw c'mon Dad, just five more hours…"

"There's a horde of bloodthirsty vampires on our front porch," Drake fibbed.

Gosalyn's eyes instantly snapped open and she literally leapt out of bed.

"No way! Vampires in the daylight?!" she cried excitedly.

"Nope, sorry, I lied," Drake said, "I needed something to get you out of bed on this particular day…"

Gosalyn's jaw dropped in utter horror.

"No, it can't be – " she whispered.

"Oh yes it is," Drake countered.

"No, this is some cruel joke!"

"Sorry, the only cruel jokes are politicians and landlords."

"It's a mistake!"

"I never make mistakes."

"No it's – it's – not the first day of school!" Gosalyn whimpered.

"Bingo!"

Gosalyn shouted defiantly, "You can't make me go!"

"I am a parent and therefore am perfectly capable of making you attend school," Drake informed, "C'mon Gos, do we have to go through this riggamaroll every year?"

"Of course we do!" Gosalyn snapped.

Drake shrugged his shoulders casually and said, "Fine. Then you won't be able to go to college and get a job, so you can just live here with ME the rest of your life."

"All right! I'll go, I'll go!" the duckling gushed, grabbing her clothes and dashing into the bathroom.

Drake grinned smugly and plodded back downstairs. He turned into the kitchen to see Launchpad seated at the table, but more surprisingly, Morgana seated with him.

"Morg? What are you doing here?" he blurted without thinking.

"Good morning to you too," Morgana muttered.

Drake chuckled sheepishly, "Heh heh, what I meant to say is, what are you doing here, you see I thought you were in the living room, so I was shocked to see you here in the kitchen – "

"Nice try Dark," Morgana said, cutting his babbling off, "I came to ask you about last night."

"Sorry Morg I couldn't make it to our date due to circumstances beyond my control," the mallard said automatically.

Morgana and Launchpad exchanged concerned looks.

"We didn't even have a date last night. I was talking about Gosalyn's birthday…Dark, have you gotten any sleep at all?" the sorceress asked worriedly.

Drake waved his hand haughtily.

"Sleep shmeep! Us superhero types don't need sleep to keep us going strong!"

"Right Dad," Gosalyn mumbled as she trudged into the kitchen, "that would explain why you're pouring the coffee grounds into the microwave."

"What? Oh. Oopsie."

"Good morning Gos!" Morgana greeted cheerily, "did you have any more of those dreams?"

The duckling's face brightened instantly as she spouted, "No, but I finally figured out who I was! I was the one, the only – the Throat Bloodier!"

"THAT'S IT!" Drake yelled, so suddenly that it woke Launchpad up from his snooze on the table and drove Eek and Squeak from Morgana's hair.

"Mayday! Mayday! Abandon – oh, I was dreamin', heh heh," Launchpad laughed to himself.

"What's 'it'?" Gosalyn and Morgana asked.

"That Throat-whatsit! That's the dog that attacked me last night!" Drake cried.

"Nonsense. The Throat Bloodier's an ancient Transylvanian creature, it's been extinct for centuries," Morgana informed flatly.

"I swear that's what I saw! I was on the Ratcatcher and it came at me so fast that even my lightning fast reflexes couldn't react in time!"

"Probably just a stray," Morgana argued.

"Oh yeah, a stray the size of a small elephant!" Drake snapped, "And how do you explain the glowing green eyes, hmm?"

"Reflection from the headlights of your motorcycle," the sorceress countered.

"I don't believe this, now you're the one who's trying to dissuade me from the paranormal!" Drake said in an exasperated voice.

"But ya know what's cool Dad?" Gosalyn asked between mouthfuls of cereal, "I was having this mondo freaky dream last night where I was the Throat Bloodier and I was chasing Negaduck all over St. Canard but then I woke up and – "

Drake interrupted her with a, "That's lovely dear. As I was saying, I was chasing Negaduck when this thing lunged at me, and then it disappeared, just like that!"

"Wait a minute," Morgana pondered aloud, "Gosalyn was having a dream about the Throat Bloodier chasing Negaduck, but then I woke her up…and you were chasing Negaduck when the Throat Bloodier 'attacked you', but then it disappeared…Dark, maybe there's some kind of connect – "

"I've got it!" Drake butted in, "Negaduck has concocted a hologram machine, by which he used to escape the perfume store and then proceed to create that dog creature thing! AHA! Clever ruse Negaduck, clever ruse…but not clever enough to fool my insuperable intellect!"

The mallard suddenly felt a sharp burning sensation as Morgana zapped him with a powerful hex.

"Fine! Ignore me! But don't come crawling to me when you're eaten alive by a so-called 'hologram'!" Morgana hissed angrily before teleporting out of the room.

Drake coughed dryly and Gosalyn mumbled, "Way to start the morning off right Dad."

Drake poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and shook his head.

"She'll get over it. Anywho, I've got Negaduck's hologram figured out, now I need to pay my attention to his recent heists. It's baffling – who in their right mind would want money, chocolates, flowers, jewelry, and now perfume?!"

"Hint number one: don't ever let Morgana hear you say that," Gosalyn advised.

"Gosalyn what are talking about – SWEET MOTHER OF CAPTAIN VIRTUE! LOOK AT THE TIME! YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE!"

Gosalyn barely had enough time to grab her backpack before her father yanked her out the door.

"Life's all about first impressions, and you don't want everyone to think you're an unmotivated slacker who hates school!" Drake said breathlessly as he ran through the yard.

"A bit too late for that," Gosalyn grumbled under her breath.

Drake fumbled in his pocket for the car keys, his daughter would never make it to school in time if she walked –

"Hey neighbor!"

Drake raised his gaze to the skies.

"Someone up there must hate me," the mallard sighed as he turned to face Herb Muddlefoot.

"Good mornin' Drakemeister! Does Gos need a lift? I'm taking the kids to school on the way to Quackerware HQ!"

Before Drake could answer Gosalyn had already bolted into the Muddlefoot's vehicle and seated herself next to Honker.

"Uh, thanks," Drake managed awkwardly.

"Glad to do it ol' buddy! See ya later gator!" Herb bellowed, then squeezed himself into the car.

Drake waved as they scooted out of the driveway. Binkie came up beside him, waving and calling out, "Have fun Honker and Gosalyn! Stay away from the Bunsen burners Tank dear!"

She clasped her hands together sweetly and faced Drake.

"Don't you just adore the first day of school?"

"I wouldn't go as far as adore."

"For awhile there I was worried that my little Honker might have to stay home – he was acting so strangely last night!"

"Oh?" Drake prodded, suddenly intrigued.

"Goodness yes! He got up in the middle of the night and went all over the house. And he kept saying that he was hunting – or was it punting? No I think it was hunting – he said he was hunting for Mr. Darkwing, all in this funny little voice he came up with!" Binkie exclaimed.

Drake's eyes widened. So Gosalyn wasn't the only one.

"Gee Binkie, what happened?"

"Well I went straight up to him and said 'Now Honker Muddlefoot you go back to bed this instant!' and poof! He stopped babbling! And dear me was he ever confused, it was actually so very cute!" Binkie giggled.

"Cute, right…" Drake murmured, rubbing his beak thoughtfully.

"Well I must be going, have to keep packing for the big move. Toodles!" Binkie called and disappeared into her pristine house.

Drake continued to rub his beak. So, Honker too was behaving oddly, hallucinating, and, unnervingly, searching for Darkwing Duck.

The mallard yawned, realizing he never got around to drinking his coffee. He stretched his arms and sighed, "Ah well, I'll sleep on it. Crash on the couch, and get some well-deserved shuteye. Then I can – OUCH! What the…"

He massaged the back of his head where a hard object had crashed into it. Turning around, he came beak to beak with the Flashquack.

"Oh boy!" he cried excitedly.

The tiny likeness of himself spat out a piece of paper into his face, then buzzed away in an important sort of manner. Drake unraveled the scroll and read aloud, "Dear sir or madam, this is a reminder to attend the meeting/appointment/interrogation you neglected to attend on insert date and time. With love, SHUSH."

Drake's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"My meeting! With SHUSH! This morning! I completely forgot! How absentminded could I be?!"

The mallard raced into his house at light speed, leaping over the couches in a single bound. He threw himself into the blue chair and punched the worn statue.

"Goofball duck is again late sir! Lack of commitment show poor discipline!"

"Give him time Agent Gryzlikoff. I'm quite sure Darkwing is a busy man."

"Yes, busy being goofball!"

Darkwing burst into the condemned dental office currently serving as the secret S.H.U.S.H. rendezvous point, gasping and panting for breath.

"I am…terror…flap…night…I am…fly…in your…soup…I am…Dark…Duck…" the exhausted crime fighter wheezed.

"Hello Darkwing," J. Gander Hooter welcomed warmly.

"How nice of you to arrive," Vladimir Gryzlikoff grumbled sarcastically.

Darkwing Duck cleared his throat and straightened his hat.

"Sorry 'bout that JG, lost track of the time…life of a crime fighter, ya know…so, what's on tap for today?"

"Well, first and foremost Darkwing we have SHUSH's latest prototypes for you to test…"

The aged avian retrieved a steel-coated case. He opened it, revealing several simple-looking cylinders.

"These are the newest and most advanced gas cartridges to come out of SHUSH labs, courtesy of Dr. Bellum," he explained, "They not only upset the subject's physical condition, but the mental one as well. Be warned, they are highly potent. The subject will go through an extremely thorough personality change – though Dr. Bellum failed to specify just how long that personality transformation lasts. We only have laughing gas and tear gas for now, but I'd be most obliged if you'd be able to take them for a trial run and report the results."

"No sweat, I welcome new weapons for my crime-busting arsenal with open arms," Darkwing replied, stuffing the cartridges under his cape greedily.

"Excellent! Thank you Darkwing, Dr. Bellum was most curious on the effects of the gas on intelligent test subjects," J. Gander added.

"Intelligent test subjects you say, sir? Is looking like we is unable to be using them on Darkwing then. Though he could certainly be using change of personality," Gryzlikoff scoffed.

Darkwing narrowed his eyes at the bear.

"Look who's talking Mr. I-eez-being-angry-like-hornet-all-dee-time!"

Gryzlikoff was practically foaming at the mouth, but J. Gander stepped between them.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please! We have important business here and we need to continue with it!" the director said, turning his back to them to retrieve some papers.

"My apologies sir!" Gryzlikoff said, straightening up.

"I'm sorry too," Darkwing apologized, then whispered so only Gryzlikoff could hear him, "didn't mean to set ol' Gryz off, you know how quick these ugly, thuggish-types are to fly off the handle."

Within the second Darkwing and Gryzlikoff were in an all-out brawl, all while J. Gander's attention was directly elsewhere. After the required papers were in hand, the director turned around. Gryzlikoff quickly released Darkwing from his headlock and the two separated just in time to grin at J. Gander as if nothing had happened.

"These are reports from various sources attesting to the recent behavior of some of our agents," Gander said gravely, handing the papers to Darkwing.

The crime fighter scanned them over. The words "hallucinations" and "violent actions" jumped out at him.

As Darkwing read J. Gander spoke, "Odd hallucinations seem to befall SHUSH's agents, especially those witness to Taurus Bulba's attack last spring. I must say it has me very worried, along with today's front page of the newspaper. Did you read it, by any chance?"

"No…no, I didn't, it was kind of a rushed morning…" Darkwing murmured.

"Of course he no read paper. He no read SHUSH handbook neither. Make perfect sense," Gryzlikoff muttered.

Darkwing glared at the bear before flipping the newspaper to eyelevel. His brow furrowed as the news grew graver by the word.

"More sleepwalking…more violence…attempted murders?!"

"And it gets worse. We found several agents in a trance-like state, ripping through our archives. They all seemed to go for one in particular," J. Gander said, then held up the remains of a shredded file folder. Darkwing squinted, until he saw the faint letting, "Duck, Darkwing."

"My file! It's been…defiled!" the crime fighter shouted indignantly.

"These strange events are all isolated in St. Canard. The future of this fair city may be at stake," the director stated ominously.

"Have no fear JG, no city could be safer than the one under the watchful eyes of yours truly," Darkwing boasted.

Gryzlikoff rolled his eyes but J. Gander beamed.

"That's the spirit Darkwing! I have my confidence in you – but now, unfortunately, we must be going.

"So soon? Why?" Darkwing asked, disappointed.

"Maybe is being strange conception to you, duck, but we must be returning to job," Gryzlikoff jeered brusquely.

"That's 'strange concept', Vlad," Darkwing corrected.

The bear snarled menacingly, but J. Gander pushed him out the door.

"We may not be in contact for quite some time, I'm afraid. Don't bother messaging us – our fledgling SHUSH headquarters is at a high level of security. Understandable, though not convenient," he informed sadly, "Be careful Darkwing, we're counting on you."

"No problemo J. Gander," Darkwing called, waving as they left.

No sooner had they left the room when Darkwing's wrist watch-communicator emitted a high-pitched beeping. The masked mallard's face fell but he spoke into the watch importantly, "Darkwing here."

"Hey DW, it's me, Launchpad –"

"I would have never guessed."

"Oh, well…ahem, Gosalyn's school just called."

"You've got to be kidding, it's her first day!"

"Sorry DW, her principal called and she wants to see you…I guess Gos brought that book Morgana gave her to school."

"Oh Pete's sake…why me…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Well, anyways, just thought I'd let ya know…"

"Thanks pal. Gos and I are going to have a special little talk tonight…Darkwing out!"

"NO Quackerwhack, Little Buddy is NOT coming back for the nineteenth season!"

"Oh yes he is Bushbrain!"

"How could he?! He was eaten by a shark in the season finale!"

"They'll find a way! How can you have 'Pelican's Island' without Little Buddy?!"

"Easily! You turn him into shark bait and poof! No more Little Buddy!"

Megavolt and Liquidator watched in boredom as Quackerjack and Bushroot bickered. Megavolt rolled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch.

"Negaduck's fashionably late, as always," he drawled.

"You, my green-around-the-bill friend, have got some SERIOUS denial issues that can only be remedied with…machete-wielding teddy bears!" Quackerjack announced joyously, revealing several dangerous-looking stuffed animals.

The jester hurled the toys at Bushroot, who ducked out of the way. They landed on Megavolt, who shouted, "Quackerjack! Get these freaks away from me!"

"Which freaks are you talking about? Bushroot and Liquidator or the toys?" Quackerjack asked slyly.

Within five seconds the Fearsome Four were in an absolute fistfight. Water sloshed, vines whipped, and electricity crackled. Enraged shouts and vicious insults sounded until –

SLAM!

Negaduck burst into the room of their hideout with a trademark scowl on his face. The Fearsome immediately detangled themselves and stood up at attention.

"Here comes Mr. Smiles himself," Megavolt muttered too low for Negaduck to hear, and the rest of the four snickered.

"All right you bunch of knuckle-draggers, I've got a job for you," the black-masked mallard began.

Megavolt crossed his fingers and murmured "power company, power company," while Quackerjack just blurted, "We're going to murder the Whiffle Boy, right?"

Negaduck glowered at the clown and said lowly, "You're endangering my naturally calm demeanor…anywho, I'm going out."

"Oooh hot date tonight?" Liquidator asked, unable to help himself.

"Shut up," Negaduck snapped, "I've got, 'business', you could say, to attend to tonight."

"Four out of five dentists say it's definitely a date," Liquidator commented.

"I have no problem with flushing you down the toilet liquid-for-brains. As I was saying, I'm taking half the loot with me, so that means you knobs are going to stay here and guard the other half," Negaduck stated.

"So you're saying that you're going out on 'business' with flowers, chocolate, jewelry, money, and perfume, but it's not a date…" Liquidator began.

"Wait – we all have to s-stay here, all day…together?!" Bushroot shrieked.

"That's right," Negaduck cooed with a sadistic smile.

"That's cruel and unusual!" Quackerjack objected.

"Trust me, I feel terrible about it deep inside," Negaduck told him sarcastically, "now keep an eye on that stuff. I'm counting on you…I can't believe I just said that. I'm never going a whole night without sleep again…"

Negaduck whisked out the door without so much as a goodbye. Megavolt raised an eyebrow.

"Did he just say he didn't get any sleep?"

"Yeah – maybe Negaduck's a vampire," Bushroot giggled.

"Pfft. Are you kidding? If he was a vampire then he couldn't see himself in the mirror. It would kill him," Quackerjack pointed out.

"Do you find hideout-sitting boring? Hate taking pathetic orders from your boss? Well then welcome to our lives!" Liquidator announced sourly, "What the heck are we supposed to do here all day?"

Quackerjack opened a closet door curiously, then gasped in delight.

"Hey guys, look what I found – board games!"

Megavolt, Liquidator, and Bushroot groaned.

Meanwhile, Negaduck was already on his motorcycle, loot in tow, screaming down the streets of St. Canard. Today was the day, he could feel it, in just a few hours he'd be home sweet home…

The villain blazed towards his destination, but not before holding up a local coffee shop.

Drake Mallard strode through the halls of St. Canard Junior High like a seasoned professional; much like his daughter, he could find his way to the principal's office blindfolded.

He stood in front of the door trying to quell his flaring temper. Seriously, the first day of school for Pete's sake, Gosalyn must have broken some kind of record. It was a personal best, to say the least.

After a deep, calming breath he stepped into the office.

"Good afternoon Drake," the stately woman greeted.

"Hello Becky," Drake returned.

Sadly, they were on a first name basis.

"I don't believe if anyone's told you, but Gosalyn's in the nurse's office right now," Becky informed.

Drake raised an eyebrow and asked suspiciously, "Why…"

"Well, she complained of suddenly feeling very tired and – "

"No need to say more Becky, this has the familiar ring of a trademark Gosalyn hoax – "

" – And then she passed out."

"WHAT?!"

Drake rushed to the nurse's office, his heart racing. Maybe Gosalyn wasn't kidding when she said she wanted to be an actress, but on the other hand…

He turned the corner to see his daughter laying on the cheap school bed, sleeping soundly. Drake breathed a sigh of relief and came to her side, touching her shoulder gently.

In an instant, Gosalyn's eyes flashed open and she snatched his wrist like a snake striking for a mouse.

"Greetings, Darkwing," she croaked hoarsely.

Drake's face hardened and he glanced over his shoulder nervously.

"They don't call it a secret identity for nothing young lady!" he whispered urgently.

"Oh, it is no secret with me…not anymore," Gosalyn said with an evil grin.

"What on earth are you talking about? If this is some kind of devious ploy to get you out of trouble, you're sailing the wrong ship Gos!" Drake growled sternly, then, upon noticing her lack of eye contact, continued, "and you look at me while I'm berating you!"

Wait, she was looking at him…or was she? Her eyes were pointed in his direction, but she was practically looking straight through him. Not to mention they were dull and unfocused and – uh oh.

Drake began to panic as Gosalyn struggled in his grasp.

"Snap out of it!" he cried.

"The only thing I'll snap is your neck!" the duckling answered harshly in a deep, accented voice.

"Quit it Gos! Oh, how'd I wake you up last time…um, shazam! Hocus pocus! Open sesame!" the mallard tried weakly.

As the two fought, the receptionist called politely from the other room, "Gosalyn Mallard!"

Gosalyn suddenly returned to normal, ceasing her squirming. She looked around, and realized that she was in school – with her father.

"I didn't do it!" she expelled automatically.

Ignoring her denial, Drake scooped her up and headed for the door.

"That's it, I'm taking you to a psychiatrist or something!"

"You say that all the time Dad."

"Yeah, except this time I mean it!"

Drake pushed past the nurse who shouted after him angrily, "Where do you think you're going?!"

"Exorcism!" Drake yelled back.

"Wahoo!" Gosalyn shouted joyously, leaping out of the car. While she was thrilled to be home from school over an hour early, her father's feelings were quite different.

Drake gingerly eased himself out of the vehicle. He had to be careful not to upset his delicate stomach. Boy, Morgana must really be practicing those hexes.

His visit with the sorceress had not gone exceptionally well. She had checked over Gosalyn and found nothing. No evil spirits, no demons, not even a head cold. As Morgana began to doubt Drake's senses, the mallard hinted that maybe Morgana's powers weren't up to snuff. Big mistake. Cap the argument off with a "I'm a sorceress not an exorcist!" and a nasty hex, and all that was left was a very queasy Drake Mallard.

When he came into the house he was not surprised to see Gosalyn destroying the couch springs and expertly maneuvering the Whiffle Boy.

"How can you play video games at a time like this?" he asked wearily.

"A time like what?"

"Gos, don't you think you were acting just a wee bit strangely at school? Ya know, just a tad?"

"No way, it wasn't strange, I fall asleep in school all the time," the redhead returned casually.

"Oh okay then – hey wait just darned minute!"

Before Drake could virtually erupt, the blue chairs spun around and revealed Launchpad.

"Hey DW, hey Gos!" he greeted amiably, then faltered, "Wait, Gos? Is this about the phone call?"

"I was just getting to that…Gosalyn, what were you doing with Morgana's book?" Drake asked, tapping his webbed foot.

The duckling glared at him and objected, "First of all, it's MY book, and second of all, I was just showing my fellow classmates a picture of Spine Snapper, the two-headed bird of prey! Jeez, some kids can't take a little blood and guts…"

Drake clutched his stomach, but Launchpad rubbed his own and commented, "Boy, all this talk is making me hungry!" and made his way to the kitchen.

Gosalyn giggled and went back to slinging her fingers over the controller. Drake shook his head. He was just about to head upstairs when he heard the harsh whisper of an icy voice –

Kill her.

Drake glowered in his daughter's direction.

"Gosalyn, turn the TV down! All that shooting and killing, it's too violent! Now, where'd I put my gas gun…"

Kill her.

"I said turn it down! I'm not too fond of homicidal idioms in my household!" the mallard yelled.

"I did turn it down, cool it!" Gosalyn yelled back.

Kill her.

Drake stiffened.

"If you cut the volume, than who said that?"

Kill her.

He looked around wildly.

"Where's that voice coming from?" he shrieked.

"What voice?" Gosalyn asked quizzically.

How could she not hear it?! He had heard something, he knew he heard something.

Kill her! Kill her!

"Oooookay whoever you are, you've got the wrong duck – I, Drake Mallard, am an archetype of morality!" he declared defiantly.

"Uh…Dad…who are you talking to?" Gosalyn asked warily.

Kill her! Kill HER!

His heart was pounding rapidly now as panic began to settle into his chest. Everything seemed dull and fuzzy except the terrible voice, like a stereo on full blast in a library.

"Hit the road pal, I'm not listening to you!" Drake hollered.

"I'm getting Launchpad…" Gosalyn said slowly, never taking her eyes off her father as she headed for the kitchen.

Kill her! Kill Goosalyn!

Drake covered his ears, squeezed his eyes closed, and bellowed, "SHUT UP!"

Launchpad dashed into the room. He grabbed his friend by the shoulder and shook him firmly.

"Drake! Drake Mallard! C'mon buddy, calm down!"

The mallard's thoughts instantly cleared and the voice was replaced by ever-present ticking of the grandfather clock and his own heavy breathing.

"Did you hear that?" he questioned Launchpad shakily.

The pilot frowned.

"Uh, sorry DW, I didn't hear anything…ya know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if you got some sleep…"

"No, I don't need sleep!" Drake asserted forcefully, "What I need is some answers! And I think I know just where to get them…"