Forest City is a small, corrupt suburb of Saint Canard located just under ten miles to the south of the better-known metropolis. Usually, there was no shortage of crime and terror on the filthy, decaying streets of this city. However, in recent weeks there had been a major drop in crime. Now, this was good for Forest City's innocent citizens, but not so good if you happen to make a living fighting crime.
Forest City's resident do-gooder was an adventurous, dashing swan named Oliver Featherstone. Oliver had fancied himself as a world-famous hero, and he had in fact solved many crimes throughout the globe, yet he was hardly known by anyone outside of the small town in England in which he was born.
Both the recent drop in crime and his own continuing obscurity had taken their toll on Featherstone. The swan had arrived in this city three years ago with big dreams of fame and glory and they had yet to materialize.
Oliver now sat in his office in downtown Forest City, bored out of his mind. He had not had a case in two weeks and was beginning to wonder if perhaps it was time to close down Crime-Busters, Inc., which was what he called his crime-stopping operation, and move on to something else. The swan looked to the clock with his blueish-green eyes as he sat at his large desk with his leather-booted feet up on it. He then let out a sigh.
His assistant Todd, a bespectacled turtle in his early twenties, sat at the other end of the room reading a St. Canard newspaper. "Hey, Oliver," he said, breaking the deafening silence in the room. "Why don't we go up to St. Canard tonight? The place is lousy with all kinds of lunatic criminals."
"That doesn't sound like too bad an idea, old friend," said Oliver, sitting up. "Maybe we can catch ourselves one of those costumed freaks that seem to be causing so much trouble up that way." He now rises to his feet and heads to the door. He takes a black leather jacket off of a coat rack, puts it on and zips it up.
His turtle friend got up and follows him to the door. "Not so fast, my friend," said Oliver. "Someone had best stay behind in case something does happen in this dull town."
"Aww, man," Todd said, disappointedly. "I never get to go out on cases with you."
"Sorry, Todd," said the swan. "But until we can hire someone to look after the office, you've got to stay behind."
"I guess you're right..." the turtle said.
"I'll see you later, Todd," Oliver said, stepping out the door. "I'll call you if I catch anyone."
"OK," Todd said, slogging back to his desk.
Oliver Featherstone now disappears into the night to search the streets of St. Canard for a crime to solve.
Later...
Darkwing and Launchpad had finally arrived at the burglarized museum after spending tow hours navigating rush-hour traffic. "This is one part of this town I won't miss," said Launchpad as he stepped of the Rat Catcher.
"I hear ya," said Darkwing as he took off his crash helmet and replaced it with his standard hat. The duo now heads inside. Little did they know what awaited them inside.
Oliver Featherstone was already in the museum searching the scene of the crime. As he was driving into the city, he had heard reports on the radio that the Cluck Diamond had been stolen. He had then raced to the scene delightedly.
As he inspected the smashed display case, the room began to fill with a bright purple gas. "I am the terror that flaps in the night, I am the best friend who stabs you in the back after 13 years of loyalty."
"Hey," said Launchpad. "I thought-"
"I am Darkwing Duck!"
"Hold it right there, scumbag!" Darkwing shouted, pointing his gas gun at the unsuspecting swan. "Drop that dia-" As the purple smoke cleared, he could plainly see that Oliver's white-feathered hands were empty. "Wait a minute, where's the diamond? And who the hell are you?"
"I am Oliver Featherstone, world-famous crime fighter," the swan proclaimed proudly.
"World famous?" said Darkwing. "I've never heard of you. Plus, there's only room for one crime fighter in this town, and that's me, so beat it!"
"Well, I've heard of you, sir. Darkwing Duck, the Masked Mallard. Your methods of crime solving are a bit bizarre, but they seem to work," said Oliver.
"I'm flattered, really," said Darkwing. "But this is still my turf, so get lost so I can get to the bottom with this!"
"How dare you insult me!" said Oliver. "One would think that you would welcome any assistance that was offered."
"I'm sorry, but Darkwing Duck works alone."
"Oh, really. Then I suppose this is your shadow," Oliver says, looking to Launchpad.
"Well, uh, umm, I do get a little help from my friends," said the duck.
"Now let's get back to the matter at hand," Oliver says. "Who do you suspect stole this diamond?"
Darkwing looks around at the broken glass and takes note of the shattered window in the corner. "This was clearly the work of the notorious Negaduck."
"Wrong!" Oliver announced.
"What do you mean wrong?" snapped Darkwing.
"No duck has red feathers, at least around here," said the swan.
"What are you babbling about?"
"Look down, you trouserless fool!"
There was a trail of red feathers leading from the display case all the way over to the smashed window. "This had to be the doing of Casey Randolph, the young cardinal pickpocket. I'd recognize his work anywhere. That boy always leaves a mess of a crime scene."
"Casey who?" asked Darkwing.
"Casey Randolph," said Launchpad. "I tried to warn you that these Forest City thieves would move up here after they got done cleaning out that town, but you wouldn't listen."
Darkwing Duck looks at his sidekick angrily.
"Hey, this Launchpad is a pretty bright one," said Oliver. "Say, you wouldn't want to leave this purple-coated buffoon and come work for a real professional, would you?"
"Sorry, dude," said Launchpad. "This is my last night of crime fighting. I'm a pilot by trade, you see."
"Oh," the swan said.
Casey Randolph stood in a darkened alleyway admiring the beautiful sparkling diamond he had just swiped from inside. "My girlfriend's going to have a merry Christmas this year!" he said to himself.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," said a raspy voice from behind him.
"What the?" the cardinal exclaimed, turning around. A figure emerges from the darkness of the alley. It is none other than the evil Darkwing lookalike Negaduck.
"Hand over the diamond, pipsqueak," he says, approaching Casey.
"No way, dork!" the young bird says. He then starts to run, but Negaduck grabs him by the shirt collar.
"It's time you little punks learned to stay off my turf!" Negaduck said, grabbing the diamond away from Casey.
"Please don't hurt me, Mr. Duck!" begged Casey. "Somebody HELP!!"
"That does it, twerp!"
Darkwing, Launchpad and Oliver hear the struggle outside and run out to investigate. They arrive in the alley to find Negaduck with his hands wrapped around the throat of Randolph.
"Randolph!" Oliver exclaimed at the sight of his familiar foe. "I knew it!"
"Negaduck!" said Darkwing. "I knew it!"
"Oh God, not Darkwing Dork!" said the evil duck.
"Suck gas, evil doer!" Darkwing shouted, drawing his gas gun.
"No, you idiot!" Oliver says as Darkwing is about to pull the trigger. He fires anyway, filling the alleyway with a blinding gas. When the smoke clears, only the three do-gooders are left in the alleyway.
"They're gone," Darkwing said, disappointed.
"Yes, because of your little toy," Oliver said.
"Guys, the diamond!" said Launchpad, picking up the gem.
"Another case solved by the great Darkwing Duck!" Darkwing announces, taking the diamond and heading inside. Featherstone just looked at him in amazement.
"Say," said Launchpad, following Darkwing. "This guy seems like a pretty capable crime fighter. Maybe you could get him to take my place."
"You've got to be kidding," said Darkwing as he returned the diamond to its rightful place. "That swan is an idiot!"
"He seems like he could be a big help, DW," said Launchpad. "He really seems to know his stuff.. Plus, how ya gonna manage without me?"
"I did just fine before I met you," Darkwing said.
"That's not the way I remember things," said Launchpad.
"Well, maybe I had some struggles early on, but-- You're right, LP. I need some assistance in my work. But I'm not sure that jerk is the right replacement." Darkwing points to Oliver.
"Excuse me?" said the swan. "You will not refer to me like that."
"Whatever," said Darkwing.
"As much as I'd like to stay here and take insults from you, I really must be getting home," Oliver said. "I'm awfully tired out after all this nonsense." The swan starts for the door.
"Wait up!" shouts Darkwing. "I need a new sidekick to replace LP here and I'm too lazy to go looking for someone else!"
Oliver stops. "Hmm, the chance to work along the great Darkwing Duck... I don't know. You seem to have a bit of an ego problem, but... I really have nothing to lose. It's definately worth a try. Given time, I think we can do much good together."
"I knew you'd see things my way," said Darkwing. "Welcome aboard, Olly." He holds his hand out to the swan.
"This should at least be interesting," Oliver said, shaking his hand.
"Let's get out of here," said Launchpad. "We've all got a busy day ahead of us." The two ducks and the swan make their way out of the museum.