Roots Of Revenge Chapter 5: Prophecy, a darkwing duck fanfic

Roots of Revenge

-Chapter 5-

Prophecy

"Oh your quick! I'm not just a girl I am Gosalyn the zombie slayer!! And I'll be damned if Marbles Mallard is gunna scare me!"

"You better watch your language miss or it will never improve.." lectured Drake through clenched teeth, his body was screaming in pain. Blue hatt-ed Gosalyn propped the pipe up on her shoulder.

"So your Marbles?" her big green eyes traveled all over him. "Your nothing like the other kids say. They say he's a huge-o beastly looking duck with jagged teeth and more muscles than all the guys on Most X-treme Wrestleton-amania."

"Yeah well you caught me on a bad day." Drake growled as he straightened up wincing.

"Riight." She sarcastically agreed.

"Shouldn't you be at home playing dress up and having tea parties? I swear I've tried everything to keep you bratty kids out of here." Drake took his cap off and wiped his brow.

"Eh, who wants to do that girly stuff?" she swung the pipe again, Drake casually leaned out of it's path.

"What I mean is go home."

For an instant he thought he saw pain in her eyes, but that dreadful thing called curiosity overpowered it.

"Why are you so mean? I didn't do anything."

"Now which exactly do you call not doing anything, trespassing or hitting me with a PIPE!" His voice rose at the end of the sentence this girl was getting to him.

"Well alright, I am sorry about the pipe thing. But why do you scare kids?" She put the pipe down as a sign of peace, he ignored it.

"Why? Because I'm mean you said it yourself, so scram." He turned and started back toward "the office", she trotted up along side him.

"Yeah but your not really mean you just like to play tricks right?" her eyes twinkled. "I love tricks too this one time I let a pig loose in the boys bathroom and.."

"Excuse me Ms. Zombie Slayer but you are still trespassing and I'm still telling you to scram." He caught a glimpse of red and found himself staring at her. She had taken the hat off and had her face turned down, her bright red hair making a dramatic first appearance. There was definitely something very dramatic about this girl, something about her that made it so he couldn't help but not despise her. He caught himself smiling and quickly shook it off.

"What do you want from me kid?" he said grumpily.

"I don't want anything…. well nothing much." She turned her pleading green eyes up at him.

"Here we go… well whatever it is forget it." He coldly replied.

"No wait it's just…. I…I don't want to go home just yet…"

"Why? Did you break a window or something?" he said flatly. He wanted her to leave before he started to like her again.

"Oh please! If it was that I'd be out her everyday." She giggled. "I just don't want to go back, not right now. Can't I just stay here with you for another hour? I promise you won't even know I'm here!"

" I don't think so."

"Oh please! Just help me out! I'll clean or something!"

He stopped and so did she. He gave her a backward glance then turned to her putting his hands in his pockets. Her big green eyes locked on his in determination.

"Clean? Boy you really don't want to go back huh?" She shook her head furiously. He scratched his forehead and she knew she had broken him down. "Okay. One hour. That's it. But forget the cleaning part, it will make me look bad."

She broke out into a huge smile and slapped the cap back on her head.

"Thanks Mister Mallard! You won't be sorry!"

"'Mister Mallard'? I'm no 'Mister' just call me Drake."

"Oh good, Marbles isn't your real name," she laughed.

In that one second everything changed. Drake Mallard was no longer invisible. He had a friend.

The mid-day sun shone down on the city, it's people bustling along with business as usual. The effect was the same across the Audubon bay and into the suburbs. Business flowed normally on the hot summer day, though a little slower in some areas than others. One of these spots was McDuck's Automotive Repair, a well respected business just a stone's throw away from the teeming metropolis. It has a wonderful location right on the edge of a thick wood. In the hot days of summer, like this one, the shop was wide open to welcome any sort of breeze that would happen to meander by. Something was strange today, the black-feathered mallard that was the manager of said establishment was sure of it. Only problem was he couldn't figure out what. He stared into the street a cigarette clamped in his bill. He used a smoke break in hopes of finding relief in a breeze, but none was to be found. The smoke curled around in front of his eyes, while he tried to peg the abnormality. The sound of a drill roared from inside, he smirked.

"That boy will work himself into an early grave and love every minute of it," he laughed to himself.

The drill was loud today. Or…. was it? Aha! He turned to the woods behind the shop triumphantly; he'd found what was awry. Stomping out his cigarette he made his way back inside. Two brown boots stuck out from under a beat up pick up truck; he kicked the sole of the left foot. The drill stopped and the mechanic rolled out, he was a tall, barrel chested duck, currently covered in dirt and oil and peering at his boss through a pair of goggles. Jack, the manager leaned against the truck and addressed his best employee.

"Launchpad, do you hear that?"

Launchpad sat up and wiped the oil off his face feathers. He strained his ears.

"I don't hear anything Mr. J."

"Neither do I," said Jack seriously. " I don't get it, not one rustle, chirp, or squawk is coming from the woods. It doesn't bode well."

Launchpad listened again and agreed with Jack. Since he had moved from Duckburg he had been working here. And everyday the foliage was always noisy with the sounds of critters, but today it was quiet as death. He slid the goggles back onto his head. He'd have to tell DW about this… it was just too weird. He'd have to wait till later though; he wasn't quite sure where DW went during the day. He wiped his oily hands off on a rag. That was the thing with DW, he was a loner. Not out of some blinding egotism but unrelenting concern. He didn't let Launchpad know anything about his secret identity; in fact LP wasn't sure if he even had one. He was certain that the reasoning was the same as any comic hero's: not wanting to endanger friends and family by dragging them into his battles. Jack had walked out toward the woods and Launchpad sighed. It was hard being the best friend of a crime fighter, but he didn't mind, as long as DW had the guts to go out every night and protect the innocent Launchpad would be on call to aid him, it was the least he could do. His musings were interrupted when the canopy of the forest shuddered. He wandered to the window just in time to se an explosion of birds rocket out of the wood at top speed and disappear overhead. Then there came the animals, of all shapes and sizes running from their home all with the same terrified urgency. Something was in those woods that scared them out of their minds. Launchpad shuddered as a breeze swirled around him, and the deafening silence had once more saturated the forest.

Why? Why did he do it? He stumbled over his roots, he couldn't get use to his new feet. He didn't know why he killed them. He barely remembered doing it. He had been talking with Rhoda when a searing pain shot through him, it was like he blacked out and when he came back to his senses he was in a part of the wood he had never seen before dragging a police man's body behind him. He knew he still had a heart because it was pounding painfully in his throat. There was also a stabbing pain on his left thigh, and on closer inspection it was bleeding… was it blood? What was keeping him alive if it wasn't blood? His head swam with a chaotic choir of questions. Yes he was alive, but for how long? He'd figured his revival had something to do with the serum, but how long would it last? Could it be permanent or would he wither and die tomorrow? If that was the case would he be able to find Hammerhead in time? What would he do when he did find the ghastly goat?

"Kill him." That was the strongest answer in his leafy head. And this disturbed him. The numbness was wearing off and he was beginning to realize he was already a murderer. He started to tremble and fell to his knees; he had killed two police officers for no reason. He really was a monster. These thoughts didn't plague him long however, the strong, tall voice in his head was chanting, "Kill him" and Bushroot discovered that this voice wasn't his. A branch swung down and wrapped itself around him, lifting him off the ground.

"What are you waiting for Bushroot? Avenge our brothers and yourself!" rustled the tree.

"How do you know me? How are you talking?" he was surprised to hear his voice come out calm.

In response the tree laughed. It was an old strong sound that had a peculiar creak in it. The branches bopped up and down and showered pine needles around him. A laughing tree? Bushroot decided it was a beautiful sight.

"Everyone knows about you Bushroot! We've all heard about the prophesized walking sapling but we never dreamed it would sprout from good Dr. Reginald." Bushroot smiled, the trees had liked him. " Now you've come to take back the concrete jungle!"

"I have? I mean… are you sure I'm this walking sapling?" he realized how stupid he sounded too late and the tree laughed again.

"Do you see any other walking plant life around here?"

"No…. I suppose not.. What was that about a prophecy?"

"Hmmm… that's not a really accurate word… leaves too much to guess work. Let's just say that at the core, every tree has a cloud.. something Reggie's people might have called a spirit. It holds our life source; over time it's become dormant and sealed beneath layers of bark and wick. But for all we lacked in mobility we made up for in knowledge, some even clairvoyant. That is how we knew about your coming. Only you know how to access your cloud and bend it to your will, and just by being in your presence we are able to do the same." The tree held Bushroot still and the wind ruffled their leaves. "They have hurt us… they have scarred and eaten up our mother Earth. You have an army at your command; the time has come to take back what was once ours. The tree gently placed Bushroot on the grass. "Where better to start than with your murderers?"

It sounded ridiculous… and yet he understood and knew it was true. Maybe it was the tree in him? But he stood there in the woods and opened his mind to hear a crowd of voices. Branches stirred and leaves fell, the army was gathering.

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I updated? The world must be ending ; Sorry it took me forever to get this uploaded. Hence why it's long.. Trying to make up for lost time... Trust me there's a lot more to come. Now getting it out of my head onto paper and typed up on my computer is another issue. Please be paitient with me... -; I'd also like to add that from the beginning that this was ment to be a series... at least five stories each dealing with dark origins for the Feindish Five.... and now that I have (finally) decided on all the origins and plotted them out i can actually get crackin so here's hoping updates are frequent and not completely terrible... (and if your curious... as it stands Quackerjack is next ;3 )