Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck, Scrooge McDuck or any other Disney character.
Authors Note: Again, this fic ties in with "The Path Chosen." This is one of the alternate realities that Darkwing could have chosen. Fair warning; another Darkwing Duck / Ducktales crossover!
Hidden Dawn
Part 4
We walk slowly toward McDuck Manor. Gyro is telling Scrooge about my suggestion to finish working on the newer version of the Masked Mallard suit and the children are chattering excitedly over my apparent skills in the Martial Arts.
Ideas of my true identity fill their young minds and they are not shy about sharing them with me.
"Maybe you're a secret agent on a mission for the president!" Louie suggests.
"Yeah and you're fighting evil villains who want to take over the world. I bet you were flying top secret plans to the white house when your plane was shot down in the river. But you got out before you drown and then you swam all this way." Dewey pipes out.
"Yeah, and I bet the bad guys shot you with a memory erasing ray for you'd forget that you were suppose to stop them before they destroyed the world!" Huey adds his part to the explanation.
For the life of me, I can't help but grin "Or maybe I'm just some guy that took a few self-defense classes and I accidently fell into the river while I was fishing?" I suggest.
All three boys exchange looks then say in perfect unison "Nahhh."
"Our idea makes much more sense." Huey insists.
"Boys, leave the man be." Scrooge says glancing back at them.
"They're not bothering me, Mr McDuck," I assure him. The truth was, I rather enjoyed hearing their over imaginative ideas. Something about a child's spirited prattle that I find comforting.
"That's kind of you to say..Mr...uh...er...just what do I call you, anyways?" Scrooge asks Curiously.
Call me? In all honesty, I haven't considered a name, even a temporary one. I simply shrug in reply.
"You know, I suppose you do need to call yourself something until we figure out who you really are." Gyro points out.
I don't have a chance to reply before Huey speaks up "What about Bill," he offers
innocently, taking notice of my slightly overgrown schnozzle "it kind'a fits."
"Huey!" Scrooge reprimands sharply. The boy drops his head in shame. "I'm sorry." he mutters softly.
I run the tip of my finger over the rim of my bill. I hadn't really considered it's size. I guess it is a bit - larger than necessary.
"I suppose Bill is as good a name as any," I say in an attempt to cheer Huey up. I add sheepishly "And I guess it would be easy to remember..considering...," I tap my finger on the side of my bill.
"Then Bill it is." Gyro proclaims with mild amusement.
We arrive at the mansion. I stop at the front entrance to take a good look at the size of the majestic mansion.
"You two might as well come in for a spell, have some hot chocolate to warm you up a bit." Scrooge offers courteously.
"Thanks Mr. McDuck, but maybe we should be getting back to my place. I really want to get started on that Masked Mallard costume again!" Gyro explains.
"Oh boy!" exclaims Louie at the thought of another Super Hero costume "You're going to let us see it when it's done, aren't you Gyro?"
"Of course - but it may take awhile to get it done."
"Just, don't you boys get any ideas. We have Gizmoduck, we don't need anymore Super Heros running around." Scrooge says in a half joking manner then waves to us as he and the children went in.
We turn to go back to Gyros place. A chilling wind rises, blowing low across the city streets. I shove my hands into the pockets of the warm jacket that Gyro generously purchased for me the day before. I glance up at the sky. Dark clouds are rolling in. Looks like foul weather may be in the forecast.
Gyro gets the Masked Mallard costume out as soon as we get back. He shows it to me and explains much of the costumes abilities. We are sitting at one of his work tables. He shows me a flashy utility belt.
"This is what Mr. McDuck called his futility-belt."
"Futility belt? Isn't that a bit tacky." I ask looking closely at the devise.
Gyro grins "I thought it was clever myself."
He opens a drawer and pulls out a rolled up tattered paper. He carefully unrolls it for me "This is the blueprint for the costume. Maybe you can help me with the improvements. I noticed you have a good eye for gadgets."
I smile at the complement. Yes, it does seem that I am good with gadgets and I wonder if that might not be a clue to my identity. Maybe time will tell.
So I find myself working as a tailor for a Super Hero costume. Again a strange feeling of familiarity comes over me, but I'm sure I'm not a seamstress of spandex
and cape wear. Still I work into the late hours of night. I have found that it is very easy for me to stay up late. I'm a night person, no doubt. At least I know that much about myself.
With that realization, however, comes the fear of why I am use to night work. Isn't most criminal activity done under the cloak of darkness? Oh, I have to stop doing this to myself. For all I know, I was coming home from a costume party when I somehow fell into the river.
I finally retire somewhere around 3AM, long after Gyro had gone to bed.
I crawl into my cot and lay my head on the pillow - and I am asleep.
And realize I am back in that disturbing dream. I am standing in the long corridor with the mirrors everywhere. Many of the mirrors are merely frames without glass. But there are a few that have the looking glass intact. The one at the far end of the hall, the shatter mirror. Fragments of it lay scatter about on the floor. I am compelled to turn away, walk away from it, not to look upon the broken pieces again.
I walk back to the mirror that I'd seen the reflection of myself as a young lad dressed in the Martial Arts costume. I step in front of it. As before I see myself dressed in a light blue Martial Arts costume. I realize this may be my subconscious mind, the part that holds my lost memory. I now know that I have
some training in the Martial Arts.
The image in the mirror moves! He raises a hand to jester to me to keep going. I start walking in the direction of the mirror that held the image of me in a dark trench coat.
I step in front of the mirror, I see my reflection, again, in the trench coat. What part of my memory could this possibly represent. If indeed, this is my memory trying to resurface.
This reflection also beckons for me to keep going. I once more start walking down the corridor towards the other end. I come upon the first mirror I'd looked at in my other dream, the one with out a reflection. There is an overpowering sensation come over me. My feet freeze under me. I can't move. I hear a voice
in my head saying "not yet...not yet..."
I awake in a cold sweat. The sensation that had overtaken me in the dream is so strong that I can feel it still, though I am awake. I glance over at Gyro's bed. I can just make out his silhouette through the darkness. He's asleep so it's safe for me to remove the visors for a few minutes.
With the visors gripped tightly in my hand, I lay back down and stare into the darkness. I think about the dream, the images of myself in the mirrors.
I have to wonder what it is about me, that even in my dreams, I wear a mask.
To be continued...