Chapter Four
Out of the frying pan.
The luxurious apartment rose in front of him, the rain streaming down its architecture. Darkwing couldn't feel anything, his movements were propelled by his anger, he glowered at the building. He had been here the night before, this place had seemed like he had seen it before. He knew why now. This was the residence of the kingpin of toys, Reynold Tither. He peeled the helmet off his head and the rain mixed with the blood, making sticky red rivers pour off his face. Standing here now his head gearing to explode in pain and hatred, he recalled the images he had been imprinted with. Morgana's "companions"… one of them was this man. Darkwing had been in Tither's shoes when he was awoken, and now near collapse he recalled the millionaire boasting about a ring. He growled under his breath as he climbed off the rat catcher, the ring was hers. The home of Reynold Tither, the president and owner of the world famous Quackerjack toys, was about to be invaded by a very hostile intruder. A light was on in the third floor bedroom, the silhouette of his prey passed before it. He had already seen that room from the scum's own eyes; he knew the layout like it was blueprinted before him. He fired a grappling hook onto the roof.
Reynold stood with his back to the window. He had done it. He would get her tonight. The sultry Morgana was at his beck and call while he had her ring, he had summoned her here into his bedroom, and the next step was into his bed. He loosened his tie, her vivid green eyes glaring at him.
"My dear, don't look at me like that. It is a simple exchange, and I assure you it will not be unpleasant." He sneered at her.
"Everything about you is unpleasant!" She snarled. He sized her up carefully, the black and white gown she wore would have to be the first thing to go, he decided.
"Morgana," he cooed. "I'm sure you are aware that you have no choice. With out your ring your little magic act will fail. You won't be able to use your magic with out the trinket. You and your 'marvels', as you call them, would be thrown out and what would become of you then? But a bit of indulgence with me and not only will you have your ring back, but you will have lived out your deepest darkest fantasy, not to mention had a taste of the best lover in the world." He gloated as pulled the tie off over his head.
"I would rather die than succumb to the likes of you!"
"I will have you either way." He grinned and turned to close the curtains.
What happened instead was the window shattered inwards as he quickly stepped out of the way of the flying glass. A soggy, black-gloved fist clobbered him. He heard Morgana shriek and his assailant's strong hands seized him by the throat and lifted him off the floor.
"Who is Quackerjack?" Roared the black masked intruder.
"W…what are you….?" He gasped.
The costumed duck's scowl deepened and with a single fluid movement slammed him against the now pane-less window frame. The mallard shoved him down and forced his torso to hang outside the window with one hand, the rain splashed in his eyes.
"Don't play dumb with me! The clown in the straight jacket, the one that named himself after your corporation!" Snarled his attacker, the only visible part of this man was his ice blue eyes. Though they were such a cool pigment they burned hotter than any flame.
"I.. I don't know…" He choked, his hands desperately trying to grasp the frame, if this maniac let him go he'd fall to his death. The eyes stayed on him, like they could see inside his mind. A maddening fear fought to consume him, he was soaking wet now and anticipating his inevitable fall. The masked mallard's eyes were finally hidden as he thoughtfully blinked. When his eyes reappeared the man's other hand grabbed Reynold by the front of the shirt.
"For your sake you better not be lying to me Tither." The caped figure dragged him back into the room and threw him to the floor. "And give Ms. Macabre her ring back… now."
"Please… please don't hurt me." he sobbed as he stumbled to his feet.
"Get it and give it to her, and you will bypass the emergency room tonight." Threatened the gravely voice, and Tither scampered into the next room.
"Dark… what happened to you?" She finally gasped.
His eyes slid onto her and she felt the surge build up again. He was covered in his own blood but carried himself as if he suffered no more than a paper cut. Her knight in shining… well, bloodied black fabric, did not respond. Her heart beat faster just having him so close, she felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she remembered how close they had been to kissing that very afternoon. If they had would any of this had happened? Tither scrambled back into the room blubbering, thick tears rolling down his pathetic face as he held the ruby ring out to Darkwing. Dark stared at it.
"Don't give it to me you idiot!" He growled, and obediently Reynold shoved the ring into her hand. She slipped it snugly back onto her finger, the remains of her weariness vanishing.
"There!" Squealed the sobbing man. "I've done it! Now you said you wouldn't hurt me!"
"I only said I wouldn't send you to the emergency room." Darkwing sneered at the balding duck, who broke into a fresh wave of tears.
"P…please! Please no!"
"That's enough! I want you to understand something right here and now you sack of shit." Spat Darkwing. "The day I find out you are involved with that madman will be your last." Tither's shaking voice rose in inaudible pleas, which Darkwing had to shout over. " And if you ever…. EVER, go near Ms. Macabre again you will have to answer to me. Do I make my self perfectly clear?"
"Yes! Yes! Have mercy!" Screamed the pathetic millionaire.
"Good." A swift fist silenced the sobs and Tither fell over unconscious onto the floor. Darkwing turned his attention to her again. "You better go. I set off all kinds of alarms with my entrance."
"Thank you." She could feel the happy tears build up in her eyes.
"You just hang onto that ring." He swayed slightly and turned in preparation to exit through the broken window.
"Dark wait! Let me help you! My magic can heal your wounds!" She rushed to him.
"Maybe another time Morgana, for now get as far away from here as you can before the police show up." He leaned out into the rain and grabbed the rope of his grappling hook. She gripped a fist full of his cape, pulled him towards her, and kissed his cheek softly.
"Please be more careful Dark darling." She begged him.
"I… I'll try." He stammered caught off guard. The soaked fabric slid out of her hand and he disappeared into the rain.
The nights when he really needed to sleep in peace, the times he needed to recuperate, the most exhausting and challenging of this days his nightmare would come. Tonight was no different. It was so familiar, he'd been having this dream for as long as he could remember, which was from around the age of eight. There was blankness in his mind from anytime before that, and the first thing he could remember was being left at the orphanage by an older duck. Time had blurred his features, and no matter how Drake tried to remember nothing came. And it was at the orphanage that the dreams started. He was alone in the dark, blood coating his hands. Silence pressed in around him, and a blinding flash of white burned his eyes. There were extremely tall people dressed in white surrounding him, and they ushered him to a doorway. Beyond that door was a long hallway; one he knew he had to walk down. Every time he set foot here he heard voices call out from either side of him. The asylum was loud and the inmates were all shouting out to him. These voices were from people he had met all throughout his life. They called to him through their cell doors, assaulting him, insulting him, some pleading with him. As always he stepped into his open cell, the door ominously slammed behind him, the locks scraped into place. And there before him, as he always was, stood his cell mate. Standing in the shadows, all Drake could see was the blood dripping off his hands. No matter where he moved in the cell the shadow would not lift off this person. His cellmate put the bloody fingers in his mouth, and Drake shuddered.
It was time for him to wake up. He had always woken up at this part. The madman before him would open his mouth to speak and Drake would open his eyes in the real world.
"So you've been busy I see?" Said his companion civilly.
Drake just stood there dumbfounded. The shadowed duck cracked his neck.
"Not feeling talkative Drake? That is what you call yourself nowadays isn't it?"
"Who are you?"
"How's the kid? What's her name again, Gosalyn? It's so cute that you've become a daddy. So cute, in fact, that I have to fight the urge to vomit."
"Where are we?" Drake wasn't going to waste his time talking to this dream person about the present. This place, this asylum, he knew it had to do with his past. He had to figure this out.
"Right where I want you. But I can see you're not in the mood to talk to me. Besides daddy's little girl is waiting for you."
Drake awoke with the weak sunlight in his eyes, the sound of rain in his ears, and Gosalyn sleeping on top of the sheets next to him. He blinked dully and looked around. He hadn't made it back to the house last night, he had passed out on the bed at the Audubon Bay Bridge hideout. Which he did only after he had managed to fish out the glass, there were a few he had to have Launchpad dig out for him. It was odd, after he had left Tither's house the pain was lessened and he could pluck out the shards without feeling the pain. It was like Morgana's kiss was a shot of morphine. She swam through his tired mind, last night she was in a horrific situation, and yet she was still breathtaking. He sighed heavily and felt the bruises protest against movement. He didn't want to admit it or even allow it, but he was falling for her, hard and fast. Why did he always have to make things more complicated? The sky outside was gray and the sun slid behind thick black clouds. He forced himself into a sitting position and could tell her magic was wearing off. Magic, he thought bitterly to himself. He had never believed in it before, in fact he wasn't sure he bought it now. He also wasn't confident in what she had told him either, all this talk of him being the source of her power and whatnot. Sure he felt what she had described to him but she could have fabricated a story to cover a spell on him. Was that what was happening? Had she cast a love spell on him? His head pounded. And was she only concerned for him because of his "magical potency"? He exhaled loudly and put his throbbing head in his hands. Gosalyn sat up rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"Oh good," she yawned, "… you're not dead."
"No not yet anyway." He mumbled.
"So, ya gonna rest today?" She asked with a hint of ulterior motive in her voice.
"Probably should…" His brain processed her tone. "Why?" He saw the bike helmet in the corner. It had a giant dent and deep cracks running through it. Whoever Quackerjack was, he was strong.
"Oh, no reason." She lied with a sweet smile.
"What did you volunteer me for, young lady?" He said flatly.
"Well, I maybe, kinda sorta, told Honker that you'd take us to Chunky Charlie's." She fluttered her eyelashes. He groaned.
"Gosalyn, I hate that place. It's like, a monument to annoyance. Can't you cancel?"
"Dad, I did get poor Honk suspended. He was the only one willing to be the pitcher in the ball game…."
"The one you had in the hallway?"
"… Yeah. That and he told me what glue would work the best on the lunch lady's spoons…"
"The ones you stuck to the wall?"
"That's them! Oh and he…"
"I think you've made your point." He sighed.
"So I gotta make it up to him some how! Maybe Mr. Muddlefoot could come along and keep you company."
Drake shuddered. Herb Muddlefoot had to be the most infuriating being ever created. The guy was as dumb as he was big, not to mention loud enough not only to wake the dead but also sell them the Quackerware 32 piece starter set through the crypt door. Quite honestly he'd rather deal with a pit of scorpions. Very, VERY angry scorpions, with laser beams grafted to their stingers. Now that he thought about it, the only Muddlefoot he did like was Honker. He was brainy little guy, with the kind of intelligence that would land him on S.H.U.S.H.'s payroll for sure. He was quiet, reserved, and hung around Gosalyn like a shadow. He was pretty pleased that Honker was her best friend; he couldn't take another kid like Gos helping her in her crazed schemes. Really he wasn't sure where the kid got it from, he certainly didn't take after either of his parents. Binky Muddlefoot was a housewife seemingly stuck in the forties, always in a dress, apron, matching high heels, eternally painfully pleasant, and dumb as a brick. The oldest son, Tank was a mean little bugger. He was half muscle, half lard and to complement his physique he had the brainpower of a dust bunny. The very idea of having to deal with any Muddlefoot that wasn't Honker was almost worse than a headache ten times more severe than he was currently nursing.
"Can't you and Honker just play at the house?"
"Yeah right. What's special about that? We do that everyday." She grumbled.
"Gos, I don't want to go."
"You'd go if Morgana asked you to."
"What?" He looked at her and she frowned at him, her arms crossed. "What are you even talking about?"
"Oh come on! I know you like her." She smirked at him.
" I don't trust her as far as I throw her!" He flared.
"Ah… but you don't have to trust her to love her…" She mocked as she made loud kissy noises.
"I do not love her!" He shrieked as he stood up painfully. She was being manipulative and he was not going to give in. She would say whatever it took to get her way, but she had said the very thing he was trying so hard to deny. And it made him mad. "I am not going to Chunky Charlie's and that is FINAL!"
Two hours and three aspirin later Drake pulled into St. Canard's biggest Chunky Charlie's. Gosalyn quickly bolted out of the car while Honker carefully removed himself. He was only a little shorter than Gosalyn; he had large round red glasses, and usually wore a green shirt. Drake looked out the windshield, the rain had not let up, it was pouring and the bright yellow building before him seemed quite eerie against the gray, wet city it sat in. Gosalyn yanked his door open and tugged excitedly on his arm.
"Come on Whiffle Boy isn't playing itself in there!" She cried happily and he got stiffly out of the car.
"Thanks a lot for bringing us Mr. Mallard." Came Honker's nasally voice.
"Don't mention it." He locked the car and walked through the heavy rain, the children running enthusiastically in front of him. There were a lot of cars in the parking lot, crammed was an appropriate term he decided. That meant that the noise inside would be deafening. His eyes traveled away from the impending doom of "family themed fun" to the drowned city. He could just make out the flashing lights of a slew of police cars trying to get through traffic way down the street. The Darkwing in him wanted to follow them, to find out what was up, but Gosalyn was impatiently calling him from the entrance.
"Hurry up we haven't got all year Dad!" She yelled.
"I'm coming. I'm coming." He grumbled. He put his hand on the yellow cheese shaped doorknob and pulled it open. Gosalyn tried to run past him but he shot out his hand and caught her.
"Hey! What's the big idea!" She shouted angrily.
He held her still. It was quiet. Save for a few odd sounding dings and plinks of the video game machines, it sounded like they were all breaking down. Not a single scream or laugh met their ears. Gosalyn looked up at him.
"There were tons of cars outside… what does it mean?" She whispered.
"It means something is wrong. Honker you and Gos go back to the car…" He glanced at the little boy; he was pale as a ghost.
"But Dad you can't…." Gosalyn clung to his arm. He didn't want to hear what he couldn't do. He was about to reassure her, give her a knowing wink and send her safely away when…
"Yeah Dad you can't keep all the fun for yourself!"
The voice hit him like a brick wall, his eyes locked onto the all too familiar figure standing at the end of the hallway.
"You're all late." Smiled Quackerjack in his freshly blood stained costume. "The party was just ending, but we can accommodate the fashionably late can't we Mr. Banana Brain?" His voice was terrifyingly peaceful and he was jingling toward them slowly.
Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney