-Chapter Nine-
Into the Mouth of Madness
The Rat catcher screamed to a halt in front of the Mallard house on Avian way. Darkwing ran full throttle to the front door and whipped it open, the sight he saw almost made him collapse. The house was trashed, everything was smashed or knocked to the floor, the walls were covered in crayon, confetti littered every surface, and to anyone but him it might have looked like the aftermath of a serious party. His voice caught in his throat as he pulled himself together. He stepped into his house, odds and ends crunching beneath his boots. It was quiet, was he here hiding? Had he gotten to Gosalyn yet? He scrambled up the stairs and his words dislodged themselves.
"Gosalyn?" He shrieked and grabbed onto the doorknob to her room. The knob slid beneath his bloody hand and after a desperate moment he finally wrenched it open. Her room was pristine, nothing had been broken, it looked as it had when he last saw it.
"Gosalyn?" There was a lump under the covers of her bed. He walked to it carefully, and took hold of the comforter. He swallowed hard and pulled back the bed cover. A pair of red eyes stared back up at him, and a green-toothed smile greeted him.
"Mama…." Said the grotesque baby doll.
His heart shattered. He could barely breathe, how could he have failed her so miserably? There was a loud thump from the hallway. He pulled out his gas gun and darted out, ready to fire.
"Dra… Darkwing?"
"Launchpad!" Darkwing stared at the broken figure before him. He was bloodied, showing signs of bruising, and held one leg limp. Dark holstered his gun and rushed to aid his battered friend. "Launchpad what happened?" From the looks of the duck's stature he had been bludgeoned, and his left leg was broken in two places.
"The bastard came at me with a mallet… he didn't look it but he was a strong bugger."
"What happened to Gos?"
"He got her." The strong looking duck lowered his eyes in shame. "I'm so sorry Drake, I tried to help her but he…" Launchpad held a bloody wound on his forehead.
Drake felt as if he would never be happy again, that he would curl up and die right then and there, luckily, inside Drake's head there was also Darkwing.
"Did he say where he was taking her LP?" Darkwing grabbed a dowel from the staircase and yanked it free. He quickly fashioned the wooden dowel into a splint for the downed duck.
"Nah, he didn't hurt her though. She was fine when they left." Launchpad tried to sound reassuring.
"Oh, he won't kill her until he has an audience…" Darkwing said numbly. "When did he do this?"
"Ah…" Launchpad wiped the blood from his forehead. "I dunno I was out for a while, but about an hour and a half ago maybe a bit longer…" Launchpad noticed the disconnected look in his friend's eyes.
Darkwing's stomach churned sourly, that was around the time he had his ominous feeling. He helped Launchpad get to his feet. The standing McQuack put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Let's go. I'll ready the Thunderquack, we'll find the bastard and put him in his place."
Darkwing shook his head.
"You sit this one out partner. He's got my daughter, if you came he'd target you too for sure. I can't give him all the cards. You need to rest, got it?" The blue eyes flashed at him.
"Drake!" Cried a voice from downstairs.
Darkwing blinked, this whole thing was surreal. How many people he cared about had been hurt in such a short amount of time? He helped Launchpad steady himself on the banister and hopped over it landing at the foot of the stairs. Morgana was leaning heavily on the doorframe.
She had felt it; he had asked her to wait for him at Darkwing Tower so she did. But he was gone no longer than thirty minutes when she felt agony consume him. She had thought about trying to find him, help him, but she knew she'd blow his cover. So she sat still in the morning light anxiously awaiting his return. She felt his pain like a distant dream, then sensed him approaching at breakneck speed. Somehow she knew that his target wasn't the tower. She had made her way to this house by following his aura, and using her magic to travel faster than she could run, to keep up. She had gotten so close when a few blocks away from this place her mind started to haze. As she got closer to him the harder it got to focus on him, and her magic faltered with every step. She strained to keep her lock, something powerful and unnatural was interfering with her. It was the same feeling she had when her spell failed the day before, when Quackerjack had been able to stab Drake. When she found this house and the bike outside she felt violently ill and nearly collapsed. Negatrons, a horrendously concentrated amount of them were suppressing her, dulling the positive energy of Drake. She could barely stand but could feel him close by, he was her only hope. By the time she had entered the house she could hardly see so she screamed his name. Like a breath of fresh air she felt him catch her before she hit the ground.
"Morgana! Don't tell me he got you too!" His voice was unsteady as if the entire world was rising up against him. There was a resurgence of her strength as he held her, but the interference was still there, holding most of her magic back. Her eyes regained their sight and she focused on his grief-ridden face.
"Dark… what's happened?"
"…" His eyes iced over. "He's got Gosalyn. I have to go get her back. Can you stand?" He helped her up. "Launchpad's been hurt real bad… can you heal him?"
In their precious few peaceful hours together he had told her a lot of his civilian ways. She knew the man's name as that of his best friend, but had never met him. She felt the bloody hand in her own and looked at it.
"What happened to your hand?"
"I'm fine just go help Launchpad."
She stared at him hesitantly, and suddenly the heavy burden of the rallied Negatrons slowly began to lift.
"Please." Darkwing pleaded.
She grasped his hand tighter and cured his wound. With a small kiss on his feathery cheek she released him and ran upstairs.
Darkwing inspected his finger and quickly pulled his black leather glove back over the white feathers. He had a clue where they had gone, Quackerjack had told him in the riddle. He just had to figure it out; he ran the riddle through his panicked brain... Pale children will rejoice… statues? Ghosts? Quackerjack had confirmed they were ghosts when he called them wandering souls, he wouldn't give him the same clue twice. Think Drake think! Pale children… albinos? Vampires? This mind was slipping into hopelessness. He had doomed her, just as the clown had said. He felt sick… sick? That was it! Sick! There was an abandoned children's hospital in the slums of the city! He must have taken Gosalyn there!
When the little girl awoke she was in a large room. She looked around, it seemed as if she was on a large wooden platform that was suspended a great distance from the ground, it was almost like being on an un-railed balcony. The building this room was in was clearly unstable as the outside light seeped in through the cracks that lined the ceiling and the walls, making every speck of dust in the air visible. A large bright orange circle was in the center of the platform's floor. Her hands and ankles were stuck together with what felt like a mix of chewed bubble gum and sticky cotton candy. She inched her way to the edge of the platform and gawked down at the huge drop. She saw a strange structure below and through the large, looping, colorful plastic tubes saw a deep fall onto debris that resembled things one might find in a hospital. Rusted and forgotten things big and small littered the faraway floor. Beds, sinks, machinery, there was just too much to identify it all. Deciding not to try and escape that way she made her way to the orange circle in the middle of the floor. Looking down it she saw it led into a… ball pit? No, what was down there weren't hollow plastic balls, but menacing looking things the size of bowling balls with great big spikes bursting out all over them. A jingling sounded from down the hole out of sight and she drew back quickly remembering what had brought her here. Her eyes shot around the dismal platform and noticed there was an older man being held here too, he was terribly still. A sewn shut sleeve shot into sight from the hole and Quackerjack pulled himself up, smiling at her.
"Well good morning star shine!" The evil smile sang sweetly.
"What do you want from me?" She growled.
"From you?" The jester shook his head with a smirk. "I want nothing from you. I'm just looking to kill your daddie."
"Yeah right creep! When he gets here he's going to clean your clock you stooge!" She snarled.
"Oh? In that case I should kill you now and get it over with. Or if you'd prefer we can play a little game." Quackerjack didn't loose his eerie smile.
"What kind of game?" She was petrified but she would not let him know that.
"It's called… 'wanna know a secret?' " His smile twisted further along his beak, curling around his jagged teeth.
"…sounds stupid."
"Well I suppose for most people it would be, but for you…. you could learn quite a lot about your dear ol' dad."
"Like you'd even know anything about him."
"You're wrong there little Miss Waddle-Mallard. Me and your dad go back a long way. You could say we were real tight." He tugged on the end of one of his straightjacket sleeves for emphasis. He quickly leaned in towards her; his rotten breath slammed her brutally in the face. "Or if you don't want to play that we could always play 'Do you need this to live?' " There was a flash of steel.
"No! The other one! The other one!" She screeched as he moved the blade toward her face.
"You sure? Cuz Mr. Tither over there holds the record so far. You could try to out do him." The shattered eyes swallowed her spunk and she was openly afraid.
"No, I… I don't want to take his victory away so soon." She stared up at him.
"Aw… you hear that Rey?" Quackerjack shouted over his shoulder as his empty hand ruffled her hair. "Ain't she sweet? Okay then have it your way Waddley. So…" He fixed her with a maddening stare. "…you wanna know a secret?"
She nodded, terrified of finding out what the jester had found that Mister Tither didn't need to live.
"Now remember, secrets cannot be told to anyone." He sat in front of her. "If you tell you'll end up worse than Tither over there. Understand?"
Again she nodded as she fought away the urge to break into tears.
"All right. Now what's a good one…?" his face contorted in thought. "Ah, we'll start out simple. Your dad's name isn't really Drake Mallard."
"That's not a very good one." She said hoarsely. He was twirling the knife around absent mindedly,
"Yeah, I guess you're right. But it's true all the same. Okay you want a good one? I've got one that will knock your socks off kiddo." He eyed her suspiciously. "You are wearing socks aren't you?"
She slowly nodded. She knew whatever he was going to tell her would be something that couldn't be unheard. Even if it was made up, it wouldn't be something pleasant or easily forgotten. How would he know anything about Drake anyway? He had to be lying.
"Good, good, socks are important. Now your daddy, when he was about your age…" His white eyes burned and he leaned in closer to her. She flinched as he did, he smelt horrible, she suspected that this would be exactly what a zombie would smell like. The dark voice in her ear made her shudder. "…he was eight and you know what he did?" His voice dropped to a rasping whisper. "He murdered his family, killed them in cold blood. Stabbed them over and over with a kitchen knife. And you know what he did when they found him?" She wanted to shut down, to stop listening but he wouldn't let her. "He licked their blood from his hands…."
"That's not true!"
"Oh?" Quackerjack sat back sneering knowingly at her. "You're sure? I mean you would know right? You've known him soooo long, huh? How many years have you known him Ms. Waddlemyer?"
"Well…"
"What's that? You practically just met him? So in the last few months you have learned everything about him? If that's what you're saying answer this for me: Where was he when you needed him today? I'll tell you, he was snuggling with his new girlfriend. Where was he when your Granddad was gunned down? Oh, he was right there wasn't he? Just watching…. He could have saved him, you do know that right? What will happen when he gets tired of you? I mean you already know he can't stand you, you don't make him happy like you used to. Even now he's wishing he hadn't adopted you. So what will happen? I mean, if he can slaughter his own flesh and blood he can certainly slice up a nobody like you with out a second thought."
"Stop it!" She moaned through her tears. How did he know about her Grandfather? How did he know all this? He was just trying to confuse her… Drake would never do any of that! A canvas-covered hand lifted her chin and she stared into the white eyes before her.
"That was a good one huh?" He smiled.
"QUACKERJACK! YOU GET YOUR GODDAMNED HANDS OFF OF HER!"
The Jester tweaked her beak and laughed.
"Daddy's here pumpkin! Now the real games begin!"
Darkwing stood at the foot of what resembled a gigantic hamster tube maze, or more appropriately one of the jungle gyms that are often found in fast food restaurants. There were brightly colored tubes sticking out all over from the vivid compartments that sprawled out before him, all leading a twisted path up to the platform that was near the ceiling. Somehow, he knew that rope ladders and brightly colored, toddler friendly playgrounds didn't await him in it's bowels. He could see them far above. Quackerjack stood up and looked down at him amused, while Gosalyn sat at his feet crying.
"Welcome Darkwing Duck! What took you so long?" The jester shouted.
"Let her go NOW!" Darkwing roared.
"I don't think so! You'll have to come and get your little doll back yourself!" Quackerjack laughed at his anger.
"She's not a toy you lunatic!"
"Really? That's what you think. In fact there are a lot of things people like you say aren't toys. In fact I have something else up here that is just like that!" Quackerjack jingled away and returned swiftly with a plain plastic bag. He turned it over thoughtfully in his hands. "Here we are: 'This bag is not a toy'. Now really, that's silly. How can they say that when they make such splendid masks?" Like a shot he pulled the bag over Gosalyn's head and pulled it tight around her.
"STOP!" Darkwing aimed at the clown.
"No! Now you listen to me Wingy! You play by my rules or the little princess goes to sleep… permanently. Rule number one: NO GUNS! Drop it now or I'll squeeze the life out of her myself."
Dark threw the gun away and the jester pulled the bag from her head. She coughed and gasped painfully, but she seemed okay.
"Rule number two: NO CHEATING! You have to get up here through the tunnel or I'll snap her pretty little neck. And rule number three: if you don't make it up here in twenty minutes, she's mine."
"I swear…" Darkwing seethed, "… if you harm so much as a feather…."
"You're on the clock there pappy! Save the threats for when you get up here!" Quackerjack laughed suddenly. "Ohoho! Sorry, I meant IF you get up here!"
Darkwing stared at the gaping circular entrance. The bastard had him right where he wanted him, but no one would cause her harm and get away with it. He ran at top speed into the blindingly yellow tube.
Darkwing Duck and all related characters are © Disney
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Hurray for Dell and monthly payments! I am putting up this chapter with my sleek new computer that actually works! I am so happy. So my computer having skills have vanquished the dilemma of not being able to update! And I apologize for this drastic cliffhanger but the next chapter is gunna be long and I'd rather give you a six-page update instead of a nine or ten page one. And as always I have to thank you guys for being so damned awesome. You make this so much fun. So until next time keep on rockin'!