Author's Note: Barry, Stu, and Havanna are the work of Bookworm Gal, but borrowing is always an option.
And Editors Note: Again, my personal issues have prevented me from getting you guys a chapter sooner then within a year. Even now the promised Neptunia chapter has to have been completely overhauled as the original concept just wasn't working. It made no damn sense and ended up being a train wreak. Therefor, while the next chapter is going to involve our fishy friend it will be a bit different then the original concept, so hopefully it doesn't look like such a glorious mess. and yeah, from now on no more after chapter summaries of the next installment. I think I pigeonholed myself, which helped contribute to the lack of updates.
Thanks a bunch to Bookworm Gal for writing this next chapter for us. Now I know why tv writers have multiple people working on their shows. Enjoy.
Chapter 15
Batteries Not Included
Two Months Ago…
He made the final connection to the power grid. His calculations suggested that it wouldn't work, that the energy requirements to charge his creation would be too great to work, but he lacked many other options. Besides, his previous failure at gaining the wealth of the penny-pinching old man was still too fresh in his mind to allow him to even think of giving up. While Launchpad was apparently to dull-minded to think of betrayal, Fenton simply took his invention and charged straight forward with his greed and vendetta against McDuck. He should have just let the thick-skulled goon use the suit, though his concerns at the time about whether or not Launchpad would have been smart enough to operate it made the accountant seem like a wiser option.
Shaking his head to clear it of thoughts of past betrayals and mistakes, Gyro Gearloose focused more on the task at hand. The avian inventor peered through his round glasses at his large creation, trying to see if there was any possible way he could improve it before he began. From his skinny build to his messy red hair, he knew he looked harmless. But between his creation of the Gizmo suit and his newest invention, he also knew that he could be just as dangerous at the hulking goons that tended to look down on the more intellectual types. He could be just as powerful or rich as them, though it wasn't just the money that he was interested in. That was just a bonus. He was far more interested in the science and how he could make the laws of physics sit down and shut up.
"Helper, did you finish calibrating the systems yet?" he asked.
Gyro glanced over to see his companion give him a thumbs up. Once upon a time, the inventor realized that he tended to forget or overlook certain problems with his plans. He might be a genius after all, but his common sense sometimes got left behind in the pursuit of his newest creations. So he created Little Helper, a small robot that would assist him. Not only was the robot intelligent enough for Gyro to delegate certain tasks to during their operations, but it served to point out flaws in his designs or plans before they could bring things crashing down around them. The only problem was that the lightbulb-headed machine didn't have any way to speak, the sort of oversight that Gyro invented him to help prevent in the future. Still, between hand gestures, body language, and a notepad, communication was well-established.
"All right, then. Let's see if we can charge it," he said, flipping the switch.
A loud hum filled the air, giving the inventor hope momentarily. Then, everything went dark except for the light of Little Helper's head. Gyro rubbed his head in frustration. He'd managed to black out the entire city of Duckburg. Again.
"Their power requirements are just too great. The city's power grid can't handle the stress without overloading the connections," he muttered to himself. "I could try going to the power plant directly, but there are still no guarantees. And my invention can't be charged slowly over a long period of time. It isn't designed that way. At this rate, I'd have an easier time getting the gold in Scrooge's Bastion by tunneling with spoons. Of course, that would give him more time to rebuild his fortune after Fenton raided it…"
His wandering thoughts were interrupted as Little Helper tugged at the hem of his pants and handed over something. Gyro peered through the darkness, the glow from his robot's head providing enough illumination to identify the object as a page from the newspaper. It even had a coffee stain from that morning. The article and the picture initially didn't seem important, but he'd created Little Helper to help her realize critical information that the inventor might at first miss. After a moment of careful study, Gyro realized exactly what his companion wanted him to notice.
"Tesla's coils! That's just what I need," he exclaimed before scooping up Little Helper and chuckling cheerfully. "That's perfect, Helper. That'll solve the entire problem. Of course, I'll have to make some modifications to the machine. And we'll have to figure out the best way to gain our new power source, but it should work. It'll just take some planning. A little bribery, maybe? And a distraction. It'll have to be a good one, though. Something no one could ignore, but one that won't run the risk of turning out badly for us. Wouldn't want another Gizmoduck running around, would we?"
One Month Ago…
There were only two reasons why Negaduck was meeting with the egg-head from Duckburg. The first was because Launchpad worked with that Gyro Gearloose before. Of course, he'd also worked with Gizmoduck before, but that didn't mean Negaduck had any intention of letting that tin-suited freak anywhere near his turf again. But Launchpad assured him that Gyro was too much of a brainiac to care about causing too much trouble.
Sure, the inventor wasn't above trying to steal McDuck's fortune, but it wasn't because the guy was obsessed with being rich or because he loved spreading a little chaos to the world. No, the geek just wanted to show off how smart he was. He wanted to prove that his inventions were better than anyone else's. He wanted to do it for science. And while Negaduck had met (and killed) plenty of scientists, it was kind of amusing what those with no ethics could come up with. Morality, power, people's lives, and common sense were apparently tossed out the window when it came to the ruthless pursuit of Gyro's brilliant ideas. And Negaduck had to kind of respect that kind of single-minded dedication, though that didn't stop him from keeping a chainsaw within arm's reach while waiting for Launchpad's "old friend."
The second reason why he agreed to this stupid meeting was because the geek promised a present that he thought Negaduck would appreciate. A destructive and dangerous present. And no one who loved mayhem and chaos as much as Negaduck would ever think about turning down the deadly invention of amoral inventor without at least finding out what he was offering first.
He was waiting at an old warehouse near the docks. He wasn't stupid enough to invite a brainiac anywhere near where the rest of his people were. Gyro could have some sort of brainwashing device that could take over their weak minds and turn them against Negaduck. Or he could just dangle something shiny in front of their eyes and distract them. Either way, Negaduck held few doubts that the genius inventor could cause trouble if he wanted. That was the problem with dealing with smart people; they could easily outwit the hired muscle.
"Hello there, Mr. Negaduck," the skinny inventor greeted cheerfully as he entered the warehouse, shoving a large box into the room.
From the ugly yellow hat on his red hair to the soles of his shoes, Negaduck already hated the nerd. The cheerful demeanor only made it worse. Where was the cringing in fear? His reputation should have reduced Gyro to a stuttering mess upon arrival. It was probably Gizmoduck's fault somehow. That nerd made the tin-suit, so he probably that that loser was as scary as things got. Well, before he left, Negaduck would make sure the geek knew that he was far worse that Gizmoduck could even dream of being.
"Did you have any trouble finding the place?" he continued. "I thought you'd prefer a location on your turf, so meeting in St. Canard made sense. On the other hand, I wanted somewhere away from your more usual haunts so you wouldn't be tempted to bring too many people with you and accidentally draw too much attention to this meeting. Of course, we also needed a location that—"
"Shut up!" Negaduck snapped, revving up the chainsaw. "I didn't come here to listen to you blather on like an idiot. So either get to the point or I'm cutting your egg-head off your scrawny neck. Got it?"
There was a moment of silence before Gryo muttered, "There's no need to be rude."
He reached into the box and pulled out something beautiful. How the skinny nerd managed to lift it, Negaduck had no idea. But he recognized a flamethrower when he saw one, even one as large and unusual as Gyro's. It was breath-taking. Negaduck could practically smell the burning feathers and flesh already.
"Now this is one of my newer inventions. Essentially, it is a high-powered flamethrower. Not my most impressive, but it certainly makes use of a unique fuel-source," Gyro explained proudly. "Not to mention is can be modified later as an attachment to other machinery. And if you accept my proposal, you can have it."
"And how do you know I won't just kill you and take it anyway?" asked Negaduck, grinning in a manner that was more likely to be seen on the face of a piranha.
"First, you don't know the fuel-source yet. That makes it useless to you. Second, there's a piece missing. I'll mail it to you later with instructions about how to install it. That means, if you want the flamethrower to work, you'll have to let me go after this meeting," he said. "I may sometimes have trouble overlooking key details, but I am still a genius, Mr. Negaduck. It isn't wise to underestimate me."
Chuckling darkly, he lowered his chainsaw and said, "All right, nerd. You have my attention. What do you want?"
"Your permission to work unhindered in St. Canard for a time between four and six weeks," he answered simply. "I thought it would be courteous to inform you since I once worked with Launchpad and, while he might not match my intellect, he didn't stab me in the back like some people. I'd hate to end those relatively good terms by getting into a power struggle with his current employer, especially since I'll only be here for short time." He paused a moment before adding, "I might also need to borrow something of yours."
"What?" asked Negaduck, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"One of your arch enemies," he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "I have some electricity requirements that I'm afraid the city power grid is just not designed to handle. So rather than trying to plug it in again, I've decide to just install a metaphorical battery. And the only battery that might work correctly is currently running around your city in a yellow jumpsuit."
"…Megavolt? You want to capture Megavolt and attach him to your machine?"
"It is the logical solution to my problem and, from what I've heard from Launchpad, he's been an annoyance to you for quite some time. I'm sure that your life would go more smoothly without him on the streets."
Negaduck stared at the inventor, a thoughtful frown on his face. Did the geek really think he was competent enough to hunt down and grab Megavolt? Gyro looked like he'd snap like a twig under the smallest amount of pressure. He might be smart, but that didn't mean he'd be able to fight his way out of a wet paper bag. Plus, Megavolt was part of a team now. Did the nerd expect that snagging a member of the Friendly Four (Negaduck mentally ground his teeth every time he thought about that ridiculous name) would be easy? Well, if Gyro managed to kill himself in the attempt, it was no concern of Negaduck as long as he got his flamethrower first. And if he somehow managed to kidnap Megavolt by some miracle…
"What you plan to do with him… will it hurt?" he asked.
"Possibly. I mean, I've studied what I could about the mechanics of his electricity powers. The material is scarce, though, and I'm not a biologist by nature. He seems to have an adverse effect to water and that would theoretically be a manner where most of his electricity is removed, though my technique is far more efficient and controlled. I suppose it could be painful. Perhaps extremely."
"Good," grinned Negaduck. "I want him to suffer. Will he survive playing battery for your machine?"
"Does it matter? I mean, it would for me. A rechargeable battery is far more useful than a disposable one, but does it matter to you if he survives the process?"
"Not at all," he said. "Do whatever you want to him. You have my blessing to make any member of that team as miserable as you want."
Gyro grinned cheerful, "I'm so glad to hear that, Mr. Negaduck. I may have to outsource a distraction to keep his teammates busy, but I'll make sure they know not to bother you or your employees." The inventor started to head toward the door, "Thank you again for everything."
"Hey, don't forget the flamethrower!" he shouted. "You're supposed to tell me what fuels this baby."
"Frosting," the inventor shouted back before disappearing from sight.
Negaduck stared at his newly-acquired flamethrower with far less enthusiasm than a moment before. Frosting? The geek gave him a frosting-powered flamethrower? Who invented something that idiotic? Why would you want to use cake frosting to set someone on fire? Where would you find enough frosting to make it worth the effort? It was insane. Who in their right mind would do such a thing? A frosting-powered flamethrower was right up there with the crazy toy-based ideas that the demented clown used.
For a brief moment, Negaduck seriously considered the idea of chasing Gyro down and shredding him with his chainsaw. He felt cheated and no one was allowed to cheat him and survive. Then he took a step back and considered. He technically did have access to a lot of frosting. The bakery with the portal to the other universe certainly offered plenty of fuel for his new flamethrower. And besides, it wasn't wise to look a gift weapon in the mouth. If he couldn't figure out a way to use his new method of destruction in the Negaverse, there was always another universe of possibilities. If he couldn't find a way to cause mayhem with a flamethrower, even one with a less-than-ideal fuel source, then he should consider himself a failure and just retire.
Besides, if he killed Gyro, he wouldn't get to see if the skinny brainiac could actually pull off his plan. If nothing else, it could be entertaining.
One Week Ago…
Cara Foxworthy was in the family business and was rather happy with it. It was fun and if there was one thing she liked to do, it was have fun. Of course, the family business in this case was tomb raiding and stealing from museums. It was the sort of thing the vixen was good at. She was smart enough to scout out targets for security concerns first, brave enough to risk ancient traps and night guards, adventurous enough to travel to exotic lands to plunder their riches, and pretty enough that looking a little teary-eyed and innocent was enough to convince even the most stern authority figure that she couldn't have possibly committed whatever crime they were investigating. The last trait was the reason that she would have been an actor if her current line of work wasn't just so profitable.
It all started with her grandmother, Myra Foxworthy. Born in the small desert country of Aridia, Myra wanted something better than to live in the pitiful and desolate location her entire life. She studied and researched everything she could borrow (or steal) until she found exactly what she was looking for. Cara remembered the story, though some of the details were fuzzy. There was something about an upside-down pyramid, a mummy and a curse, and some bribable pilot who gave her a lift out of there in exchange for some of the treasure buried inside that pyramid. Regardless, that was the start of Myra's efforts to steal ancient artifacts from tombs and museums alike.
The Foxworthy family didn't just steal anything, however. Regular gold and jewels were fenced for quick cash, but the more valuable objects were hoarded for their own use. The ancient people of various cultures often left behind objects of magic in one form or another. Cursed and bewitched objects were collected by the generations of Foxworthy family members. They studied their power and learned how to use them in order to steal other artifacts. While none of them may be witches, they could now be just as dangerous when it came to magic. But they were always on the lookout for other objects of power. Or at least, opportunities.
It wasn't magic that brought Cara to the warehouse that day. No, it was opportunity. It wasn't always easy to pull a heist alone. After all, even her grandmother employed the use of a pilot and the child navigator for her first effort. While she wasn't foolish enough to kindle friendships among the more morally-flexible elements, Cara did understand the idea of allies and alliances for a common purpose. She might not trust random criminals or the super villains that were popping out of the woodwork, she knew that developing some possible connections might be useful.
Gyro Gearloose knew technology. She knew magic, or at least magical artifacts. Their combined knowledge covered a lot of ground. Someday she might require the services of someone who understood machines and such. It would be smart to nurture a connection to the man in case she ever needed him. So when he contacted her through someone who would buy and sell various objects of questionable legality, she decided to see what he wanted.
The warehouse smelled like fish. Cara didn't know if it was just due to the proximity to the docks or if it once stored fish before Gyro claimed it for himself. Regardless, there didn't seem to be any fish inside it now. Instead, there was a huge machine in the middle of the room.
The thing was mounted on a set of huge tires that look like they might have been stolen from a monster truck. Near the front was a huge parabolic dish that looked capable of picking up transmissions from another planet. Near the back was a computer screen that could have been showing gibberish for all she knew. There also seemed to be a huge switch, which certainly fit into her mental view of all things science-related. On top of the machine were several thick cables that snaked their way over to a separate platform a short distance away. There, she saw a large glass orb that reminded her of an oversized light bulb. Except most light bulbs didn't have what appeared to be a rack inside. At least, it reminded the history expert of a vertical version of the historic torture device. Granted, it didn't seem designed to stretch someone's limbs out of their sockets, but it did have cuffs to bind someone's arms and legs in place and the wires attached looked a little unnerving.
"Oh good, you're here," Gyro greeted cheerfully as he stepped around his machine. There was a small robot with a light bulb for a head, barely larger than his hand, following beside him. He continued, "Welcome to St. Canard. What do you think of it so far?"
She shrugged, "I've been in worse place. I know you usually hang around Duckburg, so what brings you across the bay?"
"An errand. I need something that can only be found in St. Canard. I've already sorted things out with Mr. Negaduck, so you won't have to worry about him being upset with us being here. It isn't wise to antagonize short-tempered and violent people, after all." He chuckled a moment before continuing, "I have a little job for you, Ms. Foxworthy. I need a distraction. Something large enough to grab the attention of the local heroes of the city and keep them out of my way for a while. And rumor has it that you might be able to help with that."
Crossing her arms, she said, "That depends. What do I get out of it?"
The small robot handed her a sheet of paper. Cara took it cautiously, watching the small machine in case it turned out to be dangerous. When the robot didn't do anything else, she looked at what it gave her. It seemed to be a pamphlet about the local history museum.
"While many of the more… obviously valuable artifacts have already been stolen by the local criminals, those that aren't made with gold and gemstones are still there. I don't know if there is anything there for your collection, but I'm sure that you could at least take the opportunity to scout it out for future heists," Gyro explained. "In addition, if everything is successful from end, you can have fifteen percent of the total profits?"
"Excuse me? Fifteen percent? That's it?"
"Considering how small your role is in this endeavor, that's actually quite fair. On the other hand, since my invention will eventually be used against Scrooge McDuck's Money Bastion, I would think that fifteen percent would be enough to keep you comfortable for some time."
When Gyro said that, Cara had to force herself to remain composed. It wouldn't do for her to look like a brunette bundle of excitement during negotiations. Even if it was known that Gizmoduck took a huge portion of McDuck's fortune, it was also known that the mechanical terror was no longer hunting the old man down and that Scrooge was actually rebuilding his funds quite quickly. Even fifteen percent of a financially-damaged McDuck was more money than most people knew what to do with. And all she had to do to earn it was to serve as a distraction. Cara smiled to herself. She knew the perfect trinket from her family's collection to do the job.
"So I take this free time to scout out the museum for future heists, make a distraction when you ask that will capture everyone's attention, and then collect fifteen percent when you rob McDuck later. I think I can do that," she said. "When do you need me to make a scene?"
Gyro handed her a walkie-talkie, "I'll call you. Just make sure you're ready, Ms. Foxworthy."
"Don't worry. I will be."
Present…
"You are aware that a constant diet of fast food isn't exactly healthy for you," remarked Liquidator as he watched the two members of the team that still ate normal food argue about dinner.
"It isn't all the time," Megavolt said, glancing over to the liquid canine. "Besides, the food is cheap and quick."
"Hence the term 'fast food'," he interrupted.
"Plus, you don't have to cook it. Crack open a cookbook sometimes. Not only do those things get complicated fast, but far too many of those recipes involve adding some sort of liquid in ingredients. Thanks, but no thanks," he continued. "I'll stick with takeout."
"Not every recipe involves adding water," commented Bushroot from his work station. No one had asked yet what he was working on at the moment, but it certainly seemed to have most of his attention that day. "Besides, I'm the one who usually ends up cooking anyway."
"That's not the point. I kind of like fast food after all this time," Megavolt said. "What I don't like is when someone tries to determine what we'll have on the menu based only on what kind of toys come with the meal."
"Come on, Megsy, you have to admit that these just are plain poor quality," stated Quackerjack.
The clown was perched on the edge of the couch with two handfuls of plastic objects from the two main restaurants they were debating about. Quackerjack seem to take the "shoddy quality" offered to children at Pizza Palace in comparison to those available at Hippo Burger as an indicator that nothing good could come from that place.
It wasn't even that Megavolt disliked Hippo Burger or that he wanted pizza that day. What really drove the argument was the fact that he'd somehow been forced to hear every flaw about the cheap toys in great detail. Megavolt knew that toy quality was a big deal to someone who made the things, but it shouldn't be a deciding factor on what they should eat that day. The things came free with a kid's meal. They were meant to be cheap and quickly-made, not something expensive and long-lasting. But the worst part about the whole argument was that somehow Quackerjack's point about how someone who didn't care about the quality of their toys might care equally little about their food products was beginning to make sense.
Before he was dragged down into the clown's brand of logic, Megavolt shook his head, "Okay, okay, I'll go to Hippo Burger. But we have to get pizza next time. And you're not allowed to say one more word about either restaurant's toys."
"Fine," muttered Quackerjack, crossing her arms. "I guess I'll have my usual."
"You know he'll do the exact same argument next time," remarked Liquidator quietly as the rodent headed out of the greenhouse. "You both will."
"I know…" Megavolt rolled his eyes. "I'll be back soon, guys."
"It would be simpler if we just cooked," added Bushroot. "It would solve the toy argument at least."
He glared at both of his mutant teammates, "Why are you even involved in this? You guys don't eat fast food."
"True, but we do get to see how long each time it takes for you to buckle and go ahead with Quackerjack's preference for dinner. After all, there's nothing interesting on television at the moment," commented Liquidator, prompting the clown to start laughing.
"Remind me to lock you in a freezer sometime," he muttered before finally leaving.
There were some parts of the city that anyone with any common sense avoided. It was rundown, filled to the brim with crooks and other unsavory characters, the location of various violent crimes, and simply dangerous. It was the section of the city where you never know if the puddle you're stepping over is just water or might be the blood of a recent murder victim. It was where even the toughest characters look over their shoulder just in case. This neighborhood wasn't always as bad as it was now, but the increase in Negaduck's influence was having an effect. Now it was a dangerous place to live.
And for some children, it was the only home they'd ever known.
It was cheap to find a tiny apartment in that neighborhood. No one in their right mind would want to be there, so no one could really ask for expensive rent. And while most parents would prefer to keep their kids far away from such a place, sometimes it was the only location they could afford and they didn't want their families to be homeless just yet. So their parents taught their young children the rules to survive in such a harsh environment.
The first rule was avoid the gangs. Yes, most of the gangs were either being swallowed up or destroyed by the Negaduck's people, but that didn't mean they were completely gone. And the one thing that everyone knew was that getting involved with the gangs was just asking for trouble. So the children were taught to recognize and run away from anyone who might work for Negaduck or one of the other remaining gangs.
The second rule was not to get involved. That was in many ways far more important. The children were told not to go poking their noses into the business of others, especially when crimes were involved. Far too many people would prefer to remove witnesses. If a kid saw, heard, or recognized anything suspicious happen, they were taught to go the other way and never tell a soul. It might seem cruel to expect a child not to mention a robbery they saw or if they thought a neighbor was being attacked, but it was better than the kid ending up face-to-face with a chainsaw-wielding Negaduck.
That wasn't to say that it was a completely frightening experience for the children who grew up in that neighborhood. Like kids all across the world, they had fun and played. Even surrounded by the worst that the city had to offer, they found a way to maintain a level of innocence.
The two older boys, each one about seven, played tag between the rusted parked cars that lined the mostly-deserted street while a young girl, five years old and proud of age, built a small castle out of empty cans. The ursine boy, Barry, was the one being chased at the moment and while the duckling, Stu, divided his attention between catching him and watching his little sister, Havanna. The game would have continued all afternoon if it wasn't for the fact that something caught the girl's attention.
"Stu, look over there," she called pointing towards a gap between the buildings.
When he looked, the duckling caught a glimpse of a yellow figure skating across the electrical lines. It didn't take a genius for him to figure out who it was.
"That's Megavolt," he grinned. "That's so cool."
"Dad says that he and the others are going to get themselves killed one of these days," remarked Barry, trying not to sound so excited to see the local hero. "He also says we should stay away from them. It wouldn't be good to be caught in the crossfire if something happened."
"But I want to see," said Havanna before taking off running.
"Wait!" Stu shouted after, already in pursuit and Barry following after.
While traveling over the electrical lines might be easier than weaving in and out the various alleyways, the trio of children knew the area very well. Not to mention that the girl (and the boys, if they were honest) really wanted to see more of the famous figure that was moving above them. Whether or not Megavolt noticed the trio darting from alley to abandoned building and back, they didn't know. All they cared about was watching the hero for just a few moments longer. After all, just because they knew better than to get involved didn't mean that they couldn't appreciate something from afar.
Just as Stu was about to tell Havanna they needed to stop following, a strange and loud pop startled all three children into diving for cover. Seeking shelter in response to abrupt noises was another skill that they'd learned living in their neighborhood. They caught a glimpse of Megavolt also reacting to the sound just as some kind of cylinder struck him in the back and knocked him off the power lines.
From his position behind a trashcan, Stu could see the hero hit the ground with the cylinder spewing some form of green smoke the entire time. Megavolt tried to stand up after his awkward landing, but it was clear to even the children hiding at a distance that something was wrong. The yellow figure was holding his head and coughing as he stumbled away from the smoke. He managed to kick the canister away with his movements, but the smoke seemed to have already done its job. Megavolt glanced towards something the kids couldn't see and for a moment, Stu saw sparks dance across the rodent's fingertips. Then it stopped and the yellow figure slumped to the ground.
"No," whispered Havanna, smart enough to keep quiet. "What happened?"
"They knocked him out with something," Barry muttered.
"Who?" asked Stu.
The young bear pointed, "Him."
Stepping into view was a skinny, red-haired avian with glasses and a rather pleased smile across his face. In his arms was something that looked like a cross between a rocket launcher and the innards of an old ham radio. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it was the device that fired the canister of smoke. He walked up to yellow figure and nudged him with his shoe. When Megavolt didn't react, he chuckled.
"That worked perfectly. I knew it would in theory, but of course it is always important to remember that there's a difference between testing and real-world application," he said cheerfully. He turned back for a moment before turning back the way he came and calling, "Okay, boys, I need you to load him into the truck quickly."
Stu was forced to clamp a hand over his sister's mouth before she could shout in surprise. Two robotic figures stepped into view and grabbed onto the unconscious hero. The machines had large light bulbs for heads and thin, silvery-metal limbs that ended with pinchers for hands. Their feet were like talons, digging slightly into the asphalt as they walked. They looked like something out of an old sci-fi movie or a comic book. The boy edged forward slightly, watching the robots carry Megavolt into the back of a blue van.
Then the red-haired figure walked back to his vehicle and drove away. Within moments, the only sign that something unusual happened there was the three apprehensive children and the claw marks left behind.
After a week of silence, her walkie-talkie crackled to life with a short message.
"I need a distraction in no more than fifteen minutes."
Perfect timing. Cara smiled to herself as she moved towards the next exhibit.
While it was true that anything made of valuable materials had long since been removed from the museum (mostly thanks to Negaduck's efforts), there was still plenty to see. Broken pottery, ancient tools, and hieroglyphs carved into a rock wall could still be interesting and historians were thankful to still have at least those treasures. Of course, Cara was more interested in what she could use for her coming distraction.
There were a few stone figures of ancient leaders from the past. There were also some rather interesting sculptures of rather attractive heroes of days gone by. But the moment she learned about one particular exhibit, she knew exactly how to get the attention of the Friendly Four.
The description on the wall described the discovery of the tomb of Emperor Chick Pi a few decades ago and how the room was filled with beautiful treasure. And while that treasure was no longer in the museum (the title card didn't say Negaduck did it, but Cara could read between the lines), there was another unique part of the tomb that remained. Each one at least six feet tall and broadly built, the two dozen Terracotta Statues that were created to guard the Emperor's body were certainly impressive to behold. Each one was unique and there were various stories about them. All Cara cared about was how strong the stone statues were. From her scouting missions around the museum, she knew they were the most impressive statues in the entire building and would be perfect for what she needed.
Reaching for the ruby necklace she was wearing, she whispered, "Stone warriors of days gone by, awaken to protect and serve. With all the strength of the mountains, awaken to destroy those who would do the kingdom harm."
She was thankful that at least some magical artifacts were flexible enough to accept different languages as long as they were essentially the same words. Otherwise, she'd be stuck trying to stutter her way through Latin again. And she'd hated learning that language by mail. Stupid correspondence course.
As she finished the English version of the incantation, the eyes of the statues began to glow and the brown-red figures began to step forward. Of course, there was a glass panel blocking the exhibit from the visitors of the museum. That meant the step forward involve smashing through the glass as if it wasn't even there. And the sound of shattering glass meant panic and mayhem as people began to realize that something bad was happening.
Cara smiled and followed her new miniature army out. She had a job to do. And if this didn't work as a distraction, nothing would.
Plus, this could be fun.
"I'm getting worried," remarked Bushroot, glancing at the clock for the sixth time in ten minutes. "He should have been back by now."
He should have been back fifteen minutes ago. The clown tried to ignore the delay originally, but all of them were familiar by now with the routine. Megavolt would ride along some power lines to Hippo Burger, get the food, and return the same way. It never took long for him to make the trip. The burgers were always still warm and the fries weren't even slightly cold and soggy by the time they started eating. The only time the routine changed was on rainy days where Quackerjack volunteered to make the trip. Those days tended to have slightly-colder food since pogo-stick travel was a little slower and the weather meant keeping the bag dry was a challenge, but it was still good. Regardless, he knew what time Megavolt should have returned and it was long past that point.
"Maybe he took the long way," suggested Liquidator, not sounding even slightly convinced by his words.
"Why would he take the long way?" asked the plant-duck.
"So the food would be cold by the time he got back? Maybe that's his idea for revenge about the argument?" suggested Banana Brain.
Quackerjack shook his head at the doll's words, "He wouldn't be late on purpose, especially when he said he'd be back soon. He knows we'd start wondering what happened."
While he generally didn't worry about things as much as the electric rodent tended to, Quackerjack knew when something wasn't right. He knew that Megavolt should have been back already. Someone disappearing without a word, especially when they'd mentioned being back soon, wasn't something that anyone would do. There were too many things that could go wrong in their line of work. It could be something as simple as him stumbling across a robbery or it could be like the time Stegmutt turned half the team into dinosaurs. At least it was nice to know that someone would go looking for their missing friend if things went wrong.
Of course, he did spend years without the luxury of someone worrying about him when he got into trouble.
I know, Headboss, he commented silently. But he that doesn't mean we shouldn't worry now.
True.
Tucking away the kid's meal toys from earlier (honestly, if Pizza Palace was going to provide plastic action figures, they could at least use a more durable plastic or at least add some hinges so the limbs could move), Quackerjack turned towards his friends. From the expressions on their faces, he guessed they were silently debating with themselves whether they should be the first ones to say they go look for Megavolt. On the one hand, they were both rather protective in their own way. Bushroot because he was just such a nice guy that he cared about making sure everyone in his little makeshift family was safe at all times and Liquidator because he'd already had the most important people in his life snatched away and his parental instinct was still rather strong. On the other hand, both also knew that Megavolt could take care of himself and had been doing so for years before either of them gained superpowers. If it turned out to be nothing, then they might feel a little silly about possibly getting concerned over something small like dinner being late.
Happily, Quackerjack had absolutely no problem with being the first to declare they charge out there and find Megavolt. He knew something was wrong and he wasn't afraid to tell Megsy he was worried when they found him. And if by some miracle it turned out that everything was fine and Megavolt was annoyed by everyone freaking out about him being late, then the clown fully intended to blame Mr. Banana Brain for suggesting something was wrong. Quackerjack was certain he could convince Mr. Banana Brain to back his story if necessary.
As the clown opened his mouth, a new noise captured the trio's attention. The show about fishing that was previously showing on the mostly-ignored television had been replaced by a breaking news story at the same time that the police scanner began to react. The two voices practically blended together into nonsense, but he distinctly heard the words "living statues at the museum." And from his knowledge about the city's geography, Quackerjack was fairly certain that the museum was in the exact opposite direction of that Megavolt would have gone to fetch food.
"Anyone else think the timing's a little too convenient?" asked Bushroot, prompting both Quackerjack and Liquidator to raise their hands.
"Someone wants to distract us from looking for Megavolt," the liquid canine remarked. "I'm almost certain of it."
"Unfortunately, we can't exactly ignore a bunch of statues running amok either," he said. "This is not good."
Pulling out his pogo-stick, Quackerjack said, "You two go to the museum. I'll go track down Megsy."
Before either of them could argue and question his solution, the clown was already bouncing away.
Waking up with a pounding headache was never fun. Adding the fact that something was clamped tightly to his wrists and ankles did little to make the situation better. And oddly, there was a faint smell of fish. In summary, Megavolt was not in the best moods as he opened his eyes.
"Did someone getting the number for that truck that hit me?" he muttered as he tried to figure out what happened. Then, once he got the first glimpse of his surroundings, he added, "And why am I in a giant light bulb?"
"Well, it isn't exactly a light bulb," a voice corrected abruptly, startling the electrical rodent. A red-haired avian stepped into view, adjusting his glasses, "But it is made of rather thick glass, though. After all, glass is an insulator and will keep electricity from escaping. Of course, so does rubber, but it isn't exactly a useful material for constructing a large and sturdy container. Though placing you inside wasn't exactly easy. The glass orb actually has to be screwed into the base, which is admittedly sort of like a light bulb. Still, I wouldn't want someone as fascinating as you to get away before we're finished here. Tell me, does your body serve more as a living capacitor or do you actually produce the electricity that you use?"
"Excuse me?"
Chuckling slightly to himself, the stranger said, "I'm so sorry. That was terribly rude of me. I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Gyro Gearloose. I'm an inventor." He gestured beside him and a small robot walked over to him, "And this is Little Helper, my assistant. Of course, everyone in this city knows who Megavolt is."
He spared a moment to yank at the cuffs binding him in place. While they didn't look too complicated to remove if he could get at least one hand free, they were still secure enough that he couldn't even manage that much. Experimentally, he let a quick spark of electricity out, but it merely flickered around the glass orb uselessly before hitting the metal rack and returning to him. Sighing in frustration and resigned to the fact he was stuck for the moment, he glanced back towards his captor.
"You knocked me out," he said, stating a fact rather than making an accusation.
He shrugged, "You wouldn't have come if you just asked. But my night-night gun did exactly what it was supposed to."
"You know, most mad scientist have an insane laugh instead of a chuckle," he commented dryly before turning his attention back to the rest of the room.
It appeared to be a mostly-empty warehouse. At one end of it was a desk covered in blueprints and spare mechanical parts. Next to it were three large crates with the tops missing, though Megavolt couldn't see what was inside from where he was trapped. The biggest and most interesting thing in the room, however, was a rather large machine that seemed to be connected to the glass orb by a cable that ran from the top of the device to the bottom of glass container. Judging by the wires attached to the cuffs, the electric rodent was beginning to have some rather uncomfortable suspicions about his role.
"And the day started out so nicely," remarked Bushroot as he and Liquidator arrived at the museum.
Standing in front of the building was brown-haired vixen in comfortable khaki pants and a tight black blouse. Around her neck was a necklace with a ruby pendant. She certainly didn't look like someone who would normally be hanging around two dozen living stone statues. The red-brown figures marched forward, eyes glowing red as they headed for the newly-arrived heroes.
"Remember the days when we didn't think magic existed?" said Liquidator. "I miss those days."
"Have fun, boys," the brunette woman called to the statues. "Make sure they remember Cara Foxworthy." She laughed briefly, "Being the super-villain is fun. No wonder so many people try it."
Do you actually have any idea how we're supposed to find him, Quackerjack?
"Nope," he answered as he directed his pogo-stick along the usual route that his friend might take to reach the nearest Hippo Burger. "I'm just going to look."
Brilliant, commented Headboss with way too much sarcasm. You're just a natural detective.
"If you have all the answers, then what do you suggest?"
Look for things out of the ordinary. Signs of battle, perhaps. If someone did something to Megavolt, it is unlikely he went down without a fight.
"You're the boss."
Of course, as he bounced nearer the less pleasant part of the city, it grew difficult to spot what might be the result of something bad happening to his friend and what was merely a demonstration of the degeneration of that corner of St. Canard. Most people would have taken a more scenic route to avoid the neighborhood, but Megavolt and Quackerjack never bothered. Not only did their preferred methods of travel keep them away from the issues that might develop at the street level, but they were also the sort of people the creeps and criminals that dwelled there tried to avoid. A hero occasionally moving through the area might help discourage a few people from doing anything foolish. Still, the neighborhood was a far cry from where the clown once lived.
"I still don't see anything," complained Quackerjack after several minutes of scouring the area via pogo-stick.
Keep looking. There has to be something.
The clown glanced back towards his surroundings while trying to ignore how concerned Headboss just sounded. Then he spotted something that could certainly be considered out of the ordinary.
"Why are there huge scratches in the road?" he asked, bringing his bouncing to a stop.
"The cost of filling the city's potholes is too great?" suggested Mr. Banana Brain.
Seriously?
Looking a little closer at the marks, Quackerjack noticed they looked rather recent. He couldn't think of any normal reason for there to be deep gashes in the street. That meant there was probably an abnormal reason for them. And since his team was probably the most abnormal group of people around that could only mean it was somehow connected to Megavolt's disappearance.
I'm not quite sure that logic is particular sound, but I am inclined to agree that it could be related.
"So I guess this counts as a clue," the clown stated. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure what it means." Tilting his head at it for a moment, he suggested, "Maybe Megsy was carried off by a giant killer bird."
Highly doubtful. Besides, even if there was a bird with the wingspan large enough to lift a person would need larger talons to support its weight at rest. Whatever left those marks was not a giant killer bird.
"But they do look like talons of some kind. Or footprints made by taloned feet. Look," he pointed at the gashes in the asphalt. "There were two of them."
…All right, perhaps you aren't a complete failure as a detective.
Quackerjack spared a moment to do a back flip of victory concerning his discovery. His brief act of acrobatics, however, produced an unexpected result. As he landed easily, there was a gasp of astonishment from the direction of a nearby trashcan. It only took the clown a second to cover the distance between his position and the source of the noise. When he looked around the dented container, he found himself face to face with three sets of startled eyes.
"So I'm guessing from the giant parabolic dish on that machine that this is another 'I have a Death ray' plan," said Megavolt slowly.
"A death ray? You make it sound so boring," Gyro remarked. "No, I created something far more interesting and complicated than a death ray. Besides, what could be the benefit of that?"
"Okay, I'll bite. What is it?"
Looking excited to explain the mechanics of his device to an audience, the inventor said, "I'm sure that you're at least familiar with the basics of subatomic particles, correct? Everything in the universe is composed of atoms and the various elements are made up of various numbers of protons, neutrons, and electrons. For example, hydrogen has a single proton while iron has twenty-six of them and gold has seventy-nine. Furthermore, the positive charge of the protons attracts a similar number of negatively-charged electrons to orbit them while the neutrons that possess no charge join the protons in the center of the atom. All of this is rather basic."
"Yeah, I get it. Can we skip ahead of the high school science class and get to your point."
"Of course," the red-haired inventor said before walking over to his device and typing something into a computer screen. "I suppose that your remark about death rays could be considered partially accurate. And since I hadn't really chosen a name for my invention yet, I should thank you for the inspiration."
Narrowing his eyes at Gyro, Megavolt asked, "So what are you planning to call it."
"The Atomic Death Ray."
"You're Quackerjack."
There were three children hiding behind a trashcan. There was something fundamentally wrong with the idea of kids lurking around with the garbage. It made him want to drag the two duckling and young bear to a toy store and turn them loose in it. Or at least take them to a playground. Anything to fix the situation. It was upsetting to him. Especially since the little girl had clearly been crying recently.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"You're Quackerjack," the little girl repeated. "You're one of the Friendly Four."
The older duckling tugged at her arm, "Havanna, we need to get out of here."
"Havanna. That's a pretty name," the clown said slowly. "Why were you crying earlier?"
"Because they took Meg—" she started to explain before the young bear covered her mouth.
"Quiet," he urged. "We shouldn't get involved. That only leads to trouble."
"You know what Mom said," the other boy, possibly her brother, added urgently. "We've stayed here too long. We need to get out of here."
They know something, said Headboss. They saw something, but they're too scared to say anything. Did you hear what she started to say?
Quackerjack nodded, "You saw Megavolt, didn't you?" When all three children looked guilty, he continued, "You know what happened to him. And since you don't want to tell me, it has to be something bad."
"We can't get involved," the young bear repeated, his tone making it clear that this sentence is something he's carefully memorized for times of trouble.
They were scared and that was just wrong in Quackerjack's opinion. Children shouldn't be sad or scared. He couldn't risk his usual behavior to cheering them up. They looked too skittish. He needed to stay quieter and less energetic, something he didn't normally do and yet would try his best in an instant if that was what it took to make the kids less scared. Making children happy who he was at his core. And while most of his current toys on hand might be of the more deadly variety, he wasn't completely without options.
Taking a brief moment to be thankful to Hippo Burger for caring about the quality of the toys for their kid's meals, he pulled out one of the toys from earlier like a magician drawing a rabbit from a hat. It was just a small metal car with wheels that turned, but the children stared at the toy as if it was made of gold. With a friendly smile, he passed it over to the young bear. The boy broke out into a tentative smile in return as he stared at the tiny red vehicle in his hand.
"I'm not asking you to go charging into the middle of danger," he said kindly. "I wouldn't do that. I just want to know what you saw."
"But we shouldn't," the other boy said, still staring at the toy car in his friend's grip. "Mom and Dad say that we could get in trouble that way. Bad guys don't like witnesses."
Children shouldn't have to worry about those things. He didn't know if this was entirely Negaduck's fault or if these three children would still be afraid even if he'd never been born. Regardless, Quackerjack didn't like it. And while he couldn't change the city immediately and he couldn't make every street and neighborhood perfectly safe for children to play by morning, he could make these three kids a little happier and perhaps feel a little safer.
This time, he pulled out a tiny green T-rex. It was still a cheap toy from a restaurant and certainly nowhere near the quality he could have produced, but it was made of a durable plastic and the tiny arms could turn in their sockets. These children deserved the more impressive toys that Quakerjack designed and built, but these would have to work for now. They were certainly better than nothing (and definitely better than the ones from Pizza Palace).
"No one will have to know you told me," he said, handing the toy over the boy duckling. "It'll be a secret. And I'm a hero. I wouldn't let something bad happen to you." The two boys looked up from their new toys, doubt still clear on their expressions. Maintaining his quieter demeanor for the moment, he added, "Our friend is missing and we're worried about him. Can you tell me what you saw? Please?"
"They took him," the girl blurted out. When the other duckling looked at her, she said, "We have to help him, Stu. We can't let something bad happen to the heroes. Who'd stop the bad guys?"
Stu shook his head, "Fine. Just promise that no one will find out we said anything."
"Promise," grinned Quackerjack. "Cross my heart and hope to be stuck inside Spike's mouth for a week."
This produced a few giggles, which felt comforting to the clown after so many bleak looks from the kids. However, some of his enthusiasm was dampened by the fact that Megavolt was definitely in trouble.
"We saw him, Megavolt, traveling on those power lines," explained the young bear. "Havanna was excited about it, so we followed for a little while. Then, this guy fired some kind of canister of green smoke at him and knocked him out."
"Then he had bad robots pick him up and carrying him to a blue van," the girl added.
"They're the ones who made the weird marks in the road," the other boy said.
Havanna continued, "The bad man drove away with him and the robots."
Stu said, "The guy was really tall and skinny. He was wearing glasses and a yellow hat. He has red hair. He's some kind of bird. Not a duck. The bill was wrong. Maybe a chicken?"
While helpful, I don't know if there's anything we can use to point us in the right direction.
"Anything else?" asked Quackerjack, hoping for at least one more clue.
"The whole thing was fishy," the young ursine said.
"Well, yeah. Kidnapping people in the middle of the day is a little unusual," he said.
"No, not that kind of fishy," said the boy. "There was a smell of fish on the red-haired guy and the robots. It wasn't really strong, but I have a great sense of smell."
The docks? suggested Headboss. There are warehouses around there that would have once stored fish. It might explain the smell. Furthermore, that would offer an ideal location to avoid attention and would provide plenty of room for whatever they might need.
"Sounds like the perfect place for our kidnapper," stated Quakerjack, drawing some confused looks from the kids.
Pulling out a final toy, a plastic duckling doll with a hinge at the waist and arms to provide movement and brushable hair, he handed it to Havanna. The huge grin from the girl as she looked at the real fabric dress and the pose-able limbs was wonderful.
"You better head home, kids," he said, pulling back out his pogo-stick. "I, on the other hand, have a teammate to find."
"You're going to call it an Atomic Death Ray? Why not go the whole nine yards and add some Tesla coils to the room? Or start ranting about how everyone called you 'mad' and how you're going to show them all?"
Gyro chuckled again. Honestly, somehow the chuckling annoyed Megavolt more than a full-blown villain laugh. Of course, it might have something to do with the fact the inventor seem merely mildly amused by the situation while the electrical rodent was stuck inside giant light bulb. It was hard to maintain any form of heroic dignity while strung up like a helpless damsel. At least no one was tossing him into water or something similar yet.
"I'm going to call it an Atomic Death Ray because it will cause the death of atoms. Metaphorically speaking, of course," Gyro said. "Though, if I fired it at a person, it would kill them. But that's not its main purpose. It will take atoms and split it into its separate subatomic particles. For example, I could aim it at a brick wall and every atom in that wall would divide into three groups: protons, neutrons, and electrons. Essentially, the wall would be disintegrated, but without breaking that silly law about matter not being able to be created or destroyed. The same amount of matter would exist; it just wouldn't be in an atomic form any longer."
While Megavolt was still upset about being kidnapped and strung up by the guy, part of him was now rather intrigued by his invention. He had to admit that it was certainly cleverer than most "I have a Death Ray" scenarios. And the science that would be involved in creating something capable of what he was describing would be interesting.
"Could I see some of your blueprints?" he found himself asking almost against his will.
"Of course," said Gyro. "Just give me a moment."
It was official. Solid stone statues were insanely hard to fight.
Any attempt to tangle them with vines was useless because they simply ripped their way free. Blasts of water barely slowed them down. And while a thick tree or hard water might be able to block a hit from one of the things, they were still managing to shrug off most of the heroes attempts. And while Liquidator couldn't really be hurt by the physical blows, Bushroot knew he was going to be sore in the morning.
"Any ideas?" asked the liquid canine as he tried to blast another of the stone statues out of striking range.
"Not any good ones," Bushroot answered as he urged another group of vines to grab a stone figure's ankles.
Brother, you are thinking too much like an animal.
What? He asked as he ducked beneath another swing from his opponents.
Brute force will not work. This is not a danger to be attacked directly.
I don't understand…
They are stone. The hard and compact earth. They are the mountain, the boulder, the ground beneath everyone. Animals cannot conquer the mountain. They strike hard and fast, but do little more than chip a tiny piece away before admitting defeat.
These guys are striking just as hard and fast, commented Bushroot as another blow knocked him back.
A thrown stone my bruise a leaf or even crush a stem, but stone is still an enemy that the Green knows well and has defeated time and time again.
"I think there might be a way to win this," said Bushroot.
"You have an idea?" Liquidator asked, shifting around another of the statues.
"Not me."
How do we defeat them?
Roots bury, thicken, and grow. Stone cracks, shatters, and crumbles.
Weathering. Stone could be broken apart by growing plants. Or, a grin formed on Bushroot's face as he looked at his companion, worn away by water. After all, that was how a river would carve a canyon. They just needed to speed up the process.
"Do you think you can make a whirlpool?" he asked.
There was a moment of confusion across his liquid features before realization apparently set in. The Liquidator gave a brief nod before aiming for half the group. Bushroot focused on the other half and urged plants to latch on in a more useful manner.
There were several warehouses near the docks. Quackerjack didn't let that discourage him. After all, it was certainly easier than searching the entire city. That was one version of hide-and-seek he'd rather not try. A strange sense of urgency pushing him forward, the toy-making clown moved towards the first building on his list.
While he'd have preferred not to have his limbs bound while studying the blueprints through the glass of his prison, Megavolt was still rather happy to take a look. The thing was a masterpiece. There were so many amazing engineering ideas and the solutions to various problems that could have occurred in the design were inspired. If his surroundings were more pleasant, he would have been perfectly content to look at the blueprints all day.
"And you can program it to leave certain elements alone?"
The inventor nodded from where he held the blueprint, "If I have a target with a wide variety of components present, I can program it to recognize a specific element and separate every other one. For example, I could have anything that wasn't made of gold or silver destroyed while leaving the more valuable metals behind. Imagine how easy mining would be."
After several moments, he frowned, "These ideas are genius, but I have a question. The power requirements to separate the positive and negative particles must be extreme."
"Indeed," Gyro nodded.
"And your design seems to have some rather… unique solutions for handling the power output during activation. But wouldn't it cause some serious issues during the charging process? I mean, if I'm reading this correctly," He remarked, "the entire thing wouldn't work if you tried to charge the device gradually over time. It has to be charged over a short time period, no more than a couple of minutes at maximum. But most sources of electricity wouldn't be able to transfer that power that quickly without overloading something. It would be able to hold the charge for quite some time, which means you could transport your device to a target later. But charging it in the first place is a problem. I suppose you could try a bolt of lightning, but that would provide another set of issues."
"Yes, I've tried more standard methods of charging my invention. Sadly, all that did was cause a blackout of Duckburg," he said. "I started to wonder if I'd ever be able to make my invention work. And if I couldn't charge the device, how would I ever use it to gain access to McDuck's Money Bastion and steal its contents?"
Oh, right. Crazy bad guy. Megavolt had grown too distracted by the amazing scientific achievement and the wonderful blueprints that he'd nearly forgotten that he was being held captive by the cheerful inventor who apparently had aspirations of also being a thief.
And since the hero was a source of electricity…
"You think I can charge your invention."
"That's the plan."
The tides had turned. The plant-covered statues were breaking apart as their fast growth drove roots into every weak point. Meanwhile, Liquidator's targets were being ground to sand against each other inside the swirling liquid. Granted, they'd probably just destroyed a lot of ancient history. Bushroot was almost positive the statues were from the museum. Still, it was better than letting the entire city suffer from the things going on a rampage.
The plant-duck spared a moment to look towards the source of the chaos. The woman who identified herself earlier as Cara Foxworthy looked absolutely shocked by the battle had shifted. But what really caught Bushroot's attention was the necklace around her neck. He hadn't noticed before, but he could now see that the ruby pendant was glowing slightly, just like the eyes of the statues. And while he didn't consider himself an expert on all these magic stuff, Bushroot was willing to bet that there was a connection.
A quick mental nudge to one of the closer vines resulted in the plant snagging the necklace off her before she had a chance to react. The instant it was removed, every remaining statue stopped moving and the light faded from their eyes. Bushroot asked another vine to restrain Cara as the Liquidator halted his aquatic cyclone.
"Well, this was fun, but I'm done for the day," she remarked, shifting slightly against the plants holding her prisoner. Bushroot caught a glimpse of her pulling something out of her pocket before she said, "Home."
With a brief flash of light, the woman vanished. All that was left behind was vines that had tried to trap her and the mess from the battle with the statues. Between the puddles of water, the growing plants, and the crumbled statues, it was going to take a while before anyone would return to the museum.
"Between this and being turned into chocolate pudding, I'm not a big fan of magic," Liquidator said slowly.
"You and me both," he muttered before shaking his head. "I hope Quackerjack is having an easier time finding Megavolt."
"You know, I'm really not a fan of this idea," commented Megavolt slowly, craning his neck to see if there was any possible way he could blast his way out of there. Between the nonconductive glass of his prison and the almost-certainly-designed-to-sap-his-powers cuffs, it didn't look promising. "How about we revisit the idea of using a lightning bolt?"
"Too unpredictable for my tastes, though it might make a good backup strategy if necessary," he remarked cheerfully before turning to his small robot. "Helper, write that idea down for later."
The tiny figure nodded its light bulb head before scribbling something down on a notepad. Gyro took this opportunity to put away his blueprints while Megavolt pulled against his bindings.
"Just think about it. You're about to contribute to a major breakthrough in science," the inventor declared in a far too enthusiastic manner. "Can you imagine how impressed the world will be by someone splitting atoms up into separate parts without all that messiness of explosions and such? The entire process is just so controlled and logical. Even the limits on practicality due to the power requirements aren't so terrible."
"Great, I get to spend the rest of my life being used as your recyclable battery," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "That's a dream come true."
Walking back over to his machine and making adjustments to it, Gyro casually mentioned, "Well, probably not a recyclable battery, unfortunately."
It was a blue van.
The realization that he'd found the vehicle took a second to set in. Quackerjack blinked in surprise at it. Then he scurried over and peered through the windows just in case his friend was somehow still tossed in the back. When it became clear the van was empty, he turned his attention to the warehouse next to it.
The doors looked rather sturdy and, if experience told him anything, most criminals smart enough to get the drop on someone was usually smart enough to also remember to lock the doors. But a quick look also demonstrated that there were some small windows near the roof of the place, which would be perfect for slipping inside. It would let him sneak in and see if Megavolt was actually there without letting any bad guys know he was looking around.
And so the brightly-costumed hero began his attempt at stealth.
"The power requirements are rather large, as we've already discussed," continued Gyro with the casualness that someone might have when talking about the weather. "And while you have the advantage of not resulting in a connections overloading and citywide blackouts, I only have a basic knowledge of your electrical capabilities and capacities. You would think that someone would have done a better job at collecting data on the super-powered people in this city, but some scientists have these silly issues with kidnapping and experimenting on people against their will. Honestly, if I let little problems like that interfere with my projects, nothing would ever get done. But people keep tossing words around like 'inhumane,' 'monstrous,' 'dangerous to the people,' 'insane,' and 'abomination against world' as if they were excuses. This isn't about right or wrong. This is for science and everyone knows that science is above those petty concepts."
As the inventor chuckled pleasantly to himself, Megavolt stared at the cheerfully-scary avian. That man was a total and utter psychopath. He was an obvious genius at inventing, but also oblivious or uncaring about how wrong what he was saying was. And he was completely at Gyro Gearloose's mercy.
And he apparently didn't possess to the humanity to even have mercy.
"But I'm getting off topic," he continued. "I do have at least a little knowledge about your powers, so I highly suspect you'll be able to properly charge my invention. What I'm uncertain of is the effect it'll have on you. There is a small chance that it will simply leave you in an exhausted state that I could later rectify by recharging you in a more gradual method than what is necessary for my Atomic Death Ray. That would be an ideal scenario since I could use you multiple times. Unfortunately, the more likely result is far more limiting in regards to the usefulness of my invention." Gyro frowned a moment, "It would be a shame for the device to only work once, but perhaps I could implement the lightning bolt idea at a later time if it became necessary."
The electric rodent felt a chill running up his spine. He could already predict what was coming. And he couldn't believe that a stupid trip for fast food was going to end like this. Couldn't it have at least been a battle against Negaduck for the safety of the entire city?
"In order to charge my invention, it is going to drain you of power until it is either fully charged or you're completely out of electricity. And it is quite possible that it won't stop at that normal 'oops, I fell in a puddle' out-of-power state that you've encountered in the past. That's just the loss of the electricity that's connected to your powers. My method is more thorough and yanks out all electricity from a source," Gyro explained in a cheerful and casual fashion. "I'm not a biologist and I doubt you are either, but I know enough that even a normal person's body as electricity in it. The electrical impulses in your brain and the biochemical electricity in charge of making your heart beat, for example. So there is a rather strong possibility that you won't survive the process, but that's a small price to pay to get my device operational."
Part of him wanted to fight against the situation, to set his power loose against his bindings and the glass orb around him. He wanted to struggle and keep trying, to never give up regardless of the odds. The rest of him, however, knew it was useless. It was frustrating, unfair, and depressing, but it was the truth. There was absolutely nothing he could do to escape on his own. And unless one of his teammates managed to find him by some miracle in the next two minutes, there was no one who could save him in time. There was no way around it.
He was about to die.
It didn't make him happy to know that, but maybe he could think of it as a relief? He wouldn't have to worry about Negaduck learning his identity and going after his family, after all. The psycho wouldn't bother since Megavolt would be beyond his ability to cause suffering. Granted, his friends wouldn't be happy when they found out. Not only would they be facing Negaduck in the future with even less help than before, but also every single one of them would blame themselves for this happening somehow. He could already imagine the looks on their faces. Bushroot… Liquidator… Quackerjack…
Nope, he couldn't put a positive spin on things. He was about to die and that was horrible. End of story.
Unable to summon up the energy to be original in the face on nearly-certain doom, Megavolt said, "You know you won't get away with this, Gyro."
Gyro merely shrugged as he moved towards a rather large and ominous-looking switch. Megavolt shut his eyes, not wanting to watch what was about to happen. It seemed too morbid to observe his coming demise.
"I suppose it's time to get started," Gyro said in that cheerful, creepily-casual voice.
"Nope, it's plaaaaytime!"
In the middle of his attempts to break into the warehouse through the windows near the ceiling, Quackerjack had heard enough to understand three important facts. One, the red-haired person was named Gyro. Two, he'd made some sort of machine that needed lots of electricity. And three, he was going to take it from Megavolt and possibly kill him in the process.
That was all the information the clown needed to know exactly how badly he needed to stop him.
Announcing his presence in his usual manner, the aerobatic individual leapt down from the rafters of the warehouse with a set of windup teeth in each hand. Quackerjack threw the chattering toys quickly, but the skinny mad scientist was quicker than he looked and dodged them. Even more impressive was the fact that a crazy clown diving from the ceiling barely caused him to blink in surprise before Gyro turned towards one corner of the building.
"Robots, attack!" he shouted.
The words were barely out of his mouth before three shapes leapt out of a trio of wooden crates. Judging by the sharp talons on their feet, Quackerjack could guess they were the robots the children talked about. What they didn't mention, as he quickly discovered as he was forced to duck underneath the swipe of one of their pinchers, was how fast the robots were.
"Nice toys," he remarked, performing a couple of back flips to increase the distance from the robots while simultaneous pulling out a few toy soldiers. "I think mine are more fun, though."
Quackerjack turned the handful of toys loose on the ground. He didn't expect them to stand a chance against the larger robots. He was hoping, however, they could delay Gyro from pulling the giant switch long enough for the clown to handle metallic figures.
They were fast, forcing him to cartwheel and flip his way around the slashing pinchers. Marbles were thrown towards the large light-bulb-headed robots, but were often dodged before they could explode. He could catch glimpses of his toy soldiers pulling Gyro to the ground, though they were encountering trouble from another little robot wielding a pencil like a club.
Slipping past another beheading attempt by the large robot, Quackerjack comments, "You know, Megsy, dinner is kind of late this evening, isn't it?"
"Sorry, I got a little sidetracked," he answered, his tone a nice mixture of sarcasm and faint relief.
"No worries," the clown grinned, managing to trip one of the robots with a slinky that wrapped itself around its leg. "We'll just pick up something after we're done."
The edge of his hat tore as one of the clawed pincher came a little too close, but Quackerjack remained unharmed as he retaliated with a few sharp jacks tossed in the robot's direction. They were fast and agile, but so was he.
He didn't know how in the world his friend managed to find him, but Megavolt was certainly thankful that he did. And while the killer robots were an unpleasant surprise, Quackerjack was managing to remain unharmed as he dodged around their strikes.
Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be having much effect on them either. The explosive marbles that he was using weren't leaving a scratch on their metal bodies. And since it wasn't like Megavolt could physically help his teammate at the moment, he focused on studying the three figures for any possible weakness. If he could figure out how to stop the things, he could tell Quackerjack and they'd be out of there sooner.
Speed and agility wasn't an issue for them. A blast of electricity probably would have fried the things, but that wasn't an option as long as he was stuck in the glass orb. The sharp talons on their feet and the pinchers for hands were dangerous, the deep gashes in the concrete floor providing plenty of evidence of that fact. The only thing that might work…
"Attack the light bulb heads," Megavolt said.
"Easier said than done," shouted the clown as another of the trio of robots tried to take his head off.
It was so frustrating to be forced to just watch his friend fight. He wanted to be in the middle of things, blasting the stupid robots to smithereens. It would certainly be therapeutic after his afternoon of playing damsel in distress to an evil inventor. Instead, he could only struggle against his cuffs futilely as Quackerjack tried to hit his target.
Then Megavolt spotted a broad grin forming on his friend's face. He knew that look. That was the look that came right before a crazy idea or aerobatic stunt that would leave normal people crashing to the ground in pain. His suspicions were confirmed as the clown charged directly towards the closest robot and leapt.
While the electric rodent cringed in concern for his teammate, another of the robot's struck out at Quakerjack as he passed. Instead of striking the clown however, the sharp pincher hit the light bulb head of one of its companions and shattered the glass as the clown flipped over them. The damaged robot dropped to the ground with a heavy clang.
"One down, two to go," he cheered as he landed gracefully.
"Great, could you hurry it up?" said Megavolt. "This isn't exactly fun, you know."
"I'll do my best," he answered, pulling out a slingshot.
With a specific target to aim for now, the clown began firing his marbles rapidly at the next robot. And while it could manage to dodge most of them, Quackerjack was a surprisingly accurate shot when it came to using a slingshot. It took multiple direct hits, but the giant light-bulb-head, chipped, cracked, and then completely broke.
Megavolt felt a moment a success on his friend's account before he noticed something.
"Behind you!"
The warning was a little too late and the third managed to land a hit on Quackerjack, knocking him back several feet. And then it got worst.
"This ends now," Gyro stated, drawing attention to the fact that he'd escaped the grasp of the toy soldiers and now had his hand back on the switch.
There was only time for a brief flash of fear before it was too late. Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. It engulfed him, similar and yet different to a normal short-circuit. He would have been screaming his lungs out, but the moment that he would have done so was also the moment he lost the strength to do it. Though he thought he heard someone screaming…
It was like everything inside him was being pulled out through wrists and ankles, the agony radiating and burning. And all that was left behind was painful exhaustion that quickly gave way to something worse. As his limbs burned with the energy being stolen, it left a growing coldness at his core.
The biting coldness spread throughout his body so quickly. Everything felt so cold. So dark. So silent. So still.
So utterly still…
The instant he saw Gyro flip the switch, Quackerjack forgot all about the bruise that was undoubtedly forming from where the robot hit him and screamed out his friend's name. All of Megavolt's limbs stiffened, his jaw clenched, his head jerked back, and a hum filled the air. Somehow the silence from his teammate was even worse. There was only one thought in the clown's mind.
Turn it off now.
Dodging the remaining robot was no longer an option. He leapt straight at it, missing the grip of the pinchers only by a miracle. The weight of a determined clown landing on its head was enough to overbalance the thing and send it crashing to the ground. The sound of the glass bulb shattering on impact barely registered as Quackerjack moved towards the switch with the clearly marked "Off" option.
Faster, said Headboss in a very worried tone.
The red-haired inventor that was in his way, the one responsible for what was happening, was hit the fast moving hero and also knocked to the ground. Quackerjack didn't notice or care if the impact of his head against the concrete knocked the man out or not. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him that he was running out of time. All that mattered was getting that switch turned off before it was too late. He couldn't even spare a moment to consider what "too late" would mean.
As soon as he flipped the switch from On to Off, he saw Megavolt slump in his bindings as abruptly as a puppet would if its strings were cut. The feeling of urgency still remained, so Quackerjack headed over to the glass orb.
While his ammunition was limited and that was why he preferred to save it for emergencies, the clown pulled out his unique version of a water gun and fired acid at the smooth surface. It seemed faster than trying to smash it by hand. As soon as it ate away at a hole large enough, Quackerjack climbed inside and attacked the cuffs around his friend's wrists and ankles.
"Don't worry, Megsy," he muttered, trying to remain calm.
The instant his teammate was free of the bindings, Quackerjack was forced to catch him as Megavolt crumpled limply. His friend draped against him like a rag doll. Panic and dread fluttered around the clown's mind as he half-dragged and half-carried his friend out. There was something wrong, something missing. He tried to ignore it as he carefully laid his friend down, hoping that everything would be all right.
He didn't have a heartbeat, he said with a hint of horror.
"Come up, Megavolt," coaxed Quackerjack, trying desperately to ignore what both he and Headboss had noticed when he caught his friend.
He's not breathing.
"Please wake up, Megsy," he urged, stubbornly trying to block out Headboss's words.
He can't wake up.
No.
No, not again. It couldn't happen again. Horror, guilt, anger, desperation, and denial all swirled together in his head, trying to drown and overwhelm Quackerjack. Staring at that far-too-still figure, he couldn't think.
Elmo.
Bobby.
Bobby. Elmo.
Images of the two blurred and swirled together in his mind, twisting and changing into each other as guilt and loss pounded against him. They were dead because of him. It was his fault.
Bobby tried to protect him from Negaduck. He should protected himself instead, should have avoided the gun on his own somehow. Negaduck pulled the trigger, but it was still his fault
And Elmo, Megavolt, Megsy. He should have been faster, should have stopped Gyro before he could flip the switch. He should have gotten his friend out before it was too late. It was his fault.
Something was trying to break through his racing, horrified, confused thoughts. It was like they were calling from far away. Quackerjack wanted to ignore it, but there was a desperate urgency to it. Someone needed to be heard.
Joy buzzer.
Headboss?
The strangeness of his words made Quackerjack's swirling thoughts pause and settle briefly. A memory flickered through his head. It was just a prank, something amusing he'd wanted to try. Only he learned quickly that zapping someone with a handshake that could zap back even harder didn't exactly work. So he decided to leave the electrical shocks to the expert.
But he still had the improved joy buzzer.
The tiniest, most fragile tendril of hope crept in as he fumbled for the thing. Normal joy buzzers didn't actually use electricity and instead just vibrated to startle people, but using a small electrical charge had seemed more amusing at the time. And even if the thing wasn't very powerful, it was something.
If the problem was that Gyro stole all of Megavolt's electricity, then Quackerjack would give some back.
Slipping the joy buzzer onto his hand and desperately hoping for the best while terrified it wouldn't work, he pressed the object against his friend's still chest. He designed it for just a quick burst of electricity, but today he kept it continuously active as he poured the limited power into the lifeless figure. His teammate's body seemed to absorb it like a sponge, not even the slightest spark escaping to shock the desperate clown.
He didn't know if it would be enough or if it was already too late, but he ignored the doubts and guilt that still swirled through his head and just watched as he pumped electricity directly into his friend.
"Don't go," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. Please don't…"
As the last spark of power in his joy buzzer flowed away and left it useless, Quackerjack felt something under his fingertips. A heartbeat. And then another.
He laughed slightly as he heard Megavolt take a shallow breath. The swirling mess of fear, doubt, and guilt still remained, whispering about how close he came to causing someone else to die, but the warm glow of relief helped fight back against it.
Nice work, Quackerjack. Very well done.
"Thanks," he sighed, closing his eyes a moment before immediately opening them again when all he could see was the lifeless figures of Bobby and Elmo. That could certainly be distracting if he kept imagining it every time he closed his eyes. "Time for a distraction. Let's see if Gyro's still here."
So tired. Everything ached. Megavolt felt too exhausted to wake up, but he knew he needed to. He remembered that there was a crazy inventor named Gyro running around a warehouse and Quackerjack had been there. Considering that whatever happened to make him feel so bad didn't apparently destroy his memories this time, he decided it could have been worse. But what he did remember implied that there was a good chance that he would need to fight someone and he unfortunately felt too rundown to even move.
Of course, he could be stubborn. Megavolt managed to move his hand slightly, resulting in someone placing a small object in it. Even in his exhausted state he could recognize a battery when he felt one. There wasn't usually a huge amount of power in the things, but he didn't care. He drained it of power with the same desperation that a drowning man would gasp for air. Another battery quickly replaced the first. By the third battery placed in his hand, he felt sufficiently recovered to open his eyes.
Surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he discovered that the one handing him batteries obviously cannibalized from his toys was Quackerjack. When his teammate noticed he was properly awake, he wordlessly handed him a cable that stretched towards a large machine that Megavolt remembered Gyro talking about and showing him blueprints. Right, the psycho inventor was going to use him to charge the thing. And, judging by how little electricity seemed to be coursing through his body at the moment, Megavolt suspected he'd succeeded.
Using the cable, he slowly started reclaiming his lost power. It helped enough that he could sit up. He couldn't even describe how much better it made him feel. His body still ached, but the exhaustion was fading. As he began to feel less and less like a zombie, he studied Quackerjack.
The clown was too quiet. He should have said something by now. And there was a haunted look on his face, one that really shouldn't be on his friend. The last time he'd seen a similar look was the night they thought Bushroot had died, when he'd seen his father's name under Megavolt's list of Negaduck's victims. That kind of somberness never looked right on his face. And once he'd handed over the cable to the electric rodent, Quackerjack had practically closed up completely. His legs were curled up and he gazed towards the ground, not apparently seeing anything except for maybe images in his own head.
Megavolt reached out with his free hand and carefully touched his shoulder. He was shivering. Not a lot, but just enough that he could feel it. And he knew it wasn't due to the cold.
"Quackerjack?" he began slowly. The clown didn't even react. He kept staring blankly as if he couldn't even hear his friend's voice. "Quackerjack?" When he still couldn't get a response, Megavolt shook his shoulder slight and said, "Billy?"
This time, he flinched and blinked. Then Quackerjack looked at the face of his increasingly-concerned friend.
"You were gone," he said, his voice barely audible. "I should have been faster. I'm sorry."
He almost asked what the clown meant. Then he recalled Gyro's words about not being a recyclable battery and it wasn't hard to draw a conclusion. He'd risked his life in the past, but it was a little unnerving to consider how close he must have come this time. It must have been pretty bad if it reduced Quackerjack to this state.
"Apparently you were fast enough, otherwise I wouldn't be here," Megavolt said carefully. "So thanks."
"You were gone," he repeated with that haunted look still on his face that made the electric rodent worry about what this experience might have done to Quackerjack's tedious grasp of sanity. "You were gone and I barely dragged you back. I should have been faster. I should have saved you sooner. It's my fault."
Dropping the cable, Megavolt grabbed both his shoulders, "Look, you're not the one who decided to strap me into an oversized light bulb for science. That was the other crazy guy, the one who decided building an Atomic Death Ray was the best way to steal something. Being a hero means lots of dangerous people spend their time trying to kill us and that means we sometimes get hurt. And even though we take care of each other and protect each other, we can't prevent everything. You didn't do anything wrong. This wasn't your fault. You saved me, right?"
Quackerjack nodded. It wasn't a very certain nod, but it was better than nothing. Even better, he seemed to be focused his friend rather than whatever he'd been staring blankly at before.
"And if someone decides they need to use you for some kind of wackiness-powered death ray, we'd go charging in to save you too. That's part of being a team. Remember our team, the one you pretty much dragged me into joining against my will?" he said, producing a tiny grin from the clown. "And even if our rescue attempt wasn't perfect, as long as everyone made it home at the end of the day, it would be considered a success." Releasing his grip on Quackerjack's shoulders, he said, "I'm fine now. Tired, still a little low of power, but fine. We're going to call this a success, okay?"
Taking a deep breath, he replied, "Okay."
"Good."
There was a moment of silence that Megavolt used to consider the fact that he'd apparently almost died earlier. Hopefully he could downplay that particular part of the day's events whenever they made it back to the greenhouse or else he'd never hear the end of it. Bushroot and Liquidator would definitely not react well to that news. Of course, neither did Quackerjack, but that was beyond his ability to prevent.
"At least Gyro isn't going anywhere," the clown muttered abruptly.
Megavolt's head snapped up, "What?"
He pointed, "Look."
Next to the machine, tightly bound in a jump rope and gagged by having his mouth stuffed with what appeared to be his blueprints, was Gyro Gearloose. His glasses were broke and he looked like he'd been hit several times, but he was still obviously breathing. It would seem that someone would have to contact the police later and inform them where they could find a mad scientist inventor with a soon-to-be-disabled death ray. Hopefully Taurus locked him up a little more securely than he did some of the villains.
"Promise you won't die again," said Quackerjack abruptly. When his teammate looked at him, he continued, "I mean, I know you can't really promise that, but… Bushroot can re-grow and Likky is made of water. You…"
"I promise I'll try to stay alive," he responded. "But you have to promise to do the same thing. Got it?"
It took a moment, but Quackerjack did nod firmly.
No one in the neighborhood knew where the trio of children got them. Of course, only a few people even noticed in the first place. Those that did notice probably assumed that they simply found them.
Of course, if anyone had cared to investigate a little, they might have realized that the well-crafted and beautifully made action figures of the Friendly Four weren't available in any of the toy stores. Not a single toy company made them. And if anyone happened to poke around further, they might have noticed that the toys appeared in the children's possession a week after the chaos at the museum.
But of course, no one really wanted to get involved in that neighborhood. So Barry, Stu, and Havanna played unhindered.
A/N: Here's a list of references for this chapter. Gyro Gearloose invented the Gizmo suit in "DuckTales." In the Negaverse, I imagine him as a kind of friendly-seeming person who does everything for science and to prove how brilliant he is. Even stealing money is to just a bonus. He doesn't really care about it, just like he doesn't care about ethics or people's lives. As long as his invention works and it shows amazing his intellect is, he couldn't really care. Unfortunately for him, common sense doesn't always factor into his plans, but that's why he has Little Helper to point out things he forgets to take into account. That's why he's good at long term planning: more time for his companion to find the problems in his ideas.
The frosting-fueled flamethrower was used by Negaduck in the episode "A Valentine Ghoul. I guess he didn't get around to using it in Darkwing's universe until then. Cara Foxworthy is intended to be the grand-daughter of Myra from the "TaleSpin" episode called "In Search of Ancient Blunders" and involves an upside-down pyramid and a mummy. In the main universe, Myra was the Minister of Culture of Aridia and later a museum curator. Since "TaleSpin" is set in the 1930s, it would make sense timeline wise to be dealing with her grand-daughter rather than Myra herself.