I just wanted to take a moment to introduce the cast – assuming everything goes to plan.
Gosalyn Mallard/The Darkwing - Daddy's Little Girl Has The Keys To The Ratcatcher.
Tank Muddlefoot - Promised He Could Pound Something.
Honker Muddlefoot - Will Never Give Up On His Friends.
Negaduck – Go Home Kids. I'm Dangerous.
S.H.U.S.H. Director Hooter – Security Comes At A Price.
Launchpad McQuack - Crash Course In Parenthood.
Morgana McCawber - Will Defend Her Little Gosalyn.
Gizmoduck - Who You Gonna' Call?
Steelbeak - Steel Yourself For Revenge.
NegaGosalyn - Only The Ruthless Survive.
F.O.W.L. Director ? - Hates Darkwing Above All.
Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.
Last time on The Duck Knight Returns
- Negaduck returns.
- The Fearsome Five are free.
- Gosalyn in trouble with the law.
...
The Duck Knight Returns
Ch 4: Modern Family
7 years ago. Office of Director, S.H.U.S.H., J. Gander Hooter.
S.H.U.S.H. Global Headquarters, St Canard.
"Now he has decapitated the former F.O.W.L. leadership," Gander was not using the term metaphorically, "the organisation has sworn allegience to Tauras Bulba. It seems F.O.W.L's indoctrination of their rank and file to obey without question does not discriminate against usurpers. Now he has resources to command he is driving the organisation to target you."
"Which explains the abundance of assassins I've run into this week. J. Gander, they've been committing crimes. Taking hostages!"
Where as he had been pacing and ranting, Drake suddenly felt the weight of his battles crush him. He collapsed in a chiar kindly offered by Hooter. "I'm afraid they're going to kill someone to call me out. And they've been threatning Gosalyn is next. They know who I am. Who I care about."
"Yes. innocent people are being caught in the crossfire," Hooter poured the worn out hero a strong drink. "I'm afraid if you continue your activities as Darkwing Duck in St Canard, you'll only put more lives in danger."
"So you want me to give up!?" the hero was stunned.
"No Darkwing, I want you to work with S.H.U.S.H. If you are seen to leave St Canard the villains no longer have a reason to harm her citizens. I propose the our first move should not be aimed at F.O.W.L., not directly. But for you to crack open some leads I have on their associates, holdings, competitors and do so in your usual dramatic fashion. Once your beak has shown up in from Sweeden to the Sudan stinging their organisation they'll rethink their strategy."
Hooter's proposed revision of strategy made sense. Go on the offensive. Lead them in another direction. The issue Drake could already see was Hooter's strategy would take time.
"What about my family? If I globe trot across hunting Bulba... I can't do that to Gosalyn."
"The sooner Bulba is thwarted, the sooner Gosalyn will no longer be under threat. I can offer your daughter the very best protection, she will be safe until you return."
Gosalyn had been orphaned at an early age and raised by her grandfather. Then orphaned a second time. He feared the trauma his running out now would cause, even if it would protect Gosalyn in the long run. Taurus Bulba ordered her grandfather's death and kidnapped the child. He was the only one in the world the girl with no fear was terrified of. Knowing he was loose again, coupled with a sense of abandonment by her guardian protector could greatly disturb the child.
"One alternative is you can both accept witness protection. You can disappear. New identities. A new home where no one could recognise you. Bulba will never find you.
"You'd have to give up your life as Darkwing Duck," Hooter added.
...
Today
It was a well rehearsed walk of shame. The cops would pull up to the curb outside the Mallard household and escort Gosalyn to the door. Mrs Muddlefoot, more often than not pruning her roses or the hedge between their properties or digging weeds from her garden, would coo a sympathetic, "Oh dear." Mrs Muddlefoot was never judgmental of Gosalyn. Her sympathy was punishment enough.
And Morgana. Standing at entrance to the Mallard household. Always at the front door like she had a sixth sense for when Gosalyn made trouble. That was the worst. Having to endure Morgana's displeased gaze as she marched up the path of 537 Avian Way. Her own personal green mile.
Was it a manifestation of her magical abilities? Or did she have one of Darkwing's old police scanners hidden away in the kitchen where Gosalyn never ventured - if she could help it. Gosalyn Mallard had no interest in being a cooking and cleaning kind of bird.
"Afternoon Morgana. May we come in?"
"Of course Officer Bobcat. Officer Rabbit"
Morgana led them inside to the living area. A flick of her wrist and Gosalyn struck an invisible barrier whilst trying to sneak off. The officers did not notice.
"We're sorry to bother you on such a fine day. Enjoying the sun?"
"Well Officers, I've always been more of a midnight bird with my restaurant business and various enterprises before that." Fantastic rumours persisted around the station of Morgana's various enterprises but nothing was ever linked to McCawber. "Would you two care for some hot chocolate?"
Bobcat and Rabbit looked to each other.
"I wouldn't want to trouble you…," Bobcat began.
Rabbit eagerly replied, "I'll take some." Bobcat tried to conceal his disgust.
"Don't worry Officer Bobcat. I've only got store bought today. Gosalyn's father was no fan of exotic foods either. It was quite the point of contention between us before I finally gave in and learned to forgive his limited palette."
Rabbit was happy anyway. Bobcat wasn't sure he would trust even normal hot chocolate from this household but he decided it was in his best interest to appear bashful and grateful. It was true; Morgana was acting less creepy today. Rather than her favoured Victorian gothic style of dress, which she would undoubtedly be wearing to her themed restaurant tonight, she relaxed and kicked back in more comfortable man's shirt and jeans. Her usual, or unusual as the case may be, beehive hair style was dropped. She let her length of black hair, with twin streaks of white of ala Bride of Frankenstein, flow over her shoulders. She might even have looked normal this afternoon had a spider not been a crawling though it, combing out the knots.
The decorum of the home was an oddity. An idealised, picture perfect suburban dream - with a gothic twist. If Bobcat were the fashion police he may have broken down and sobbed. You could be plainly seen the conflict between the lifestyle of the previous resident, which the family painstakingly attempted to keep intact, against the influences Morgana brought to the household. Greens and blues and yellows dominated the living room but could not brighten it. Not with thick, black, blackout curtains blocking out the sun; instead the room was lit by candle and firelight. They opened for visitors now, unnervingly by themselves. In spite of the glorious day outside the suns rays did not seem able to pierce the prevalent gloom. Normal couch, normal T.V. set, a normal (so far as they were aware) pair of blue reclining chairs; a gothic bookcase, a Victorian 'throne' with velvet lining and demonic gold figurines affixed to the end of each armrest. A dais from which to read. A glimpse into the kitchen and dining room revealed Morgana was less conservative in these, her personal domains of the house.
The oven had been replaced with freaking cauldron!
Squeak
Oh yes. And a colony of bats snoozed in the open rafters above. Occasionally they would squeak as they breathed and flap their leather wings.
Personally, Officer Bobcat found them to be the most unnerving feature of the décor. No matter Morgana's assurances they were housetrained; he was still confounded how she managed to produce a permit for each animal upon demand.
Morgana returned with four mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows. Setting them down on the coffee table for Officers Rabbit and Bobcat, Gosalyn and herself, she advised, "Careful of the marshmallows. Let them soak in a bit of chocolate first. It slows there reflexes so you can chew before they bite."
Morgana smirked behind her own mug when Bobcat withdrew his reaching hand.
"I'll let mine sit for a bit." Officer Bobcat became more formal, "Miss McCawber, we picked up Gosalyn for trespassing on private property. She and her friends were playing ball in an industrial salvage yard. Now, the owner has agreed not to press charges, although he did want impress on Gosalyn the dangers of entering an industrial site unsupervised."
"He pulled a shotgun on her," Rabbit stated bluntly. "And attack dogs. Big dogs."
Bobcat nodded in agreement with his partner's blunt statement. It was their usual routine. Formal cop, direct cop. "The situation was becoming aggressive when we arrived. She is fortunate we arrived when we did."
Gosalyn huffed. "Take the credit. I had it taken care of before you showed up."
"You're fortunate we pulled you off the poor bugger and convinced him not to lay a charge of assault."
Rabbit whistled. "Didn't know who he was messin' with. Still, we want to make it clear to Gosalyn that the behaviour that led to this incident is unacceptable."
"As will I," Morgana promised, never taking her eyes of Gosalyn even as she sipped the warm liquid of her hot chocolate. Roasting Gosalyn under her gaze. Was it the witch was capable of increasing room temperature localised around a single person without so much of a spoken incantation? Or was Gosalyn just imagining so? She rested the urge to tug on her sweaty collar.
"What I want to impress on Gosalyn is that if she doesn't put a halt to these delinquent escapades things are going to start getting serious." Bobcat turned on the youth in question. "I understand you're almost 18 Gosalyn. Soon juvenile hall won't be an option. You'll be an adult, and subject to the laws and responsibilities of one. And I'm less inclined to be lenient on adult lawbreakers. This is your last free ride before you get a short, sharp, shock. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to talk with Morgana."
…
Gosalyn was allowed to retreat to her room upstairs. Bobcat let his simulated anger fade and explained the situation. "We think the yard owner was threatening cornered trespassing children with his dogs."
"Gosalyn jumped in…," Rabbit took a sip of hot chocolate.
"At great risk to her own safety," Bobcat added.
"… And saved them. Course, can't tell for sure. Gos is the only one we caught."
"She managed to disarm him before any serious injury was sustained by any party. And I mean she really kicked his butt!" Bobcat let his 'game face' slide to expressed admiration.
Morgana did feel a sense of pride for her little girl's selflessness, no matter the circumstances. She was her father's daughter, holding herself to his ideals above all else. If only she could sort out her life. Find a path.
"You've been kind to Gosalyn. Better than she realises."
"She's not a bad sort, Morgana. Don't think I hadn't noticed we only ever catch her when somebody else is in trouble. Sooner or later though she's going to do something we can't ignore. She has plenty of spirit. She just needs somewhere to focus it."
…
Morgana stepped into Gosalyn's room. She meant business.
"Where's Tank? He managed to wiggle out of trouble again."
"I wasn't with Tank," Gosalyn stated, lying across her bed in both senses of the word. Morgana did not even need to call her out on it; they both knew the truth.
Gosalyn defended her actions. "I saved a boy. He was just a kid."
"Did you break the law jumping in to save him or was this after you'd been trespassing for some time. Playing ball with the old haunt gangs."
"Big deal. It's not like we we're stealing. Not like there was anything worth stealing."
"Well, I'm sure that excuse will get you off the hook next time you break into a mall or jewellery store. We weren't stealing. We were just playing!"
"Not like you never broke the law," Gos scoffed.
"To which I was apprehended by Darkwing and, thanks to his merciful spirit of justice, was given a second chance to set things right."
"No you didn't!" Gosalyn was on her, tearing at her depiction of events. "You either teleported away, threw sleeping powder at him or distracted him with a smooch - yuagh."
In days past Morgana had not considered possibility that previous wicked ways may come back to haunt her. Not like this. Sure, maybe some minor guilt pangs cured by unfathomable riches. Dirty looks from respectable folk - talking to spiders already earned her that distinction. Who cared what they thought? Yet life has a means of punishing one for the wicked escapades of youth. Morgana had not counted on raising a teenage girl. Not that she was against having children. It simply never entered into her calculations. She was too busy counting gold bars.
It could be worse. Clearly Gosalyn had yet to realise the practical applications of sex appeal. Idiot, idiot, child.
"Fine. So I'm better at being a bad girl than you are! With your track record you should quit while you're ahead. Before I make you quit."
To underline her threat, Morgana made a waved gesture and an invisible hand lifted Gosalyn into the air by her ankle. Two birds eye to eye.
"Bring it on!" Gosalyn dared. Defiant to the last.
"Launchpad will hear about Officer Rabbit and Bobcat's visit."
Gosalyn didn't respond. More than Mrs Muddlefoot's sympathy and Morgana's wrath, it was Launchpad's disappointment which stirred her self-doubt.
"You're not to hang out with Tank anymore."
"You can't stop me."
"You're confined to this room tonight. Tomorrow while talk how long you're grounded – including re-enrolling in school."
"You can't ground me. I don't live here."
Morgana appraised Gosalyn's predicament.
"Just try and leave."
She left Gosalyn's room, leaving the girl suspended. The teen grunted and struggled against the invisible hands but would not call out to be released. Could not call out. She had too much pride to beg. Roughly five minutes passed and she was dropped unceremoniously onto her mattress.
…
Morgana dressed for work, ditching Drake's shirt and her jeans for more comfortable corset, dress and lace boots. While red dress was undoubtedly her favourite colour, it paid to mix things up from time to time in the entertainment business. Also, the luscious red did not carry well in the Goth community as it once had.
She had a new dress she had been dying to try out. A full length dress, ruffled, and black with a green hue from toes to hips but dark green from there up. Green was new depressing darkness. It did not have any shoulders or sleeves; indeed it halted after the cleavage. Morgana felt a bare collar bone negatively emphasised her formidable height so she wore a black petty coat.
Now she required to do something about her eyes, also green. Do not wear a dress the same colour as your eyes it will do nothing for you. Contrast is what reveals the beauty of your irises. Fortunately, Morgana had coloured contacts contained within her dresser. She liked to add overtures of mystery to herself by changing the eye colour at intervals. Sometimes even wearing opposing colours in each eye. Not everyone noticed but it was fun and her attention to the little details added to the atmosphere of the Shadow Château.
It was within her power to change her irises colouring with a thought through her magic yet her powers had caused unintended consequences in the past. It was safer not to mess with the delicate, squishy, globes of sight.
My eye colour is green and I usually wear red. Why not have red eyes tonight? Morgana reasoned, choosing lava red contacts from a recent vampire night. It was a popular romantic theme in recent times, God bless Stephanie Meyer and Twilight.
She put off makeup, however, when she heard the front door open.
"Morg? I'm home."
As it did most nights, Launchpad's blustering entrance disturbed the bats, Eek and Squeak, from their slumber in the rafters. They screeched and swarmed his head in annoyance before returning to their perches for some shut eye.
Launchpad flayed his toolbox uselessly to fend them off, as he did most nights, and settled on the couch. Easing out across it he retrieved the remote from behind the cushions and switched the box to catching the last minutes of Duck & Cover before the evening news.
Entering the room quietly Morgana informed him, "You'll have a house guest tonight."
"Oh?"
"Gosalyn."
"Oh?" This made Launchpad sit up. "She came home?"
"Not voluntarily."
"Oh…."
Launchpad lowered the volume on the T.V. and shifted hit feet off the couch to make space. Morgana took the seat offered and proceeded to give Launchpad the short, concise version of events. How Gosalyn had been playing ball with the kids of the 'old haunt' district as most people knew it. The bad side of town. The yard operator took exception to their presence forcing Gosalyn to act to save another, leading to her being picked up by the police. Officer Bobcat was clear this was her final warning.
"I've placed a curse on her to confine her to her room. You can release her in an emergency – if she try's to set fire to the house or something like it. She can only leave once you or I explicitly say she can. Two plates of dinner in the fridge. You'll have to take hers to her."
"Thanks Morg. And thank you for being here. For Gosalyn."
"It's my pleasure Launchpad," and it was. "I would do anything for Gosalyn."
"She's the greatest kid in the world," Launchpad agreed with her sentiment. Each of them held a fierce pride for their ward. "She would have been running rings around me if you hadn't moved in. You're the only reason we function as a family."
"Don't talk ridiculous Launchpad. You're wonderful with children."
"What about teenagers?"
"No one's good with teenagers," Morgana assured him, rising from the couch. "But I'll tell you a secret. Gosalyn would have driven Drake to mental meltdown by now."
Before she left the room Launchpad called after her.
"Hey Morg!"
She turned.
"That is a lovely dress," he complemented her finery. Morg grinned.
"Lovely isn't the theme I was looking for," she teased.
"All the same."
Alone with the bats once more Launchpad heaved a heavy, exhausted sigh. He would have to go upstairs and see Gosalyn but first he had to figure out what to say. Maybe he would put it off until dinner time so they could simply eat together. Save talking for another time. It was enough to have her home tonight. Yes. Yes, this seemed like a good approach. She was hardly likely to turn down a warm home cooked meal.
He wondered into the kitchen to re-heat their meals. Missing the news headline of the day….
"Rainbow U.F.O. stuns onlookers in California..."
…
The tenants of the curse had been relaxed by morning. Gosalyn was capable of leaving her room but not the house without permission. She made use of this opportunity, rising early and performing twenty push-ups to wake up. She took a long shower, enjoying the small luxuries of home such as sweet smelling body-wash and clean towels.
None of the clothes where she was staying were clean. Gosalyn was glad to exchange her stained and slightly smelly clothing for fresh and pressed items out of her closet. Then she headed downstairs and into the kitchen. By her reckoning it was thirty to forty-five minutes before Launchpad would rise in time for work at 7:00am.
When he did rise and tiptoe downstairs as to not wake the ladies of the house he was staggered to discover - breakfast. A normal, prepared breakfast of hot cakes, scrambled eggs, toast, porridge and fried tomatoes.
"You cooked?" he exclaimed too loudly. The bats, returning from a night of hunting moths, screeched their equivalent of, "keep it down!"
"Good morning, Launchpad," Gosalyn pleasantly greeted him, pulling out a chair at the head of the dinning table. He accepted, sitting down and she placed a plate of food before him.
"Thanks Gos! But - how did you cook this? Morgana's cauldron can be temperamental…."
Gosalyn shrugged off the question. "I found some camping equipment in the garage. I can't promise it'll taste as it should. At least I'm pretty confident the freshly squeezed orange juice will taste like it should." She poured him a glass.
"I wouldn't care if it tasted like cardboard, this is great! Don't tell Morgana but octopus or snails just ain't how Momma McQuack used to make it."
He dug in. With a satisfied grin he assured her, "This is really good."
"Well, you didn't keel over so I'll assume it's safe."
Gosalyn filled a plate and took a seat next to him at the table. A taste test of her food provided fair results. The eggs seemed a smidgen burnt and the hot cakes a touch sloppy. Launchpad was right. It beat snails.
In Launchpad's mindset food was a priority. Food is not to be played around with (unless we're talking about potatoes. Making spud men). Food is not to be overly thought out or prepared or left to go cold. Food existed for the exquisite pleasure of stuffing ones mouth no matter how it tasted. So it was not until he had, rapidly, cleared a large portion of his plate and his stomach threatened to revolt (a change from the bottomless pit he carried in his younger days) his thoughts turned to how this could be a good time to strike up a conversation with his ward.
"So…," he began. "You're staying at Tank's place?"
"Just the couch, Launchpad," Gosalyn assured him, mistaking the intent of the question. She didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. The wrong idea revolted her. Made her feathers stand on end.
"Huh? Oh! Oh, I know," Launchpad said. He wasn't ready to believe Gosalyn had done anything like that. "Yeah, I know. I just meant it's good to know you have a proper roof over your head. I've roughed it a night or two on the streets. It was good of Tank to offer a place to stay. I have to thank him next time I see the kid. I owe him."
Conversation already was veering into waters Gosalyn did not want to sail. She changed course.
"How's the workshop?"
"Eh? Still turning over. The few customers are loyal. Could be because I forget to charge them half the time," he chuckled. "I finally put Honker on the pay roll. Part time on youth wages. All I could afford - he convinced me it was all I could afford! I figure his book keeping is the only reason I'm still afloat. Might as well pay 'em."
Steered around a rock to strike a cliff. Honker was not a conversational topic Gosalyn wanted brought up.
"And how about Morgana?"
"The château is doing great business! It's been named the most romantic destination in the city. I think it's the love potion muffins. Not that she puts love potion in them. She thinks that would be immoral. Just potion of joy. The name is deceptive."
"Gizmoduck called in! Wants to put the band back together, reunite the Justice Ducks with J. Gander's sponsorship. Tried to convince Morgana to join. He even wanted D.W.'s old gear. And the tower."
Gos paused and lowered a fork full of scrambled egg she'd been raising to her mouth.
"You let him take Dad's tower?"
She didn't know how she felt about this. The emotions were there, they were just - Gizmoduck was a hero and a friend. She trusted him to continue Darkwing's legacy. But this was Dad's stuff. He needed it. He fought crime with it. He would want it back when he returned….
Secretly admitting he would never return did not make it right to pass his gear on.
"Now, Gos. I didn't commit to anything. I said he could use it until he finds a new command centre. Just to make more space I moved the Ratcatcher and Thunderquack down to the shop."
"The Thunderquack is at the shop?"
"Yeah, well. It's overdue for a conditioning. I really should turn the engine over more often. I don't know what condition they're in…."
"Don't you think someone will notice?"
"Who? My lines of customers? I should tell people I built the Thunderquack, it would be good advertising! I get special orders in all the time, no one even...," bat's an eyelash. Launchpad momentarily glanced up at Eek and Squeak. Still as uncomfortable in their presense as Officer Bobcat. "blinks an eyelash."
"In any case, we were thinking of doing more than maintenance on the old gal'. Honker had some ideas for updating the…," he droned off as Gos rapidly became disinterested. "Well. On a budget. You haven't seen him much recently. Have you?"
An evasive, "He doesn't play a lot of baseball around the old haunt."
McQuack did not know why this separation existed between Gosalyn and Honker. The two had previously been close, more so than siblings. Miraculously close given their generally opposing temperaments and interests. Their friendship had probably been rooted in Gosalyn's overwhelming bossiness driving the quiet natured boy into line but the pair had quickly developed a deep fondness for each other. They're complementary skills produced an effective team while Honker had been willing to put his neck on the chopping block for Gosalyn and her wilder scheme's though he might council against them.
"Well... he lives next door. You could go see him."
The girl snorted. "I can't leave the house Launchpad. I'm under curse."
"Oh, right…. Call him."
Wrestling with rising exasperation, Gosalyn collected her dishes and returned them to the kitchen. The mystery as to why the pair had been avoiding each other was one Gosalyn planned to keep. Disappointed to be stonewalled, Launchpad also collected his dishes. It wasn't to bother him much longer. Not when he entered the kitchen. The topic was quickly and completely forgotten.
Spilt flour, sugar, maple syrup and milk; shattered egg shell pieces everywhere. A tomato had been dropped on the floor and accidently kicked across the room. Its juices mixed with other run off to create a slip hazard. The bin was overflowing from empty ingredient cartons and Gosalyn's trial and error approach to cookery.
It seemed Gos had bypassed the lack of stove issue by improvisation - and a gas powered wielding arc from the garage. Melted crockery and scorch marks burned into the bench were testament to how unsuitable the device had been to the task. A damp cloth and an empty bucket were positioned conspicuously beside a blacked and subsequently flooded surface. The smoke alarm inexplicably smashed. Hanging by wires.
"Morg is going to kill you!"
Gos surveyed the carnage and disagreed. "Only if you tell her."
"How could she not notice?"
"You'll have straightened out before…," Gos made an act of looking at her watch. "You've got plenty of time before work." He really did not.
"What do mean I've got plenty of time?" It was a struggle, truly an epic battle, not to raise his voice. He did not want Morgana to lose sleep and he certainly did not want her poof-ing Gos to another dimension when she spied the remnants of her kitchen. However much it was warranted!
"I cooked! I'm not going to cook and clean. It wouldn't be fair!"
"Fair…!" he stopped, befuddled by the girl's notion of fair. "You're never to use my equipment without my supervision. You could have burnt the house down!"
"I didn't want to wake you guys," was Gosalyn's justification. It was not a strong arguing point. She knew this deep down but it was not her nature to tactfully admit error.
To vary her behaviour now may alert Launchpad to the larger trap.
"I had everything under control. It's not like I've never used the arc wielder before."
"When!" Now he did raise his voice.
It struck Gos this was not the wisest admission - in any other circumstance. She attempted to rebound by smiling sweetly and lying. "Um, in the shop. With you."
"Clean this up! The floor, the bench space, the dishes; everything!"
It would be advisable to removing the arc wielder from her reach before she did any more damage. He firmly twisted the gauge to ensure the gas was shut off and returned it to the garage.
"Eek, Squeak. You watch her. Alert Morgana immediately if she slacks off." He left for work with a final warning. "Don't even try to calculate how much trouble you're in, you're in that much. How many weeks we shave off your years of being grounded depends on how shiny these surfaces are by time Morgana rises."
Gos sulked. "Can you at least take out the garbage on your way to work?"
"You take the garbage out!"
A door slammed. Soon the electric motor to the garage door was humming as it shut the empty carport and Launchpad was accelerating away a mite too fast for these quiet suburban streets. Frustration released by the gunning of, and abusing of, an engine.
Left alone Gosalyn had her victory but regretted the price. It could not be savoured. Gosalyn decided to as Launchpad asked. All of it. Mop, do the dishes, take every scrap of garbage outside the magical barrier. Everything.
...