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 declares war.
- Bushroot is given an assignment.
- Grizzlikof is removed from the Negaduck case.
- Gosalyn makes a decision.
...
The Duck Knight Returns
Ch 8: Darkwing
6 years ago. Duckburg.
The triplets changed quickly and made their way from gym to the cafeteria. Pizza Friday. Best lunch of the week. Way better than Mystery Meat Thursday. No thank you.
They retrieved their lunch and made for their usual spot. Webby and Bubba had arrived ahead of them, just come from a different class. Gosalyn arrived momentarily after, coming from the same class as the boys, and she looked furious.
"Gosalyn mad?" Bubba asked in his heavy caveduck accent. Not well versed in social cues, you could trust Bubba not to dance around an issue. He would flat out ask.
"What's wrong Gosalyn?" Webby inquired. Sugar and spice and always trying to help.
"Yeah," Louie added, "you seemed fine at gym."
It was the only class she enjoyed.
"Just Rockwaller being a stuck-up snob," Gosalyn waved off everyone's concerned stares. "While I was getting dressed. Her and her brain dead flunkies wanted to know how I could, 'dress like a hobo if I stay with the richest duck in the world?' I should have feed Rockwaller her own expensive boots."
Wealthy kids. So a worn hockey jersey and jeans wasn't the height of fashion? You can't skate in heels. Can't climb in a mini-skirt. Can't throw a pig skin in a strapless top.
"One more fight and Duckworth is going to remove you from the baseball team," Dewey reminded her.
"I know, I walked away."
There had been an incident with a jerk who thought it funny Gosalyn was an orphan twice over. Gosalyn hated the feeling Rockwaller had scored a victory over her, but she feared losing her place on the team more. Duckworth was a good sport, but his hands would be tied.
"Uncle Scrooge would give her lesson in economics," Huey commented. "As if he would fork over two hundred big ones for fashionable boots every other month."
All the children nodded in agreement. Scrooge believed earning every cent and spending wisely were character building. The very idea of Rockwaller asking Scrooge for money was humorous. It returned a small smile to Gosalyn's beak.
"Her daddy just buys her everything cause even he don't want to spend time with her." Webby didn't like Rockwaller and Webby liked everyone.
…
Today
Tank directed an overly stimulated patron to the door. Forcefully. Those were the rules. Any man tries to handle the girls and Tank gets to manhandle them. There were always a few who got a might tipsy and forgot the rules so it became Tank's responsibility to remind them. It kept Tank employed and Tank loved his job.
Out the back door and into the seclusion of the alley. The establishment extended the courtesy of fare for the waiting taxi and a gut busting fist rammed into their abdomen to remind them of their manners. All part of the service of this high quality entertainment bar. At less classy institutions they cared less about broken teeth, black eyes and questions from the wife the next morning.
Tank waved the Taxi driver goodbye in his rear view mirror. They had a good working relationship, Tank and Charley. Tank loved his job.
"I love my job."
"Hey man! Hey!"
A pair of kids spotted Tank at the side door and broke into a run. Tank waited to see what the trouble was. As if he could not guess. Still, it would be rude to make assumptions.
"You going to let me in man?"
"We don't run that sort of club here, kid," he said and moved to close the door on them.
"Hang on, hang on!" they insisted. "We ain't no kids. Look at my I.D!" They each produced a card for Tank's scrutiny. Tank took the first offered.
"You're thirty-two and a citizen of North Africa. Do you speak African?"
"Wazz'up my nigger?"
Tank handed the card back. "Come back when you're at least mature enough to invest in a quality fake I.D."
"Is a hundred serious enough for you?"
Using his most angry, ferocious, maybe somewhat constipated growl he practiced for these encounters he told the pair to, "Fuck off!"
The kids turned tail and left - a string of curses in their wake. Tank was a, "faggot," this or, "pussy," that. Thinking positive, Tank remember they hadn't tried to knife him. Kids these days.
"I love my job."
Once back inside with the back door secured against intrusion the boss called Tank over. "Take a break, son. You have a visitor. Private booth two. Oh," the man added holding ice to his reddened left cheek, "she ain't here for a job interview. Good luck, son."
Tank entered the booth expecting possibly Gosalyn – and froze when he encountered worse.
"Is this how you wish to spend your life, Tank?" Morgana asked pointedly. She directed Eek and Squeak to close the curtains behind him.
"The pay is good and I get to hit people. How could I not?
"Ah..., mam," he added, taking note of Morgana's disapproval.
"And Gosalyn? Is this the life you want for her? Is this how she's been funding herself?"
"Gosalyn has never worked as a stripper." She worked behind the bar as a temp. "She's been doing some waitressing jobs but not here."
"She isn't here now?"
"No."
"Do you know where she is?"
"No."
"Tank. Do you know where Gosalyn is?"
Her tone was assertive. Not threatening or stern but Tank understood the matter was serious. It might be Gosalyn was in trouble. It would not hurt to co-operate as he could and might hurt if he did not. Behaving reasonable now, Morgana was known for her sharp temper. Threats gave way to immediate action and odd events happened around Morgana. Bats nested in her Bride of Frankenstein hair!
Gosalyn, in confidence, mentioned the term, "Witch".
"Gosalyn doesn't hang with me at work. She knows I'm busy and don't finish until morning. Nightime is her time. She does her own thing. If she doesn't have a waitressing gig tonight I hear she runs across the city rooftops like she was Dark-beak," that earned him a dark look down Morgana's beak, "or whatever his name was."
Another wave of her hand and the bats flew into the night. Scouring the rooftops from above for their target. As magical familiars they felt the urgency their mistress was feeling.
"You let Gosalyn roam the streets of the old haunt. At night. By herself!" Morgana accused.
"I can't babysit and remain employed at the same time! I do tell her she deserves better than this."
A trumped up defence Morgana was not inclined to believe. It was convenient having Tank to blame for the problems in her relationship with her child. A bad influence was her view of him. Of course, she could not not know he was not telling the truth minus a time consuming brew of truth potion. Further accusations stalled. The brow-beating or just plain beating Morgana had been dying to give Tank could wait. Gosalyn needed to be found tonight.
"If you see Gosalyn, call me. Or have her do so. Any time of day. This is important Tank. I will hold you to this."
…
"Justice Ducks Assemble!"
The rallying call assembled the greatest team of heroes in the world. Men and women dedicated to the protection of society and the pursuit of justice. From his base in the bridge tower overlooking St Canard, GizmoDuck made the call and they came.
Launchpad McQuack. Ace pilot and mechanic. No stranger to a brawl. A career adventurer with an unparalleled record of saving the world with a total commitment to his friends.
Morgana McCawber. Mistress of magic. A powerful and skilled witch seldom seen without the company of her familiars Eek, Squeak and Archie. Her fury would see those who would harm her family turned to pudding.
Bubba McDuck. Still a young man, a Gizmo-buddy from Duckburg. Never one for the quiet life, his survival abilities had been honed by existing in the Cretaceous period, facing off against even Tyrannosaur with Tootsie the Triceratops at his side.
Stegmutt. The power of a Stegosaurus with the innocence of a lamb. A crazed experiment turned this Duck into a powerhouse of strength and integrity.
Camille Chameleon. A shape-shifter and biology expert. Apprehended by Darkwing Duck (aided by the encyclopedic knowledge and bravery of Honker Muddlefoot). Now working off her debt to society she despises.
Heroes new and old rallied together whenever the world was threatened. Together they had won glory and they had lost friends. They were the Justice Ducks.
"Bubba is a child and Camille Cameeleon should be behind bars."
"Oh, come on Grizz. Everyone deserves a second chance. Besides, it was your boss who gave her to us."
"Not call me, "Grizz"! And this information, sadly, does not comfort me."
GizmoDuck was not clear on Grizz's meaning but supposed he should drop Darkwing's pet name for the bear. Remembering his paw around his throat. His wore the Gizmo-suit, the most versatile powerful personal weapon system every constructed and the bear stood a head taller. With broader shoulders.
They discussed this matter in the seclusion of the Justice Ducks tower. A temporary arrangement Fenton had promised Launchpad, knowing Launchpad had kept the tower in immaculate condition if by chance Darkwing should one day make it back home. How Grizzlikof had known of the headquarters before they were fully moved in Fenton had no clue and it was another case for not underestimating the agent. He looked out over the bay and the bright lights of the city. The merchant ships floating offshore.
"The Justice Ducks are assembled as you asked Director Grizzlikof. I held a briefing on the history and capabilities of our foes for the newer members this afternoon. Launchpad is working to have the Thunderquack flying by dawn. Bubba and I are drawing up a team training exercises so we can hone our skills in unison."
"You taking threat seriously at least."
"It was Bubba's suggestion. Our "child" can't count right but he is always a step ahead of his prey."
"I catch his show. Wild vs. Man. Not subtle on your part, recruiting celeebrity and adopted son of you billionaire boss."
Fenton was offended and crossed his arms defensively. "Neither factor had any bearing in my accepting his request to sign on. The popularity rating and extra funding were just gravy."
Gosalyn observed them arguing from the shadows. The problem with superheroes and agents was their massive egos she reckoned. Each of them was a good sort. Grizzlikof was demanding but held himself to same professional standards he did everyone else. GizmoDuck was genuine in his selfless devotion to others. A hero to his core. But he was deluding himself if he claimed being the worlds foremost hero did not go to his small little bird brain. He always had time for the fans, even amidst a case. Not on Dad's level of egotism of course. At least Dad was comfortable acknowledging his number one priority being himself.
She recalled when Honker thwarted Camille Chameleon from ripping Darkwing a new vanity hole. He'd been on a personality trip; dressing in leather, riding around town on a miniature motorcycle and calling himself Spec. Referring to Gosalyn as, "Babe," or, "Sweet Chick." She would have decked Tank over less. The irony he'd never been more repulsive than when acting a rebel vexed her. As much because it seemed everything reminded her of Honker today as what it said about her own current rejection of brain box boy. She did not need a lecture on personal inconsistencies from her own brain while sneaking into Justice Ducks H.Q., damn it!
She needed to focus on her goal. She was sure the boys' argument below her would be very informative as it dealt with Negaduck and their strategies for netting his gang. Useful information for a girl to have. Nonetheless, remaining increased the likelihood of her being caught. A terrible kick-off to her new vocation.
She turned from the railing overlooking the operations area and returned to her task. Raiding Darkwing's equipment storage in his home away from home. The bed from which he used to sleep the daylight hours away when she first encountered the Masked Mallard remained. So too his spare gadgets and stylish wardrobe. Darkwing's space left untouched even as GizmoDuck moved in.
She heard heavy footsteps entering the room. From the gadget worktable she fingered a buzz saw cufflink, a Darkwing icon, and turned meet her discoverer.
"Were ya gonna' leave without saying hello to an old friend?"
He always had a deep, harsh voice even as a child. Expensive schooling had tempered it with a schoolboy English vocabulary with a touch of a scottish accent from his adopted father.
Bubba McDuck. The Caveduck.
"How did you know I was here?"
Bubba tapped his nose. "Caught ya scent."
It irritated Gosalyn she could not be sure if he was serious or no. He had trained his body to a level usually reserved for monastic warrior monks but he was still just a Duck. She thought he was just a duck. Or an early ancestor to a duck. Moreover, Gosalyn suspected Bubba of having a crush on her. The idea he knew her scent so intimately sparked awkward feelings.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping at the Zoo with your pet?"
"Stegmutt is keeping Tootsie company. She has restless dreams without'ta herd member nearby. Would'ya like some help?"
"No!" She did not need help and if she did she was inclined to be too stubborn to accept it. Though, Drake Mallard and Grandpa Waddlemeyer before him did not raise a fool. If Bubba left now he might slip to GizmoDuck her presence. "How can you help me?" Gosalyn conceded.
Bubba opened Darkwing's closet and unhooked one of the many identical purple jackets. "I can sow. If ya planning on going out in public in these they can use some alterations. Ya taller than Darkwing, with a bust, but the shoulders are same."
Did he make a reference to her chest?
His eyes moved between the jacket and her. Travelling up and down her body. Contemplating her dressed in the jacket or just as easily contemplating her undressed. The buzz saw in her hands was a comfort. If he produced a measuring tape….
"How do you know how to sow?"
Bubba shrugged. "Survival expert. I've been sowing fur into cold weather clothing since – before King Tut was born."
"Yeah?" Gosalyn stepped away from Dad's gadget bench and slammed back edge of a closed fist against a wall panel. A rack of gas grenades and a replacement launcher folded down.
"Well, I just break things."
…
"As for Morgana, well…."
"Yes?" Grizz had the inkling Gizmo had bad news to share. Inklings made him grouchy.
"She's out looking for Gosalyn. I mean – I had to tell her," he lowered his voice, "about the other Gosalyn."
A soft growl emanated from the bear's throat. "Assume nothing. No way to know there iss, "other Goosaling," although," Grizz intended to arrange a meet tomorrow with the arresting officers of the scrap yard incident. A quiet meet away from the office least Donkey accuse him of meddling in an on-going investigation. Already, however, his instincts said Gosalyn vanilla was innocent of any – or at least of this – wrongdoing. Loath as he was to admit a misjudgment. "I open to possibility girl not involved after reading file."
"I had to say something. Poor Launchpad. He was crushed."
"Including her parents' not wise decision."
"They're in this team because they are the best. You assigned this team to capture this Nega-Gosalyn. Do I reveal to the team our target or not? All I said, "Grizzlikof thinks this girl might be from the Negaverse." Nothing about the surveillance." A deceitful spin for the sake of the parents. No, under the circumstances Grizzlikof did not mind.
"Da," yes. "Good tinking."
"Makes you wonder who else could be a Negaverse clone?" Fenton mused. "Anyway, Morgana was dead set on locating Gosalyn and bringing her home safe. They'll be no chance of directing her toward other Justice Ducks business until she does. I don't like your chances of being able to interrogate her. Not with where Morgana can conceal her."
"One more ting," the purpose behind Grizzlikof's visit and not dragging Fenton down to his office for this chat. "The Justice Ducks no longer will be co-operating with the SHUSH investigation into attack on Wonderland facility. Or escape of convicted felons, the Feearsome Five gang. Not unless Agent Donkey deals you in."
"You can't throw us off the case over a little staffing disagreement! The Justice Ducks defend the citizens of this nation wherever they may be…"
"Save stupid speech! I thrown off case! Agent Donkey running investigation now."
"Oh. Well...," GizmoDuck could not believe it. Grizzlikof was the best. He could not imagine why S.H.U.S.H. would do such a thing. "I'm sorry to hear that Grizz, ah, Director Grizzlikof. I respect your integrity as a steward of the nation.
"May I ask why?" Fenton was not so sure he would receive an answer. Prideful was the bear. To be thrown off a case of this magnitude must have been a blow.
"It complicated," Grizzlikof said. Fenton was not expecting any more to his answer. Grizz protected many secrets, his opinions on others not amoung them. Fenton did feel Grizz held a low opinion of him. Any idea he might confide in Fenton as a trusted colleague seemed far fetched. His own opinion of the big guy Fenton resolved to rethink when Grizz did begin to elaborate….
…
Earlier
Grizzlikof remained steamed by his encounter with Agent Donkey. But also his secretaries continued refusal to allow him coffee! It would have been to his advantage if he had time to blow off some of that steam in the shooting gallery before meeting with the newly arrived Director Hooter but the boss bird wanted to see him now. And by Donkey's reckoning he was not happy with Grizzlikof's performance. Well, neither was Grizzlikof impressed with the Director restricting him from vital files on Wonderland and appointing Donkey to take over his case and if he didn't clamp down on his fury now the consequences would be worse than yelling at his boss. He was going to wind up in a fierce argument with his only friend.
He made a stop at the cafeteria and had a glass of water. Another glass of water. Christ, he needed coffee. Unfortunately, this was a spy organisation. Someone would rat him out.
He fixed his tie and buttoned his suit. Fixing himself to appear professional had a record of calming his shot nerves. First and foremost Deputy Director S.H.U.S.H. Vladimir Grizzlikof was a professional and it would be unprofessional to dally any longer. The Director was waiting.
He identified himself to the Director's secretary and waited patiently as she informed the Director via the intercom of his arrival.
"Director Hooter will see you now."
At Director Hooter's door Grizzlikof paused to knock. The respectful procedure Donkey should have followed entering his office.
"Come in."
J. Gander Hooter was a diminutive bird and an aged one. Now past the mandatory age of retirement according to S.H.U.S.H. regulations by several years. It was the sole instance where Grizzlikof did not mind, even encouraged, breaking with establish regulations. No one in Washington was going to remove him while F.O.W.L. imploded and endangered the world as it did so. His was the gentle guiding hand that held theirs, and the nations, during dark days.
J. Gander stood by his window in his simple office, hands clasped behind his back. No fear of a sniper despite his status as a high value target for a rogue F.O.W.L. faction looking to score points. The cursed window with its picturesque view of the street and the people they strove to protect was cause of one of the many disagreements between the pair. However, J. Gander Hooter was adamant he hid from no man. Some things were worth the risk.
"You wanted to speak with me, Direktor?"
"Vladimir. It's been too long," and J. Gander proved the joy he felt by approaching Grizzlikof and shaking his hand. A privilege of his new station of Deputy Director, Hooter addressed him by his name in private. Were a third party to be present it would be Director Grizzlikof.
"I heard you experienced a drama with Negaduck."
"I was informed you wish for me to account for how I become hostage to Neegaduck and my failure to prevent the destruction of Wonderland facility?"
"Nonsense, old friend. While I fear your security team will require a swift kick I imagine you are, as per usual, being too demanding of yourself, Vladimir. I wanted to know you were alright."
"I am fine, Direktor." While J. Gander may have felt comfortable addressing Grizzlikof by name, James would always be Director to Grizz.
"This would be you're first encounter with Negaduck. He is not a pleasant fellow. I was fortunate during our crossing paths I was accompanied by Darkwing Duck. In the secure confines of SHUSH headquarters no less!"
Grizzlikof knew the story. He had flown into a rage at the damage caused to S.H.U.S.H. H.Q. and the failure of security. Hooter's glad acceptance of masked fools and instructions to allow Darkwing free roam of the building were largely to blame for the security failure so he couldn't fire anyone. Only ensure there would never be a repeat.
That damn duck, Darkwing, always got in without security knowing in any case. Usually via the twice cursed window.
"I fear it would have been my end should I have encountered the vicious serpent alone," J. Gander concluded.
"Then, Direktor, if I am not under suspicion I must protest my being removed from Neegaduck's trail and Agent Donkey heading the investigation."
"I see. I felt you would. Could you state plainly your concerns so I might address them, old friend?"
"Direktor, to be removed from a case of this magnitude and replaced by agent of less rank and experience is an insult. As is my being locked out of files regarding the Woonderland facility. Further, while Agent Donkey remains one of the finest I have trained, his attitude and disregard for protocol of late is abysmal. He would prefer to pedicure his hooves than chase criminals."
Grizzlikof stood at attention as he stated these reservations, staring at a point on the wall above the Director's head. To adopt such a serious stance when it was just the two of them was telling of how strongly he felt on these issues.
"Alright. Sit down," Hooter asked his friend.
"First, you have been misinformed if you believe Agent Donkey will be heading this investigation. I will be heading the investigation. I signed on Agent Donkey and his team because, his insufferable bearing aside, we have no finer administrator. Save yourself. I hold onto hope keeping him close he may learn some manners. More than he may exiled to a consulate in a suitably stable, boring South Pacific island.
"You, Vladimir," Hooter continued, "have not as such been removed from a case as temporally promoted. I need a trusted friend to keep the world in order, I expect Negaduck to lead us on quite the chase and may not have the time to attend to my usual duties. It is time for you to rub shoulders with our glorious politicians so I can sell you as my eventual replacement, I know you dislike the game," Hooter soothed. "We all do."
"Finally - I'm sorry, Vladimir. Operations at Wonderland are tightly controlled; even the Deputy Director of Operations for SHUSH does not automatically have clearance."
As Deputy Director for Operations, Vladimir did not hold absolute authority second only to Director Hooter or even oversight over every S.H.U.S.H. department. He directed field operatives. He shared equal power with the deputies of intelligence (anaylsis of data) and technolgy (where sci-fi became reality). Protocol held the directors were kept appraised of each departments projects.
"I understand my department is design and carry out field operation. I have no duuristiktion for technology division. But Woonderland? Entire SHUUSH facility I never heard of housing bizarre technologies? It tis highly irregular."
"Wonderland was something of our own Area Fifty One. Named for the story of Alice in Wonderland, being many items or technologies we wanted to drop down the rabbit hole. We do live in strange times as I'm sure you have noted hunting a psychotic negative universe double of a friend. The idea was put forth to build a secured facility to house and study the bizarre artifacts or devices we or other branches have uncovered. And to keep them out of reach of malicious hands."
"That you were never briefed was simple internal security compartmentalisation," Hooter continued. "Yes, that applies even to deputy directors. Warden Point reported to me personally and all information pertaining to Wonderland bypassed usual channels. Our greatest imperative was to ensure Taraus Bulba, or whoever rose to fill the void after his defeat, could not abuse fantastic technologies. As an former field operations operative and known face to FOWL it was conceivable you may be captured and interrogated. You know better than most one cannot spill that which one does not know."
J. Gander returned his attention to the window. Perhaps taking solace in how trouble free the good people wondering past outside really were. It was his sworn duty to take on the burden of their real troubles for them.
"I hate to leave you out of the loop on something of this magnitude Vladimir. Your iron diligence has seen S.H.U.S.H. through many trials and will again. I could use your help to correct a disaster on an unimaginable scale. A disaster of which Negaduck is only a consequence of and not the worst." Not a comforting idea. The closest to a defeatist comment J. Gander, an eternal optimist, ever had made. "You keep everything ordered, Vladimir. I have always appreciated your work."
"Yes, Direktor. Thank you, Direktor." It could be said J. Gander and Grizzlikof were not inclined to agree on any issue but the bear held his mentor in high esteem. His praise was humbling.
It did not erase lingering questions about the goings on of this Wonderland facility. He'd have been a pathetic spy if it did. His questions multiplied tenfold when even a trusted colleague attempted to distract him with praise.
"Please give Agent Donkey's subordinates the files relevant to this case without breaking any arms."
Grizzlikof sensed a pending dismissal and rose to exit. One more element to the case he wanted clarification on flashed across his brain. Not a new line of questioning, it related to the secret happenings at Wonderland
"Direktor. Feearsome Five gang remained incaarcerated at Woonderland. No record of a transfer from Blackwing was filed."
"Yes, the Fearsome Five. And other criminal individual with powers. Surely you were appalled as I was with the security at Blackwing. The revolving door of escaped convicts. It was simply never designed to house a being capable of abusing the forces of nature and defying the laws of physics. During the ruckus with FOWL there were graves concerns of the consequences should Taraus Bulba attempt to recruit such fiends. The decision was made to bury potential troublemakers who may inflame a troubled situation. A prison wing was added to the existing secured facility and Warden Point answered to me personally on all efforts to house, care for and cure these wayward individuals.
"It was a quiet thing," Hooter added.
It was fortunate Bulba had not sought an alliance with the supervillain community he despised almost as much as Darkwing. Still Vladimir was left to wonder, who keeps making these decisions?
"Very good, Direktor. If you excuse me, seems I have files to relinquish and prepaaration's to be made."
Every file. Except the one on Gosalyn Mallard.
"Yes, yes, of course," he agreed. "Vladimir…?"
"Yes, Direktor?" He was still staring out into the street and had been since the topic of Wonderland had been broached.
"I was just thinking – this window. We need to do something about this window. It's far too exposed. It gives a sniper a straight shoot from three separate angles."
…
"I need learn what happen at Woonderland. You my eyes and ears on Neegaduck. You answer to me, understand? Not Donkey. Not J. Gander. Me. And you keep this between uss."
"You're going behind J. Gander's back? You?" Fenton was aghast.
"What was stupid speech you said? We don't need permission to defend the rights of the people."
"You told Congress rogue vigilantism threatens society!" The collateral damage caused by the rivalry between Darkwing Duck and Taurus Bulba did not pass unnoticed in the halls of power.
"I not rogue! I doing my job!"
"Alright, alright. Blathering blatherskite…. I'm sorry." GizmoDuck existed to apprehended bank robbers and save kittens stuck in trees. Now Grizzlikof was dragging Fenton down into a world of conspiracy and mistrust. This difficult but straightforward task of apprehending Negaduck was becoming messy job due to side considerations.
"I cannot mislead my team. I have to let Morgana know."
"No. She criminal."
"Launchpad."
"No. He ideot. Do not lie to your team. You task flush Neegaduck. Most important task. Work independently or with Donkey as you must but report all to Grizzlikof. Not even mention Woonderland."
"Well, if I'm supposed to keep J. Gander in the dark, what am I supposed to do about the presentation?"
"Presentation, what?"
…
It was cold this pre-dawn morning. Gosalyn had her arms wrapped around Bubba's waist and was self-conscious of the fact. Half remembered promises he would never have her this close. But tonight she would not let go for anything.
Because behind the handle bars of a bike Bubba could put any boy racer to shame. He owned the deserted streets. He pulled wheelies through intersections. Took shortcuts through deserted pedestrian walkways. Coaxed more speed out of the classic motorcycle on the straights. Gos had the impression someone was showing off.
She could appreciate she would not be acting different if behind the wheel herself. It was one thing to have faith in her own skills. The reckless always hesitated to put their lives in the hands of others.
"I would like to arrive alive."
"Just getting' ta know the ins and outs of the city. Smile for da camera," he nodded his head toward a speed camera up the street.
"No! I don't want my photo taken like this!"
Purple safety helmet with wings. Dad was right, the helmet does drag down coolness. Purple mask. Purple overcoat with an aqua sweater underneath. A purple cape with pink lining. White chino pants. On a bike painted with a great dinosaur maw.
Bubba did slow down, saying, "Purple is so 1994. Gonna have ta be seen in it eventually."
"When I make my entrance."
Bubba parked with the target in sight a few blocks up the street. Studying the hanger complex and the surrounding area before initiating action. As yet the night carried their favour. Operating from a strip on the far side of the St Canard airport, itself on the outskirts of the city limits, there were few residential buildings and no traffic this night.
"Lights are off. Notta soul working tis hour of the morning. Ya know the alarm code?" Bubba asked. If she did not plan B was not exactly to walk away. There were simply complications Bubba preferred to avoid. An alarm here would garner attention from airport security. All the heightened tension in today's world.
"Yep. Used to work here between expulsions."
"Security cameras?"
"Blind spots wider en' Texas."
"Well, this is your area of expertise." Bubba's secession of authority did not sound complementary to Gosalyn's mind. "Are ya sure this is how ya want to begin your hero career?"
Gos shrugged. "I need the Ratcatcher."
"I know it. Just – ya have considered we are stealing from Launchpad."
Gosalyn ignored the question. "Go!"
Action initiated. Bubba drove up the road casually and pulled up on the gravel outside Launchpad's Happy Landings Aircraft & Auto Repair. Performing a U-turn and continuing away even as a shadow passed between him and the brush and over the fence. Only the hyper observant would notice the cycle was now minus one.
…
Time was a critical factor in restoring the Thunderquack to operational status. Negaduck could strike anytime. He could strike tonight! Keeping the imminent threat in mind, Launchpad debated the merits of taking the bird to see Gyro Gearloose, the brilliant mind behind the Gizmo-suit. His foremost invention among many. Fenton, the GizmoDuck, should have no objection. Gyro was always ready to help a friend.
In the least he would have have Honker update the computer software in the morning. Kid was a lifesaver in these modern times. Customer brought in a car three months back more computer than engine, what is the world coming to? It was flashing red lights for some dang reason. Interfacing with the on board computer to learn the problem proved difficult. None of the crew had any clue how to read it and any time they touched the engine to observe the problem manually more red lights activated with a danger siren to boot. Honker alone could make heads or tails of thing. He deduced the computer was trying to signal the oil cap was loose.
Assistance or no, Launchpad had the heart of the Thunderquack operational. His baby could fly. Or would once he put it back together. Currently he was working on the standard extra options. Armament like the net launcher and the gas cannon. Nothing especially exotic. All the systems which he had disabled for safety concerns once the Thunderquack fell into disuse. As a responsible guardian to his best friends daughter he could not risk Gosalyn playing in the thing and punching buttons.
"It sure has been a while. We had some great times back in the day." Those were good days. Joining Darkwing's crusade to protect the people of St Canard from varied villains. A new city saving adventure every night. His responsibilities precluded the wild adventures of earlier years. The truth was he was already facing middle age when he started with Darkwing and already prematurely aged from years serving as personal pilot to Scrooge McDuck. Those were crazy times! Partnering with Darkwing had been tame in comparison. Launchpad still had many years left in him although now he was, by relative comparison, the old man of the Justice Ducks. He hoped this old man was ready for on last desperate battle in the trenches. Facing off against Negaduck meant preparing for war.
A roar filled the hanger. Launchpad momentarily thought the Thunderquack had powered up. He was buried to his boots in the inner working of the craft, he bloody hoped it wasn't launching. Who would be messing with controls up there?
Nope. Wasn't the Thunderquack. Which left - the Ratcatcher!
The mechanised hanger door was opening.
"Ah, geez…!" Launchpad scrambled out of the belly of the aircraft, pausing only to grip a sizable wrench. Negaduck could eat it if he thought he drive off with Darkwing's prized possession. Launchpad would force it down his throat.
Negaduck was not the one he watched drive away with the bike. Not even close.
She saw his top half emerge from the Thunderquack yelling wildly and waving a blunt object. Halting suddenly confronting the spirit of his best friend in the form of his daughter.
"Sorry, Launchpad," Gosalyn called back. "The city needs Darkwing."
He barely caught, "I promise I'll bring her back!" as Gosalyn rode out into the night.
...
Her chosen rendezvous point had a special, secret meaning she denied to share with Bubba. All Bubba knew he was to wait outside a 24hr Hippo Burger for news of success or failure. He was less than anxious. Gosalyn had the situation well in hand. As he had told her, this was her area of expertise.
He had expected her to be here by now.
The Ratcatcher's nose poked out of the drive through lane. Bubba, forewarned the Ratcatcher was due to appear any moment, had to look again! Customers and staff hurrying to observe.
A dozen pair of marveling eyes followed Gosalyn as she pulled up next to Bubba in the parking lot and passed him a Hippo-shake. She had a playful air which enhanced her beauty. Tonight she had assumed an awesome burden of responsibility and had all weight lifted from her shoulders. Gosalyn was carefree for the first time since – in a long time.
She slurped on a shake of her own and with care placed a third in a hidden gadget compartment. Stuffing items around it to keep it level, preventing a spill. "I have a delivery to make. Do you mind?"
Did he have a choice? It occurred to him to complain she was late. Ask if this was the grand entrance she had envisioned. Gosalyn would do what Gosalyn would do.
"Lead the way."
The citizens of St Canard out on the street that night could not believe the sight roaring past them on the street. Overtaking them on the road. Dashing past their apartment windows. Love him or hate him (disproportionately hate him) none could deny power of Darkwing.
The last young, late night revellers determined to greet the sun sobered sighting the monster tyres. Questioning their drink, and in some cases their drugs, after the vehicle passed by.
The jaws of motorway patrol dropped catching a glimpse of the wings. They had no idea if they called it in they would believed.
Gangs members greedily sizing up an electronics store shuddered as the Duck inspired headlights passed over them in their van. They gave second thought to their plans as the terror on the night gave them a knowing shake of her head. No.
And Eek. Eek could only form one conclusion as the Ratcatcher passed the street below him. Morgana had to be informed.
The message the night clubbing youth text their friends. The report the police made to their Commissioner in person. The words the gang members used explained their cowardice to their boss.
"He's back!"
…
Honker tossed in his sleep. The rush of cool night air having him dig deeper under his blanket. His dreams reflected the reading he had been engrossed in before bed. Of space-time fabrics and entropy and the final end of the universe as all matter is reduced to light and time and distance cease to exist. How overpowering yet beautiful a concept.
Incredible how the scientific minds who passionately sought this knowledge did come and could only have come into being during earliest, earliest, earliest infant stages of the universe. The most exciting period of the universe when the stars still burned bright. So bright and so hot they set off the smoke alarm with a beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep.
He hoped, when they arrived, the fire-fighters could chase off the dark-matter shadow creeping through his room.
I'm in a dream, Honker realised. Dream reality shattered.
If ever you have become conscious to the fact you are dreaming you will know how odd a sensation it is. When the dream reality bends the laws of what is possible a hint too far toward absurd the entire experience collapses. How your mind is awake yet your body is not. The purgatory between the dream world and the real, peeling away that which does not belong in the real world. Until only the real world remains.
The alarm remained. The alarm is real.
beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep
His alarm clock. Morning was upon him. He was resentful of the device for breaking his slumber.
Glasses he placed on his beak, Honker became aware of strange happenings near his window. Last night he had closed it but now it was not. A styrofoam packaged Hippo-shake had been left for him.
His eyes widened as he heard a familiar engine roar and he knew. Knew who left the gift. What she had done. What she was planning. He knew because he knew her. Half asleep he made a dash for the window. Locking eyes with her an instant before she sped away in the morning glare. Witnessing the clothing she was wearing and the beast she was riding.
Leaning against the shake was a note labeled Honker. Pick me up around nine, it read. Wear something nice.
Not for the last time Gosalyn left Honker, the big brain, dumb.
…