Back on ground level, two Evronians were brushing garbage off of themselves after free-falling into another dumpster at the hands of Duck Avenger.
"This failure will be difficult to explain to General Zondag," remarked Kursaal, flicking a candy-bar wrapper off his shoulder. The other one cut his cohort down with an angry glare. "Um, d-did I say something wrong, sir?" whimpered the cowering Evronian.
"Of course you did, you stupid little insect!" thundered the other Evronian, slapping his subordinate, "The Duck Avenger was within our grasp, and you made us fall for the oldest trick in the galaxy! General Zondag will have our heads for this! So before I blast you myself, ask once more if you said something wrong."
The growl coming from his throat overwhelmed Kursaal with fear. "I'm sorry, Captain Zargon!" he squeaked, covering his head with his hands.
Zargon was slightly taller than Kursaal and much more unyielding in his rage, making him an intimidating field commander that wouldn't be disrespected. He snorted and stepped away from Kursaal before he did something he knew he would regret. Kursaal scooted over to his disc and as far away from his angry superior as possible.
"The Duck Avenger has given Evron nothing but trouble ever since the meddling shrimp interfered with that stupid party!" Zargon continued to vent to no one in particular. "This type of resistance is unprecedented for our great army!"
Kursaal tried to pay no mind to Zargon's woes as he prepared the discs for their return trip. His proactiveness and quick mind were often admired by his peers, but just as often criticized when he missed the mark.
A loud beeping on the console drew Kursaal from his busy work. He touched the panel, opening the notification. Measurements in his own language were informing him that a person with substantial emotional power was nearby.
The Evronians conquered planets by sucking the emotion out of their victims and exploiting it to power their weapons, starships, and even themselves. The hollow shell left behind was taken by the Evronians as a Freezeflame and used as a pawn to aid their conquest of the universe.
The readings just from the disc's basic instruments were unlike anything Kursaal had seen before. The emotional power here was substantial. If he and Zargon were to kidnap whoever this was and bring them to the top Evronian scientist, Zoster, to be Freezeflamed, they could utilize this essence to make the strongest warriors in the galaxy.
Warriors that could easily crush the Duck Avenger and pave the way for the Evronians to finally conquer Earth. The benefits would be so tremendous that no one would care about their recent defeat.
Kursaal looked in the rough direction the coordinates displayed and caught sight of a group of ducks walking on the sidewalk across from where he was. One of them, dressed in a green sweater vest and pink shirt, stretched his arms to the sky and yawned.
"Come on, dad, you can't be sleepy," said the little red-headed girl next to the yawning duck.
"Wha? I didn't yawn," he denied. "Did I yawn, Launchpad?" He turned to the duck behind him, a tall, muscular one in a jacket and pants, with a goggled cap and scarf.
"Well, uh-" the one called Launchpad barely had time to get a thought in before the shorter duck cut him off.
"See, Gosalyn? No yawn."
"Sure, Mr. 'Terror that Flaps in the Night'," Gosalyn mocked, snickering.
"Hey, don't be throwing that out willy-nilly. A secret identity should preferably be kept secret, no matter the place."
"Come on, dad, you're being crazy."
"Am not. I'm being perfectly rational."
"Oh, yeah? Watch." Gosalyn jumped onto a potted plant and shouted, "Hey, everyone! My dad is Darkwing Duck!"
Her father froze and whipped his head around frantically, his eyes wide. He was just exposed in a very public area.
But to his shock, not a soul even so much as looked up. The hustle and bustle were completely undisturbed.
Gosalyn jumped down and sent a smug look to her father. "See? Nothing to worry about."
"Oh, I'll give you something to worry about later, little missy…" he snarled to himself as the group continued walking.
Kursaal looked back to his console to glance at the readings once more. He then turned to Zargon. "Sir?"
"What do you want, Kursaal?"
"I-I know how we can save our reputation."
Drake Mallard, Gosalyn, and Launchpad continued trekking down the street to the garage where they had left the car. A whistling drone sliced suddenly through the din of the city, and the Mallards beheld two streaks of purple and white zooming by them overhead. All three ducked, avoiding a collision by mere inches.
As fast as the streaks had been upon them, they grew smaller and smaller until they were specks among the inky sky.
The crowds began to chatter about what they just witnessed, and Gosalyn's voice was one of the loudest among them.
"Keen gear, did you see that, dad?" she said, bouncing up and down excitedly.
"Yes, honey, I did," Drake replied. "Even if they didn't nearly run us over, I don't think anybody could've missed that." He gestured toward the sky.
Launchpad fixed his gaze where Drake pointed, scratching his beak. "Could that have been a shooting star?"
Drake shook his head. "A shooting star this close to the ground? Try again, Launchpad. Some kid was probably piloting his model plane haphazardly. I mean, you of all people should recognize it."
"Maybe it was aliens coming from an alternate dimension to enslave duck-kind!" Gosalyn shouted.
Drake stared down at his spirited daughter with condescending eyebrows raised. "Really, Gosalyn?"
"Come on, dad, it could happen! They could come out of the sky in giant spaceships and kidnap every last duck on Earth! Then they could hook you up to these machines the size of trucks, and suck out your-"
"Alright, no more cheesy sci-fi films for you tonight!" Drake wrenched Gosalyn from her wild fantasies and lifted her onto his shoulders.
"They're not cheesy!" she argued.
"Oh, please," Drake chuckled. "If that cheap debacle of a movie was anything but cheesy, I'll eat my hat."
"How would it even fit in your stomach, DW?"
"…LP? Shush."
The ducks maneuvered their way back into the crowd, where the sight of the mysterious beings flying by was quickly forgotten. Not one of them noticed the tiniest of trackers nestle itself into Gosalyn's pigtail like a piece of lice.
The alarm clock sang out its chorus of clanging bells, drawing Donald Duck from his slumber. The dissonant song was a familiar sound to his ears, but that didn't make it any less annoying. A fist was brought down hard on the clock, and the clattering ceased immediately.
The duck yawned loudly and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinked several times to clear his fuzzy vision.
His bedroom looked the same as it always had, with a simple wooden dresser across from his bed, a bookshelf next to the door, and a fuzzy pink rug contrasting against the tiled floor. A homey touch to the industrial feel of the 151st floor.
His arm reflexively reached to grab the now silent clock from his nightstand. He brought the device in front of his face and squinted at the digital readout.
"11:14," he mumbled. "Guess I slept in..."
Wait. Slept in?! He had an important engagement lined up for today. A city over. At noon.
"WAK!"
A video monitor lowered itself into Donald's room and One appeared on the screen. Not that Donald noticed. He was too busy throwing off his nightshirt and scrambling through the dresser across from his bed for an outfit.
"I figured you were awake from the earsplitting quack, but I thought I would pop in and see for sure," came One's synthetic speech.
Donald shrieked and instinctively covered himself. "Excuse me! Some of us are trying to dress here!"
"Are you hearing yourself?" One questioned, his eyebrow raised, "You don't even wear pants, so you're not all that more naked now than you are usually."
"Well, the principle matters, you peeping tom!" yelled Donald, backing away from the monitor and against the four-poster's foot.
"Fine. If it makes you feel better, I won't look," One said tiredly, and his image disappeared from the monitor.
Donald nodded with a snort and returned to searching for his favorite sailor suit, grumbling and muttering to himself the entire time. He yanked the black shirt out and wiggled into it, fastening the white buttons in a hurry.
After throwing the collar down his back, One's spoke again, "Are you decent yet, Mr. Duck?"
Donald puffed out his chest in front of the dresser's mirror, briefly admiring the handsome duck reflected back to him. "Yes, One. What's shakin'?"
Donald caught a glimpse of One's trademark visage fading in as he ducked into the bathroom to freshen up. "Well, you'll be happy to know that after your smashing victory over those Evronian soldiers-"
"Smashing, ha! That would be a killer headline," said Donald through a mouthful of toothpaste.
"It would certainly make for a hot story. As I was saying, while you were asleep, I covertly traced the Evronian's energy trail as they retreated."
Donald spat into the sink and wiped his beak with a hand towel. "You followed them? How?"
One's green face was replaced with a map of the entire west coast. A dotted line was drawn coming south out of Duckburg.
"Well, once an analysis was performed on their particular wavelength, it wasn't hard to track them right out of Duckburg."
Donald scampered out of the bathroom and swiped his wallet and keys from the nightstand. "Great job, One."
The map on-screen was quickly replaced by One's confused face. "That's all? No long-winded call to action?"
Donald caught the look just as he opened the bedroom door and flashed an awkward grin. "Yeah... See, I need to be in St. Canard fifteen minutes ago. But, hey, be a peach and find out where those Ev-wrong-ians are flying towards, and how soon we can kick their tyrannical rear-ends, 'kay?"
Donald was gone before One could say anything more, slamming the door behind him. As his face reappeared in the glass orb that crowned the supercomputer he was housed in, he simulated a sigh.
The duck he befriended was an interesting soul, make no mistake. If only the poor soul could wake up on time.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Evronians are up to something now. What could they have in store for Gosalyn? And what is this special engagement that Donald is going to all the way in St. Canard? Well, some of you might know. The rest will need to come back next time for a meeting of The Single Dad's Club!