Chapter six, and as far as I'm concerned, by Sunday this story should be up in its entirety. I hope, you liked what you've read so far and will stick with me to the end.
And now, without any further ado, Quackerjack's fate!
Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever
Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death
Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

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Beryllium Flowers

Vl Buried within the dark

"How good are you with hypnosis and hallucinations?" asked Darkwing. Tapping her chin, Morgana replied;
"Well, it depends on the person's mental condition and willpower. Why, what do you have in mind?"
Darkwing's eyes turned darker.
"Have you ever heard of-" the crime-fighter's voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper. Morgana flinched, then gasped,
"What? Darkwing, you're not thinking of setting that demon free, are you?"
The vigilante gave a vivid head-shake.
"No, but I know for certain that Quackerjack is terrified of him. If you could make him believe that he has returned..."
Morgana's expression hardened.
"I understand, what you mean."

Quackerjack awoke in a vast expanse of blurred white.
He blinked several times, and the expanse shrank down to a room complete with a small adjunct bathroom, built-in plasma TV and a thick, inviting mattress, fluffy pillows and soft comforters doubling as bed. Everything, except for a single spot, was held in various shades of white; enough to keep the room bright, but not blindingly so.
Confused, Quackerjack's eyes trained in on the multicoloured item -and his blood froze.
Trembling, back-pedalling as far as the wall would allow, he scurried away from the infamous box, but it was too late. The container vibrated and shook, then a soft, velvety voice murmured,
"Will you play with me?"
The mad toymaker's eyes widened, his beak opening in a soundless scream.
In a cloud of smoke, Paddywhack clambered out of his prison and stretched languidly. He looked around, then let his gaze fall on Quackerjack.
"I know you," he stated, moving closer to the prisoner, "we used to have a lot of fun. Until you crossed me!"
Paddywhack's eyes had taken on an unearthly red glow, even as his drawl turned into a snarl.
With a choked squeal, Quackerjack slipped between the monster's twiggy legs and raced to the other side of the room. Banging against the door, he screamed,
"Let me out! Please, please for the love of all things holy, let me out! You can't leave me alone with this-this-", he glanced over his shoulder, just in time to somersault away from the giant hand that descended upon him.
And found himself backed into a corner.
Huddling, he tried to vanish into the wall, even as Paddywhack closed in on him.
"I had a lot of time to think, you know. And I came up with a whole new game. Would you like to play it with me?"
Quackerjack, horrified beyond belief, shook his head vividly. The abomination gave a wide, sinister grin.
"Too bad. Because it's really fun. At least for me."
His head grew to uncanny proportions, even as his mouth opened into a gaping, hellish red abyss. In Quackerjack's tear-rimmed eyes, the sharp, inch-long fangs reflected, even as the enormous jaws closed around him.
A scream, torn from the very depths of his soul, echoed through the room, just before he was swallowed whole.
He could feel the milling motions of the mouth, how the oesophagus constricted him, adjusting to his body, then he fell into a bottomless, pitch-black pit. He landed surprisingly soft; the ground beneath him moving, flexing, covered with -fur?
Paddywhack reached for his front and opened a door in his gut. A second later, Quackerjack was jettisoned out the monster's belly courtesy of a boxing glove adjusted to a spring.
"That was fun!", beamed Paddywhack, as he reached down and grabbed the barely conscious Quackerjack by the scruff of his neck.
"Let's do it again."

Outside the padded cell, Morgana and Quiverwing watched the toymaker with mixed feelings.
Quackerjack was huddled in a fetal position on his bed, blank eyes staring into nothingness. Only the occasional twitch or hitched gasp conjured that he was, in fact, still alive.
The two onlookers turned away from the sight, Quiverwing asking;
"How long will he stay like this?" Morgana shook her head.
"It's difficult to tell. The hypnosis was not that deep, and the hallucination spell I put on him has already worn off. Once he has come to accept his fate and the horror loses its dread, the images will quickly fade."
Quiverwing looked at her.
"So, what time frame are we talking about here?" Again, Morgana shook her head.
" I don't know. A couple months, perhaps a couple years, who's to tell?"

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This is one of the more unsettling chapters of this fic -but by far not the most disturbing one I've ever written, trust me. Still, there's one more Fearsome Felon to go, so who's to say, what might happen..?