A/N: Real-time is currently enabled...

A/N: Okay, anybody notice what moral rule that Drake is forced to break here? If you work in accounting you should see this one jump out of the screen like a 3D special effect.

Chapter Six: Signed

Drake Mallard, briefcase in hand, stepped into the lobby of Hamil Corp. On the way here he made sure he kept looking straight ahead. If there was one thing he knew about government organisations, it was that they surveyed a suspect's activities intently.

"Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, I ..." His voice cut out. He closed his beak.

Pride wasn't an option today and fear was never an option. He told himself this and forced the painful words out of his mouth. "I need help." He croaked.
The receptionist watched him carefully. "What makes you think we're the people that can help you?"

Drake pulled out the employment agreement from his briefcase and handed the envelope to the receptionist. "It's all signed." He said quietly. "Could you get it to Mr. Lawrence Eider?"
"Certainly, sir. If you care to take a seat, there will be someone here for you shortly."
"I ... need to stay clear of the windows." He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping there were no red targeting lights shining on him right now.
"Perhaps you'd be better to take it yourself, then, Mr. Mallard. For security, press X and then 2."

"Thank you." Drake took the letter back and went to the lift. He pressed the down arrow.

This was Drake's only plan. He was officially without options; seeking refuge and assistance just as if he really were a criminal.

Eider was there when the doors of the lift opened.
"Hi." He said dumbly.
"Hi, Drake. I wondered if we'd see you back here."
Drake stepped out of the lift. "Er, talking about seeing things, you haven't by any chance spotted any snipers on your perimeter checks in the last ten minutes, Eider?"

Eider's face went from neutral to severe. "Yes, as a matter of fact. You'd better be able to explain this, Mallard." Eider led him down the corridors and into a small office.

"They followed me here. They're waiting for me out there. They're waiting to get the signal to kill me." Drake clutched the back of the visitor's chair as Eider sat down behind the desk. To Drake's right sat a very ordinary computer screen.

"Welcome to the food chain, buddy." Eider said, derisively. "Why are they hunting you?"
Drake sighed. "I wouldn't use the word 'hunt'. They know exactly where I am. It's too late to hide from them because they're looking directly at me."
Eider gazed at him. "Agreed. The hunt is the game of it. This person ..."
"Grizlykoff."
"No, the other one."
"Director Hooter? No. He's not the one with his finger on the trigger."

"But by your own perceptions, Grizlykoff always has his finger on the trigger. He's just in want of someone to point him in the direction to fire."

Drake raised an eyebrow. "It's funny you putting it like that, because that's what they were saying about me. That I was a ... weapon uncontrolled and unleashed."
"Drake ..." Eider leaned forwards. "I've seen you work. And you, my friend, have so much direction, the only worry I have is of how far you'd go in that direction."
"Launchpad keeps me grounded. And Gosalyn." Drake sat down in the chair and reached into his briefcase.

"Twenty years ago, someone killed my father." Drake pulled out the case files from the briefcase. "Last week, they found another victim." He handed him the S.H.U.S.H. files.

"I can't see how that turns around on you. You're just one of the victims in this picture." He flicked through the folders.
"They've run a background check on everyone associated with my father and Curtis Mane. It appears that I'm the only one with a warped record. The worst of it is that I gave that information freely at the time."
Eider flicked to a page, "this psychological exam?" Drake flinched as Eider read it. "But there are years between that and Darkwing Duck, so many you might not even be related."

"And also the electoral roll. I didn't have a residence, so I couldn't vote. That puts some time between Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard again. Still, the problem arises when I took up residence. Drake got the house and Darkwing got a S.H.U.S.H. contract."

"But the fact remains that you still didn't commit this crime."
"I most certainly did not! I buried my parents long ago. I'm only interested in stopping further crimes in St Canard." He flinched again. "And to have the right that every parent in the world should have: a safe, permanent home to raise my daughter in peace."
"Then you can only be proved innocent. The evidence will not stack up and you'll walk."

"What you've got in your hands is already damning."
"But you've come a long way since high school. What kid doesn't have issues in high school?"
"Yeah, but all Hooter and Grizlykoff see is a criminal profile in the making."

"A jury would sympathise with a boy who lost his father."
"No, see that's my whole problem: they won't, because they won't get the chance." Drake sighed, sitting back in despair. "If Grizlykoff concludes that I'm guilty, the case won't get to trial. I will be very dead."
Eider went quiet. "I see." He announced solemnly.

"Five people died last week. I have every intention of finding their killer and I know where to begin the investigation. But I can't do it with Grizz picking through the holes in the life of my alter ego." He pulled out the envelope again from his vest.

Eider watched Drake carefully as he took it from him. "You do realise you're not comfortable with doing this?"
"I have a long list of uncomfortable things that I've done in my life."
Eider pulled the form out of the envelope and read through it. He signed it and then pulled out another form from the drawer beside him. "You'll need a job description."
"I'd rather not have one of those on record." Drake eyed the explicit document. "This is how my psychological entrance exam into the police academy turned into a draft criminal profile."

"Hmm, I don't think the problem will reoccur with us, but I see your concern to have it on paper." Eider tapped the pen on the table for a moment. "What sort of work do you do for S.H.U.S.H.?"
"They ... call me in when they need an unconventional approach on solving a case."
"Then that'll be it: 'Contract services rendered'." Eider wrote the three words on the blank space and filled in the remaining details. He slid it across the table.

Drake took a careful look at the form and then signed it.

Eider stood up. "Welcome to the Hamil Corporation family." He offered his hand. Drake stood up with some presence of mind and shook it.

A/N: If the logic here doesn't make sense to you or if I've overdone the technobabble: You may be surprised to learn but as much as I know I have this issue, I can't always pinpoint the problem. Often when I spot a problem in my stories, I haven't a clue on how to fix it. This mental episode arises from the fact that I am not a very good writer. If I was, would I be practising on ducks?